pz3 
 
 |Sco8ta£ el 
 ier.2
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 ILLINOIS L.BRARY 
 AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 
 BOOKSTACKS 
 
 -^ 

 
 TALES OF MY LANDLORD, 
 
 COLLECTED AND REPORTED 
 BY 
 
 JEDEDIAH CLEISHBOTHAM, 
 
 SCHOOLMASTER AND PARISH-CLERK OF GANDERCLEUGH. 
 SECOND SERIES— COMPLETE IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 Hear, Land o' Cakes and brither Scots, 
 Frae Maidenkirk to Jonny Groats', 
 If there's a hole in a' your coals, 
 
 I rede ye tent it, 
 A chiel's amang you takin' notes. 
 
 An' faith he'll prent it. 
 
 Bums. 
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 
 
 Uol. JJ. 
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 11. 
 
 BOSTON : 
 
 SAMUEL H. PARKER, NO. 164, WASHINGTON-STREET. 
 
 1828.
 
 
 Waverley Press — Bostoiv
 
 fl5 
 
 TO THE BEST OF PATRONS, 
 
 A PLEASED AND INDULGENT READER, 
 JEDEDIAH CLEISHBOTHAM 
 
 WISHES 
 HEALTH, AND INCREASE, AND CONTENTMENT. 
 
 Courteous Reader, 
 If ingratitude coraprehendeth every vice, surely so 
 foul a stain worst of all beseemeth him whose life has been 
 devoted to instructing youth in virtue and in humane let- 
 ters. Therefore have I chosen, in this prolegomen, to 
 unload my burden of thanks at thy feet, for the favour 
 with which thou hast kindly entertained the Tales of my 
 Landlord. Certes, if thou hast chuckled over their face- 
 tious and festivous descriptions, or hast had thy mind fill- 
 ed with pleasure at the strange and pleasant turns of for- 
 tune which they record, verily, I have also simpered when 
 I beheld a second story with atticks, that has arisen on 
 the basis of m.y small domicll at Gandercleugh, the walls 
 having been aforehand pronounced by Deacon Barrow 
 to be capable of enduring such an elevation. Nor has it 
 been without delectation, that I have indued anew coat, 
 (snuff-brown, and with metal buttons,) having all nether 
 garments corresponding thereto. We do therefore lie, in 
 respect to each other, under a reciprocation of benefits, 
 whereof those received by me being the most solid, (in 
 respect that a new house and a new coat are better than 
 a new tale and an old song,) it is meet that my gratitude 
 should be expressed with the louder voice and more pre- 
 ponderating vehemence. And how should it be so ex-
 
 IV PROLE GOME]N-. 
 
 pressed 9 — Certainly not in words only, but in act and 
 deed. It is with this sole purpose, and disclaiming all 
 intention of purchasing that pendicle or pofle of land 
 called the Carlinescroft, lying adjacent to my garden, and 
 measuring seven acres, three roods, and four perches, that 
 I have committed to the eyes of those who thought well 
 of the former tomes, these four additional volumes of the 
 Tales of my Landlord. Not the less, if Peter Prayfort 
 be minded to sell the said pofle, it is at his own choice to 
 say so ; and, perad venture, he may meet with a purchas- 
 er : unless (gentle reader) the pleasing pourtraictures of 
 Peter Pattieson, now given unto thee in particular, and 
 unto the public in general, shall have lost their favour in 
 thine eyes, whereof I am no way distrustful. And so 
 much confidence do 1 repose in thy continued favour, 
 that, should thy lawful occasions call thee to the town of 
 Gandercleugh, a place frequented by most at one time or 
 other in their lives, I will enrich thine eyes with a sight 
 of those precious manuscripts whence thou hast derived 
 so much delectation, thy nose with a snuiF from my mull, 
 and thy palate with a dram from my bottle of strong 
 waters, called, by the learned of Gandercleugh, the 
 Domine's dribble of drink. 
 
 It is there, O highly esteemed and beloved reader, thou 
 wilt be able to bear testimony, through the medium of 
 thine own senses, against the children of vauity, who have 
 sought to identify thy friend and servant with I know not 
 what inditer of vain fables ; who hath cumbered the 
 world with his devices, but shrunken from the responsi- 
 bility thereof. Truly, this hath been well termed a gen- 
 eration hard of faith ; since what can a man do to assert 
 his property in a printed tome, saving to put his name in 
 the title-page thereof, with his description, or designation, 
 as the lawyers term it, and place of abode ^ Truly, I 
 would have such sceptics remember how they themselves 
 would brook to have their works ascribed to others, their 
 names and professions imputed as forgeries, and their 
 very existence brought into question ; even although, 
 peradventure, it may be it is of little consequence to any
 
 IPROLEGOMEX. ▼ 
 
 but themselves, not only whether they are living or dead, 
 but even whether they ever hved or no. Yet have aiy 
 maligners carried their uncharitable censures yet farther. 
 These cavillers have not only doubted mine identity, 
 although thus plainly proved, but they have impeached 
 my veracity and the authenticity of my historical narra- 
 tives ! Truly, I can only say in answer, that I have been 
 cautelous in quoting mine authorities. It is true, indeed, 
 that if I had hearkened with only one ear, 1 might have 
 rehearsed my tale with more acceptation from those who 
 love to hear but half the truth. It is, it may hap, not alto- 
 gether to the discredit of our kindly nation of Scotland, 
 that we are apt to take an interest, warm, yea partial, in 
 the deeds and sentiments of our forefathers. The de- 
 scendants of one, whom, his adversaries describe as a 
 perjured prelatist, are desirous that their predecessor 
 should be held moderate in his power, and just in 
 his execution of its privileges, when, truly, the unini- 
 passioned peruser of the Annals of these times shall 
 deem him sanguinary, violent, and tyrannical. Again, 
 the representatives of the suffering non-conformists de- 
 sire that their ancestors, the Cameronians, shall be 
 represented not simply as honest enthusiasts, oppressed 
 for conscience-sake, but persons of fine breeding and 
 valiant heroes. Truly, the historian cannot gratify 
 these predilections. He must needs describe the cava- 
 liers as proud and high-spirited, cruel, remorseless, and 
 vindictive; the suffering- party as honourably tenacious of 
 their opinions under persecution ; their own tempers be- 
 ing, however, sullen, fierce, and rude ; their opinions 
 absurd and extravagant, and their whole course of con- 
 duct that of persons whom hellebore would better have 
 suited than prosecutions unto death for high-treason. 
 Natheless, while such and so preposterous were the opin- 
 ions on either side, there were, it cannot be doubted, 
 men of virtue and worth on both, to entitle either party 
 to claim merit from its martyrs. It has been demanded 
 of me, Jedediah Cleishbotham, by what right I am enti- 
 le VOL. I.
 
 VI PROLEGOME]!^. 
 
 tied to constitute myself an impartial judge of their dis- 
 crepancies of opinions, seeing (as it is stated) that I must 
 necessarily have descended from one or other of the con- 
 tending parties, and be, of course, wedded for better or 
 for worse, according to the reasonable practice of Scot- 
 land, to its dogmata or opinions, and bound, as it were, 
 by the tie matrimonial, or, to speak without metaphor, 
 ex jure sanguinis, to maintain them in preference to all 
 others. 
 
 But, nothing denying the rationality of the rule, which 
 calls on all now Hving to rule their political and religious 
 opinions by those of their great-grand-fathers, and inevi- 
 table as seems the one or the other horn of the dilemma 
 betwixt which my adversaries conceive they have pinned 
 me to the wall, I yet spy some means of refuge, and 
 claim a privilege to write and speak of both parties with 
 impartiality. For, O ye powers of logic ! when the pre- 
 latistsandpresbyterians of old times went together by the 
 ears in this unlucky country, my ancestor (venerated be 
 his memory !) was one of the people called Quakers, and 
 suffered severe handling from either side, even to the ex- 
 tenuation of his purse and the incarceration of his person. 
 
 Craving thy pardon, gentle Reader, for these few words 
 concerning me and mine, I rest, as above expressed, thy 
 sure and obligated friend, J. C. 
 
 Gandercleugh, ) 
 this 1st of April, 1818. 3
 
 THE 
 
 HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 BEING INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 So down thy hill, romantic Ashbourn, glides 
 The Derby dilly, carrying six insides. 
 
 Frere. 
 
 The times have changed in nothing more (we follow as 
 we were wont the manuscript of Peter Paltieson) than in 
 the rapid conveyance of intelligence and communication 
 betwixt one part of Scotland and another. It is not above 
 twenty or thirty years, according to the evidence of many 
 creditable witnesses now alive, since a little miserable 
 horse-cart, performing with difficulty a journey of thirty 
 miles j9er diem, carried our mails from the capital of Scot- 
 land to its extremity. Nor was Scotland much more defi- 
 cient in these accommodations, than our richer sister had 
 been about eighty years before. Fielding, in his Tom 
 Jones, and Farquhar, in a little farce called the Stage- 
 Coach, have ridiculed the slowness of these vehicles of 
 public accommodation. According to the latter author- 
 ity, the highest bribe could only induce the coachman to 
 promise to anticipate by half an hour the usual time of his 
 arrival at the Bull and Mouth. 
 
 But in both countries these ancient, slow, and sure 
 modes of conveyance are now ahke unknown ; mail- 
 coach races against mail-coach, and high-flyer against 
 high-flyer, through the most remote districts of Britain. 
 And in our village alone, three post-coaches, and four
 
 8 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 coaches with men armed, and in scarlet cassocks, thunder 
 through the streets each day, and rival in brilHancy and 
 noise the invention of the celebrated tyrant, 
 
 Demens, qui nimbos et non imitabile fnlmen, 
 ^re et comipedum pulsu, simularat, equorum. 
 
 Now and then, to complete the resemblance, and to 
 correct the presumption of the venturous charioteers, it 
 does happen that the career of these dashing rivals of 
 Salmoneus meets with as undesirable and violent a termi- 
 nation as that of their prototype. It is upon such occa- 
 sions that the Insides and Outsides, to use the appropriate 
 vehicular phrases, have reason to rue the exchange of the 
 slow and safe motion of the ancient Fly-coaches, which, 
 compared with the chariots of Mr. Palmer, so ill deserve 
 the name. The ancient vehicle used to settle quietly 
 down, like a ship scuttled and left to sink by the gradual 
 influx of the waters, while the modern is smashed to 
 pieces with the velocity of the same vessel hurled against 
 breakers, or rather with the fury of a bomb bursting at 
 the conclusion of its career through the air. The late 
 ingenious 3Ir. Pennant, whose humour it was to set his 
 face in stern opposition to these speedy conveyances, had 
 collected, I have heard, a formidable list of such casual- 
 ties, which, joined to the imposition of innkeepers, whose 
 charges the passenger has no time to dispute ; the sauci- 
 ness of the coachman, and the uncontrolled and despotic 
 authority of the tyrant called the Guard, held forth a 
 picture of horror, to which murder, theft, fraud, and pec- 
 ulation, lent all their dark colouring. But that which 
 gratifies the impatience of the human disposition will be 
 practised in the teeth of danger, and in defiance of ad- 
 monition ; and, in despite of the Cambrian Antiquary, 
 Mail-coaches not only roll their thunders round the base 
 of Penmen-Maur and Cader-Edris, but 
 
 Friglited Skiddaw hears afar 
 The rauliug of the unscylhed car. 
 
 And perhaps the echoes of Ben-Nevis may soon be
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. ^ 
 
 awakened by the bugle, not of a warlike chieftain, but of 
 the guard of a mail-coach. 
 
 It was a fine summer day, and our little school had 
 obtained a half hoHday by the intercession of a good- 
 humoured visiter.^ I expected by the coach a new num- 
 ber of an interesting periodical publication, and walked 
 forward on the highway to meet it, with the impatience 
 which Cowper has described as actuating the resident in 
 the country, when longing for intelligence from the mart 
 of news : 
 
 -" The grand debate. 
 
 The popular harajsgue, — the tart reply, — 
 The logic, cind the wisdom, and the wit, 
 And the loud laugh — 1 long to know them all ; — 
 I burn to set the imprisoned wranglers free, 
 And give them voice and utterance again.*'' 
 
 It was with such feelings that I eyed the approach of 
 the new coach, lately established on our road, and known 
 by the name of the Somerset, which, to say truth, pos- 
 sesses some interest for me, even when it conveys no 
 such important information. The distant tremulous 
 sound of its wheels was heard just as I gained the sum- 
 mit of the gentle ascent, called the Goshn-brae, from 
 which you command an extensive view down the valley 
 of the river Gander. The public road, which comes up 
 the side of that stream, and crosses it at a bridge about 
 a quarter of a mile from the place where I was standing, 
 runs partly through inclosures and plantations, and partly 
 through open pasture land. It is a childish amusement 
 perhaps, — but my life has been spent with children, and 
 why should not my pleasure be like theirs ^ — childish as 
 it is, then, I must own I have had great pleasure in watch- 
 ing the approach of the carriage, where the openings of 
 the road permit it to be seen. The gay glancing of 
 the equipage, its diminished and toy-like appearance at 
 
 * His honour Gilbert Goslimi of Gandercleugh ; for I love to be precise in 
 matters of importance J. C.
 
 10 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 a distance, contrasted with the rapidity of its motion, its 
 appearance and disappearance at intervals, and the pro- 
 gressively increasing sounds that announce its nearer ap- 
 proach, have all to the idle and listless spectator, who has 
 nothing more important to attend to, something of awak- 
 ening interest. The ridicule may attach to me, which is 
 flung upon many an honest citizen, who watches from 
 the window of his villa, the passage of the stage-coach ; 
 but it is a very natural source of amusement notwith- 
 standing, and many of those who join in the laugh are 
 perhaps not unused to practise it in secret. 
 
 On the present occasion, however, fate had decreed 
 that 1 should not enjoy the consummation of the amuse- 
 ment, by seeing the coach rattle past me as I sat on the 
 turf, and hearing the hoarse grating voice of the guard 
 as he skimmed forth for my grasp the expected packet 
 witlK)ut the carriage checking its course for an instant. 
 I had seen the vehicle thunder down the hill-that leads to 
 the bridge with more than its usual impetuosity, glittering 
 all the while by flashes from a cloudy tabernacle of the 
 dust which it had raised, and leaving a train behind it 
 on the road resembling a wreath of summer mist. But 
 it did not appear on the top of the nearer bank within the 
 usual space of three minutes, which frequent observation 
 had enabled me to ascertain was the medium time for 
 crossing the bridge and mounting the ascent. When 
 double that space had elapsed, ] became alarmed, and 
 walked hastily forward. As I came in sight of the bridge, 
 the cause of the delay was too manifest, for the Somer- 
 set had made a summerset in good earnest, and over- 
 turned so completely, that it was literally resting upon 
 the ground, with the roof undermost, and the four wheels 
 in the air. The " exertions of the guard and coachman," 
 both of whom were gratefully commemorated in the 
 newspapers, having succeeded in disentangling the horses 
 by cutting the harness, were now proceeding to extri- 
 cate the insides by a sort of summary and Caesarean pro- 
 cess of delivery, forcing the hinges from one of the doors 
 which they could not open otherwise. In this manner
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 11 
 
 were two disconsolate damsels set at liberty from the 
 womb of the leathern conveniency. As they immediately 
 began to settle their clothes, which were a little deranged, 
 as may be presumed, I concluded they had received no 
 injury, and did not venture to obtrude my services at their 
 toilette, for which, I understand, I have since been re- 
 flected upon by the fair sufferers. The outsider, who 
 must have been discharged from their elevated situation 
 by a shock resembling the springing of a mine, escaped, 
 nevertheless, with the usual allowance of scratches and 
 bruises, excepting three, who having been pitched into 
 the river Gander, were dimly seen contending with the 
 tide, like the reliques of j^neas's shipwreck,^- 
 
 Rari apparent nantes in gurgUe vasto. 
 
 \ applied my poor exertions where they seemed to be 
 most needed, and, with the assistance of one or two of 
 the company who had escaped unhurt, easily succeeded 
 in fishing out two of the unfortunate passengers, who were 
 stout active young fellows ; and but for the preposterous 
 length of their great-coats, and the equally fashionable 
 latitude and longitude of their Wellington trowsers, would 
 have required little assistance from any one. The third 
 was sickly and elderly, and might have perished but for 
 the efforts used to preserve him. 
 
 When the two great-coated gentlemen had extricated 
 themselves from the river, and shaken their ears like huge 
 water-dogs, a violent altercation ensued betwixt them and 
 the coachman and guard, concerning the cause of their 
 oveiihrow. In the course of the squabble, I observed 
 that both my new acquaintances belonged to the law, and 
 that their professional sharpness was like to prove an 
 overmatch for the surly and official tone of the guardians 
 of the vehicle. The dispute ended in the guard assuring 
 the passengers that they should have seats in a heavy 
 coach which would pass that spot in less than half an 
 hour, providing it was not full. Chance seemed to 
 favour this arrangement, for when the expected vehicle 
 arrived there w^ere only two places occupied in a carriage
 
 12 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 which professed to carry six. The two ladies who had 
 been disinterred out of the fallen vehicle were readily- 
 admitted, but positive objections were stated by those 
 previously in possession to the admittance of the two 
 lawyers, whose wetted garments being much of the nature 
 of well-soaked spunges, there was every reason to be- 
 lieve they would refund a considerable part of the water 
 they had collected, to the inconvenience of their fellow- 
 passengers. On the other hand, the lawyers rejected a 
 seat on the roof, alleging that they had only taken that 
 station for pleasure for one stage, but were entitled in all 
 respects to free egress and regress from the interior, to 
 which their contract positively referred. After some al- 
 tercation, in which something was said upon the edict 
 J^autce caupones stabularii, the coach went off leaving 
 the learned gentlemen to abide by their action of dam- 
 ages. 
 
 They immediately applied to me to guide them to the 
 next village and the best inn ; and from the account I 
 gave them of the Wallace-head, declared they were much 
 better pleased to stop there than to go forward upon the 
 terms of that impudent scoundrel, the guard of the Som- 
 erset. All that they now wanted was a lad to carry their 
 travelling bags, who was easily procured from an adjoin- 
 ing cottage ; and they prepared to walk forward, when 
 they found there was another passenger in the same de- 
 serted situation with themselves. This was the elderly 
 and sickly-looking person, who had been precipitated into 
 the river along with the two young lawyers. He, it 
 seems, had been too modest to push his own plea against 
 the coachman when he saw that of his betters rejected, 
 and now remained behind with a look of timid anxiety, 
 plainly intimating that he was deficient in those means 
 of recommendation which are necessary passports to the 
 hospitality of an inn. 
 
 I ventured to call the attention of the two dashing 
 young blades, for sucl^they seemed, to the desolote con- 
 dition of their feP.ow-traveller. They took the hint with 
 ready good nature.
 
 THE HEART OF MID-IOTHIAN. 1^3 
 
 " O true, Mr. Dunover," said one of the youngsters, 
 " you must not remain on the pave here ; you must go 
 and have some dinner with us — Halkit and I must have 
 a post-chaise to go on, at all events, and we will set you 
 down wherever suits you best." 
 
 The poor man, ibr such his dress, as well as his diffi- 
 dence, bespoke him, made the sort of acknowledging bow 
 by which says a Scotchman, " It's too much honour for 
 the like of me ;" and followed humbly behind his gay 
 patrons, all three besprinkling the dusty road as they 
 walhed along with the moisture of their drenched gar- 
 ments, and exhibiting the singular and somewhat ridicu- 
 lous appearance of three persons suffering from the oppo- 
 site extreme of humidity, while the summer sun was at 
 its height, and every thing else around them had the 
 expression of heat and drought. The ridicule did not 
 escape the young gendemen themselves, and they had 
 made what might be received as one or two tolerable jests 
 on the subject before they had advanced far on their per- 
 egrination. 
 
 " We cannot complain, like Cowley," said one of them^jj^^ 
 " that Gideon's fleece remains dry, while all around is 
 moist ; this »s the reverse of the miracle." 
 
 " We ought to be received with gratitude in this good 
 town ; we bring a supply of what they seem to need 
 most," said Halkit. 
 
 " And distribute it with unparalleled generosity," re- 
 plied his companion ; " performing the part of three 
 water-carts for the benefit of their dusty roads." 
 
 " We come before them too," said Halkit, " in full 
 professional force — counsel and agent" — 
 
 *' And client," said the young advocate, looking behind 
 him. And then added, lowering his voice, " that looks 
 as if he had kept such dangerous company too long." 
 
 It w^as, indeed, too true, that the humble follower of 
 the gay young men had the thread-bare appearance of a 
 worn-out litigant, and I could not but smile at the con- 
 
 2 VOL. I.
 
 14 TALES or MY LANDLORD. 
 
 ceit, though anxious to conceal my mirth from the object 
 of it. 
 
 When we arrived at the Wallace Inn, the elder of the 
 Edinburgh gentlemen, and whom I understood to be a 
 barrister, insisted that I should remain and lake part of 
 their dinner ; and their inquiries and demands speedily put 
 my landlord and his whole family in motion to produce the 
 best cheer which the larder and cellar afforded, and pro- 
 ceed to cook it to the best advantage, a science in 
 which our entertainers seemed to be admirably skilled. 
 In other respects they were lively young men in the hey- 
 day of youth and good spirits, playing the part which is 
 common to the higher classes of the law at Edinburgh, 
 and which nearly resembles that of the young templars 
 in the days of Steele and Addison. An air of giddy 
 gaiety mingled with ihe good sense, taste, and information 
 which their conversation exhibited ; and it seemed to be 
 their object to unite the character of men of fashion and 
 lovers of the polite arts. A fine gentleman, bred up in 
 the thorough idleness and inanity of pursuit, which I un- 
 derstand is absolutely necessary to the character in per-* 
 fection, might in all probability have traced a tinge of 
 professional pedantry which marked the barrister in spite 
 of his efforts, and something of active bustle in his com- 
 panion, and would certainly have detected more than a 
 fashionable mixture of information and animated interest 
 in the language of both. But to me, who had no pre- 
 tensions to be so critical, my companions seemed to form 
 a very happy mixture of good breeding and liberal in- 
 formation, with a disposition to lively rattle, pun, and jest, 
 amusing to a grave man, because it is what he iiimself 
 can least easily command. 
 
 The thin pale-faced man, whom their good nature had 
 brought into their society, looked out of place, as well as 
 out of spirits ; sat on the edge of his seat, and kept the 
 chair at two feet distance from the table ; thus incom- 
 moding himself considerably in conveying the victuals to 
 his mouth, as if by way of penance for partaking of them 
 in the company of his superiors. A short time after
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 15 
 
 dinner, declining all entreaty to partake of the wine, which 
 circulated freely round, he informed himself of the hour 
 when the chaise had been ordered to attend ; and say- 
 ing, he would be in readiness, modestly withdrew from 
 the apartment. 
 
 " Jack," said the barrister to his companion, " I re- 
 member that poor fellow's face ; you spoke more truly 
 than you were aware of ; he really is one of my clients, 
 poor man." 
 
 " Poor man !" echoed Halkit — '' I suppose you mean 
 he is your one and only chent." 
 
 " That's not my fault. Jack," replied the other, whose 
 name 1 discovered was Hardie. " You are to give me 
 all your business, you know ; and if you have none, the 
 learned gentleman here knows nothing can come of noth- 
 ing." 
 
 " You seem to have brought something to nothing 
 though, in the case of that honest man. He looks as 
 if he were just about to honour with his residence the 
 Heart of Mid-Lothian." 
 
 " You are mistaken — he is just delivered from it — our 
 friend here looks for an explanation. Pray, Mr. Pattie- 
 son have you been in Edinburgh 9" 
 
 I answered in the affirmative. 
 
 " Then you must have passed, occasionally at least, 
 though probably not so frequently and faithfully as I am 
 doomed to do, through a narrow intricate passage, leading 
 out of the north-west corner of the Parliament Square, 
 and passing by a high and antique building, with turrets 
 and iron grates. 
 
 Making good the saying odd, 
 
 Near the church and far from God " 
 
 Mr. Halkit broke in upon his learned counsel, to con- 
 tribute his moiety to the riddle — " Having at the door the 
 sign of the Red Man" 
 
 " And being on the whole," resumed the counsellor, 
 interrupting his friend in his turn, " a sort of place where
 
 16 TALES OF MT LANDLORD. 
 
 misfortune is happily confounded with guilt, where all 
 who are in wish to get out" 
 
 " And where none who have the good luck to be out 
 wish to get in," added his companion. 
 
 " I conceive you, gentlemen," rephed I ; " you mean 
 the prison." 
 
 " The prison," added the young lawyer — " you have 
 hit it — the very reverend Tolbooth itself ; and let me 
 tell you, you are obliged to us for describing it with so 
 much modesty and brevity; for with whatever ampli- 
 fications we might have chosen to decorate the subject, 
 you lay entirely at our mercy, since the Fathers Con- 
 script of our city have decreed, that the venerable edi- 
 fice itself shall not remain in existence to confirm or to 
 confute us." 
 
 " Then the Tolbooth of Edinburgh is called the Heart 
 of Mid-Lothian V said 1. 
 
 " So termed and reputed, 1 assure you." 
 
 " I think," said I with the bashful diffidence with 
 which a man lets slip a pun in presence of his superiors, 
 " the metropolitan county may, in that case, be said to 
 have a sad heart." 
 
 " Right as my glove, Mr. Pattieson," added Mr. Har- 
 die ; " and a close heart, and a hard heart — Keep it up, 
 Jack." 
 
 " And a wicked heart, and a poor heart," answered 
 Halkit doing his best. 
 
 " And yet it may be called in some sort a strong heart, 
 and a high heart," rejoined the advocate. *' You see I 
 can put you both out of heart." 
 
 " I have played all my hearts," said the younger 
 gentleman. 
 
 "Then we'll have another lead," answered his com- 
 panion. — " And as to the old and condemned Tolbooth, 
 w^hat pity the same honour cannot be done to it as has 
 been done to many of its inmates. Why should not the 
 Tolbooth have its ^ Last Speech, Confession, and Dying 
 Words V The old stones would be just as conscious of 
 the honour as many a poor devil who has dangled like
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 17 
 
 a tassel at the west end of it, while the hawkers were 
 shouting a confession the culprit had never heard of." 
 
 " I am afraid," said I, " if I might presume to give 
 mv opinion, it would he a tale of unvaried sorrow and 
 gJilt." 
 
 *' Not entirely, my friend," said Hardie ; " a prison 
 is a world within itself, and has its own business, griefs, 
 and joys pecuhar to its circle. Its inmates are sometimes 
 short-hved, but so are soldiers on service ; they are poor 
 relatively to the world without, but there are degrees of 
 wealth and poverty among them, and so some are rela- 
 tively rich also. They cannot stir abroad, but neither 
 can the garrison of a besieged fort, nor the crew of a ship 
 at sea ; and they are not under a dispensation quite so 
 desperate as either, for they may have as much food as 
 they have money to buy, and are not obliged to work 
 whether they have food or not. 
 
 " But whai variety of incident," said I, (not without 
 a secret view to my present task,) " could possibly be 
 derived from such a work as you are pleased to talk of .^" 
 
 " Infinite," replied the young advocate. " Whatever 
 of guilt, crime, imposture, folly, unheard-of misfortunes, 
 and unlooked-for change of fortune, can be foutid to 
 chequer hfe, my Last Speech of the Tolbooth should 
 illustrate with examples sufficient to gorge even the pub- 
 lic's all-devouring appetite for the wonderful and horrible. 
 The inventor of fictitious narratives has to rack his brains 
 for means to diversify his tale, and after all can hardly 
 hit upon characters or incidents which have not been used 
 again and again, until they are famiHar to the eye of the 
 reader, so that the developement,enleve7nent,xhe desperate 
 wound of which the hero never dies, the burning fever 
 from which the heroine is sure to recover, become a 
 mere matter of course. I join with my honest friend 
 Crabbe, and have an unlucky propensity to hope when 
 hope is lost, and to rely upon the cork-jacket, which car- 
 ries the heroes of romance safe through all the billows 
 
 2* VOL. I.
 
 18 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 of affliction." He then declaimed the following passage, 
 rather with too much than too little emphasis : 
 
 " Much have I fear'd, but am no more afraid, 
 
 When some chaste beauty, by some wretch betray'd. 
 
 Is drawn away with such distracted speed. 
 
 That she anticipates a dreadful deed. 
 
 Not so do I — Let solid walls impound 
 
 The captive fair, and dig a moat around ; 
 
 Let there be brazen locks and bars of steel. 
 
 And keepers cruel, such as never feel ; 
 
 With not a single note the purse supply. 
 
 And when she begs, let men and maids deny ; 
 
 Be windows there from which she dares not fall, 
 
 And help so distant, 'tis in vain to call ; 
 
 Still means of freedom will some Power devise. 
 
 And from the baffled ruffian snatch his prize. 
 
 " The end of uncertainty," he concluded, " is the 
 death of interest, and hence it happens that no one now 
 reads novels." 
 
 " Hear him, ye gods !" returned his companion. " I 
 assure you, Mr. Pattieson, you will hardly visit this learn- 
 ed gentleman, but you are likely to find the new novel 
 most in repute lying on his table, snugly intrenched, how- 
 ever, beneath Stair's Institutes, or an open volume of 
 Morrison's Decisions." 
 
 *' Do I deny it 9" said the hopeful jurisconsult, " or 
 wherefore should I, since it is well known these Dalilahs 
 seduce my wisers and my betters '? May they not be found 
 lurking amidst the multiplied memorials of our most dis- 
 tinguished counsel, and even peeping from under the 
 cushion of a judge's arm chair 9 Our seniors at the bar, 
 within the bar, and even on the bench, read novels, and, 
 if not belied, some of them have written novels into the 
 bargain. I only say, that I read from habit and from in- 
 dolence, not from real interest ; that, like Ancient Pistol 
 devouring his leek, T read and swear till I get to the end 
 of the narrative. But not so in the real records of hu- 
 man vagaries — not so in the State Trials, or in the Books 
 of Adjournal, where every now and then you read new
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 19 
 
 pages of the human heart, and turns of fortune far be- 
 yond what the boldest novelist ever attempted to produce 
 from the coinage of his brain." 
 
 " And for such narratives," I asked, " you suppose the 
 History of the Prison of Edinburgh might afford appro- 
 priate materials 9" 
 
 " In a degree unusually ample, my dear sir," said 
 Hardie — " fill your glass, however, in the meanwhile. 
 Was it not for many years the place in which the Scot- 
 tish parliament met '] Was it Jiot James's place of re- 
 fuge, when the mob, inflamed by a seditious preacher, 
 broke forth on him with the cries of * The sword of the 
 Lord and of Gideon — bring forth the wicked Haman V 
 Since that time how many hearts have throbbed within 
 these walls, as the tolling of the neighbouring bell an- 
 nounced to them how fast the sands of their life were ebb- 
 ing ; how many must have sunk at the sound — how^ many 
 were supported by stubborn pride and dogged resolution — 
 how many by the consolation of religion 9 Have there not 
 been some, who, looking back on the motives of their 
 crimes, were scarce able to understand how they should 
 have had such temptation as to seduce them from virtue ? 
 And have there not perhaps been others, who, sensible 
 of their innocence, were divided between indignation at 
 the undeserved doom which they were to undergo, con- 
 sciousness that they had not deserved it, and racking anx- 
 iety to discover some way in which they might yet vindicate 
 themselves 9 Do you suppose any of these deep, pow- 
 erful and agitating feelings can be recorded and perused 
 without exciting a corresponding depth of deep, power- 
 ful, and agitating interest 9 — O ! do but wait till f pub- 
 lish the Causes Celebres of Caledonia, and you w^ill find 
 no want of a novel or a tragedy for some time to come. 
 The true thing will triumph over the brightest inventions 
 of the most ardent imagination. Magna est Veritas et 
 prcevalehit.'*^ 
 
 " I have understood," said I, encouraged by the affa- 
 bility of my rattling entertainer, " that less of this inter- 
 est must attach to Scottish jurisprudence than to that of
 
 20 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 any other country. The general morality of our peo- 
 ple, their sober and prudent habits" 
 
 " Secure them," said the barrister, " against any great 
 increase of professional thieves and depredators, but not 
 against wild and wayward starts of fancy and passion, pro- 
 ducing crimes of an extraordinary description, which are 
 precisely those to the detail of which we hsten with thril- 
 ling interest. England has been much longer a highly 
 civilized country ; her subjects have been rendered strictly 
 amenable to laws administered without fear or favour, a 
 complete division of labour has taken place among her sub- 
 jects, and the very thieves and robbers form a distinct class 
 in society, subdivided among themselves according to the 
 subject of their depredations, and the mode in which they 
 carry them on, acting upon regular habits and principles, 
 which can be calculated and anticipated at Bow-Street, 
 Hatton- Garden, or the Old-Bailey. Our sister kingdom is 
 like a cultivated field, — the farmer expects that, in spite of 
 all his care, a certain number of weeds will rise with the 
 corn, and can tell you beforehand their names and appear- 
 ance. But Scotland is hke one of her own Highland 
 glens, and the moralist who reads the records of her crim-, 
 inal jurisprudence, will find as many curious anomalous 
 facts in the history of mind, as the botanist will detect 
 rare specimens among her dingles and cliffs." 
 
 " And that's all the good you have obtained from three 
 perusals of the Commentaries on Scotch Criminal Juris- 
 prudence 9" said his companion. " 1 suppose the learn- 
 ed author very little thinks that the facts which his erudi- 
 tion and acuteness have accumulated for the illustration 
 of legal doctrines, might be so arranged as to form a sort 
 of appendix to the half-bound and slip-shod volumes of 
 the circulating Hbrary." 
 
 " I'll bet you a pint of claret," said the elder lawyer, 
 *' that he will not feel sore at the comparison. But, as 
 we say at the bar, ' I beg I may not be interrupted ;' I 
 have much more to say upon my Scottish collection ot 
 Causes Celebres. You v/ill please recollect the scope and 
 motive given for the contrivance and execution of many
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 21 
 
 extraordinary and daring crimes, by the long civil dissen- 
 tions of Scotland — by the hereditary jurisdictions, which, 
 until 1748, vested the investigation of crimes in judges, 
 ignorant, partial, or interested — by the habits of the gentry, 
 shut up in their distant and solhary mansion-houses, nurs- 
 ing their revengeful passions just to keep their blood from 
 stagnating — not to mention that amiable national qualifi- 
 cation, called the perfervidum ingenium Scotorum, which 
 our law}^ers join in alleging as a reason for the severity 
 of some of our enactments. When I come to treat of 
 matters so mysterious, deep, and dangerous, as these cir- 
 cumstances have given rise to, the blood of each reader 
 shall be curdled, and his epidermis crisped into goose skin. 
 — But 'st — here comes the landlord, with tidings, I sup- 
 pose that the chaise is ready." 
 
 It was no such thing — the tidings bore, that no chaise 
 could be had that evening, for Sir Peter Plyem had car- 
 ried forward my landlord's two pair of horses that morn- 
 ing to the ancient royal borough of Bubbleburgh, to look 
 after his interest there. But as Bubbleburgh is only one 
 of a set of five boroughs which club their shares for a 
 member of parliament. Sir Peter's adversary had judici- 
 ously watched his departure, in order to commence a can- 
 vass in the no less royal borough of Bitem, which, as all 
 the world knows, lies at the very termination of Sir Peter's 
 avenue, and has been held in leading strings by him and 
 his ancestors for time immemorial. Now Sir Peter was 
 thus placed in the situation of an ambitious monarch, who, 
 after having commenced a daring inroad into his enemies' 
 territories^ is suddenly recalled by an invasion of his own 
 hereditary dominions. He was obHged in consequence 
 to return from the half-won borough of Bubbleburgh, to 
 look after the half-lost borough of Bitem, and the two pair 
 of horses which had carried him that morning to Bubble- 
 burgh, were now forcibly detained to transport him, his 
 agent, his valet, his jester, and his hard-drinker, across 
 the country to Bitem. The cause of this detention, which 
 to me was of as httle consequence as it may be to the 
 reader, was important enough to my companions to recon-
 
 22 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 cile them with the delay. Like eagles, they smelled the 
 battle afar off, ordered a magnum of claret and beds at 
 the Wallace, and entered at full career into the Bubble- 
 burgh and Bitem politics, with all the probable " petitions 
 and complaints" to which they were likely to give rise. 
 
 In the midst of an anxious, animated, and, to me, most 
 unintelligible discussion concerning provosts, bailhes, dea- 
 cons, sets of boroughs, leets, town-clerks, burgesses resi- 
 dent and non-resident, all of a sudden the lawyer recol- 
 lected himself. " Poor Dunover, we must not forget 
 him ;" and the landlord was despatched in quest of the 
 pauvre honteux, with an earnestly civil invitation to him 
 for the rest of the evening. I could not help asking the 
 young gentlemen if they knew the history of this poor 
 man, and the counsellor applied himself to his pocket to 
 recover the memorial or brief from which he had stated 
 his cause. 
 
 " He has been a candidate for our remedium misera- 
 bile,^^ said Mr. Hardie, " commonly called SicesAo bono- 
 rum. As there are divines who have doubted the eternity 
 of future punishments, so the Scotch lawyers seem to have 
 thought that the crime of poverty might be atoned for by 
 something short of perpetual imprisonment. After a 
 month's confinement, you must know, he is entitled, on a 
 sufficient statement to our supreme court, setting forth the 
 amount of his funds, and the nature of his misfortunes, 
 and surrendering all his effects to his creditors, to claim 
 to be discharged from prison." 
 
 " J had heard," I replied, " of such a humane regu- 
 lation." 
 
 " Yes," said Halkit, " and theTbeauty of it is, as the 
 foreign fellow said, you may get the cessio when the hono- 
 rums are all spent — But what, are you puzzHng in your 
 pockets to seek your only memorial among old play-bills, 
 letters requesting a meeting of the Faculty, rules of the 
 Speculative Society, syllabus' of lectures — all the miscel- 
 laneous contents of a young lawyer's pocket, which con- 
 tains every thing but briefs and bank-notes ? Can you 
 not state a case of cessio without your memorial ? Why
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTH lAX. 23 
 
 it is done every Saturday. The events follow each other 
 as regularly as clock-work, and one form of condescen- 
 dence might suit every one of them." 
 
 " This is very unlike the variety of distress which this 
 gentleman stated to fall under the consideration of your 
 judges," said I. 
 
 " True," replied Halkit ; " but Hardie spoke of crini' 
 inal jurisprudence, and thi? business is purely civil. I 
 could plead a cessio myself without the inspiring honours 
 of a gown and three-tailed periwig — Listen.— My client 
 was bred a journeyman weaver — made some little money 
 — took a farm — (for conducting a farm, like driving a gig, 
 comes by nature) — late severe times — induced to sign 
 bills with a friend, for wiiich he had no Value — landlord 
 sequestrates — creditors accept a composition — pursuer 
 sets up a public-house — fails a second time — is incsrcera> 
 ted for a debt of ten pounds, seven shillings and sixpence 
 — his debts amount to blank — his losses to blank — his 
 funds to blank — leaving a balance of blank in his favour. 
 There is no opposition ; your lordships will please ^rant 
 commission to take his oath." 
 
 Hardie now renounced his ineffectual search for the 
 brief, in which there was perhaps a little affectation, and 
 told us the tale of poor Dunover's distresses, with a tone 
 in which a degree of feehng, whicli he seemed ashamed of 
 as unprofessional, mingled with his attempts at wit, and did 
 him more honour. It was one of those tales which seem 
 to r-rgue a sort of ill luck or fatality attached to the hero. 
 A weiJ-iuformed, industrious, and blameless, but poor and 
 bashful m^ii, had in vain essayed all the usual means by 
 which others acquire independence, yet had never suc- 
 ceeded beyond the attainment of bare subsistence. Dur- 
 ing a brief gleam of hope, rather than of actual prosperity, 
 he had added a wife and family to his cares, but the dawn 
 was speedily overcast. Every thing retrograded with him 
 towards the verge of the miry Slough of Despond, which 
 yawns for insolvent debtors ; and after catching at each 
 twig, and experiencing the protracted 3o;ony of feeling 
 them one by one elude his grasp, be actually sunk into the
 
 24 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 miry pit whence he had been extricated by the profes- 
 sional f^Xci lions of Hardie. 
 
 " Ai-.d, 1 suppose, now you have dragged this poor 
 devil asliore, you will leave him half naked on the beach 
 to provide for himself 9" said Halkit. " Hark ye," — and 
 he whispered something in his ear, of which the penetrat- 
 ing and insinuating words, " Interest with my Lord," alone 
 reached mine. 
 
 " It is pessimi exempli,''^ said Hardie, laughing, " to 
 provide for a ruined client ; but I was thinking of what 
 you mention, provided it can be managed — But hush ! 
 here he comes." 
 
 The recent relation of the poor man's misfortunes had 
 given him, I was pleased to observe, a claim to the atten- 
 tion and respect of the young men, who treated him with 
 great civility, and gradually engaged him in a conversation, 
 which, much to my satisfaction, again turned upon the 
 C(jLU6'Zs Cehbres of Scotland. Emboldened by the kind- 
 ness with which he was treated, Mr. Dunover began to 
 contribute liis share to the amusement of the evening. 
 Jailc, iJke other places, have their ancient traditions, known 
 only to the inhabitants, and handed down from one set of 
 the melancholy lodgers to the next who occupy their cells. 
 Some of these, which Dunover mentioned, were interest- 
 ing, and served to illustrate the narratives of remarkable 
 trials, which Hardie had at his finger ends, and which his 
 companion was also well skilled in. This sort of conver- 
 sation passed away the evening till the early hour when 
 Mr. Dunover chose to retire to rest, and 1 also retreated 
 to take down memorandums of what I had learned, in 
 order to add another narrative to those which it has been 
 my chief amusement to collect, and to write out in detail. 
 The two young men ordered a broiled bone, Madeira 
 negus, and a pack of cards, and commenced a game at 
 picquet. 
 
 Next morning the travellers left Gandercleugh. I af- 
 terwards learned from tlie papers that both have been 
 since engaged in the great political cause of Bubblebvirgh 
 and Bitem, a summary case, and entitled to particular
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. 25 
 
 despatch ; but which, it is thought, nevertheless may out- 
 last the duration of the parliament to which the contest 
 refers. Mr. Halkit, as the newspapers informed me, acts 
 as agent or solicitor ; and Mr. Hardie opened for Sir 
 Peter Plyem with singular ability, and to such purpose, 
 that I understand he has since had fewer play-bills and 
 more briefs in his pocket. And both the young gentle- 
 men deserve their good fortune ; for I learned from Dun- 
 over, who called on me some weeks afterwards, and com- 
 municated the intelligence with tears in his eyes, that their 
 interest had availed to obtain him a small office for the 
 decent maintenance of his family ; and that, after a train 
 of constant and uninterrupted misfortune, he could trace 
 a dawn of prosperhy to his having the good fortune to be 
 flung from the top of a mail-coach into the river Gander, 
 in company with an advocate and a writer to the signet. 
 The reader will not perhaps deem himself equally obliged 
 to the accident, since it brings upon him the following nar- 
 rative, founded upon the conversation of the evening. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Whoe'er's been at Paris must needs know the Greve, 
 The fatal retreat of the unfortunate brave, 
 Where hono-jr and justice most oddly contribute 
 To ease heroes' pains by an halter and gibbet. 
 
 There death breaks the shackles which force had put on, 
 
 And the hangman completes what the judge but began ; 
 
 There the squire of the poet, and knight of the post, 
 
 Find their pains no more baulked, and their hopes no more oross'd. 
 
 Prior. 
 
 In former times, England had her Tyburn, to which 
 the devoted victims of justice were conducted in solemn 
 procession, up what is now called Oxford-Road. la Ed- 
 
 3 VOL. I.
 
 26 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 inburgli, a large open street, or rather oblong square, sur- 
 rounded by high houses, called the Grass-market, was used 
 for the same melancholy purpose. It was not ill chosen 
 for such a scene, being of considerable extent, and there- 
 fore fit to accommodate a great number of spectators, 
 such as are usually assembled by this melancholy specta- 
 cle. On the other hand, few of the houses which sur- 
 round it were, even in early times, inhabited by persons 
 of fashion ; so that those likely to he offended or over 
 deeply affected by such unpleasant exhibitions, were not 
 in the way of having their quiet disturbed by them. The 
 houses in the Grass-market are, generally speaking, 
 of a mean description ; yet the place is not without some 
 features of grandeur, being overhung by the southern side 
 of the huge rock on vvhicli the castle stands, and by the 
 moss-grown battlements and turretted wall of that ancient 
 fortress. 
 
 It v/as the custom, until within these five-and-twenty 
 years, or thereabouts, to use this esplanade for the scene 
 of public executions. The fatal day was announced to 
 the public, by the appearance of a huge black gallows- 
 tree towards the eastern end of the Grass-market This 
 ill-omened apparition was of great height, with a scaffold 
 surrounding it, and a double ladder placed against it, for 
 the ascent of the unhappy criminal and the executioner. 
 As this apparatus was always arranged before dawn, it 
 seemed as if the gallows had grown out of the earth in 
 the course of one night, like the production of some foul 
 demon ; and I well remember the fright v.ith which the 
 school-boys, when I was one of their number, used to re- 
 gard these ominous signs of deadly preparation. On the 
 night after the execution the gallows ag^.in disappeared, 
 and was conveyed in silence and darkness to the place 
 where it was usually deposited, which vvas one of the vaults 
 under the Parliament-house, or courts of justice. This 
 mode of execution is now exchanged for one similar to 
 that in front of Newgate, — with what beneficial effect is 
 uncertain. The mental sufferings of the pannel are in-
 
 THE HEART OF MID'LOTHIAX. 27 
 
 deed shortened. He no longer walks between the attend- 
 ant clergymen, dressed in his grave-clothes, through a 
 considerable part of the city, looking like a moving and 
 walking corpse, while yet an inhabitant of this world ; but, 
 as the ultimate purpose of punishment has in view the 
 prevention of crimes, it may at least be doubted, whether, 
 in abridging the melancholy ceremony, we have not in part 
 diminished that appalling effect upon the spectators which 
 is the useful end of all such inflicdons, and in considera- 
 tion of which alone, unless in very particular cases, cap- 
 ital sentences can be ahogether justified. 
 
 Upon the 7th day of September, 1736, these ominous 
 preparations for execution were descried in the place we 
 have described, and at an early hour the space around 
 began to be occupied by several groups, who gazed on 
 the scaffold and gibbet with a stern and vindictive show of 
 satisfaction very seldom testified by the populace, whose 
 good-nature, in most cases, forgets the crime of the con- 
 demned person, and dwells only on his misery. But the 
 act of which the expected culprit had been convicted was 
 of a description calculated nearly and closely to awaken 
 and irritate the resentful feelings of the multitude. The 
 tale is well known ; yet it is necessary to recapitulate its 
 leading circumstances, for the better understanding what is 
 to follow ; and the narrative may prove long, but I trust 
 not uninteresting, even to those who have heard its gen- 
 eral issue. At any rate, some detail is necessary, in or- 
 der to render intelligible the subsequent events of our 
 narrative. 
 
 Contraband trade, though it strikes at the root of legit- 
 imate government, by encroaching on its revenues,— 
 though it injures the fair trader, and debauches the 
 minds of those engaged in it, — is not usually looked 
 upon, either by the vulgar or by their betters, in a very 
 heinous point of view. On the contrary, in those counties 
 where it prevails, the cleverest, boldest, and m.ost intelli- 
 gent of the peasantry, are uniformly engaged in illicit 
 transactions, and very often with the sanction of the far-
 
 28 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 mers and inferior gentry. Smuggling was almost univer- 
 sal in Scotland in the reigns of George J. and 11. ; for 
 the people, unaccustomed to imposts, and regarding them 
 as an unjust aggression upon their ancient liberties, made 
 no scruple to elude them whenever it was possible to do so. 
 The county of Fife, bounded by two friths on the south 
 and north, and by the sea on the east, and having a num- 
 ber of small sea-portS; was long famed for maintaining 
 successfully a contraband-trade ; and, as there were many 
 seafaring men residing there, who had been pirates and 
 buccaneers in their youth, there were not wanting a suffi- 
 cient number of daring men to carry it on. Among these, 
 a fellow called Andrew Wilson, originally a baker in the 
 village of Pathhead, was particularly obnoxious to the 
 revenue officers. He was possessed of great personal 
 strength, courage, and cunning, — was perfectly acquaint- 
 ed with the coast, and capable of conducting the most 
 desperate enterprizes. On several occasions he succeed- 
 ed in baffling the pursuit and researches of the king's offi- 
 cers ; but he became so much the object of their suspi- 
 cions and watchful attention, that at length he was totally 
 ruined by repeated seizures. The man became desperate. 
 He considered himself as robbed and plundered ; and 
 took it into his head, that he had a right to make reprisals, 
 as he could find opportunity. Where the heart is prepar- 
 ed for evil, opportunity is seldom long wanting. This 
 Wilson learned, that the Collector of the Customs at 
 Kirkaldy had come to Pittenweem, in the course of his 
 official round of duty, with a considerable sum of public 
 money in his custody. As the amount was greatly within 
 the value of the goods which had been siezed from him, 
 he felt no scruple of conscience in resolving to reimburse 
 himself for his losses, at the expense of the Collector and 
 the revenue. He associated wnth himself one Robertson, 
 and two other idle young men, whom, having been con- 
 cerned in the same ilhcit trade, he persuaded to view the 
 transaction in the same justifiable light in which he himself 
 considered it. They watched the motions of the Col- 
 lector ; they broke forcibly into the house wheve he lodg-
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. 29 
 
 ed, — WilsoD, with two of his associates, entering the Col- 
 lector's apartment, while Robertson the fourth, kept watch 
 at the door with a drawn cutlass in his hand. The officer 
 of the customs, conceiving his Hfe in danger escaped out 
 of his bed-room window, and fled in his shirt, so that the 
 plunderers, with much ease, possessed themselves of about 
 two hundred pounds of public money. This robbery was 
 committed in a very audacious manner, for several per- 
 sons were passing in the street at the time. But Robert- 
 son, representing the noise they heard as a dispute or fray 
 betwixt the Collector and the people of the house, the 
 worthy citizens of Pittenweem felt themselves no way 
 called on to interfere in behalf of the obnoxious revenue 
 officer ; so, satisfying themselves with this very superfi- 
 cial account of the matter, hke the Levite in the parable, 
 they passed on the opposite side of the way. An alarm 
 was at length given, military were called in, the depreda- 
 tors were pursued, the booty recovered, and Wilson and 
 Robertson tried and condemned to death, chiefly on the 
 evidence of an accomplice. 
 
 Many thought, that, in consideration of the men's er- 
 roneous opinion of the nature of the action they had com- 
 mitted, justice might have been satisfied with a less for- 
 feiture than that of two Hves. On the other hand, from 
 the audacity of the fact, a severe example was judged 
 necessary, and such was the opinion of the government. 
 VVben it became apparent that the sentence of death was 
 to be executed, files and other implements necessary for 
 their escape, were transmitted secretly to the culprits by 
 a friend from without. By these means they sawed a bar 
 out of one of the prison-windows, and might have made 
 their escape, but for the obstinacy of Wilson, who, as he 
 was daringly resolute, was doggedly pertinacious of his 
 opinion. His comrade, Robertson, a young and slender 
 man, proposed to make the experiment of passing the 
 foremost through the gap they had made, and enlarging it 
 from the outside, if necessary, to allow Wilson free pas- 
 sage. Wilson, however, insisted on making the first ex- 
 
 3* VOL. I.
 
 30 TALES OF MY LANDiORD. 
 
 periment, and being a robust and lusty man, he not only 
 found it impossible to get through betwixt the bars, but 
 by his struggles, he jammed himself so fast, that he was 
 unable to draw his body back again. In these circumstan- 
 ces discovery became unavoidable, and sufficient precau- 
 tions were taken by the jailor to prevent any repetition of 
 the same attempt. Robertson uttered not a word of re- 
 flection on his companion for the consequences of his ob- 
 stinacy ; but it appeared from the sequel, that Wilson's 
 mind was deeply impressed with the recollection, that, but 
 for him, his comrade, over whose mind he exercised con- 
 siderable influence, would not have engaged in the crim- 
 inal enterprize which had terminated thus fatally ; and 
 that now he had become his destroyer a second time, 
 since, but for his obstinacy, Robertson might have effected 
 his escape. Minds hke Wilson's, even when exercised in 
 evil practices, sometimes retain the power of thinking and 
 resolving with enthusiastic generosity. His whole mind 
 was now bent on the possibility of saving Robertson's Hfe, 
 without the least respect to his own. The resolution 
 which he adopted, and the manner in which he carried it 
 into effect, were striking and unusual. 
 
 Adjacent to the tolbooth or city gaol of Edinburgh, is 
 one of the three churches into which the cathedral of St. 
 Giles is now divided, called, from its vicinity, the Tolbooth 
 Church. It was the custom, that criminals under sen- 
 tence of death were brought to this church, with a suffi- 
 cient guard, to hear and join in public worship on the 
 Sabbath before execution. It was supposed that the 
 hearts of these unfortunate persons, however hardened 
 before against feelings of devotion, could not but be ac- 
 cessible to them upon uniting their thoughts and voices, 
 for the last time, along with their fellow-mortals, in ad- 
 dressing their Creator. And to the rest of the congre- 
 gation, it was thought it could not but be impressive and 
 affecting, to find their devotions mingling with those, who, 
 sent by the doom of an earthly tribunal to appear where 
 the W'hole earth is judged, might be considered as beings 
 trembling on the verge of eternity. The practice, how-
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. 31 
 
 ever edifying, has been discontinued since the incident we 
 are about to detail. 
 
 The clergyman, whose duty it was to officiate in the 
 Tolbooth Church, had concluded an affecting discourse, 
 part of which was particularly directed to the unfortunate 
 men, Wilson and Robertson, who were in the pew set 
 apart for the persons in their unhappy situation, each se- 
 cured betwixt two soldiers of the city guard. The cler- 
 -gynian had reminded them, that the next congregation 
 they must jjoin would be that of the just, or of the un- 
 just : that the psalms they now heard must be exchang- 
 ed, in the space of two brief days, for eternal hallelujahs, 
 or eternal lamentations ; and that this fearful alternative 
 must depend upon the state to which they may be able 
 to bring their minds before the moment of awful prepara- 
 tion : that they should not despair on account of the sud- 
 denness of the summons, but rather feel this comfort 
 in their misery, that, though all who now Hfted the voice, 
 or bent the knee in conjunction with them, lay under the 
 same sentence of certain death, they only had the advan- 
 tage of knowing the precise moment at which it should 
 be executed upon them. " Therefore," urged the good 
 man, his voice trembling with emotion, " redeem the time, 
 my unhappy brethren, which is yet left, and remember, 
 that, with the grace of Him to whom space and time are 
 but as nothing, salvation may yet be assured, even in the 
 pittance of delay which the laws of vour country afford 
 you." 
 
 Robertson was observed to weep at these words ; but 
 Wilson seemed as one whose brain had not entirely re- 
 ceived their meaning, or whose thoughts were deeply im- 
 pressed with some different subject ; — an expression so 
 natural to a person in his situation, that it excited neither 
 suspicion nor surprise. 
 
 The benediction was pronounced as usual, and the con- 
 gregation was dismissed, many Hngering to indulge their 
 curiosity with a more fixed look at the two criminals, who 
 now, as well as their guards, rose up, as if to depart when 
 the crowd should permit them. A murmur of compas-
 
 O'i TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 sion was heard to pervade the spectators, the more gen- 
 eral, perhaps, on account of the alleviating circumstances 
 of the case ; when all at once, Wilson, who, v/e have 
 noticed, was a very strong man, seized two of the soldiers, 
 one with each hand, and calhng at the same time to his 
 companion, " Run, Geordie, run !" threw himself on a 
 third, and fastened his teeth on the collar of his coat. 
 Robertson stood for a second as if thunderstruck, and un- 
 able to avail himself of the opportunity of escape ; but 
 the cry of " Run, run," being echoed from many around, 
 whose feelings surprised them into a very natural interest 
 in his behalf, he shook off the grasp of the remaining sol- 
 dier, threw himself over the pew, mixed with the dispers- 
 ing congregation, none of whom felt inclined to stop a 
 poor wretch taking this last chance for his life, gained the 
 door of the church, and was lost to all pursuit. 
 
 The generous intrepidity which Wilson had displayed 
 on this occasion augmented the feeling of compassion 
 which attended his fate. The public, where their own 
 prejudices are not concerned, easily engaged on the 
 side of disinterestedness and humanity, admired Wilson's 
 behaviour, and rejoiced in Robertson's escape. This 
 general feeling was so great, that it excited a vague re- 
 port that Wilson would be rescued at the place of execu- 
 tion, either by the mob or by some of his old associates, 
 or by some second extraordinary exertion of strength 
 and courage on his own part. The magistrates thought 
 it their duty to provide against the possibility of dis- 
 turbance. They ordered out, for protection of the 
 execution of the sentence, the greater part of their own 
 City Guard, under the command of Captain Porteous, a 
 man whose name became too memorable from the melan- 
 choly circumstances of the day, and subsequent events. 
 It may be necessary to say a word about this person, anc 
 the corps which he commanded. But the subject is o 
 importance sufficient to deserve another chapter.
 
 THE HEART OF MID-IOTHIAN. 33 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 And thou, great god of aqua-vitae ! 
 Wha swajs the empire of this city, 
 (When fou we're sometimes capernoity,) 
 
 Be thou prepared, 
 To save U3 frae that black banditti, 
 
 The City Guard ; 
 
 Ferguson's Daft Days. 
 
 Captain John Porteous, a name memorable in the 
 traditions of Edinburgh, as well as in the records of crim- 
 inal jurisprudence, was the son of a citizen of Edinburgh, 
 who endeavoured to breed him up to his own mechanical 
 trade. The youth, however, had a wild and irreclaimable 
 propensity to dissipation, which finally sent him to serve in 
 the corps long maintained in the service of the States of 
 Holland, and called the Scotch-Dutch. Here he learned 
 military discipline ; and, returning afterwards, in the 
 course of an idle and wandering Hfe, to his native city, 
 his services were required by the magistrates of Edin- 
 burgh in the disturbed year 1715, for disciplining their 
 City Guard, in which he shortly afterwards received a 
 captain's commission. It was only by his military skill, 
 and an alert and resolute character, that he merited this 
 promotion, for he is said to have been a man of profligate 
 habhs, an unnatural son, and a brutal husband. He was, 
 however, useful .in his station, and his harsh and fierce 
 manners rendered him formidable to rioters or other dis- 
 turbers of the public peace. 
 
 The corps in which he held his command is, or perhaps 
 we should rather say was, a body of about one hundred 
 and twenty soldiers, divided into three companies, and 
 regularly armed, clothed, and embodied. It was chiefly 
 veterans who enlisted in this corps, having the benefit of 
 working at their trades when they were off duty. These 
 men had the charge of preserving public order, repressing
 
 34 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 riots and street robberies, and attending on all public oc- 
 casions where confusion oj- popular disturbance might be 
 expected. Poor Fjerguson, whose irregularities some- 
 times led him into unpleasant rencontres with these mili- 
 tary conservators of public order, and who mentions them 
 so often that he may be termed their poet laureate, thus 
 admonishes his readers, warned doubtless by his own ex- 
 perience : 
 
 " Gude folk, as ye come frae the fair, 
 
 Bide yont frae this black squad ; 
 There's nae sic savagos elsewhere 
 
 Allowed to wear cockad." 
 
 In fact, the soldiers of the City Guard, being, as we 
 have said, in general discharged veterans, who had strength 
 enough remaining for this municipal duty, and being, 
 moreover, in general Highlanders, were neither by birth, 
 education, or former habits, trained to endure with much 
 patience the insults of the rabble, or the provoking petu- 
 lance of truant school-boys, and idle debauchees of all 
 descriptions, with whom their occupation brought them 
 into contact. On the contrary, the tempers of the poor 
 old fellows were soured by the indignities with which the 
 mob distinguished them on many occasions, and frequently 
 might have required the soothing strain of the poet we 
 have just quoted — 
 
 " O soldiers ! for your ain dear sakes, 
 For Scotland's love, the Land o' Cakes, 
 Gie not her bairns sic deadly paiks 
 
 JNor be sae rude, 
 Wi' firelock or Lochaber axe. 
 
 As spill their bluid !" 
 
 On all occasions when hohday licenses some riot and 
 irregularity, a skirmish with these veterans was a favourite 
 recreation with the rabble of Edinburgh. These pages 
 may perhaps see the li^ht when many have in fresh recol- 
 lection such onsets as we allude to. But the venerable 
 corps, with whom the contention was held, may now be 
 considered as totally extinct. Of late the gradual diminu-
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 35 
 
 lion of these civic soldiers reminds one of the abatement 
 of King Lear's hundred knights. The edicts of each 
 set of succeeding magistrates have, like those of Goneril 
 and Regan, diminished this venerable band with the sim- 
 ilar question, " What need we five-and-twenty *? — ten "? — 
 or five ?" And it is now nearly come to, " What need 
 one '?" A spectre may indeed here and there still be seen 
 of an old grey-headed and grey-bearded Highlander, with 
 war-worn features, but bent double by age ; dressed in an 
 old-fashioned cocked hat, bound with white tape iiistead 
 of silver lace ; and in coat, waistcoat, and breeches of a 
 muddy-coloured red, bearing in his withered hand an an- 
 cient weapon, called a Lochaber-axe, a long pole, nainely, 
 with an axe at the extremity, and a hook at tlie back of 
 the hatchet. Such a phantom of former days stiii creeps, 
 I have been informed, round the statue of Charles the 
 Second, in the Parhament-Square, as if the image of a 
 Stuart were the last refuge for any memorial of our an- 
 cient manners ; and one or two others are supposed to 
 glide around the door of the guard-house assigned to them 
 at the Luckenbooths, when their ancient refuge in the 
 High-street was laid lovv^. But the fate of maauscripts 
 bequeathed to friends and executors is so uncertain, that 
 the narrative containing these frail memorials of the old 
 Town-Guard of Edrnburgh, who, with their grim and 
 vahant corporal, John Dhu, (the fiercest looking fellow I 
 ever saw,) were, in my boyhood, the alternate terror and 
 derision of the petulant brood of the High School, may 
 perhaps only come to light when all memory of the insti- 
 tution has faded aw;ay,.and then serve as an illustration of 
 Kay's caricatures, who has preserved the features of some 
 of their heroes. In the preceding generation, when there 
 was a perpetual alarm for the plots and activity of the 
 Jacobites, some pains was taken by the magistrates of 
 Edinburgh to keep this corps, though composed always of 
 such materials as we have noticed, in a more effective 
 state than was afterwards judged necessary, when their 
 most dangerous service wab to skirmish with the rabble on 
 the King's birth-day. Tney were, therefore, more the
 
 36 TAIES OF MY X AND LORD. 
 
 objects of hatred, and less that of scorn, than they were 
 afterwards accounted. 
 
 To Captain Joim Porteous the honour of his command 
 and of his corps seems to have been a matter of high in- 
 terest and importance. He was exceedingly incensed 
 against Wilson for the affront which he construed him to 
 have put upon his soldiers, in the effort he made for the 
 hberation of his companion, and expressed himself most 
 ardently on the topic. He was no less indig/iant at the 
 report, that there was an intention to rescue Wilson him- 
 self from the gallows, and uttered many threats and im- 
 precations upon that subject, which were afterwards re- 
 membered to his disadvantage. In fact, if a good deal of 
 determination and promptitude rendered Porteous, in one 
 respect, fit to command guards designed to suppress pop- 
 ular commotion, he seems, on the other, to have been dis- 
 qualified for a charge so delicate, by a hot and surly tem- 
 per, always too ready to come to blows and violence ; a 
 character void of principle ; and a disposition to regard 
 the rabble, who seldom failed to regale him and his soldiers 
 with some marks of their displeasure, as declared enemies, 
 upon whom it was natural and justifiable that he should 
 seek opportunities of vengeance. Being, however, the 
 most active and trust-worthy among the captains of the 
 City Guard, he was the person to whom the magistrates 
 entrusted the command of the soldiers appointed to keep 
 the peace at the time of Wilson's execution. He was 
 ordered to guard the gallows and scaffold, with about 
 eighty men, all the disposable force that could be spared 
 for that duty. 
 
 But the magistrates took farther precautions, which af- 
 fected Porteous's pride very deeply. They requested 
 the assistance of part of a regular infantry regiment, not 
 to attend upon the execution, but to remain drawn up 
 upon the principal street of the city, during the time that 
 it went forward, in order to intimidate the multitude, in 
 case they should be disposed to be unruly, with a display 
 of force which could not be resisted without desperation. 
 It may sound ridiculous in our ears, considering the fallen
 
 THE HEART OF MID-lOTHIAX. 37 
 
 State of this ancient civic corps, that its officer should 
 have felt punctiliously jealous of its honour. Yet so it 
 was. Captain Porteous resented, as an indignity, the 
 fetching the Welsh Fusileers within the city, and into a 
 street where no drums but his own were allowed to be 
 struck, without the special command or permission of the 
 magistrates. As he could not show his ill humour to his 
 patrons the magistrates, it increased his indignation and 
 his desire to be revenged on the unfortunate criminal Wil- 
 son, and all who favoured him. These internal emotions 
 of jealousy and rage wrought a change on the man's mien 
 and bearing, visible to all who saw him on the fatal morn- 
 ing when Wilson was appointed to suffer. Porteous's 
 ordinary appearance was rather favourable. He was 
 about the middle size, stout, and well made, having a 
 military air, and yet rather a gentle and mild countenance. 
 His complexion was brown, his face somewhat fretted 
 with the scars of the small-pox, his eyes rather languid 
 than keen or fierce. On the present occasion, however, 
 it seemed to those who saw him as if he were agitated by 
 some evil demon. His step was irregular, his voice hol- 
 low and broken, his countenance pale, his eyes staring and 
 wild, his speech imperfect and confused, and his whole 
 appearance so disordered, that many remarked he seem- 
 ed to be fey, a Scottish expression, meaning the state of 
 those who are driven on to their impending fate by the 
 strong impulse of some irresistible necessity. 
 
 One part of his conduct was truly diabolical, if, indeed, 
 it has not been exaggerated by the general prejudice en- 
 tertained against his memory. When AVilson, the unhap- 
 py criminal, was delivered to him by the keeper of the 
 prison, in order that he might be conducted to the place 
 of execution, Porteous, not satisfied with the usual pre- 
 cautions to prevent escape, ordered him to be manacled. 
 This might be justifiable from the character and bodily 
 strength of the malefactor, as well as from the apprehen- 
 sions so generally entertained of an expected rescue. But 
 the hand-cuffs which were produced being found too small 
 
 4 VOL. I.
 
 38 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 for the wrists of a man so big-boned as Wilson, Porteous 
 proceeded with his own hands, and by great exertion of 
 strength, to force them till they clasped together, to the 
 exquisite torture of the unhappy criminal. Wilson re- 
 monstrated against such barbarous usage, declaring that 
 the pain distracted his thoughts from the subjects of med- 
 itation proper to his unhappy condition. 
 
 " It signifies little," replied Captain Porteous ; '' your 
 pain will be soon at an end." 
 
 " Your cruelty is great," answered the sufferer. 
 " You know not how soon you yourself may have occa- 
 sion to ask the mercy, which you are now refusing to a 
 fellow creature. May God forgive you." 
 
 These words, long afterwards quoted and remembered, 
 were all that passed between Porteous and his prisoner ; 
 but as they took air, and became known to the people, 
 they greatly increased the popular compassion for Wilson, 
 and excited a proportionate degree of indignation against 
 Porteous ; against whom, as strict, and even violent in 
 the discharge of his unpopular office, tlie common people 
 had some real, and many imaginary causes of com];laint. 
 
 When the painful procession was completed, and Wil- 
 son, with the escort, had arrived at the scaffold in the 
 Grass-market, there appeared no signs of that attempt to 
 rescue him which had occasioned such precautions. The 
 muhitude, in general, looked on with deeper interest than 
 at ordinary executions ; and there might be seen, on the 
 countenances of many, a stern and indignant expression, 
 like that with which the ancient Cameronians might be 
 supposed to witness the execution of their brethren, who 
 glorified the covenant upon occasions something similar, 
 and at the same spot. But there was no attempt at violence. 
 Wilson himself seemed disposed to hasten over the space 
 that divided time from eternity. The devotions proper 
 and usual on such occasions were no sooner finished than 
 he submitted to his fate, and the sentence of the law was 
 executed. 
 
 He had been suspended on the gibbet so long as to be 
 totally deprived of life, when at once, as if occasioned by
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. 39 
 
 some newly-received impulse, there arose a tumult among 
 the multitude. Many stones were thrown at Porteous 
 and his guards ; some mischief was done ; and the mob 
 continued to press forward with whoops, shrieks, howls, 
 and exclamations. A young fellow, with a sailor's cap 
 slouched over his face, sprung on the scaffold, and cut 
 the rope by which the criminal w^as suspended. Others 
 approached to carry off the body, either to secure it for 
 a decent grave, or to try, perhaps, some means of resus- 
 citation. Captain Porteous was wrought, by this appear- 
 ance of insurrection against his authority, into a rage so 
 headlong as made him forget, that, the sentence having 
 been fully executed, it was his duty not to engage in hos- 
 tilities with the misguided multitude, but to draw off his 
 men as fast as possible. He sprung from the scaffold, 
 snatched a musket from one of his soldiers, commanded 
 the party to give fire, and, as several eye-witnesses con- 
 curred in swearing, set them the example, by discharging 
 his piece, and shooting a man dead on the spot. Several 
 soldiers obeyed his command, or followed his example ; 
 six or seven people were slain, and a great many were 
 hurt and wounded. 
 
 After this act of violence, the Captain proceeded to 
 withdraw his men towards their guard-house in the High- 
 Street. The mob were not so much intimidated as in- 
 censed by what had been done. They pursued the sol- 
 diers with execrations, accompanied by v^olhes of stones. 
 As they pressed on them, the rear-most soldiers turned, 
 and again fired with fatal aim and execution. It is not 
 accurately known whether Porteous commanded this se- 
 cond act of violence ; but of course the odium of the 
 whole transactions of the fatal day attached to him, and 
 to him alone. He arrived at the guard-house, dismissed 
 his soldiers, and went to make his report to the magis- 
 trates concerning the unfortunate events of the day. 
 
 Apparently by this time Captain Porteous had begun 
 to doubt the propriety of his own conduct, and the re- 
 ception he met with from the magistrates was such as to 
 make him still more anxious to gloss it over. He denied
 
 40 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 that he had given orders to fire ; he denied he had fired 
 with his own hand ; he even produced the fusee, which 
 he carried as an officer, for examination ; it was found 
 still loaded. Of three cartridges which he was seen to 
 put in his pouch that morning, two were still there ; 
 a white handkerchief was thrust into the muzzle of the 
 piece, and returned unsoiled or blackened. To this it 
 was answered, that he had not used his own piece, but 
 had been seen to take one from a soldier. Among the 
 many who had been killed and wounded by the unhappy 
 fire, there were several of better rank ; for even the hu- 
 manity of such soldiers as fired over the heads of the 
 mere rabble around the scaffold, proved in some instances 
 fatal to persons who were stationed in windows, or ob- 
 served the melancholy scene from a distance. The voice 
 of public indignation was loud and general ; and, ere 
 men's temper had time to cool, the trial of Captain Por- 
 teous took place before the High Court of Justiciary. 
 After a long and patient hearing, the jury had the diffi- 
 cult duty of balancing the positive evidence of many 
 persons, and those of respectability, who deposed abso- 
 lutely to the prisoner's commanding his soldiers to fire, 
 and himself firing his piece, of which some swore that 
 they saw the smoke and flash, and beheld a man drop at 
 whom it was pointed, with the negative testimony of 
 others, who, though well stationed for seeing what had 
 passed, neither heard Porteous give orders to fire, nor 
 saw him fire himself; but, on the contrary, averred that 
 the first shot was fired by a soldier who stood close by 
 him. A great part of his defence was also founded on 
 the turbulence of the mob, which witnesses, according to 
 their feelings, their predilections, and their opportunities 
 of observation, represented differently ; some describing 
 as a formidable riot, what others represented as a trifling 
 disturbance, such as always used to take place on the like 
 occasions, when the executioner of the law, and the men 
 commissioned to protect him in his task, were generally 
 exposed to some indignities. The verdict of the jury 
 sufficiently shows how the evidence preponderated in
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 41 
 
 their minds. It declared that John Porteous fired a gun 
 among the people assembled at the execution ; that he 
 gave orders to his soldiers to fire, by which many persons 
 were killed and wounded ; but, at the same time, that 
 the prisoner and his guard had been wounded and beaten, 
 by stones thrown at them by the multitude. Upon this 
 verdict, the Lords of Justiciary passed sentence of death 
 against Captain John Porteous, adjudging him, in the 
 common form, to be hanged on a gibbet at the common 
 place of execution, on Wednesday, 8th September, 1736, 
 and all his moveable property to be forfeited to the King's 
 use, according to the Scottish law in cases of wilful 
 murder. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " The hour's comC; but not the man.'' 
 
 Kelpie. 
 
 On the day when the unhappy Porteous was expected 
 to suffer the sentence of the law, the place of execution, 
 extensive as it is, was crowded almost to suffocation. 
 There was not a window in all the lofty tenements around 
 it, or in the steep and crooked street called the Bow, by 
 which the fatal procession was to descend from the High- 
 Street, which was not absolutely filled with spectators. 
 The uncommon height and antique appearance of these 
 houses, some of which were formerly the property of the 
 Knights Templars, and the Knights of St. John, and still 
 exhibit on their fronts and gables the iron cross of these 
 orders, gave additional effect to a scene in itself so strik- 
 ing. The area of the Grass-market resembled a huge 
 dark lake or sea of human heads, in the centre of which 
 arose the fatal tree, tall, black, and ominous, from which 
 dangled the deadly halter. Every object takes interest 
 
 4* VOL. I.
 
 ^42 
 
 TALES OF MY XANDLORD. 
 
 from its uses and associations, and the erect beam and 
 empty noose, things so simple in themselves, became ob- 
 jects, on such an occasion, of terror and of solemn in- 
 terest. 
 
 Amid so numerous an assembly there was scarce a 
 word spoken, save in whispers. The thirst of vengeance 
 was in some degree allayed by its supposed certairrty ; 
 and even the populace, with deeper feeling than they are 
 wont to entertain, suppressed all clamorous exultation, and 
 prepared to enjoy the scene of retaliation in triumph, si- 
 lent and decent, though stern and relentless. It seemed 
 as if the depth of their hatred to the unfortunate criminal 
 despised to display itself in anything resembling the more 
 noisy current of their ordinary feelings. Had a stranger 
 consulted only the evidence of his ears, he might have 
 supposed that so vast a multitude were assembled for 
 some purpose which affected them with the deepest sor- 
 row, and stilled those noises which, upon all ordinary oc- 
 casions, arise from such a concourse ; but if he gazed 
 upon their faces, he would have been instantly undeceiv- 
 ed. The compressed lip, the bent brow, the stern and 
 flashing eye of almost every one on whom he gazed, con- 
 veyed the expression of men come to glut their sight with 
 triumphant revenge. It is probable that the appearance 
 of the criminal might have somewhat changed the temper 
 of the populace in his favour, and that they might in the 
 moment of death have forgiven the man against whom 
 their resentment had been so fiercely heated. It had, 
 however, been destined, that the mutability of their sen- 
 timents was not to be exposed to this trial. 
 
 The usual hour for producing the criminal had been 
 past for many minutes, yet the spectators observed no 
 symptom of his appearance. " Would they venture to 
 defraud public justice 9" was the question which men 
 began anxiously to ask at each other. The first answer 
 in every case was bold and positive. " They dare not." 
 But when the point was farther canvassed, other opinions 
 were entertained, and various causes of doubt were sug- 
 gested. Porteous had been a favourite officer of the
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. 43 
 
 magistracy of the city, a numerous and fluctuating 
 body, that requires for its support a degree of energy in 
 its functionaries, which the individuals who compose 
 it cannot at all times ahke be supposed to possess in 
 their own persons. It was remembered, that in the In- 
 formation for Porteous, (the paper, namely, in which his 
 case was stated to the judges of the criminal court,) he 
 had been described by his counsel as the person on whom 
 the magistrates chiefly relied in all emergencies of un- 
 common difiiculty. It was argued, too, that his conduct, 
 upon the unhappy occasion of Wilson's execution was 
 capable of being attributed to an imprudent excess of 
 zeal in the execution of his duty, a motive for which those 
 under whose authority he acted might be supposed to 
 have great sympathy. And as these considerations might 
 move the magistrates to make a favourable representation 
 of Porteous's case, there were not wanting others in the 
 higher departments of government, which would make 
 such suggestions favourably listened to. 
 
 The mob of Edinburgh, when thoroughly excited, had 
 been at all times one of the fiercest which could be found 
 in Europe ; and of late years they had lisen repeatedly 
 against the government, and sometimes not without suc- 
 cess. They were conscious, therefore, that they were no 
 favourites with the rulers of the period, and that, if Cap- 
 tain Porteous's violence was not altogether regarded as 
 good service, it might certainly be thought, that to visit it 
 with a capital punishment would render it both delicate and 
 dangerous for future oflicers, in the same circumstances, 
 to act with eflect in repressing tumults. There is also a 
 natural feeling on the part of all members of govern- 
 ment, for the general maintenance of authority ; and it 
 seemed not unhkely, that what to the relatives of the suf- 
 ferers appeared a wanton and unprovoked massacre, 
 should be otherwise viewed in the cabinet of St. James's. 
 It might be there supposed, that, upon the whole matter, 
 Captain Porteous was in the exercise of a trust delegated 
 to him by the lawful civil authority : that he had been 
 assaulted by the populace, and several of his men hurt ;
 
 44 TALES OF MT LANDLORD. 
 
 and that, in finally repelling force by force, his conduct 
 could be fairly imputed to no other motive than self-de- 
 fence in the discharge of his duty. 
 
 These considerations, of themselves very powerful, in- 
 duced the spectators to apprehend the possibihty of a re- 
 prieve ; and to the various causes which might interest 
 the rulers in his favour, the lower part of the rabble added 
 one which was peculiarly well adapted to their compre- 
 hension. It was averred, in order to increase the odium 
 against Porteous, that while he repressed with the utmost 
 severity the sHghtest excesses of the poor, he not only 
 overlooked the Hcense of the young nobles and gentry, 
 but was very wilhng to lend them the countenance of his 
 official authority, in execution of such loose pranks as it 
 was chiefly his duty to have restrained. This suspicion, 
 which was perhaps much exaggerated, made a deep im- 
 pression on the minds of the populace ; and when seve- 
 ral of the higher rank joined in a petition, recommending 
 Porteous to the mercy of the crown, it was generally 
 supposed he owed their favour not to any conviction of 
 the hardship of his case, but to the fear of losing a conven- 
 ient accomplice in their debaucheries. It is scarce neces- 
 sary to say how much this suspicion augmented the peo- 
 ple's detestation of this obnoxious criminal, as well as their 
 fear of his escaping the sentence pronounced against him. 
 
 While these arguments were stated and repHed to, and 
 canvassed and supported, the hitherto silent expectation 
 of the people became changed into that deep and agitat- 
 ing murmur which is sent forth by the ocean before the 
 tempest begins to howl. The crowded populace, as if 
 the motions had corresponded with the unsettled state of 
 their minds, fluctuated to and fro without any visible cause 
 of impulse, like the agitation of the waters, called by 
 sailors the ground-swell. The news, which the magis- 
 trates had almost hesitated to communicate to them, were 
 at length announced, and spread among the spectators 
 with a rapidity like lightning. A reprieve from the Sec- 
 retary of State's office, under the hand of his Grace the 
 Duke of Newcastle, had arrived, intimating the pleasure
 
 THE HEART OF MID-tOTHIAN. 45 
 
 of Queen Caroline, (Regent of the kingdom during the 
 absence of George II. on the continent,) that the execu- 
 tion of the sentence of death pronounced against John 
 Porteous, late Captain-lieutenant of the City Guard of 
 Edinburgh, present prisoner in the tolbooth of that city, 
 be respited for six weeks from the time appointed for his 
 execution. 
 
 The assembled spectators of almost all degrees, whose 
 minds had been wound up to the pitch which we have 
 d'escribed, uttered a groan, or rather a roar of indignation 
 and disappointed revenge, similar to that of a tyger from 
 which his meal has been rent by his keeper when he was 
 just about to devour it. This fierce exclamation seemed 
 to forebode some immediate explosion of popular resent- 
 ment, and, in fact, such had been expected by the mag- 
 istrates, and the necessary measures had been taken to 
 repress it. But the shout w^as not repeated, nor did any 
 sudden tumult ensue, such as it seemed to announce. 
 The populace appeared to be ashamed of having express- 
 ed their disappointment in a vain clamour, and the sound 
 changed, not into the silence which had preceded the 
 arrival of these stunning news, but into stifled mutterings, 
 which each group maintained among themselves, and 
 which were blended into one deep and hoarse murmur 
 which floated above the assembly. Yet still, though all 
 expectation of the execution was over, the mob remain- 
 ed assembled, stationary as it were, through very resent- 
 ment, gazing on the preparations for death, which had 
 now been made in vain, and stimulating their feelings, by 
 recalling the various claims which Wilson might have had 
 on royal mercy, from the mistaken motives on which he 
 acted, as well as from the generosity he had displayed 
 towards his accomplice. " This man,^' they said, — " the 
 brave, the resolute, the generous, was executed to death 
 without mercy for stealing a purse of gold, which in some 
 sense he might consider as a fair reprisal ; while the pro- 
 fligate satellite, who took advantage of a trifling tumult, 
 inseparable from such occasions, to shed the blood of 
 twenty of his fellow-citizens, is deemed a fitting object
 
 46 TALES OF MY lAWBLORD. 
 
 for the exercise of the royal prerogative of mercy. Is 
 this to be borne "? — would our fathers have borne it 9 
 Are not we, like them, Scotsmen and burghers of Edin- 
 burgh V 
 
 The officers of justice began now to remove the scaf- 
 fold, and other preparations which had been made for 
 the execution, in hopes, by doing so, to accelerate the 
 dispersion of the multitude. The measure had the de- 
 sired effect ; for no sooner had the fatal tree been unfix- 
 ed from the large stone pedestal or socket in which it 
 was secured, and sunk slowly down upon the wain in- 
 tended to remove it to the place where it was usually 
 deposited, than the populace, after giving vent to their 
 feelings in a second shout of rage and mortification, be- 
 gan slowly to disperse to their usual abodes and occupa- 
 tions. 
 
 The windows were in hke manner gradually deserted, 
 and groups of the more decent class of citizens formed 
 themselves, as if waiting to return homewards when the 
 streets should be cleared of the rabble. Contrary to what 
 is frequently the case, this description of persons agreed 
 in general with the sentiments of their inferiors, and con- 
 sidered the cause as common to all ranks. Indeed, as 
 we have already noticed, it was by no^ineans amongst the 
 lowest class of spectators, or those most likely to be 
 engaged in the riot at Wilson's execution, that the fatal 
 fire of Porteous's soldiers had taken effect. Several 
 persons were killed who were looking out at windows at 
 the scene, who could not of course belong to the rioters, 
 and were persons of decent rank and condition. The 
 burghers, therefore, resenting the loss which had fallen 
 on their own body, and proud and tenacious of their 
 rights, as the citizens of Edinburgh have at all times been, 
 w^re greatly exasperated at the unexpected respite of 
 Captain Porteous. 
 
 It was noticed at the time, and afterwards more partic- 
 ularly remembered, that, while the mob were in the act 
 of dispersing, several individuals were seen busily passing 
 from one place and one group of people to another, re-
 
 THE HEART OF MID-tOTHIAN. 47 
 
 maining long with none, but whispering for a little time 
 with those who appeared to be declaiming most violently 
 against the conduct of government. These active agents 
 had the appearance of men from the country, and were 
 generally supposed to be old friends and confederates of 
 Wilson, whose minds were of course highly excited against 
 Porteous. 
 
 If, however, it was the intention of these men to stir 
 the multitude to any sudden act of mutiny, it seemed 
 for the time to be fruitless. The rabble, as well as the 
 more decent part of the assembly, dispersed, and went 
 home peaceably ; and it was only by observing the moody 
 discontent on their brows, or catching the tenor of the con- 
 versation they held with each other, that a stranger could 
 estimate the state of their minds. We will give the read- 
 er this advantage, by associating ourselves with one of 
 the numerous groups who were painfully ascending the 
 steep decHvity of the West Bow, to return to their dwel- 
 lings in the Lawn-market. 
 
 " An unco thing this, Mrs. Howden," said old Peter 
 Plumdamas to his neighbour the rouping-wife, or sales- 
 woman, as he offered her his arm to assist her in the 
 toilsome ascent, " to see the grit folk at Lunnon set their 
 face against law and gospel, and let loose sic a reprobate 
 as Porteous upon a peaceable town." 
 
 " And to think o' the weary walk they hae gi'en us," 
 answered Mrs. Howden, with a groan ; " and sic a com- 
 fortable window as 1 had gotten, too, just within a penny- 
 stane-cast of the scaffold — 1 could hae heard every word 
 the minister said — and to pay twalpennies for my stand, 
 and a' for naething !" 
 
 " I am judging," said Mr. Plumdamas, " that this 
 reprieve wadna stand gude in the auld Scots law, when 
 the kingdom was a kingdom." 
 
 " I dinna ken muckle about the law," answered Mrs. 
 Howden ; " but I ken, when we had a king, and a chan- 
 cellor, and parHament-men o' our ain, we could aye pee- 
 ble them wi' stanes when they were na gnde buirns — 
 But naebody's nails can reach the length o' Lunnon."
 
 48 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 " Weary on Lunnon, and a' that e'er came out o't !'* 
 said Miss Grizell Damahoy, an ancient seamstress ; 
 " they hae ta'en awa' our parliament, and they hae op- 
 pressed our trade. Our gentles will hardly allow that a 
 Scots needle can sew ruffles on a sark, or lace on an 
 owerlay." 
 
 " Ye may say that, Miss Damahoy, and I ken o' them 
 that hae gotten raisins frae Lunnon by forpits at ance," 
 responded Piumdamas ; " and then sic an host of idle 
 English gaugers and excisemen as hae come down to vex 
 and torment us, that an honest man canna fetch sae 
 muckle as a bit anker o' brandy frae Leith to the Lawn- 
 market, but he's hke to be rubbit o' the very gudes he's 
 bought and paid for. Weel, I winna justify Andrew 
 Wilson for pitting hands on what wasna his ; but if he 
 took lae mair than his ain, there's an awful diiference 
 between that and the fact that this man stands for." 
 
 *' If ye speak about the law," said Mrs. Howden, 
 " here comes Mr. Saddletree, that can settle it as weel 
 as ony on the bench." 
 
 The party she mentioned, a grave elderly person, with 
 a superb periwig, dressed in a decent suit of sad-colour- 
 ed clothes, came up as she spoke, and courteously gave 
 his arm to Miss Grizell Damahoy. 
 
 It may be necessary to mention, that Mr. Bartoline 
 Saddletree kept an excellent and highly-esteemed shop 
 for harness, saddles, he. &ic. at the sign of the Golden 
 Nag, at the head of Bess-Wynd. His genius, however, 
 (as he himself and most of his neighbours conceived,) 
 lay towards the weightier matters of the law, and he fail- 
 ed not to give frequent attendance upon the pleadings 
 and arguments of the lawyers and judges in the neigh- 
 bouring square, where, to say the truth, he was oftener to 
 be found than would have consisted with his own emolu- 
 ment ; but that his wife, an active pains-taking person, 
 could, in his absence, make an admirable shift to please 
 the customers and scold t! o journeymen. This good 
 la<iy was in the habit of letting her husband take his 
 way, and go on improving his stock of legal knowledge
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 49 
 
 without interruption, but, as if in requital, she insisted 
 upon having her own will in the domestic and commer- 
 cial departments which he abandoned to her. Now, as 
 Bartoline Saddletree had a considerable gift of words, 
 which he mistook for eloquence, and conferred more lib- 
 erally upon the society in which he hved than was at all 
 times gracious and acceptable, there went forth a saymg, 
 with which wags used sometimes to interrupt his rhetoric, 
 thai, as he had a golden nag at his door, so he had a grey 
 mare in his shop. This reproach induced Mr. Saddle- 
 tree, upon all occasions, to assume rather a haughty and 
 stately tone towards his good woman ; a circumstance by 
 which she seemed very little affected, unless when he at- 
 tempted to exercise any real authority, when she never 
 failed to fly into open rebellion. But such extremes 
 Bartoline seldom provoked ; for, Hke the gentle King 
 Jamie, he was fonder of talking of authority than really 
 exercising it. This turn of mind was, on the whole, 
 lucky for him ; since his substance was increased without 
 any trouble on his part, or any interruption of his favour- 
 ite studies. 
 
 This word in explanation has been thrown in to the 
 reader, while Saddletree was laying down, with great pre- 
 cision, the law upon Porteous's case, by which he arrived 
 at this conclusion, that, if Porteous had fired five min- 
 utes sooner, before Wilson was cut down, he would have 
 been versaas in licito, engaged, that is, in a lawful act, 
 and only liable to be punished propter excessum, or for 
 lack of discretion, which might have mitigated the pun- 
 ishment to prena ordinaria. 
 
 " Discretion !" echoed Mrs. Howden, on whom it may 
 well be supposed the fineness of this distinction was en- 
 tirely thrown away, — " whan had Jock Porteous either 
 grace, discretion, or gude manners 9 — I mind when his 
 father" 
 
 " But, Mrs. Howden," said Saddletree 
 
 " And I," said IMiss Damahoy, " mind when his 
 mother" 
 
 5 VOL. I.
 
 50 TALES OF MT LANDLORD . 
 
 " Miss Damahoy," entreated the interrupted ora- 
 
 tor- 
 
 *' And I," said Plumdamas, *' mind when his wife" 
 
 " Mr. Plumdamas — Mrs. Howden — Miss Damahoy," 
 again implored the orator, — " mind the distinction, as 
 Counsellor Crossmyloof says, — ' I,' says he, ' take a dis- 
 tinction.' Now, the body of the criminal being cut down, 
 and the execution ended, Porteous was no longer official ; 
 the act which he came to protect and guard being done 
 and ended, he was no better than cuivis ex populo." 
 
 " Q^uivis — quivis, Mr. Saddletree, craving your par- 
 don," said (with a prolonged emphasis on the first sylla- 
 ble) Mr. Butler, the deputy schoolmaster of a parish near 
 Edinburgh, who at that moment came up behind them as 
 the false Latin was uttered. 
 
 " What signifies interrupting me, Mr. Butler 9 — but 1 
 am glad to see you notwithstanding — I speak, after Coun- 
 sellor Crossmyloof, and he said cuivis^ 
 
 " If Counsellor Crossmyloof used the dative for the 
 nominative, 1 would have crossed his loof with a tight 
 leathern strap, Mr. Saddletree ; there is not a boy on 
 the booby form but should have been scourged for such 
 a solecism in grammar." 
 
 " I speak Latin like a lawyer, Mr. Butler, and not like 
 a schoolmaster," retorted Saddletree. 
 
 " Scarce like a school-boy, 1 think," rejoined Butler. 
 
 " It matters little," said Bartoline ; " all 1 mean to 
 say is, that Porteous has become liable to the pana extra 
 ordiiiem, or capital punishment ; which is to say, in plain 
 Scotch, the gallows, simply because he did not fire when 
 he was in office, but waited till the body was cut down, 
 the execution vvhilk he had in charge to guard implement- 
 ed, and he himself exonered of the public trust imposed 
 on him." 
 
 " But, Mr. Saddletree," said Plumdamas, *' do ye 
 really think John Porteous's case wad hae been better if 
 he had begun firing before ony stanes were flung at a' ?" 
 
 " Indeed do I, neighbour Plumdamas," replied Bar- 
 toline, confidently, " he being then in point of trust and
 
 THE HEART OF MID-IOTHIAX. 
 
 51 
 
 in point of power, the execution being but inchoate, or, at 
 least, not implemented, or finally ended ; but after Wil- 
 son was cut down, it was a' ower — he was clean exaucto- 
 rate, and had nae mair ado but to get awa' wi' his guard 
 up this West Bow as fast as if there had been a caption 
 after him — And this is law, for I heard it laid down by 
 Lord Vincovincentem." 
 
 " Vincovincentem '? — Is he a lord of state, or a lord 
 of seat'?" inquired Mrs. Howden. 
 
 " A lord of seat — a lord of session. — I fash mysel 
 little wi' lords of state ; they vex me wi' a wheen idle 
 questions about their saddles, and curpels, and holsters, 
 and horse-furniture, and what they'll cost, and whan they'll 
 be ready — a wheen gallopping geese — my wife may serve 
 the like o' them." 
 
 " And so might she, in her day, hae served the best 
 lord in the land, for as httle as ye think o' her, Mr. Sad- 
 dletree," said Mrs. Howden, somewhat indignant at the 
 contemptuous way in which her gossip was mentioned ; 
 " when she and I were twa gilpies, we little thought to 
 hae shten doun wi' the like o' my auld Davie Howden, or 
 you either, Mr. Saddletree." 
 
 While Saddletree, who was not bright at a reply, was 
 cudgelling his brains for an answer to this home-thrust, 
 Miss'Damahoy broke in on him. 
 
 " And as for the lords of state," said Miss Damahoy, 
 " ye suld mind the riding o' the parliament, Mr. Saddle- 
 tree, in the gude auld time before the Union, — a year's 
 rent o' mony a gude estate gaed for horse-graith and har- 
 nessing, forbye broidered robes and foot-mantles, that wad 
 hae stude by their lane wi' gold brocade, and sic things 
 were muckle in my ain line." 
 
 " Ay, and then the lusty banquetting, with sweetmeats 
 and comfits wet and dry, and dried fruits of divers sorts,'* 
 said Plumdamas. " But Scotland was Scotland in these 
 days." 
 
 " rU tell you what it is, neighbours," said Mrs. How- 
 den, " I'll ne'er believe Scotland is Scotland ony mair, if 
 Qur kindly Scots sit doun with the affront they hae gi'en
 
 52 TALES OF MY XANDLORD. 
 
 US this day. It's not only the blude that is shed, but the 
 blude that might hae been shed, that's required at our 
 hands ; there was my daughter's wean, little Eppie Daidle 
 —ray oe, ye ken. Miss Grizeil — had play'd the truant frae 
 the school, as bairns will do, ye ken, Mr. Butler" 
 
 " And for which," interjected Mr. Butler, " they should 
 be soundly scourged by their well-wishers." 
 
 " And had just cruppin to the gallows' foot to see the 
 hanging, as was natural for a wean 5 and what for might 
 na she hae been shot as vveel as the rest o' them, and 
 where wad we a' hae been then ^ I wonder how Queen 
 Carline (if her name be Carline,) wad hae liked to hae 
 had ane o' her ain bairns in sic a venture *?" 
 
 ^' Report says," answered Butler, " that such a circum- 
 stance would not have distressed her majesty beyond en- 
 durance." 
 
 " Aweel," said ^Irs. Howden, " the sum 0' the matter 
 is, that, were I a man, I wad hae amends o' Jock Porte- 
 ous, be the upshot what like o't, if a' the carles and car- 
 lines in England had sworn to the nay-say." 
 
 " I would claw down the tolbooth door wi' my nails," 
 said Miss Grizeil, *' but I wad be at him." 
 
 " Ye may be very right, ladies," said Butler, " but I 
 would not advise you to speak so loud." 
 
 " Speak !" exclaimed both the ladies together, " there 
 will be naething else spoken about frae the Weigh-house 
 to the Water-port, till this is either ended or mended." 
 
 The females now departed to their respective places of 
 abode. Plumdamas joined the other two gentlemen in 
 taking their meridian, (a bumper-dram of brandy,) as 
 they passed the well-known low-browed shop in the Lawn- 
 market, where they were wont to take that refreshment. 
 Mr. Plumdamas then departed towards his shop, and Mr. 
 Butler, who happened to have some particular occasion 
 for the rein of an old bridle, (the truants of that busy day 
 could have anticipated its application,) walked down the 
 Lawn-market with Mr. Saddletree, each talking as he 
 could get a word thrust in, the one on the laws of Scot-
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAW. 5S 
 
 land, the other on those of syntax, and neither listening 
 to a word which his companion uttered. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Elswhair he colde right weel lay down the law, 
 But in his house was meek as is a daw. 
 
 Davie Lindsay. 
 
 " There has been Jock Driver the carrier here, speer- 
 ing about his new graith," said Mrs. Saddletree to her 
 husband, as he crossed his threshold, not with the purpose 
 by any means of consulting him upon his own affairs, but 
 merely to intimate, by a gentle recapitulation, how much 
 duty she had gone through in his absence. 
 
 " Weel," replied Bartoline, and deigned not a word 
 more. 
 
 " And the Laird of Girdingburst has had his running 
 footman here, and ca'd himsell, (he's a civil pleasant young 
 gentleman,) to see w^hen the broidered saddle-cloth for 
 his sorrel horse will be ready, for he wants it agane the 
 Kelso races." 
 
 " Weel, aweel," replied Bartoline, as laconically as 
 before. 
 
 " And his lordship, the Earl of Blazonbury, Lord Flash 
 and Flame, is like to be clean daft, that the harness for 
 the six Flanders mares, wi' the crests, coronets, housings, 
 and mountings conform, are na sent hame according to 
 promise gi'en." 
 
 '* Weel, weel, weel — weel, weel, gudewife," said Sad- 
 dletree, " if he gangs daft, we'll hae him cognosced — it's 
 a' very weel." 
 
 " It's weel that ye think sae, Mr. Saddletree," answer- 
 ed his helpmate, rather nettled at the indifference with 
 which her report was received 5 " there's mony ane wad 
 
 5* VOL. I.
 
 54 TALES OF MY XANDLORD. 
 
 hae thought themselves affronted, if sae mony customers 
 had ca'ad and naebody to answer them but women-folk ; 
 for a' the lads were aff, as sune as your back was turned, 
 to see Porteous hanged, that might be counted upon ; 
 and sae, you no being at hame" 
 
 " Houts, Mrs. Saddletree," said Bartoline, with an air 
 of consequence, " dinna deave me wi' your nonsense ; I 
 was under the necessity of being elsewhere — non omnia 
 — as Mr. Crossmyloof said when he was called by two 
 raacers at once, non omnia possumus — pessimus — possimis 
 — I ken our law-latin offends Mr. Butler's ears, but it 
 means naebody, an' it were the Lord President himsell, 
 can do twa turns at ance." 
 
 " Very right, Mr. Saddletree," answered his careful 
 lielpmate, with a sarcastic smile, " and nae doubt it's a 
 decent thing to leave your wife to look after young gen- 
 tlemen's saddles and bridles, when ye gang to see a man, 
 that never did ye nae ill, raxing a halter." 
 
 " Woman," said Saddletree, assuming an elevated tone, 
 to which the meridian had somewhat contributed, " desist, 
 — I say forbear, from intromitting with affairs thou can'st 
 nbt understand. D'ye think I was born to sit here brog- 
 ging an elshin through bend-leather, when sic men as 
 Duncan Forbes, and that other Arniston chield there, 
 without muckle greater parts, if the close-head speak true, 
 than mysell, maun be presidents and king's advocates nae 
 doubt, and wha but they 9 Whereas, were favour equally 
 distribute, as in the days of the wight Wallace" 
 
 *' I ken naething we wad hae gotten by the wight Wal- 
 lace," said Mrs. Saddletree, " unless, as I hae heard the 
 auld folk tell, they fought in thae days wi' bend-leather 
 guns, and then it's a chance but what, if he bought them, 
 he might forget to pay for them. And as for the great- 
 ness of your parts, Bartley, the folk in the close-head 
 maun ken mair about them than I do, if they make sic a 
 report of them." 
 
 " 1 tell ye, woman," said Saddletree, in high dudgeon, 
 ** that ye ken naething about these matters. In Sir Wil- 
 liam Wallace's days, there was nae man pinned down to
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX . 65 
 
 sic a slavish wark as a saddler's, for they got ony leather 
 graith that they had use for ready-made out of Holland.'* 
 
 " Well," said Butler, who was, like many of his pro- 
 fession, something of a humourist and dry joker, " if 
 that be the case, Mr. Saddletree, " I think we have chang- 
 ed for the better ; since we make our own harness, and 
 only import our lawyers from Holland." 
 
 " It's ower true, Mr. Butler," answered Bartoline, with 
 a sigh ; " if I had had the luck — or rather, if my father had 
 had the sense to send me to Leyden and Utrecht to learn 
 the Substitutes and Pandex" 
 
 " You mean the Institutes — Justinian's Institutes, Mr. 
 Saddletree," said Butler. 
 
 " Institutes and substitutes are synonymous words, Mr. 
 Butler, and used indifferently as such in deeds of tailzie, 
 as you may see in Balfour's Practiques, or Dallas of St. 
 Martin's Stiles. J understand these things pretty weel, I 
 thank God ; but I own I should have studied in Holland." 
 
 " To comfort you, you might not have been farther for- 
 ward than you now are, Mr. Saddletree," repHed Mr. 
 Butler ; " for our Scottish advocates are an aristocratic 
 race — Their brass is of the right Corinthian quality, and 
 JVow cuivis contigit adire Corinthum — aha, Mr. Sad- 
 dletree 9" 
 
 " And aha, Mr. Butler," rejoined Bartoline, upon 
 whom, as may be well supposed, the jest was lost, and all 
 but the sound of the words, " ye said a gliff syne it was 
 quivis, and now I heard ye say cuivis with my ain ears, 
 as plain as ever I heard a word at the fore-bar." 
 
 " Give me your patience, Mr. Saddletree, and I'll ex- 
 plain the discrepancy in three words," said Butler, as 
 pedantic in his own department, though with infinitely 
 more judgment and learning, as Bartoline was in his self- 
 assumed profession of the law — " Give me your patience 
 for a moment — You'll grant that the nominative case is 
 that by which a person or thing is nominated or designed, 
 and which may be called the primary case, all others 
 being formed from it by alterations of the termination in 
 the learned languages, and by prepositions in our modern
 
 56 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 Babylonian jargons — You'll grant me that, I suppose, Mr. 
 Saddletree 9" 
 
 " I dinna ken whether I will or no — ad avisandum, ye 
 ken — naebody should be in a hurry to make admissions, 
 either in point of law, or in point of fact," said Saddle- 
 tree, looking, or endeavouring to look, as if he under- 
 stood what was said. 
 
 " And the dative case," continued Butler 
 
 " I ken what a tutor dative is," said Saddletree, " read- 
 ily enough." 
 
 " The dative case," resumed the grammarian, " is that 
 in which any thing is given or assigned as properly be- 
 longing to a person, or thing — You cannot deny that, I 
 am sure." 
 
 " I am sure I'll no grant it though," said Saddletree. 
 
 " Then, what the deevil d'ye take the nominative and 
 the dative cases to be 9" said Butler, hastily, and surpris- 
 ed at once out of his decency of expression and accuracy 
 of pronunciation. 
 
 " I'll tell you that at leisure, Mr. Butler," said Saddle- 
 tree, with a very knowing look ; " I'll take a day to see 
 and answer every article of your condescendence, and 
 then I'll hold ye to confess or deny as accords." 
 
 *' Come, come, Mr. Saddletree," said his wife, '' we'll 
 have nae confessions and condescendences here ; let them 
 deal in thae sort o' wares that are paid for them — they 
 suit the like o' us as ill as a demipique saddle would set a 
 draught ox." 
 
 " Aha !" said Mr. Butler, *' Optat ephippia bos piger, 
 nothing new under the sun — But it was a fair hit of Mrs. 
 Saddletree, however." 
 
 " And it wad far better become ye, Mr. Saddletree," 
 continued his helpmate, " since ye say ye hae skeel o' 
 the law, to try if ye can do ony thing for Effie Deans, puir 
 thing, that's lying up in thetolbooth yonder, cauld, and hun- 
 gry, and comfortless — a servant lass of ours, Mr. Butler, 
 and as innocent a lass, to my thinking, and as usefu' in the 
 chop — When Mr. Saddletree gangs out, — and ye're aware 
 he's seldom at hame when there's ony o' the plea-houses
 
 THE HEART OF MID-IOTHIAN". 57 
 
 open, — poorEffie used to help me to tumble the bundles o' 
 barkened leather up and down, and range out the gudes, 
 and suit a' body's humours — And troth, she could aye 
 please the customers wi' her answers, for she was aye civil, 
 and a bonnier lass wasna in Auld Reekie. And when folk 
 were hasty and unreasonable, she could serve them better 
 than me, that am no sae yoimg as I hae been, Mr. Butler, 
 and a wee bit short in the temper into the bargain. For 
 when there's ower mony folks crying on me at anes, and 
 nane but ae tongue to answer them, folk maun speak has- 
 tilv, or they'll ne'er get through wark — Sae I miss Effie 
 daily." 
 
 *' De die in diem,^^ added Saddletree. 
 
 " I think," said Butler, after a good deal of hesitation, 
 '' I have seen the girl in the shop — a modest-looking, 
 black-haired girl V 
 
 " Ay, ay, that's just puir Effie," said her mistress. 
 " How she was abandoned to hersell, or whether she was 
 sackless o' the sinfu' deed, God in Heaven knows ; but 
 if she's been guilty, she's been sair tempted, and I wad 
 amaist take my bible-aith she hasna been hersell at the 
 time." 
 
 Butler had by this time become much agitated ; he 
 fidgetted up and down the shop, and showed the greatest 
 agitation that a person of such strict decorum could be 
 supposed to give way to. " Was not this girl," he said, 
 " the daughter of David Deans, that had the parks at 
 St. Leonard's taken ? and has she not a sister '?" 
 
 " In troth has she — puir Jeanie Deans, ten years aulder 
 than hersell ; she was here greeting a wee while syne 
 about her sister.' And what could I say to her, but that 
 she behoved to come and speak to Mr. Saddletree when 
 he was at hame ^ It wasna that I thought Mr. Saddletree 
 could do her or ony other body muckle gude or ill, but it 
 wad aye serve to keep the puir thing's heart up for a wee 
 while ; and let sorrow come when sorrow maun." 
 
 " Ye're mista'en though, gudewife," said Saddletree 
 scornfully, " for I could hae gien her great satisfaction -, 
 I could hae proved to her that her sister was indicted upon
 
 58 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 the statute saxteen hundred and ninety, chapter one — For 
 the mair ready prevention of child-murder — for conceal- 
 ing her pregnancy, and giving no account of the child 
 which she had borne." 
 
 " I hope," said Butler, — " I trust in a gracious God, 
 that she can clear herself." 
 
 " And sae do I, Mr. Butler," replied Mrs. Saddletree. 
 " I am sure I wad hae answered for her as my ain daugh- 
 ter ; but, waes my heart ! J had been tender a' the sim- 
 mer, and scarce ower the door o' my room for twal weeks. 
 And as for Mr. Saddletree, he might live a week in a lying- 
 in hospital, and ne'er find out what the women cam there 
 for. Sae 1 could see little or naething o' her, or I wad 
 hae had the truth o' her situation out o' her, Fse warrant 
 ye — But we a' think her sister maun be able to speak 
 something to clear her." 
 
 '' The haill Parliament House," said Saddletree, '^ was 
 speaking o' naething else, till this job o' Porteous's put 
 it out o' head — It's a beautiful point of presumptive mur- 
 der, and there's been nane like it in the Justiciar Court 
 since the case of Luckie Smith the howdie, that suffered 
 in the year saxteen hundred and seventy-nine." 
 
 " But what's the matter wi' you, Mr. Butler *?" said the 
 good woman ; " ye are looking as white as a sheet ; will 
 ye take a dram '?" 
 
 " By no means," said Butler, compelling himself to 
 speak. " I walked in from Dumfries yesterday, and this 
 is a warm day." 
 
 " Sit down," said Mrs. Saddletree, laying hands on him 
 kindly, " and rest ye — ye'll kill yoursell, man, at that 
 rale. — And are we to wish ye joy o' getting the scule, 
 Mr. Butler 9" 
 
 " Yes — no — I do not know." 
 
 *' Ye dinna ken whether ye are to get the free scule o' 
 Dumfries or no, after hinging on and teaching it a' the 
 simmer ']" 
 
 " No, Mrs. Saddletree — I am not to have it," replied 
 Butler. " The Laird of Black-at-the-bane had a natu-
 
 THE HEART OF MID-tOTHIAKT. 59 
 
 ral son bred to the kirk, that the presbytery could not be 
 prevailed upon to license ; and so" 
 
 " Ay, ye need say nae mair about it ; if there was a 
 laird that had a puir kinsman or a bastard that it wad suit, 
 there's eneugh said. — And ye're e'en come back to Lib- 
 berton to wait for dead men's shoon 9 — and, for as frail 
 as Mr. Whackbairn is, he may live as lang as you, that are 
 his assistant and successor." 
 
 " Very hke," replied Butler with a sigh ; " I do not 
 know if I should wish it otherwise." 
 
 " Nae doubt it's a very vexing thing," continued the 
 good lady. " to be in that dependent station ; and you 
 that hae right and title to sae muckle better, I wonder how 
 ye bear these crosses." 
 
 " Q^uos diligit castigat,^^ answered Butler ; " even the 
 pagan Seneca could see an advantage in affliction. The 
 Heathens had their philosophy, and the Jews their reve- 
 lation, Mrs. Saddletree, and they endured their distresses 
 in their day. Christians have a better dispensation than 
 
 He stopped and sighed. 
 
 " I ken what ye mean," said Mrs. Saddletree, looking 
 toward her husband ; " There's whiles we lose patience 
 in spite of baith book and Bible — But ye are no gaun 
 awa, and looking sae poorly — ye'll stay and take some 
 kale wi' us 9" 
 
 Mr. Saddletree laid aside Balfour's Practiques, (his 
 favourite study, and much good may it do him,) to join 
 in his wife's hospitable importunity. But the teacher de- 
 cHned all entreaty, and took his leave upon the spot. 
 
 " There's something in a' this," said Mrs. Saddletree, 
 k>oking after him as he walked up the street ; " I wonder 
 what makes Mr. Butler sae distressed about Effie's mis- 
 fortune — there was nae acquaintance atween them that 
 ever I saw or heard of ; but they were neighbours when 
 David Deans was on the Laird of Dumhiedike's land. 
 Mr. Butler wad ken her father, or some o' her folk. — Get 
 up, Mr. Saddletree — ye have set yoursell down or. 'he 
 very breacham that wants stitching — And here's littl*
 
 60 TALKS OF MY Ii\NDLORD. 
 
 Willie, the prentice. — Ye little rin-there-out de'il that ye 
 are, what takes you raking through the gutters to see folk 
 hangit 1 — ho\v wad ye like when it comes to be your ain 
 chance, as I winna ensure ye, if ye dinna mend your 
 manners "? — And what are ye maundering and greeting 
 for, as if a word were breaking your banes 9 gang in bye, 
 and be a better bairn another time, and tell Peggy to gi'e 
 ye a bicker o' broth, for ye'll be as gleg as a gled, I'se 
 warrant ye. — It's a fatherless bairn, Mr. Saddletree, and 
 motherless, whilk in some cases may be waur, and ane wad 
 tal.e care o' bim, if they could — it's a Christian duty." 
 
 " Very true, goodwife," said Saddletree in reply, " we 
 are in toco parentis to him during his years of pupillarity, 
 and 1 hae had thoughts o' applying to the Court for a 
 commission as factor loco tutoris, seeing there is nae tutor 
 nominate, and the tutor-at-law declines to act ; but only 
 I fear the expense of the procedure wad not be in rem 
 versam, for I am not aware that Wilhe has ony effects 
 whereof to assume the administration." 
 
 He concluded this sentence with a self-important cough, 
 as one who has laid down the law in an indisputable 
 manner. 
 
 " Effects !" said Mrs. Saddletree, " what effects has 
 the puir wean ? — he was in rags when his mother died ; 
 and the blue polonie that Effie made for him out of an 
 auld mantle of my ain, was the first decent dress the bairn 
 ever had on. Poor Effie ! can ye tell me now really, wi' 
 a' your law, will her life be in danger, Mr. Saddletree, 
 when they are na able to prove that ever there was a 
 bairn born ava ?" 
 
 " Whoy," said Mr. Saddletree, dehghted at having for 
 once in his life seen his wife's attention arrested by a topic 
 of legal discussion — '* Whoy, there are two sorts of mur- 
 drum or murdragium, or what you populariter et vulgar- 
 iter call murther. I mean there are many sorts ; for 
 there's your murthrum per vigilias et insidiaSf and your 
 murthrum under trust." 
 
 '' I am sure that's the way the gentry murder us mer-
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAIf . 61 
 
 chants, and whiles makes us shut the booth up — but that 
 has naething to do wi' Effie's misfortune." 
 
 " The case of Effie (or Euphemia) Deans," resumed 
 Saddletree, " is one of those cases of murder presump- 
 tive, that is, a murder of the law's inferring or construc- 
 tion, being derived from certain indicia or grounds of 
 suspicion." 
 
 " So that," said the good woman, " unless poor Effie 
 has communicated her siluation, she'll be hanged by the 
 neck, if the bairn was still-born, or if it be alive at this 
 moment ?" 
 
 " Assuredly," said Saddletree, " it being a statute made 
 by our sovereign Lord and Lady, to prevent the horrid 
 delict of bringing forth children in secret — the crime is 
 rather a favourite of the law, this species of murther be- 
 ing one of its ain creation." 
 
 " Then, if the law makes murders," said Mrs. Saddle- 
 tree, " the law should be hanged for them ; or if they wad 
 hang a lawyer instead, the country wad find nae faut." 
 
 A summons to their frugal dinner interrupted the fur- 
 ther progress of the conversation, which was otherwise 
 like to take a turn much less favourable to the science of 
 jurisprudence and its professors, than Mr. Bartoline Sad- 
 dletree, the fond admirer of both, had at its opening an- 
 ticipated. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 But up then raise all Edinburgh, 
 They all rose up by thousands three. 
 
 Johnie Armstrong's Goodnight. 
 
 Butler, on his departure from the sign of the Golden 
 Nag, went in quest of a friend of his connected with the 
 law, at whom he wished to make particular inquiries con- 
 
 6 VOL. I.
 
 62 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 cerning the circumstances in which the unfortunate young 
 woman mentioned in the last chapter was placed, having, as 
 the reader has probably already conjectured, reasons nuich 
 deeper than those dictated by mere humanity, for inter- 
 esting himself in her fate. He found the person he sought 
 absent from home, and was equally unfortunate in one or 
 two other calls which he made upon acquaintances whom 
 he hoped to interest in her story. But every body was, 
 for the moment, stark-mad on the subject of Porteous, 
 and engaged busily in attacking or defending the measures 
 of government in reprieving him ; and the ardour of dis- 
 pute had excited such universal thirst, that half the young 
 lawyers and writers, together with their very clerks, the 
 class whom Butler was looking after, had adjourned the 
 debate to some favourite tavern. It was computed by an 
 experienced arithmetician, that there was as much two- 
 penny ale consumed on the discussion as would have float- 
 ed a first-rate man-of-war. 
 
 Butler wandered about until it was dusk, resolving to 
 take that opportunity of visiting the unfortunate young 
 woman, when his doing so might be least observed ; for 
 he had his own reasons for avoiding the remarks of Mrs. 
 Saddletree, whose shop-door opened at no great distance 
 from that of the gaol, though on the opposite or south 
 side of the street, and a little higher up. He passed, 
 therefore, through the narrow and partly covered passage 
 leading from the north-west end of the Parliament Square. 
 
 He stood now before the Gothic entrance of the an- 
 cient prison, which, as is well known to all men, rears its 
 ancient front in the very middle of the High-Street, form- 
 ing, as it were, the termination to a huge pile of buildings 
 called the Luckenbooths, which, for some inconceivable 
 reason, our ancestors have jammed into the midst of the 
 principal street of the town, leaving for passage a narrow 
 street on the north, and on the south, into which the prison 
 opens, a narrow crooked lane, winding betwixt the high 
 and sombre walls of the Tolbooth and the adjacent houses 
 on the one side, and the buttresses and projections of the 
 old Cathedral upon the other. To give some gaiety to
 
 THE HEART OF MID-lOTHIAX. 63 
 
 tliis sombre passage, (well known by the name of the 
 Krames,) a number of little booths, or shops, after the fash- 
 ion of cobblers' stalls, were plaistered, as it were, against 
 the Gothic projections and abutments, so that it seemed 
 as if the traders had occupied with nests, bearing the 
 same proportion to the building, every buttress and coigne 
 of vantage, as the martlett did in Macbeth's Castle. Of 
 later years these booths have degenerated into mere toy- 
 shops, where the little loiterers chiefly interested in such 
 wares are tempted to hnger, enchanted by the rich display 
 of hobby-horses, babies, and Dutch toys, arranged in art- 
 ful and gay confusion ; yet half-scared by the cross looks 
 of the withered pantaloon, or spectacled old lady, by 
 whom these tempting stores are w^atched and superintend- 
 ed. But, in the times we write of, the hosiers, the glovers, 
 the hatters, the mercers, the milliners, and all who dealt 
 in the miscellaneous wares now termed haberdasher's 
 goods, were to be found in this narrow alley. 
 
 To return from our digression. Butler found the outer 
 turnkey, a tall thin old man, with long silver hair, in the 
 act of locking the outward door of the gaol. He ad- 
 dressed himself to this person, and asked admittance to 
 Effie Deans, confined upon accusation of child-murder. 
 The turnkey looked at him earnestly, and, ci\illy touch- 
 ing his hat out of respect to Butler's black coat and cler- 
 ical appearance, replied, " It was impossible any one 
 could be admitted at present." 
 
 " You shut up earlier than usual, probably on account 
 of Captain Porteous's affair ?" said Butler. 
 
 The turnkey, with the true mystery of a person in of- 
 fice, gave two grave nods, and withdrawing from the 
 wards a ponderous key of about two feet in length, he 
 proceeded to shut a strong plate of steel, which folded 
 down above the key-hole, and w^as secured by a steel- 
 spring and catch. Butler stood still instinctively while 
 the door was made fast, and then looking at his watch, 
 walked briskly up the street, muttering to himself almost 
 unconsciously —
 
 64 TALES OF MT LANDLORD. 
 
 " Porta adversa ingens, solidoque adamante columnae ; 
 Vis ut nulla virum, iion ipsi exsciudere ferro 
 Ccelicolae valeai)t — Slat ferrea turris ad auras,"* — &c. 
 
 Having wasted more time in a second fruitless attempt 
 to seek out bis legal friend and adviser, he thought it time 
 to leave the city and return to his place of residence, in 
 a small v^illage, about two miles and a half to the south- 
 ward of Edinburgh. The metropolis was at this time 
 surrounded by a high wall with battlements and flanking 
 projections at intervals, and the access was through 
 gates, called in the Scottish language ports, which were 
 regularly shut at night. A small fee to the keepers would 
 indeed procure egress and ingress at any time, through a 
 wicket left for that purpose in the large gate ; but it was 
 of some importance, to a man so poor as Butler, to avoid 
 even this slight pecuniary mulct ; and fearing he might be 
 near the hour of shutting the gates, he made, for that to 
 which he found himself nearest, although, by doing so, he 
 somewhat lengthened his walk homewards. Bristo-port 
 was that by which his direct road lay, but the West-port, 
 which leads out of the Grass-market, was the nearest of 
 the city gates to the place where he found himself, and to 
 that, therefore, he directed his course. He reached the 
 port in ample time to pass the circuit of the walls, and 
 enter a suburb called Portsburgh, chiefly inhabited by the 
 lower order of citizens and mechanics. Here he was 
 unexpectedly interrupted. 
 
 He had not gone far from the gate before he heard the 
 sound of a drum, and, to his great surprise, met a num- 
 ber of persons, suiiicient to occupy the whole front of the 
 street, and form a considerable mass behind, moving with 
 great speed towards the gate he had just come from, and 
 
 * Wide is the fronting gate, and, raised on high, 
 With adamantine columns threats the sky ; 
 Vain is the force of man, and Heaven's as vain, 
 To crush the pillars which the pile sustain ; 
 Sublime on these a tower of steel is reared. 
 
 Pryden's Virgil^ book vi-
 
 THE ilEART OF MID-LOTHIAJ(. 65 
 
 having in front of them a drum beating to arms. While 
 he considered how he should escape a party, assembled, 
 as it might be presumed, for no lawful purpose, they came 
 full on him and stopped him. 
 
 *' Are you a clergyman '?" one questioned him. 
 
 Butler replied that " he was in orders, but was not a 
 placed minister." 
 
 " It's Mr. Butler from Libberton," said a voice from 
 behind ; " he'll discharge the duty as weel as ony man." 
 
 " You must turn back with us, sir," said the first 
 speaker, in a tone civil but peremptory. 
 
 *' For what purpose, gentlemen 9" said Mr. Butler. 
 " I live at some distance from town — the roads are un- 
 safe by night — You will do me a serious injury by stop- 
 ping me." 
 
 " You shall be seen safely home — no man shall touch 
 a hair of your head — but you must, and shall come along 
 with us." 
 
 " But to what purpose or end, gentlemen 9" said 
 Butler. " I hope you will be so civil as to explain that, 
 to me 9" 
 
 " You shall know that in good lime. Come along — 
 for come you must, by force '»r fair means ; and I warn 
 you to look neither to the right hand nor the left, and to 
 take no notice of any man's face, but consider all that is 
 passing before you as a dream." 
 
 *' 1 would it were a dream I could awaken from," 
 said Butler to himself; but having no means to oppose 
 the violence with which he was threatened, he was com- 
 pelled to turn round, and march in front of the rioters, 
 two men partly supporting a;id partly holding him. Dur- 
 ing this parley the insurgents had made themselves mas- 
 ters of the West-port, rushing upon the waiters, (so the 
 people w^ere called who had the charge of the gates,) 
 and possessing themselves of the keys. They bolted and 
 barred the folding doors, and commanded the person, 
 whose duty it usually was, to secure the wicket, of which 
 they did not understand the fastenings. The man, terri- 
 
 6* VOL. I.
 
 66 TALES OF MY LANDLORD, 
 
 fied at an incident so totally unexpected, was unable to 
 perform his usual office, and gave the matter up, after 
 several attempts. The rioters, who seemed to have come 
 prepared for every emergency, called for torches, by the 
 light of which they nailed up the wicket with long nails, 
 which, it seemed probable, they had provided on purpose. 
 
 But while this was going on, Butler could not, even if 
 he had been willing, have avoided making remarks on the 
 individuals who seemed to head this singular mob. The 
 torch-light, while it fell on their forms, and left him in the 
 shade, gave him an opportunity to do so without their 
 observing him. Several of those who seemed most ac- 
 tive were dressed in sailors' jackets, trowsers, and sea- 
 caps ; others in large loose-bodied great-coats, and 
 slouched hats ; and there were several, who, judging from 
 their dress, should have been called women, whose rough 
 deep voices, uncommon size, and masculine deportment 
 and mode of walking, forbade them being so interpreted. 
 They moved as if by some well-concerted plan of ar- 
 rangement. They had signals by which they knew, and 
 nick-names by which they distinguished each other. 
 Butler remarked, that the name of Wildfire was used 
 among them, to whicli,one stout Amazon seemed to reply. 
 
 The rioters left a small party to observe the West- 
 port, and directed the waiters, as they valued their lives, 
 to remain within their lodge, and make no attempt for 
 that night to repossess themselves of the gate. They 
 then moved with rapidity along the low street called the 
 Cowgate, the mob of the city every where rising at the 
 sound of their drum, and joining them. When they ar- 
 rived at the Cowgate-port, they secured it with as little 
 opposition as the former, made it fast, and left a small 
 party to observe it. It was afterw^ards remarked, as a 
 singular instance of prudence and precaution, singularly 
 combined with audacity, that the parties left to guard 
 those gates did not remain stationary on their posts, but 
 flitted to and fro, keeping so near the gates as to see that 
 no efforts were made to open them, yet not remaining so 
 long as to have their persons observed. The mob, at
 
 THE HEART OF MID-IOTHIAN. 67 
 
 first only about one hundred strong, now amounted to 
 thousands, and were increasing every moment. They 
 divided themselves, so as to ascend with more speed the 
 various narrow lanes which lead up from the Cowgate to 
 the High Street ; and still beating to arms as they went, 
 and calling on all true Scotchmen to join them, they now 
 filled the principal street of the city. 
 
 The Netherbow-port might be called the Temple-bar 
 of Edinburgh, as, intersecting the High Street at its ter- 
 mination, it divided Edinburgh, properly so called, from 
 the suburb called the Canongate, as Temple-bar divides 
 London from Westminster. It was of the utmost im- 
 portance to the rioters to possess themselves of this pass, 
 because there was quartered in the Canongate at that 
 time a regiment of infantry, commanded by Colonel 
 Moyle, which might have occupied the city by advancing 
 through this gate, and totally defeated the purpose of the 
 rioters. The leaders therefore hastened to the Nether- 
 bow-port, which they secured in the same manner, and 
 with as little trouble as the other gates, leaving a party 
 to watch it, strong in proportion to the importance of the 
 post. 
 
 The next object of these hardy insurgents was at once 
 to disarm the City Guard, and to procure arms for them- 
 selves ; for scarce any weapons but staves and bludgeons 
 had been yet seen among them. The Guard-house was 
 a long, low, ugly building, (removed in 1787,) which, to 
 a fanciful imagination, might have suggested the idea of a 
 long black snail crawling up the middle of the High Street, 
 and deforming its beautiful esplanade. This formidable 
 insurrection had been so unexpected, that there were no 
 more than the ordinary sergeant's guard of the city-corps 
 upon duty ; even these were without any supply of pow- 
 der and ball ; and, sensible enough what had raised the 
 storm, and which way it was rolling, could hardly be sup- 
 posed very desirous to draw on themselves, by a valiant 
 defence, the animosity of so numerous and desperate a 
 mob, to whom they were on the present occasion much 
 more than usually obnoxious.
 
 68 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 There was a sentinel upon guard, who (that one town- 
 guard soldier might do his duty on that eventful eveniiig) 
 presented his piece, and desired the foremost of the 
 rioters to stand off. The young Amazon, whom Butler 
 had observed particularly active, sprung upon the soldier, 
 seized his musket, and, after a struggle, succeeded in 
 wrenching it from him, and throwing him down on the 
 causeway. One or two soldiers, who endeavoured 
 to turn out to the support of their sentinel, were in the 
 same manner seized and disarmed, and the mob without 
 difficulty possessed themselves of the Guard-house, dis- 
 arming and turning out the rest of the men on duty. It 
 was remarked, that notwithstanding the city soldiers had 
 been the instruments of the slaughter which this riot was 
 designed to revenge, no ill usage, or even insult, was of- 
 fered to them. It seemed as if the vengeance of the 
 people disdained to stoop at any head meaner than that 
 which they considered as the source and origin of their 
 injuries. 
 
 On possessing themselves of the Guard, their first act 
 was to destroy the drums, by which they supposed an 
 alarm might be conveyed to the garrison in the castle ; 
 for the same reason they now silenced their own, which 
 was beaten by a young fellow, son to the drummer of 
 Portsburgh, whom they had forced upon that service. 
 Their next business was to distribute among the boldest 
 of the rioters the guns, bayonets, partizans, halberts, and 
 battle or Lochaber axes. Until this period the principal 
 rioters had preserved silence on the ultimate object of 
 their rising, as being that which all knew, but none ex- 
 pressed. Now, however, having accomplished all the 
 the preliminary parts of their design, they raised a tre- 
 mendous shout of " Porteous ! Porteous ! To the Tol- 
 booth ! To the Tolbooth !" 
 
 They proceeded with the same prudence when the 
 object seemed to be nearly in their grasp, as they had 
 done hhherto when success was more dubious. A strong 
 party of the rioters, drawn up in front of the Lucken- 
 booths, and facing down the street, prevented all access
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 69 
 
 from the eastward, and the west end of the defile formed 
 by the Luckenbooths was secured in the same manner ; 
 so that the Tolbooth was completely surrounded, and 
 those who undertook the task of breaking it open effect- 
 ually secured against the risk of interruption. 
 
 The magistrates, in the meanwhile, had taken the 
 alarm, and assembled in a tavern, with the purpose of 
 raising some strength to subdue the rioters. The deacons, 
 or presidents of the trades, were appHed to, but declared 
 there was little chance of their being useful where it was 
 the object to save a man so obnoxious. iMr. Lindsay, 
 member of parliament for the city, volunteered the peril- 
 ous task of carrying a verbal message from the Lord 
 Provost to Colonel Moyle, the commander of the regi- 
 ment lying in the Canongate, requesting him to force the 
 Netherbow-port, and enter the city to put down the tu- 
 mult. But Mr. Lindsay dechned to charge himself with 
 any written order, which, if found on his person by an 
 enraged mob, might have cost hmi his life ; and the issue 
 of the application was, that Colonel Moyle, having no 
 written requisition from the civil authorities, and having 
 the fate of Porteous before his eyes as an example of the 
 severe construction put by a jury on the proceedings of 
 military men, acting on their own responsibihty, declined 
 to encounter the risk to which the Provost's message 
 invited him. 
 
 More than one messenger was despatched by different 
 ways to the Castle, to require the commanding officer to 
 march down his troops, to fire a few cannon-shot, or even 
 to throw a shell among the mob, for the purpose of clear- 
 ing the streets. But so strict and watchful were the va- 
 rious patroles whom the rioters had established in differ- 
 ent parts of the street, that none of the emissaries of the 
 magistrates could reach the gate of the Castle. They 
 were, however, turned back without either injury or insult, 
 and with nothing more of menace than was necessary to 
 deter them from again attempting to carry their errand. 
 
 The same vigilance was used to prevent every body 
 of the higher, and those which, in this case, might be
 
 70 TALES OF MY XANDLORD. 
 
 deemed the more suspicious orders of society, from ap- 
 pearing in the street, and observing the movements, or 
 distinguishing the persons, of the rioters. Every person 
 in the garb of a gentleman was stopped by small parties 
 of two or three of the mob, who partly exhorted, partly 
 required of them, that they should return to the place 
 from whence they came. Many a quadrille table was 
 spoiled that memorable evening ; for the sedan chairs of 
 ladies, even of the highest rank, were interrupted iji 
 their passage from one point to another, in despite of the 
 laced footmen and blazing flambeaux. This was uni- 
 formly done with a deference and attention to the feelings 
 of the ladies, which could hardly have been expected 
 from the videttes of a mob so desperate. Those who 
 stopped the chair usually made the excuse, that there 
 was much disturbance on the streets, and that it was ab- 
 solutely necessary for the lady's safety that the chair 
 should turn back. They offered themselves to escort the 
 chairs which they had thus interrupted in their progress, 
 from the apprehension, probably, that some of those who 
 had casually united themselves to the riot, might disgrace 
 their systematic and determined plan of vengeance, by 
 those acts of general insult and license which are com- 
 mon on similar occasions. 
 
 Persons are yet hving who remembered to have heard 
 from the mouths of ladies interrupted on their jour- 
 ney in the manner we have described, that they were es- 
 corted to their lodgings by the young men who stopped 
 them, and even handed out of their chairs, with a polite 
 attention far beyond what was consistent with their dress, 
 which was apparently that of journeymen mechanics. It 
 seemed as if the conspirators, like those who assassinated 
 the Cardinal Beatoun in former days, had entertained 
 the opinion, that the work about which they went was a 
 judgment of Heaven, which, though unsanctioned by the 
 usual authorities, ought to be proceeded in with order 
 and gravity. 
 
 While their outposts continued thus vigilant, and suf- 
 fered themselves neither from fear nor curiosity to neglect
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 71 
 
 that part of the duty assigned to them, and while the 
 main guards to the east and west secured them against 
 interruption, a select body of the rioters thundered at the 
 door of the jail, and demanded instant admission. No 
 one answered, for the outer keeper had prudently made 
 his escape with the keys at the commencement of the 
 riot, and was nowhere to be found. The doors were in- 
 staiitly assailed with sledge-hammers, iron-crows, and 
 the coulters of ploughs, ready provided for the purpose, 
 with which they prized, heaved, and battered for some 
 time with litile effect, the door being of double oak planks, 
 clenched both end-long ai;d athwart with broad-headed 
 nails, and so hung and secured as to yield to no means 
 of forcing, without the expenditure of much time. The 
 rioters, however, seemed determined to gain admittance. 
 Gang after gang relieved each other at the exercise, lor, 
 of course, only a few could work at a time. But gang 
 after gang retired, exhausted with their violent exeriions, 
 without making much progress in forcing the prison-door. 
 Butler had been led up near to this the principal scene 
 of action ; so near, indeed, that he was almost deaf^^ned 
 by the unceasing clang of the heavy forehammers against 
 the iron-bound portals of the prison. He began to en- 
 tertain hopes, as the task seemed protracted, that the 
 populace might give it over in despair, or that some res- 
 cue might arrive to disperse them. There was a mo- 
 ment at which the latter seemed probable. 
 
 The magistrates, having assembled their officers, and 
 some of the citizens who were wiUing to hazard them- 
 selves for the public tranquillity, now sallied forth from 
 the tavern where they held their sitting, and approached 
 the point of danger. Their officers went before them 
 with links and torches, with a herald to read the riot act, 
 if necessary. They easily drove before tbem the out- 
 posts and videttes of the rioters ; but when they ap- 
 proached the line of guard which the mob, or rather, we 
 should say, the conspirators, had drawn across the street 
 in the front of the Luckenbooths, they were received 
 with an unintermitted volley of stones, and, on theii
 
 72 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 nearer approach, the pikes, bayonets, and Lochaber axes, 
 of which the populace had possessed themselves, were 
 presented against them. One of their ordinary officers, a 
 strong resolute fellow, went forward, seized a rioter, and 
 took from him a musket ; but, being unsupported, he was 
 instantly thrown on his back in the street, and disarmed 
 in his turn. The officer was too happy to be permitted 
 to rise and run away without receiving any farther injury ; 
 which afforded another remarkable instance of the mode 
 in which these men had united a sort of moderation to- 
 wards all others, with the most inflexible inveteracy against 
 the object of their resentment. The magistrates, after 
 vain attempts to make themselves heard and obeyed, pos- 
 sessing no means of enforcing their authority, were con- 
 strained to abandon the field to the rioters, and retreat in 
 all speed from the showers of missiles that whistled around 
 their ears. 
 
 The passive resistance of the Tolbooth promised to 
 do more to baffle the purpose of the mob than the active 
 interference of the magistrates. The heavy sledge-ham- 
 mers continued to din against it without intermission, and 
 with a noise which, echoed from the lofty buildings 
 around the spot, seemed enough to have alarmed the 
 garrison in the Castle. It was circulated among the 
 rioters, that the troops would march down to disperse 
 them, unless they could execute their purpose without 
 loss of time ; or that, even without quitting the fortress, 
 the garrison might obtain the same end by throwing a 
 bomb or two upon the street. 
 
 Urged by such motives for apprehension, they eagerly 
 reheved each other at the labour of assailing the Tol- 
 booth door ; yet such was its strength, tlmt it still defied 
 their efforts. At length, a voice was heard to pronounce 
 the words, " Try it with fire." The rioters with an 
 unanimous shout, called for cntnbustibles, and as all their 
 wishes seemed to be instantly supplied, they were soon 
 in possession of two or three empty tar-barrels. A huge 
 red glaring bonfire soon arose, close to the door of the 
 prison, sending up a tall column of smoke and flame
 
 THE HEART OF MID-I.OTHIAN. 73 
 
 against its antique turrets and strongly grated windows, 
 and illuminating the ferocious faces and wild gestures of 
 the rioters who surrounded the place, as well as the pale 
 and anxious groups of those who, from windows in the 
 vicinage, watched the progress of this alarming scene. 
 The mob fed the fire with whatever they could find fit 
 for the purpose. The flames roared and crackled among 
 the heaps of nourishment piled on the fire, and a terrible 
 shout soon announced that the door had kindled, and was 
 in the act of being destroyed. The fire was suffered to 
 decay, but, long ere it was quite extinguished, the most 
 forward of the rioters rushed, in their impatience, one 
 after another, over its yet smouldering remains. Thick 
 showers of sparkles rose high in the air, as man after 
 man bounded over the glowing embers, and disturbed 
 them in their passage. It was now obvious to Butler, 
 and all others who were present, that the rioters would 
 be instantly in possession of their victim, and have it in 
 their power to work their pleasure upon him, whatever 
 that might be. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The evil you teach us, v.e will execute ; and it shall go hard but we will 
 better the instruction. Merchant of Venice. 
 
 The unhappy object of this remarkable disturbance 
 had been that day dehvered from the apprehension of a 
 public execution ; and his joy was the greater, as he had 
 some reason to question whether government would have 
 run the risk of unpopularity by interfering in his favour, 
 after he had been legally convicted, by the verdict of a 
 jury, of a crime so very obnoxious. Relieved from this 
 doubtful state of mind, his heart was merry within him, 
 and he thought, in the emphatic words of Scripture on a 
 
 7 VOL. I.
 
 74 TALES OF MY XANDLOBU. 
 
 similar occasion, that surely the bitterness of death was 
 passed. Some of his friends, however, who had watch- 
 ed the manner and behaviour of the crowd when they 
 were made acquainted with the reprieve, were of a dif- 
 ferent opinion. They augured, from the unusual stern- 
 ness and silence with which they bore their disappoint- 
 ment, that the populace nourished some scheme of sudden 
 and desperate vengeance, and they desired Porteous to 
 lose no time in petitioning the proper authorities, that he 
 might be conveyed to the Castle under a sufficient guard, 
 to remain tliere in security until his ultimate fate should 
 be determined. Habituated, however, by his office, to 
 despise and overawe the rabble of the city, Porteous 
 could not suspect them of an attempt so audacious as to 
 storm a strong and defensible prison ; and, despising the 
 advice by which he might have been saved, he spent the 
 afternoon of the eventful day in giving an entertainment 
 to some friends who visited him in jail, several of whom, 
 by the indulgence of the Captain of the Tolbooth, with 
 whom he had an old intimacy, arising from their official 
 connection, were even permitted to remain to supper with 
 him, though contrary to the rules of the jail. 
 
 It was, therefore, in the hour of unalloyed mirth, w'hen 
 this unfortunate wretch was *' full of bread," hot with 
 wine, and high in mistimed and ill-grounded confidence, 
 and, alas ! with all his sins full blown, when the first dis- 
 tant shouts of the rioters mingled with the song of merri- 
 ment and intemperance. The hurried call of the jailor 
 to the guests, requiring them instantly to depart, and his 
 yet more hasty intimation that a dreadful and determined 
 mob had possessed then:jselves of the city gates and 
 guard-house, were the first explanation of these fearful 
 clamours. 
 
 Porteous might, however, have eluded the fury from 
 which the force of authority could not protect him, had 
 he thought of slipping on some disguise, and leaving the 
 prison along with his guests. It is probable that the 
 jailor might have connived at his escape, or even that, in 
 the hurry of this alarming contingency, he might not
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. 75 
 
 liave observed it. But Porteous and his friends alike 
 wanted presence of mind to suggest or execute such a 
 plan of escape. The former, in a state resembling stu- 
 pefaction, awaited in his apartment the termination of the 
 enterprize of the rioters, and the latter hastily fled from 
 a place where their own safety seemed compromised. 
 The cessation of the clang of tlie instruments with which 
 they had at first attempted to force the door, gave him 
 momentary relief. The flattering hopes, that the milita- 
 ry had marched into the city, either from the Castle or 
 from the suburbs, and that the rioters were intimidated 
 and dispersing, were soon destroyed by the broad and 
 glaring light of the flames, which, illuminating through 
 the grated w^indow every corner of his apartment, plainly 
 showed that the mob, determined on their fatal purpose, 
 had adopted a means of forcing entrance equally despe- 
 rate and certain. 
 
 The sudden glare of light suggested to the stupified 
 and astonished object of popular hatred the possibility of 
 concealment or escape. To rush to the chimney, to as- 
 cend it at the risk of sufibcation, was the only means 
 which seemed to have occurred to him ; but his progress 
 was speedily stopped by one of those iron gratings, which 
 are, for the sake of security, usually placed across the 
 vents of buildings designed for imprisonment. The bars, 
 however, which impeded his farther progress, served to 
 support him in the situation which he had gained, and he 
 seized them with the tenacious grasp of one who esteem- 
 ed himself clinging to his last hope of existence. The 
 lurid light, which had filled the apartment, lowered and 
 died away ; the sound of shouts was heard within the walls, 
 and on the narrow and v.inding stair, which, cased within 
 one of the turrets, gave access to the upper apartments 
 of the prison. The huzza of the rioters was answered 
 by a shout wild and desperate as their own, the cry, 
 namely, of the imprisoned felons, who, expecting to be 
 liberated in the general confusion, welcoaied the mob as 
 their dehverers. By some of these the apartment of 
 Porteous was pointed out to his enemies. The obstacle
 
 76 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 of the lock and bolts was soon overcome, and from his 
 hiding-place the unfortunate man heard his enemies 
 search every corner of the apartment, with oaths and 
 maledictions which would but shock the reader if we 
 recorded them, but which served to prove, could it have 
 admitted of doubt, the settled purpose of soul with which 
 they sought his destruction. 
 
 A place of concealment so obvious to suspicion and 
 scrutiny as that which Porteous had chosen, could not 
 long screen him from detection. He was dragged from his 
 lurking-place, with a violence which seemed to argue an 
 intention to put him to death on the spot. More than one 
 weapon was directed towards him, when one of the rioters, 
 the same whose female disguise had been particularly no- 
 ticed by Butler, interfered in an authoritative tone. " Are 
 you mad *?" he said, " or would ye execute an act of jus- 
 tice as if it were a crime and a cruelty '? The sacrifice will 
 lose half its savour if we do not offer it at the very horns 
 of the altar. We will have him die where a murderer 
 should die, on the common gibbet — We will have him 
 die where he spilt the blood of so many innocents !" 
 
 A loud shout of applause followed the proposal, and 
 the cry, " To the gallows with the murderer ! — To the 
 Grass-market with him !" echoed on all hands. 
 
 " Let no man hurt him," continued the speaker ; " let 
 him make his peace with God, if he can ; we will not 
 kill both his soul and body." 
 
 " What time did he gi'e better folk for preparing their 
 account*?" answered several voices, " Let us mete to 
 him with the same measure he gie'd to them." 
 
 But the opinion of the spokesman better suited the 
 temper of those he addressed, a temper rather stubborn 
 than impetuous, and desirous of imposing upon their 
 cruel and revengeful action a show of justice and mode- 
 ration. 
 
 For an instant this man quitted the prisoner, whom he 
 consigned to a selected guard, with instructions to permit 
 him to give his money and property to whomsoever he 
 pleased. A person confined in the jail for debt received
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. 77 
 
 this last deposit from the trembling hand of the victim, who 
 was at the same time permitted to make some other brief 
 arrangements to meet his approaching fate. The felons, 
 and all others who wished to leave the jail, were now at 
 full liberty to do so ; not that their liberation made any 
 part of the settled purpose of the rioters, but it followed 
 as almost a necessary consequence of their forcing the 
 jail doors. — With wild cries of jubilee they joined the 
 mob, or disappeared among the narrow lanes to seek out 
 the concealed receptacles of vice and infamy, where 
 they were accustomed to lurk and shroud themselves 
 from justice. Two persons, a man about fifty years old, 
 and a girl about eighteen, were all who continued within 
 the fatal walls, excepting two or three debtors, who pro- 
 bably saw no advantage in attempting their escape. The 
 persons we have mentioned remained in the strong- 
 room of the prison, now deserted by all others. One of 
 their late companions in misfortune called out to the man 
 to make his escape, in the tone of an acquaintance. 
 " Rin for h, RatclifFe — the road's clear." 
 
 " It may be sae, Wilhe," answered RatclifFe, compo- 
 sedly, " but I have ta'en a fancy to leave afF trade, and 
 set up for an honest man." 
 
 " Stay there, then, and be hanged for a donnard auld 
 deevil," said the other, and ran dow^n the prison stair. 
 
 The person whom we have distinguished as one of the 
 most active rioters, w^as about the same time at the ear of 
 the young woman. " Fly, Effie, fly !" was all he had 
 time to whisper. She turned towards him an eye of 
 mingled fear, affection, and upbraiding, all contending 
 with a sort of stupified surprise. He again repeated, 
 " Fly, Effie, fly, for the sake of all that's good and dear 
 to ye." Again she gazed on him, but was unable to an- 
 swer. A loud noise was now heard, and the name of 
 Madge Wildfire was repeatedly called from the bottom of 
 the staircase." 
 
 " 1 am coming, — I am coming," said the person who 
 answered to that appellative ; and then reiterating hastily, 
 
 7* VOL. I.
 
 78 TALES OF MY lAXDLORD, 
 
 ** For God's sake — for your own sake — for my sake, f^y, 
 or they'll take your life !" he left the strong-room. 
 
 The girl gazed after him for a moment, and after 
 faintly muttering, " Better tyne life, since tint is gude 
 fame," sh sunk her head upon her hand, and remained, 
 seeminj^lj , unconscious as a statue, of the noise and tu- 
 mult which passed around her. 
 
 That tumult was now transferred from the inside to 
 the outside of the Tolbooth. The mob had brought 
 their destined victim forth, and were about to conduct 
 him to the common place of execution, which they had 
 fixed as the scene of his death. The leader whom they 
 distinguished by the name of Madge Wildfire, had been 
 summoned to assist at the procession by the impatient 
 shouts of his confederates. 
 
 " I will ensure you five hundred pounds," said the 
 unhappy man, grasping Wildfire's hand, — '' five hundred 
 pounds for to save my life." 
 
 The other answered in the same under-tone, and re- 
 turning his grasp with one equally convulsive, " Five 
 hundred-weight of coined gold should not save you — 
 Remember Wilson." 
 
 A deep pause of a minute ensued, when Wildfire add- 
 ed, in a more composed tone, " Make your peace with 
 Heaven — Where is the clergyman .'"' 
 
 Butler, who, in great terror and anxiety, had been de- 
 tained within a few yards of the Tolbooth door, to wait 
 the event of the search after Porteous, was now brought 
 forward, and commanded to walk by the prisoner's side, 
 and to prepare him for immediate death. His answer 
 was a supplication that the rioters would consider what 
 they did. " You are neither judges nor jury," said he. 
 " You cannot have, by the laws of God or man, power 
 to take away the life of a human creature, however de- 
 serving he may be of death. If it is murder even in a 
 lawful magistrate to execute an offender otherwise than in 
 the place, time, and manner, which his sentence prescribes, 
 what must it be in you, who have no warrant for your in- 
 terference but your own wills '? In the name of Him who
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 7d 
 
 is all Mercy ! show mercy to this unhappy man, and do 
 not dip your hands in his blood, nor rush into the very 
 crime which you are desirous of avenging." 
 
 " Cut your sermon short — you are not in your pulpit," 
 answered one of the rioters. 
 
 " ]f we hear more of your clavers," said another, 
 " we are like to hang you up beside him." 
 
 " Peace, hush !" said Wildfire. " Do the good man 
 no violence — he discharges his conscience, and 1 like him 
 the better." 
 
 He then addressed Butler. " Now, sir, we have pa- 
 tiently heard you, and we just wish you to understand, in 
 the way of answer, that you may as well argue to the 
 ashler-work and iron-staunchels of the Tolbooth, as 
 think to change our purpose — Blood must have blood. 
 We have sworn to each other by the deepest oaths ever 
 were pledged, that Porteous should die the death he de- 
 serves so richly ; therefore, speak no more to us, but 
 prepare him for death as well as the briefness of his 
 change will permit." 
 
 They had suffered the unfortunate Porteous to put on 
 his night-gown and slippers, as he had thrown off his 
 coat and shoes, in order to facilitate his attempted escape 
 up the chimney. In this garb he was now mounted on 
 the hands of two of the rioters, clasped together, so as to 
 form what is called in Scotland, " The King's Cushion." 
 Butler was placed close to his side, and repeatedly urged 
 to perform a duty always the most painful which can be 
 imposed upon a clergyman deserving of the name, and now 
 rendered more so by the peculiar and horrid circumstan- 
 ces of the criminal's case. Porteous at first uttered 
 some supplications for mercy, but when he found that 
 there was no chance that these would be attended to, his 
 military education, and the natural stubbornness of his 
 disposition, combined to support his spirits. 
 
 " Are you prepared for this dreadful end 9" said But- 
 ler, in a faltering voice. " O turn to Him, in whose eyes 
 time and space have no existence, and to whom a few 
 minutes are as a Hfe-time. and a life-time as a minute."
 
 80 TALES OF MY JLAIVDLORD. 
 
 " I believe I know what you would say," said Porte- 
 ous, sullenly. " I was bred a soldier ; if they will mur- 
 der me without time for repentance, let my sins, as well 
 as my blood, lie at their door." 
 
 " Who was it," said the stern voice of Wildfire, 
 " that said to Wilson at this very spot, when he could not 
 pray, owing to the galling agony of his fetters, that his 
 pains would soon be over'? — I say to you to take your 
 own tale home ; and if you cannot profit by the good 
 man's lessons, blame not them that are more merciful to 
 you than you were to others." 
 
 The procession now moved forward with a slow and 
 determined pace. It was enlightened by many blazing 
 links and torches ; for the actors of this work, far from 
 affecting any secrecy on the occasion, seemed even 
 to court observation. Their principal leaders kept 
 close to the person of the prisoner, whose pallid yet 
 stubborn features w^ere seen distinctly by the torch- 
 light, as his person was raised considerably above the 
 concourse which thronged around him. Those who 
 bore swords, muskets, and battle-axes, marched on each 
 side, as if forming a regular guard to the procession. 
 The windows, as they went along, were filled with the 
 inhabitants, whose slumbers had been broken by the un- 
 usual disturbance. Some of the spectators muttered 
 accents of encouragement, but in general they were so 
 much appalled by a sight so strange and audacious, that 
 they looked on with a sort of stupified astonishment. 
 No one offered, by act or word, the slightest interruption. 
 
 The rioters, on their part, continued to act with the 
 same air of deliberate confidence and security which had 
 marked all their proceedings. When the object of their 
 resentment, dropped one of his slippers, they stopped, 
 sought for it, and replaced it upon his foot with great de- 
 liberation. As they descended the Bow towards the 
 fatal spot where they designed to complete their purpose, 
 it was suggested that there should be a rope kept in read- 
 iness. For this purpose the booth of a man who dealt 
 in cordage was forced open, a coil of rope fit for their
 
 THE HEART OF MID-tOTHIAN. 81 
 
 object was selected to serve as a halter, and the dealer 
 next morning found that a guinea had been left on his 
 counter in exchange ; so anxious were the perpetrators 
 of this daring action to show that they meditated not the 
 slightest wron^ or infraction of law, excepting so far as 
 Porteous was himself concerned. 
 
 Leading, or carrying along with them, in this determin- 
 ed and regular manner, the object of their vengeance, 
 they at length reached the place of common execution, 
 the scene of his crime, and destined spot of his sufferings. 
 Several of the rioters (if they should not rather be de- 
 scribed as conspirators) endeavoured to remove the stone 
 which filled up the socket in which the end of the fatal 
 tree was sunk when it w^as erected for its fatal purpose ; 
 others sought for the means of constructing a temporary 
 gibbet, the place in which the gallow's itself was deposited 
 being reported too secure to be forced, whhout much loss 
 of time. Butler endeavoured to avail himself of the de- 
 lay afforded by these circumstances, to turn the people 
 from their desperate design. " For God's sake," he ex- 
 claimed, " remember it is the image of your Creator 
 which you are about to deface in the person of this unfor- 
 tunate man ! Wretched as he is, and wicked as he may 
 be, he has a share in every promise of Scripture, and 
 you cannot destroy him in impenitence without blotting his 
 name from the Book of Life — Do not destroy soul and 
 body ; give time for preparation." 
 
 " What time had they," returned a stem voice, " whom 
 he murdered on this very spot *? — The laws both of God 
 and man call for his death." 
 
 " But what, my friends," insisted Butler, with a gen- 
 erous disregard to his own safety — " what hath constituted 
 you his judges 9" 
 
 " We are not his judges," replied the same person ; 
 " he has been already judged and condemned by lawful 
 authority. We are those whom Heaven, and our right- 
 eous anger, have stirred up to execute judgment, when a 
 corrupt government would have protected a murderer."
 
 82 TALES OF MY IAN D LORD. 
 
 " I am none," said the unfortunate Porteous ; " that 
 which you charge upon me fell out in self-defence, in the 
 lawful exercise of my duty." 
 
 " Away with him — away with hira !" was the general 
 cry. " Wiiy do you trifle away time in making a gallows 1 
 — that dyester's pole is good enough for the homicide." 
 
 The unhappy man was forced to his fate with remorse- 
 less rapidity. Butler, separated from him by the press, 
 escaped the last horrors of his struggles. Unnoticed by 
 those who had hitherto detained him as a prisoner, he fled 
 from the fatal spot, without much caring in what direction 
 his course lay. A loud shout proclaimed the stern de- 
 light with which the agents of this deed regarded its com- 
 pletion. Butler then, at the opening into the low street 
 called the Cowgate, cast back a terrified glance, and, by 
 the red and dusky light of the torches, he could discern a 
 figure wavering and struggling as it hung suspended above 
 the heads of the multitude. The sight was of a nature 
 to double his horror, and to add wings to his flight. The 
 street down which he ran opens to one of the eastern ports 
 or gates of the city. Butler did not stop till be reached 
 it, but found it still shut. He waited nearly an hour, walk- 
 ing up and down in inexpressible perturbation of mind. 
 At length he ventured to call out, and rouse the attention 
 of the terrified keepers of the gate, who now found them- 
 selves athberty to resume their office without interruption. 
 Butler requested them to open the gate. They hesitated. 
 He told them his name and occupation. 
 
 " He is a preacher," said one ; " I have heard him 
 preach in Haddo's-hole." 
 
 " A fine preaching has he been at the night," said 
 another ; " but maybe least said is sunest mended." 
 
 Opening then the wicket in one of the leaves of the 
 main-gate, the keepers sufl^ered Butler to depart, who has- 
 tened to carry his horror and fear from beyond the walls 
 of Edinburgh. His first purpose was, instantly to take 
 the road homeward ; but other fears and cares, connect- 
 ed widi the news he had learned in that remarkable day, 
 induced him to linger in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh
 
 THE HEART OF MID-iOTHlAX. CO 
 
 until daybreak. More than one group of persons passed 
 him as he was whileing away the hours of darkness that 
 yet remained, whom, from the stifled tones of their dis- 
 course, the unwonted hour when they travelled, and the 
 hasty pace at which they walked, he conjectured to have 
 been engaged in the late fatal transaction. 
 
 Certain it was, that the sud^ien and total dispersion of 
 the rioters, when their vindictive purpose was accoraphsh- 
 ed, seemed not the least remarkable feature of this singu- 
 lar affair. In general, whatever may be the impelling 
 motive by which a mob is at first raised, the attainment of 
 their object has usually been only found to lead the w^y 
 to farther excesses. But not so in tiie present case. 
 They seemed completely satiated with the vengeance they 
 had prosecuted with such statmch and sagacious activity. 
 When they were fully satisfied that hfe had abandoned 
 their victim, they dispersed in every direction, throwing 
 down the weapons which they had only assumed to enable 
 them to carry through their purpose. At daybreak there 
 remained not the least token of the events of the night, 
 excepting the corpse of Porteous, which remained sus- 
 pended in the place w^here he had suffered, and the arms 
 of various kinds which the rioters had taken from the city 
 guard-house, and which remained scattered about the 
 streets as they had thrown them from their hands, when 
 the purpose for which they had seized them was accom- 
 pHshed. 
 
 The ordinary magistrates of the city resumed their 
 pow er, not without trembling at the late experience of the 
 fragilit) of its tenure. To march troops into the city, anck 
 commence a severe inquiry into the transactions of the 
 preceding night, were the first marks o( returning energy 
 which 'hey displayed. But these events had been con- 
 ducted on so secure and well-calculated a plan of safety 
 and secrecy, that there was Uttle or nothing learncn to 
 throw biht upon the authors or principal actors in a scheme 
 so audacious. An express was despatched to London 
 with the tidings, where they excited great indignation and 
 surprise in the council of regency, and particularly in the
 
 84 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 bosom of Queen Caroline, who considered her own au- 
 thority as exposed to contempt by the success of this 
 singular conspiracy. Nothing was spoken of for some time 
 save the measure of vengeance which should be taken, 
 not only on the actors of this tragedy, so soon as they 
 should be discovered, but upon the magistrates who had 
 sUiTered it to take place, and u])on the city which had been 
 the scene where it was exhibited. Upon this occasion, it 
 is still recorded in popular tradition, that her Majesiy, in 
 the height of her displeasure, told the celebrated John, 
 Duke of Argyle, that, sooner than subiiiit to such an in- 
 sult, she would make Scotland a hujiling-neld. " In that 
 case, madam," answered that high-spirited nobleman, with 
 a profound bow, '* 1 will take leave of your Majesty, and 
 go down to my own country to get my hounds ready." 
 
 The import of the reply had more than met the car ; 
 and as most of the Scottish xiOuility and gentry seemed 
 actuated by the same national spirit, the royal 'diipleasure 
 was necessarily checked in mid-voUey, and milder courses 
 were recommended and adopted, to some of which we 
 may hereafter have occasion to advert. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Arthur's Seat shall be my bed, 
 The sheets shall never be press'd by me ; 
 
 St. Anton's well shall be my drink, 
 Sin my true-love's forsaken me. 
 
 If I were to choose a spot from which the rising or 
 setting sun could be seen to the greatest possible advan- 
 tage, it would be that wild walk winding around the foot 
 of the high belt of semi-circular rocks, called Salisbury 
 Crags, unri marking the verge of the steep descent which 
 slopes down into the glen on the south-eastern side of the
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 85 
 
 city of Edinburgh. The prospect, in its general outline, 
 commands a close-built, high-piled city, stretching itself 
 out beneath in a form, which, to a romantic imagination, 
 may be supposed to represent that of a dragon ; now, a 
 noble arm of the sea, with its rocks, isles, distant shores, 
 and boundary of mountains ; and now a fair and fertile 
 champaign country, varied with hill, dale, and rock, and 
 skirted by the varied and picturesque ridge of the Pent- 
 land Mountains. But as the path gently circles around 
 the base of the cliffs, the prospect, composed as it is of 
 these enchanting and subhme subjects, changes at every 
 step, and presents them blended with or divided from each 
 other, in every possible variety which can gratify the eye 
 and the imagination. When a piece of scenery so beau- 
 tiful, yet so varied, — so exching by its intricacy, and yet 
 so sublime, — is Hghted up by the tints of morning or of 
 evening, and displays all that variety of shadowy depth, 
 exchanged with partial brilliancy, which gives character 
 even to the tamest of landscapes, the effect approaches 
 nearer to enchantment. This path used to be my favour- 
 ite evening and morning resort, when engaged with a fa- 
 vourite author, or new subject of study. It is, I am in- 
 formed, now become totally impassible ; a circumstance 
 which, if true, reflects httle credit on the taste of the 
 Good Town or its leaders.* 
 
 It was from this fascinating path,- — the scene to me of 
 so much delicious musing, when life was young and prom- 
 ised to be happy, that I have been unable to pass it over 
 without an episodical description — it was, I say, from this 
 romantic path that Butler saw the morning arise the day 
 after the murder of Porteous. It was possible for him 
 with ease to hav^e found a much shorter road to the house 
 to which he was directing his course, and, in fact, that 
 which he chose was extremely circuitous. But to com- 
 pose his own spirits, as well as to while away the time, 
 until a proper hour for visiting the family without surprise 
 
 • The path has been of late completely repaired. 
 VOL. I.
 
 86 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 or disturbance, he was induced to extend bis circuit by 
 the foot of the rocks, and to hnger upon his way until the 
 morning should be considerably advanced. While, now 
 standing with his arms across, and waiting the slow pro- 
 gress of the sun above the horizon, now sitting upon one 
 of the numerous fragments which storms had detached 
 from the rocks above him, he is meditating, alternately, 
 upon the horrible catastrophe which he had witnessed, 
 and upon the melancholy, and to him most interesting, 
 news which he had learned at Saddletree's, we will give 
 the reader to understand who Butler was, and by what 
 his fate was connected with that of Effie Deans, the un- 
 fortunate handmaiden of the careful ivlrs. Saddletree. 
 
 Reuben Butler was of English extraction, though born 
 in Scotland. Flis grandfather had been a trooper in Monk's 
 army, and one of that party of dismounted dragoons which 
 formed the forlorn-hope at the storm of Dundee in ]651. 
 Stephen Butler (called, from his talents in reading and 
 expounding. Scripture Stephen, and Bible Butler) was a 
 staunch independent, and received in its fullest compre- 
 liension the promise that the saints should inherit the earth. 
 As hard knocks were what had chiefly fallen to his share 
 hitherto in the division of this common property, he lost 
 not the opportunity which the storm and plunder of a com- 
 mercial place afforded him, to appropriate as large a share 
 of the better things of this world as he could possibly 
 compass. It would seem that he had succeeded indiffer- 
 ently well, for his exterior circumstances appear, in con- 
 sequence of this event, to have been much mended. 
 
 The troop to which he belonged was quartered at the 
 village of Dalkeith, as forming the body-guard of Monk, 
 who, in the capacity of general for the Commonwealth, 
 resided in the nei2;hbourin2; castle. When, on the eve of 
 the Restoration, the general commenced his march from 
 Scotland, a measure pregnant with such important con- 
 sequences, he new-modelled his troops, and more es- 
 pecially those about his person, in order that they might 
 consist entirely of individuals devoted to himself. 
 Upon this occasion Scripture Stephen was weighed
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. b7 
 
 in the balance, and found wanting. It was supposed he 
 felt no call to any expedition which might endanger the 
 reign of the military sainthood, and that he did not con- 
 sider himself as free in conscience to join with any party 
 which might ultimately acknowledge the interest of 
 Charles Stuart, the son of '* the last man," as Charles I. 
 was familiarly and irreverently termed by them in their 
 common discourse, as well as in their more elaborate pre- 
 dications and harangues. As the time did not admit of 
 cashiering such dissidents, Stephen Butler w^as only advis- 
 ed in a friendly way to give up his horse and accoutre- 
 ments to one of Middleton's old troopers, who possessed 
 an accommodating conscience of a military stamp, and 
 which squared itself chiefly upon those of the colonel and 
 paymaster. As this hint came recommended by a certain 
 sum of arrears presently payable, Stephen had carnal 
 wisdom enough to embrace the proposal, and with great 
 indifference saw his old corps depart for Coldstream, on 
 their route for the south, to estabhsh the tottering govern- 
 ment of England on a new basis. 
 
 The zone of the ex-trooper, to use Horace's phrase, 
 was weighty enough to purchase a cottage and two or 
 three fields, (still known by the name of Beersheba,) with- 
 in about a Scottish mile of Dalkeith ; and there did Ste- 
 phen estabhsh himself with a youthful helpmate, chosen 
 out of the said village, whose disposition to a comfortable 
 settlement on this side of the grave reconciled her to the 
 gruff manners, serious temper, and weather-beaten feat- 
 ures of the martial enthusiast. Stephen did not long sur- 
 vive the falhng on " evil days and evil tongues," of which 
 Milton, in the same predicament, so mournfully complains. 
 At his death his consort remained 'an early widow, with a 
 male child of three years old, which, in the sobriety 
 wherewith it demeaned itself, in the old-fashioned and 
 even grim cast of its features, and in its sententious mode 
 of expressing itself, would sufficiently have vindicated 
 the honour of the widow of Beersheba, had any one 
 thought proper to challenge the babe's descent from Bible 
 Butler.
 
 88 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 Butler's principles had not descended to his family, or 
 extended themselves among his neighbours. The air of 
 Scotland was ahen to the growth of independence, how- 
 ever favourable to fanaticism under other colours. But, 
 nevertheless, they were not forgotten ; and a certain 
 neighbouring laird, who piqued himself upon the loyalty 
 of his principles " in the worst of times," though I never 
 heard they exposed him to more peril than that of a 
 broken head, or a night's lodging in the main guard, when 
 wine and cavaherism predominated in his upper story, 
 had found it a convenient thing to rake up all matter of 
 accusation against the deceased Stephen. In this enu- 
 meration his religious principles made no small figure, as, 
 indeed, they must have seemed of the most exaggerated 
 enormity to one whose own were so slight and so faintly 
 traced, as to be well nigh imperceptible. In these cir- 
 cumstances, poor widow Butler was supplied with her full 
 proportion of fines for non-conformity, and all the other 
 oppressions of the time, until Beersheba was fairly 
 wrenched out of her hands, and became the property of 
 the laird who had so wantonly, as it had hitherto appear- 
 ed, persecuted this forlorn woman. When his pur- 
 pose was fairly achieved, he showed some remorse or 
 moderation, or whatever the reader may please to term it, 
 in permitting her to occupy her husband's cottage, and 
 cultivate, on no very heavy terms, a croft of land adjacent. 
 Her son, Benjamin, in the meanwhile, grew up to man's 
 estate, and, moved by that impulse which makes men seek 
 marriage, even when its end can only be the perpetuation 
 of misery, he married and brought a wife, and, eventual- 
 ly, a son, Reuben, to share the poverty of Beersheba. 
 
 The Laird of Dumbiedikes had hitherto been moder- 
 ate in his exactions, perhaps because he was ashamed to 
 tax too highly the miserable means of support which re- 
 mained to the widow Butler. But when a stout active 
 young fellow appeared as the labourer of the croft in ques- 
 tion, Dumbiedikes began to think so broad a pair of shoul- 
 ders might bear an additional burthen. He regulated, 
 indeed, his management of his dependants (who fortu-
 
 THE HEART OF MID-IOTHIAX. 89 
 
 nately were but few in number) much upon the principle 
 of the carters whom he observed loading their carts at a 
 neighbouring coal-hill, and who never failed to clap an ad- 
 ditional brace of hundred-weights on their burthen, so 
 soon as by any means they had compassed a new horse of 
 somewhat superior strength to that which had broken down 
 the day before. However reasonable this practice ap- 
 peared to the Laird of Dumbiedikes, he ought to have 
 observed, that it may be overdone, and that it infers, as a 
 matter of course, the destruction and loss of both horse, 
 cart, and loading. Even so it befell when the additional 
 '• prestations" came to be demanded of Benjamin Butler. 
 A man of few words, and few ideas, but attached to 
 Beerslieba with a feeling Hke tliat which a vegetable may 
 be supposed to entertain to the spot in which it chances to 
 be planted, he neither remonstrated with the Laird, nor 
 endeavoured to escape from him, but, toiling night and day 
 to accomphsh the terms of his task-master, fell into a 
 burning fever and died. His wife did not long survive 
 him, and, as if it had been the fate of this family to be 
 left orphans, our Reuben Butler was, about the year 
 1704-5, left in the same circumstances in which his father 
 had been placed, and under the same guardianship, being 
 that of his grandmother, the widow of Monk's old trooper. 
 The same prospect of misery hung over the head of 
 another tenant of this hard-hearted lord of the soil. This 
 was a tough true-blue presbyterian, called Deans, who, 
 though most obnoxious to the Laird on account of princi- 
 ples in church and state, contrived to maintain his ground 
 upon the estate by regular payment of mail duties, kain, 
 arriage, carriage, dry multure, lock, gowpen, and knave- 
 ship, and all the various exactions now commuted for 
 money, and summed up in the emphatic word rknt. But 
 the years 1700 and 1701, long remembered in Scotland 
 for dearth and general distress, subdued the stout heart of 
 the agricultural whig. Citations, by the ground-officer, 
 decreets of the Baron Court, sequestrations, poindings of 
 outsight and insight, flew about his ears as fast as ever the 
 
 8* VOL. I.
 
 90 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 tory bullets whistled around those of the Covenanters at 
 Pentland, Bothvvell Brigg, or Airdmoss. Struggle as he 
 might, and he struggled gallantly, " douce Davie Deans" 
 was routed horse and foot, and lay at the mercy of his 
 grasping landlord just at the time that Benjamin Butler 
 died. The fate of each family was anticipated, but they 
 who prophesied their expulsion to beggary and ruin, were 
 disappointed by an accidental circumstance. 
 
 On the very term-day when their ejection should have 
 taken place, when all their neighbours were prepared to 
 pity, and not one to assist them, the minister of the parish, 
 as well as a doctor from Edinburgh, received a hasty 
 summons to attend the Laird of Dumbiedikes. Both 
 were surprised ; for his contempt for both faculties had 
 been pretty commonly his theme over an extra bottle, that 
 is to say, at least once every day. The leech for the 
 soul and he for the body ahghted in the court of the httle 
 old manor-house at almost the same time ; and' when they 
 had gazed a moment at each other with some surprise, 
 both in the same breath expressed their conviction that 
 Dumbiedikes must needs be very ill indeed, since he 
 summoned them both to his presence at once. Ere the 
 servant could usher them to his apartment, the party was 
 augmented by a man of law, Nichil Novit, writing himself 
 procurator before the Sheriff-court, for in those days there 
 were no solicitors. This latter personage was first sum- 
 moned to the apartment of the Laird, where, after some 
 short space, the soul-curer and the body-curer were invit- 
 ed to join him. 
 
 Dumbiedikes had been by this time transported into 
 the best bed-room, used only upon occasions of death 
 and marriage, and called, from the former of these oc- 
 cupations, the dead-room. There were in this apartment, 
 besides the sick person himself, and Mr. Novit, the son 
 and heir of the patient, a tall gawky silly-looking boy of 
 fourteen or fifteen, and a housekeeper, a good buxom 
 figure of a woman, betwixt forty and fifty, who had kept 
 the keys and managed matters at Dumbiedikes since the 
 lady's death. It was to these attendants that Dumbiedikes
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. 91 
 
 addressed himself pretty nearly in tliese words ; tempo- 
 ral and spiritual matters, the care of his health and his 
 affairs, being strangely jumbled in a head which was never 
 one of the clearest : 
 
 " These are sair times wi' me, gentlemen and neigh- 
 bours ! amaist as ill as at the aughty-nine, when I was 
 rabbled by the collegeaners. — They mistook me muckle 
 — they ca'd me a papist, but there was never a papist bit 
 about me, minister.- — Jock, ye'Il take warning — it's a debt 
 we maun a' pay ; and there stands Nichil Novit that will 
 tell you I was never gude at paying debts in my life. — Mr. 
 Novit, ye'll no forget to draw the annual rent that's due 
 on the yerl's band — if I pay debt to other folk, I think 
 they suld pay it to me — that equals aquals. — Jock, when 
 ye hae naething else to do, ye may be aye sticking in a 
 tree ; it will be growing, Jock, when ye're sleeping. My 
 father tauld me sae forty years sin', but I ne'er fand time 
 to mind him — Jock, ne'er drink brandy in the morning, 
 it 61es the stamach sair ; gin ye take a morning's draught, 
 let it be aqua mirabilis ; Jenny there makes it week — 
 Doctor, my breath is growing as scant as a broken-wind- 
 ed piper's, when he has played for four-and-twenty hours 
 at a penny -wed ding — Jenny, pit the cod aneath my head 
 — but it's a' needless ! — Mass John, could ye think o' 
 rattling ower some bit short prayer, it wad do me gude 
 maybe, and keep some queer thoughts out o' my head. — 
 Say something, man." 
 
 " I cannot use a prayer like a rat-rhyme," answered 
 the honest clergyman ; " and if you would have your 
 soul redeemed hke a prey from the fowler. Laird, you 
 must needs show me your state of mind." 
 
 " And suldna ye ken that without my telling you 9" 
 answered the patient. " What have I been paying sti- 
 pend and teind parsonage and vicarage for, ever sin' the 
 aughty-nine, an' I canna get a spell of a prayer for't, the 
 only time I ever asked for ane in my life 7 — Gang awa' 
 wi' your whiggery, if that's a' ye can do ; auld Curate 
 Kilstoup wad hae read half the Prayer-book to me by
 
 92 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 this time — Awa w'ye !— Doctor, let's see if ye can do 
 ony thing better for me." 
 
 The doctor, who had obtained some information in the 
 meanwhile from the housekeeper on the state of his com- 
 plaints, assured him the medical art could not prolong his 
 life many hours. 
 
 " Then damn Mass John and you baith !" cried the 
 furious and intractable patient. " Did ye come here for 
 naething but to tell me that ye canna help me at the pinch *? 
 Out vvi' them, Jenny — out o' the house ! and, Jock, my 
 curse, and the curse of Cromwell go wi' ye, if ye gie 
 them either fee or bountith, or sae muckle as a black pair 
 o' cheverons." 
 
 The clergyman and doctor made a speedy retreat out 
 of the apartment, while Dumbiedikes fell into one of those 
 transports of violent and profane language, which had 
 procured him the surname of Damn-me-dikes — " Bring 
 
 me the brandy bottle, Jenny, ye b ," he cried, with 
 
 a voice in which passion contended with pain. " I can 
 die as I have hved, without fashing ony o' them. But 
 there's ae thing," he said, sinking his voice — " there's ae 
 fearful thing hings about my heart, and an anker of brandy 
 winna wash it away — The Deanses at Woodend ! — I se- 
 questrated them in the dear years, and now they are to 
 flitt, they'll starve — and that Beersheba, and that auld 
 trooper's wife and her oe, they'll starve — they'll starve ! 
 — Look out, Jock ; what night is't ?" 
 
 '• Onding o' snaw, father," answered Jock, after hav- 
 ing opened the window, and looked out with great com- 
 posure. 
 
 " They'll perish in the drifts," said the expiring sinner 
 — " they'll perish wi' cauld ! — but I'll be het eneugh, gin 
 a' tales be true." 
 
 This last observation was made under breath, and in a 
 tone which made the very attorney shudder. He tried 
 his hand at ghostly advice, probably for the first time in 
 his life, and recommended, as an opiate for the agonized 
 conscience of the laird, reparation of tlie injuries he had 
 done to these distressed families, which, he observed by
 
 THE HEART OE MID-LOTHIAN. 93 
 
 the way, the civil law called restitutio in integrum. But 
 Mammon was struggling with Remorse tor retaining his 
 place in a bosom he had so long possessed ; and he partly 
 succeeded, as an old tyrant proves often too strong for his 
 insurgent rebels. 
 
 " f canna do't," he answered, with a voice of despair. 
 " It would kill me to do't — how can ye bid me pay back 
 siller, when ye ken how I want it ^ or dispone Beersheba, 
 when it lies sae weel into my ain plaid nuik 1 Nature 
 made Dumbiedikes and Beersheba to be ae man's land — 
 She did, by . Nichil, it wad kill me to part them." 
 
 " But ye maun die whether or no, Laird," said Mr. 
 Novit ; " and maybe ye wad die easier — it's but trying, 
 I'll scroll the disposition in nae time." 
 
 " Dinna speak o't, sir, or I'll fling the stoup at your 
 head. — But, Jock, lad, ye see how the warld warstles wi' 
 me on my death bed — Be kind to the puir creatures the 
 Deanses and the Butlers — be kind to them, Jock. Dinna 
 let the warld get a grip o' ye, Jock — but keep the gear 
 thegither ! and whate'er ye do, dispone Beersheba at no 
 rate. Let the creatures stay at a moderate mailing, and 
 hae bite and soup ; it will maybe be the better wi' your 
 father whare he's gaun, lad." 
 
 After these contradictory instructions, the Laird felt his 
 mind so much at ease that he drank three bumpers of 
 brandy continuously, and " soughed awa," as Jenny ex- 
 pressed it, in an attempt to sing, " De'il stick the minister." 
 
 His death made a revolution in favour of the distressed 
 famiHes. John Dumbie, now Dumbiedikes, in his own 
 right, seemed to be close and selfish enough, but wanted 
 the grasping spirit and active mind of his father ; and his 
 guardian happened to agree with him in opinion, that his 
 father's dying recommendation should be attended to. 
 The tenants, therefore, were not actually turned out of 
 doors among the snow wreaths, and were allowed where- 
 with to procure butter-milk and pease bannocks, which 
 they eat under the full force of the original malediction. 
 The cottage of Deans, called Woodend, was not very 
 distant from that at Beersheba. Formerly there had been
 
 94 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 little intercourse between the families. Deans was a 
 sturdy Scotchman, with all sorts of prejudices against the 
 southern, and the spawn of the southern. Moreover, 
 Deans was, as we have said, a staunch presbyterian, of 
 the most rigid and unbending adherence to what he con- 
 ceived to be the only possible straight line, as he was wont 
 to express himself, between right-hand heats and ex- 
 tremes, and left-hand defections ; and, therefore, he held 
 in high dread and horror all independents, and whomso- 
 ever lie supposed allied to them. 
 
 But, notwitlistanding these national prejudices and re- 
 ligious professions. Deans and the widow Butler were 
 pldced in such a situation, as naturally created some inti- 
 macy between the families. They had shared a common 
 danger and a mutual deliverance. They needed each 
 other's assistance, like a company, who, crossing a moun- 
 tain stream, are compelled to cling close together, lest 
 the current should be too powerful for any who are not 
 thus supported. 
 
 On nearer acquaintance, too. Deans abated some of his 
 prejudices. He found Mrs. Butler, though not thorough- 
 ly grounded in the extent and bearing of the real testi- 
 mony against the defections of the times, had no opinions 
 in favour of the independent party ; neither was she an 
 Englishwoman. Therefore, it was to be hoped, that 
 though she was the widow of an enthusiastic corporal of 
 Cromvv-ell's dragoons, it was possible her grandson might 
 be neither schismatic nor anti-national, two qualities con- 
 cerning which Goodman Deans had as wholesome a terror 
 as against papists and malignants. Above all, (for Douce 
 Davie Deans had his weak side,) he perceived that widow 
 Butler looked up to him with reverence, listened to his 
 advice, and compounded for an occasional fling at the 
 doctrines of her deceased husband, to which, as we have 
 seen, she was by no means warmly attached, in consider- 
 ation of the valuable counsels which the presbyterian 
 afforded her for the management of her little farm. 
 These usually concluded with, " they may do otherwise 
 in England, neighbour Butler, for au^ht I ken ;" or, " it
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. 95 
 
 may be different in foreign parts ;" or, " they wha think 
 differentl}' on the great foundation of our covenanted re- 
 formation, overturning and misguggling the government 
 and discipline of the kirk, and breaking down the carved 
 work of our Zion, might be for sawing the craft wi' aits ; 
 but I say pease, pease." And as his advice vv^as shrewd 
 and sensible, though conceitedly given, it was received 
 with gratitude, and followed with respect. 
 
 The intercourse which took place betwixt the families 
 at Beersheba and Woodend became strict and intimate, 
 at a very early period, betwixt Reuben Butler, with whom 
 the reader is ah'eady in some degree acquainted, and 
 Jeanie Deans, the only child of Douce Davie Deans by 
 his first wife, " that singular Christian woman," as he was 
 wont to express himself, " whose name was savoury to all 
 "^.hat knew her for a desirable professor. Christian iVlenzies 
 in Hochmagirdle." The manner of which intimacy, and 
 the consequences thereof, we now proceed to relate. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Reuben and Rachel, though as fond as doves. 
 Were yet discreet and cautious in their Joves, 
 Nor would attend to Cupid's wild commands, 
 Till cool rellection bade them join their hands. 
 When both were poor, they thought it argued ill 
 Of hasty love to make tliem poorer still." 
 
 Crahbes Parish Register. 
 
 While widow Butler and widower Deans struggled 
 with poverty, and the hard and sterile soil of those " parts 
 and portions" of the lands of Dumbiedikes which it was 
 tlinir lot to occupy, it became gradually apparent that 
 Deans was to gain the strife, and his ally in the conflict 
 Was to lose it. The former was a man, and not much 
 past the prinie of life — Mrs. Butler a woman, and declin-
 
 96 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 ed into the vale of years. This, indeed, ou^ht in time to 
 have been balanced by the circnmstaiioe, thai Reuben 
 was growing up to assist his grandniotiier's labours, and 
 that Jeanie Deans, as a girl, could be only supposed to 
 add to her father's burthens. But Douca Davie Deigns 
 knew better things, and so schooled and trained the young 
 minion, as he called her, that from the time she could 
 walk upwards, she was daily employed in some task or 
 other suitable to her age and capacity, a circumstance 
 which, added to her father's daily instructions and lec- 
 tures, tended to give her mind, even when a chdd, a grave, 
 serious, firm, and reflecting cast. An uncommonly siiong 
 and healthy temperament, free from all nervous atfection 
 and every other irregularity, which, attacking the body in 
 its more noble functions, so often influences the mind, 
 tended greatly to estabhsh this firmness, smiplicity, and 
 decision of character. 
 
 On the other hand, Reuben was weak in constitution, 
 and, though not timid in temper, might be safely pronounc- 
 ed anxious, doubtful, and apprehensive. He partook of 
 the temperament of his mother, who had died of a con- 
 sumption in early age. He was a pale, thin, feeble, sickly 
 boy, and somewhat lame, from an accident in early youth. 
 He was, besides, the child of a doting grandmother, whose 
 over-solicitous attention to him soon taught him a sort of 
 diffidence in liimself, with a disposition to over-rate his 
 own importance, wh'ch is one of the very worst conse- 
 quences that children deduce from over-indulgence. 
 
 Still, however, the two children clung to each other's • 
 society, not more from hs:bit than from taste. They herded 
 together the handful of sheep, with the two or three cows, 
 which their parents turned out rather to seek food th^m 
 actually to feed upon the uninclosed common of Dumbie- 
 dikes. It was there that the two urchins might be seen 
 seated beneath a blooming bush of whm. their little round 
 faces laid close together under the shadow of the same 
 plaid drawn over both their heads, while the landscape 
 around was embrowned by an overshadowing cloud, i)ig 
 with the shower which had driven the children to shelter.
 
 THE HEART OF MID-IOTHIAN. 97 
 
 Upon other occasions they went together to school, the 
 boy receiving that encouragement and example from his 
 companion, in crossing the little brooks which intersected 
 their path, and encountering cattle, dogs, and other perils, 
 upon their journey, which the male sex in such cases 
 usually consider it as their prerogative to extend to the 
 weaker. But when, seated on the benches of the school- 
 house, they began to con their lessons together, Reuben, 
 who was as much superior to Jeanie Deans in acuteness 
 of intellect, as inferior to her in firmness of constitution, 
 ^nd that insensibility to fatigue and danger which depends 
 on the conformation of the nerves, was able fully to re- 
 quite the kindness and countenance with which, in other 
 circumstances, she used to regard him. He was decid- 
 edly the best scholar at the htde parish school, and so 
 gentle was his temper and disposition, that he was rather 
 admired than envied b} the little mob who occujDied the 
 noisy mansion, although he was the declared favourite of 
 the master. Several girls, in particular, (for in Scotland 
 they are taught with the boys,) longed to be kind to, and 
 comfort the sickly lad, who was so much cleverer than 
 his companions. The character of Reuben Butler was 
 so calculated as to offer scope both for their sympathy 
 and their admiration, the feelings, perhaps, through which 
 the female sex (the more deserving part of them at least) 
 is more easily attached. 
 
 But Reuben, naturally reserved and distant, improved 
 none of these advantages, and only became more attach- 
 ed to Jeanie Deans, as the enthusiastic approbation of his 
 master assured him of fair prospects in future hfe, and 
 awakened his ambition. In the meantime, every advance 
 that Reuben made in learning, (and, considering his op- 
 portunities, they were uncommonly great,) rendered him 
 less capable of attending to the domestic duties of his 
 grandmother's farm. While studying the pons asinorum 
 in Euclid, he suffered every cuddie upon the common to 
 trespass upon a large field of pease belonging to the Laird, 
 and nothing but the active exertions of Jeanie Deans, with 
 9 VOL. r.
 
 98 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 her little dog Dustiefoot, could have saved great loss, and 
 consequent punishment. Similar miscarriages marked 
 his progress in his classical studies. He read Virgil's 
 Georgics till he did not know bear from barley ; and had 
 nearly destroyed the crofts of Beersheba, while attempt- 
 ing to cultivate them according to the practice of Columel- 
 la, and Cato the Censor. 
 
 These blunders occasioned grief to his grand-dame, 
 and disconcerted the good opinion which her neighbour, 
 Davie Deans, had for some time entertained of Reuben. 
 
 " 1 see naething ye can make of that silly callant, neigh- 
 bour Butler," said he to the old lady, " unless ye train 
 him to the wark o' the ministry. And ne'er was there 
 mair need of poorfu' preachers than e'en now in these 
 cauld Gallio days, when men's hearts are hardened like 
 the nether mill-stone, till they come to regard none of 
 these things. It's evident this puir callant of yours will 
 never be able to do a usefu' day's wark, unless it be as 
 an ambassador from our Master ; and I will make it my 
 business to procure a license when he is fit for the same, 
 trusting he will be a shaft cleanly polished, and meet to 
 be used in the body of the kirk ; and that he shall not 
 turn again, hke the sow, to wallow in the mire of hereti- 
 cal extremes and defections, but shall have the wings of 
 a dove, though he hath lain among the pots." 
 
 The poor widow gulped down the affront to her hus- 
 band's principles, implied in this caution, and hastened to 
 take Butler from the High School, and encourage him in 
 the pursuit of mathematics and divinity, the only physics 
 and ethics that chanced to be in fashion at the time. 
 
 Jeanie Deans was now compelled to part from the com- 
 panion of her labour, her study, and her pastime, and it 
 was with more than childish feeling that both children re- 
 garded the separation. But they were young, and hope 
 was high, and they separated Hke those who hope to meet 
 again at a more auspicious hour. 
 
 While Reuben Butler was acquiring at the University 
 of St. Andrews the knowledge necessary for a clergyman, 
 and macerating his body with the privations which were
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAJf . 99 
 
 necessary in seeking food for his mind, his grand-dame 
 became daily less able to struggle with her little farm, 
 and was at length obliged to throw it up to the new Laird 
 of Dumbiedikes. That great personage was no absolute 
 Jew, and did not cheat her in making the bargain more 
 than was tolerable. He even gave her permission to 
 tenant the house in which she had lived with her husband, 
 as long as it should be " tenantable," only he protested 
 against paying for a farthing of repairs, any benevolence 
 which he had being of the passive, but by no means of 
 the active mood. 
 
 In the meanwhile, from superior shrewdness, skill, and 
 other circumstances, some of them purely accidental, 
 Davie Deans gained a footing in the world, the possession 
 of some wealth, the reputation of more, and a growing 
 disposition to preserve and increase his store ; for which, 
 when he thought upon it seriously, he was inclined to 
 blame himself. From his knowledge in agriculture, as it 
 was then practised, he became a sort of favourite with 
 the Laird, who had no pleasure either in active sports or 
 in society, and was wont to end his daily saunter by call- 
 ing at the cottage of Woodend. 
 
 On such occasions^ Dumbiedikes, being a man him- 
 self of slow ideas and confused utterance, he used to 
 sit or stand for half an hour with an old laced hat of 
 his father's upon his head, and an empty tobacco-pipe 
 in his mouth, with his eyes following Jeanie Deans, 
 or " the lassie," as he called her, through the course 
 of her daily domestic labour, while her father, after 
 exhausting the subject of bestial, of ploughs, and of 
 harrows, often took an opportunity of going full sail into 
 controversial subjects, to which discussions the dignitary 
 listened with much seeming patience, but without making 
 any reply, or, indeed, as most people thought, without 
 understanding a single word of what the orator was say- 
 ing. Deans, indeed, denied this stoutly, as an insult at 
 once to his own talents for expounding hidden truths, of 
 which he was a little vain, and to the Laird's capacity of 
 understanding them. He said, " Dumbiedikes was nane
 
 100 TALES OF MY XANDLORD. 
 
 of these flashy genlles, wi' lace on their skirts and swords 
 at their tails, that were rather for riding on horseback to 
 hell than gaun barefooted to Heaven. He wasna like his 
 fatlier — he wasnae profane company-keeper — nae swear- 
 er — nae drinker — nae frequenter of play-house, or music- 
 house, or dancing-house — nae Sabbath-breaker — nae im- 
 poser of aiths, or bonds, or denier of liberty to the flock. 
 He clave to the warld, and the warld's gear, a wee ower 
 muckle, but then there was some breathing of a gale up- 
 on his spirit," &tc. he. All this honest Davie said and 
 believed. 
 
 It is not to be supposed, that, as a father and a man of 
 sense and observation, the constant direction of the Laird's 
 eyes towards Jeanie was altogether unnoticed. This cir- 
 cumstance, however, made a much greater impression 
 upon another member of his family, a second helpmate, 
 to wit, whom he had chosen to take to his bosom ten years 
 after the death of his first. Some people were of opin- 
 ion, that Douce Davie had been rather surprised into this 
 step, for in general he was no friend to marriages or giv- 
 ing in marriage, and seemed rather to regard that state of 
 society as a necessary evil, — a thing lawful, and to be 
 tolerated in the imperfect state of our nature, but which 
 clipped the wings with which we ought to soar upwards, 
 and tethered the soul to its mansion of clay, and the crea- 
 ture-comforts of wife and bairns. His own practice, how- 
 ever, had in this material point varied from his principles, 
 since, as we have seen, he twice knitted for himself this 
 dangerous and ensnaring entanglement. 
 
 Rebecca, his spouse, had by no means the same horror 
 of matrimony, and as she made marriages in imagination 
 for every neighbour round, she failed not to indicate a 
 match betwixt Dumbiedikes and her step-daughter Jeanie. 
 The goodman used regularly to frown and pshaw when- 
 ever this topic was touched upon, but usually ended by 
 taking his bonnet and walking out of the house, to con- 
 ceal a certain gleam of satisfaction, which, at such a sug- 
 gestion, involuntarily diffused itself over his austere fea- 
 tures.
 
 I'HE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 101 
 
 The more youthful part of my readers may naturally 
 ask, whether Jeanie Deans was deserving of this mute at- 
 tention of the Laird of Dumbiedikes ; and the historian, 
 with due regard to veracity, is compelled to answer, that 
 her personal attractions were of no uncommon descrip- 
 tion. She was short, and rather too stoutly made for her 
 size, had grey eyes, light-coloured hair, a round good- 
 humoured face, much tanned with the sun, and her only 
 peculiar charm was an air of inexpressible serenity, which 
 a good conscience, kind feehngs, contented temper, and 
 the regular discharge of all her duties, spread over her 
 features. There was nothing, it may be supposed, very 
 appalling in the form or manners of this rustic heroine ; 
 yet, whether from sheepish bashfulness, or from want of 
 decision and imperfect knowledge of his own mind on the 
 subject, the Laird of Dumbiedikes, with his old laced hat 
 and empty tobacco-pipe, came and enjoyed the beatific 
 vision of Jeanie Deans day after day, week after week, 
 year after year, without proposing to accompHsh any of 
 the prophecies of the step-mother. 
 
 This good lady began to grow doubly impatient on the 
 subject, when, after having been some years married, she 
 lierself presented Douce Davie with another daughter, 
 who was named Euphemia, by corruption, Etiie. It was 
 then that Rebecca began to turn impatient with the slow 
 pace at which the Laird's wooing proceeded, judiciously 
 arguing, that, as Lady Dumbiedikes would have but Httle 
 occasion for tocher, the principal part of her gudeman's 
 substance would naturally descend to the child by the 
 second marriage. Other step-dames have tried less lau- 
 dable means for clearing the way to the succession of their 
 own children ; but Rebecca, to do her justice, only sought 
 little Effie's advantage through the promotion, or which 
 must have generally been accounted such, of her eldest 
 sister. She therefore tried every female art within the 
 compass of her simple skill, to bring the Laird to a point ; 
 but had the mortification to perceive that her efforts, hke 
 those of an unskilful angler, only scared the trout she 
 
 9* VOL. I.
 
 102 TALES OF MY LANDLORD, 
 
 meant to catch. Upon one occasion, in particular, when 
 she joked with the Laird on the propriety of giving a 
 mistress to the house of Dumbiedikes, he was so effectu- 
 ally startled, that neither laced hat, tobacco-pipe, nor the 
 inteUigent proprietor of these moveables, visited Wood end 
 for a fortnight. Rebecca was therefore compelled to 
 leave the Laird to proceed at his own snail's pace, con- 
 vinced, by experience, of the grave-digger's aphorism, 
 that your dull ass will not mend his pace for beating. 
 
 Reuben, in the mean time, pursued his studies at the 
 university, supplying his wants by teaching the younger 
 lads the knowledge he himself acquired, and thus at once 
 gaining the means of maintaining himself at the seat of 
 learning, and fixing in his mind the elements of what he 
 had already obtained. In this manner, as is usual among 
 the poorer students of divinity at Scotch universities, he 
 contrived not only to maintain himself according to his 
 simple wants, but even to send considerable assistance to 
 his sole remaining parent, a sacred duty, of which the 
 Scotch are seldom negligent. His progress in knowledge 
 of a general kind, as well as in the studies proper to his 
 profession, was very -considerable, but less marked from 
 the retired modesty of his disposition, which in no respect 
 qualified him to set ofF his learning to the best advantage. 
 And thus, had Butler been a man given to make com- 
 plaints, he had his tale to tell, like others, of unjust pre- 
 ferences, bad luck, and hard usage. 
 
 He obtained his license as a preacher of the gospel, 
 with some compliments from the presbytery by whom it 
 was bestowed ; but this did not lead to any preferment, 
 and he found it necessary to make the cottage at Beer- 
 sheba his residence for some months, witli no other income 
 than was afforded by the precarious occupation of teach- 
 ing in one or two neighbouring familiec. After having 
 greeted his aged grandmother, his first visit was to Wood- 
 end, where he was received by Jeanie with warm cordi- 
 ality, arising from recollections which had never been 
 dismissed from her mind, by Rebecca with good-huraour-
 
 THE HEART OF MID-IOTHIAN. 103 
 
 ed hospitality, and by old Davie in a mode peculiar to 
 himself. 
 
 Highly as Douce Deans honoured the clergy, it was 
 not upon each individual of the cloth that he bestowed his 
 approbation ; and, a little jealous, perhaps, at seeing his 
 youthful acquaintance erected into the dignity of a teacher 
 and preacher, he instantly attacked him upon various 
 points of controversy, in order to discover whether he 
 might not have fallen into some of the snares, defections, 
 and desertions of the time. Butler was not only a man 
 of staunch presbyterian principles, but was also willing to 
 avoid giving pain to his old friend by disputing upon points 
 of little importance ; and therefore he might have hoped 
 to have come hke refined gold out of the furnace of Da- 
 vie's interrogatories. But the result on the mind of that 
 strict investigator was not ahogether so favourable as might 
 have been hoped and anticipated. Old Judith Butler, 
 who had hobbled that evening as far as Woodend, in or- 
 der to enjoy the congratulations of her neighbours upon 
 Reuben's return, and upon his high attainments, of which 
 she was herself not a little proud, was somewhat mortifi- 
 ed to find that her old friend Deans did not enter into the 
 subject with the warmth she expected. At first, indeed, 
 he seemed rather silent than dissatisfied ; and it was not 
 till Judith had essayed the subject more than once that it 
 led to the following dialogue : — 
 
 " Aweel, neibor Deans, I thought ye wad hae been 
 glad to see Reuben amang us again, puir fallow." 
 
 " I am glad, Mrs. Butler," was the neighbour's con- 
 cise answer. 
 
 " Since he has lost his grandfather and his father, 
 (praised be Him that giveth and taketh !) I ken nae friend 
 he has in the world that's been sae like a father to him as 
 the sell o' ye, neibor Deans." 
 
 " God is the only father of the fatherless," said Deans, 
 touching his bonnet, and looked upwards. " Give hon- 
 our where it is due, gudewife, and not to an unworthy in-
 
 104 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 " Aweel, that's your way o' turning it, and nae doubt 
 ye ken best ; 'but I hae kenned ye, Davie, send a forpet 
 o' meal to Beersheba when there was na a bow left in the 
 meal-ark at Woodend ; aye, and I hae kenned ye" 
 
 " Gudewife," said David, interrupting her, " these are 
 but idle tales to tell me ; fit for naething but to pufF up 
 our inward man wi' our ain vain acts. I stude beside 
 blessed Alexander Peden, when 1 heard him call the 
 death and testimony of our happy martyrs but draps of 
 blude and scarts of ink ; and what suld I think of ony- 
 thing the like of me can do ^■ 
 
 " Weel, neibor Deans, ye ken best ; but I maun say 
 that, I am sure you are glad to see my bairn again — the 
 hah's gane now, unless he has to walk ower mony miles 
 at a stretch ; and he has a wee bit colour in his cheek, 
 that glads my auld een to see it ; and he has as decent a 
 black coat as the minister, and" 
 
 " I am very heartily glad he is weel and thriving," 
 said Mr. Deans, with a gravity that seemed intended to 
 cut short the subject ; but a woman who is bent upon a 
 point is not easily pushed from it. 
 
 " And," continued Mrs. Butler, " he can wag his 
 head in a pu'pit now, neibor Deans, think but of that — 
 my ain oe — and a'body maun sit still and hsten to him 
 as if he were the Paip of Rome." 
 
 *' The what 9 — the who *? — woman*?" said Deans, 
 with a sternness far beyond his usual gravity, as soon as 
 these offensive words had struck upon the tympanum of 
 his ear. 
 
 " Eh, guide us !" said the poor woman ; " I had for- 
 got what an ill will ye had aye at the Paip, and sae had 
 my puir gudeman, Stephen Butler. Mony an afternoon 
 he wad sit and take up his testimony again the Paip, and 
 again baptizing of bairns, and the hke." 
 
 " Woman !" reiterated Deans, " either speak about 
 what ye ken something o', or be silent ; I say that inde- 
 pendency is a foul heresy, and anabaptism a damnable 
 and deceiving error, whilk suld be rooted out of the land,
 
 THE HEART OF MID-IOTHIAN. 105 
 
 wi' the fire o' the spiritual, and the sword o' the civil 
 magistrate." 
 
 " Weel, weel, neibor, I'll no say that ye mayna be 
 right. I am sure ye are right about the sawing and the 
 mawing, the sheering and the leading, and what for suld 
 ye no be right about kirk-wark, too ? — But concerning 
 my oe, Reuben Butler" 
 
 " Reuben Butler, gudewife, is a lad I wish heartily 
 weel to, even as if he were mine ain son — but I doubt 
 there will be outs and ins in the tract of his w^alk. I 
 muckle fear his gifts will get the heels of his grace. He 
 has ower muckle human wit and learning, and thinks as 
 muckle about the form of the bicker as he does about the 
 halesomeness of the food — he maun broider the mar- 
 riage-garment with lace and passments, or it's no gude 
 aneugh for him. And it's like he's something proud o' 
 his human gifts and learning, whilk enables him to dress 
 up his doctrine in that fine airy dress. But," added he, 
 at seeing the old woman's uneasiness at his discourse, 
 " affliction may gi'e him a jagg, and let the wind out o' 
 him as out o' a cow that's eaten wet clover, and the lad 
 may do weel, and be a burning and a sliining Hght ; and 
 I trust it will be yours to see, and his to feel it, and that 
 soon." 
 
 Widow Butler was obliged to retire, unable to make 
 anything more of her neighbour, whose discourse, though 
 she did not comprehend it, filled her with undefined ap- 
 prehensions on her grandson's account, and greatly de- 
 pressed the joy with which she had welcomed him on his 
 return. And it must not be concealed, in justice to Mr. 
 Dean's discernment, that Butler, in their conference, had 
 made a greater display of his learning than the occasion 
 called for, or than was like to be acceptable to the old 
 gendeman, who, accustomed to consider himself as a 
 person pre-eminently entided to dictate upon theological 
 subjects of controversy, felt rather humbled and morti- 
 fied when learned authorities were placed in array against 
 him. In fact, Butler had not escaped the tinge of ped- 
 antry which naturally flowed from his education, and was
 
 106 TALES OF MY tAJfDLORD. 
 
 apt, on many occasions, to make parade of his knowledge, 
 when there was no need of such vanity. 
 
 Jeanie Deans, however, found no fault with this display 
 of learning, but, on the contrary, admired it ; perhaps 
 on the same score that her sex are said to admire men 
 of courage, on account of their own deficiency in that 
 qualification. The circumstances of their families threw 
 the young people constantly together ; their old intimacy 
 was renewed, though upon a footing better adapted to 
 their age ; and it became at length understood betwixt 
 them, that their union should be deferred no longer than 
 until Butler should obtain some steady means of support, 
 how^ever humble. This, however, was not a matter 
 speedily to be accomplished. Plan after plan was form- 
 ed, and plan after plan failed. The good-humoured 
 cheek of Jeanie lost the first blush of juvenile freshness ; 
 Reuben's brow assumed the gravity of manhood, yet the 
 means of obtaining a settlement seemed remote as ever. 
 Fortunately for the lovers, their passion was of no ardent 
 or enthusiastic cast, and a sense of duty on both sides 
 induced them to bear, with patient fortitude, the protract- 
 ed ir.terYd which divided them from each otherf 
 
 In the meanwhile, time did not roll on without effect- 
 ing his usual changes. The widow of Stephen Butler, 
 so long the prop of the family of Beersheba, was gath- 
 ered to her fathers ; and Rebecca, the careful spouse of 
 our friend Davie Deans, was also summoned from her 
 plans of matrimonial and domestic economy. The 
 morning after her death, Reuben Butler went to offer his 
 mite of consolation to his old friend and benefactor. He 
 witnessed, on this occasion, a remarkable struggle betwixt 
 the force of natural affection, and the religious stoicism, 
 which the sufferer thought it was incumbent upon him to 
 maintain under each earthly dispensation, whether of weal 
 or woe. 
 
 On his arrival at the cottage, Jeanie, with her eyes 
 overflowing with tears, pointed to the little orchard, " in 
 which," she whispered with broken accents, " my poor 
 father has been since his misfortune." Somewhat alarm-
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTH lAX. 107 
 
 ed at this account, Butler entered the orchard, and ad- 
 vanced slowly towards his old friend, who, sealed in a 
 small rude arbour, appeared to be sunk in the extremity 
 of his affliction. He lifted Ill's eyes somewhat sternly as 
 Butler approached, as if offended at the interruption ; 
 but as the young man hesitated whether he ought to re- 
 treat or advance, he arose, and came forward to meet him, 
 with a self-possessed, and even dignitied air. 
 
 " Young man, lay it not to heart, though the righteous 
 perish and the merciful are reinoved, seeing, it may be 
 well said, that they are taken away from the evils to come. 
 Wo to me, were I to shed a tear for the wife of my 
 bosom, when I might weep rivers of water for this afflict- 
 ed Church, cursed as it is with carnal seekers, and with 
 the dead of heart." 
 
 " I am happy," said Butler, " that you can forget 
 your private affliction in your regard for public duty." 
 
 " Forget, Reuben 9" said poor Deans, putting his 
 handkerchief to his eyes, — " She's not to be forgotten 
 on this side of time ; but He that gives the wound, can 
 sena the ointment. I declare there have been times dur- 
 ing this night when my meditation has been so wrapt, that 
 I knew not of my heavy loss. It has been with me as 
 with the worthy John Semple, called Carspharn John, 
 upon a like trial, — I have been this night on the banks of 
 Ulai, plucking an apple here and there." 
 
 Notwithstanding the assumed fortitude of Deans, 
 which he conceived to be the discharge of a great Chris- 
 tian duty, he had too good a heart not to suffer deeply 
 under this heavy loss. Woodend became altogether dis- 
 tasteful to him ; and as he had obtained both substance 
 and experience by his management of that little farm, he 
 resolved to employ them as a dairy farmer, or cow-feeder, 
 as they are cahed in Scotland. The situation he chose 
 for his new settlement was at a place called Saint Leon- 
 ard's Crags, lying betwixt Edinburgh and the mountain 
 called Arthur's Seat, and adjoining to the extensive sheep 
 pasture still named the King's Park, from its having been 
 formerly dedicated to the preservation of the royal game.
 
 108 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 Here he rented a small lonely house, nearly half a mile 
 distant from the nearest point of the city, but the site of 
 which, with all the adjacent ground, is now occupied by 
 the buildings which form the south-eastern suburb. An 
 extensive pasture-ground adjoining, which Deans rented 
 from the Keeper of the Royal Park, enabled him to feed 
 his milk-cows ; and the unceasing industry and activity 
 of Jeanie, his eldest daughter, was exerted in making the 
 most of their produce. 
 
 She had now less frequent opportunities of seeing 
 Reuben, who had been obliged, after various disappoint- 
 ments, to accept the subordinate situation of assistant in 
 a parochial school of some eminence, at three or four 
 miles distance from the city. Here he distinguished 
 himself, and became acquainted with several respectable 
 burgesses, who, on account of health, or other reasons, 
 chose that their children should commence their educa- 
 tion in this little vlllnge. His prospects were- thus grad- 
 ually brightening, and upon each visit which he paid at 
 Saint Leonard's he had an opportunity of ghding a hint 
 to this purpose into Jeanie's ear. These visits were ne- 
 cessarily very rare, on account of the demands which the 
 duties of the school made upon Butler's time. Nor did 
 ne dare to make them even altogether so frequent as these 
 avocations would permit. Deans received him with 
 civility, and even with kindness ; but Reuben, as is 
 usual in such cases, imagined that he read his purpose 
 in his eyes, and was afraid too premature an explanation 
 on the subject would drau^ down his positive disapproval. 
 Upon the whole, therefore, he judged it prudent to call 
 at Saint Leonard's just so frequently as old acquaintance 
 and neighbourhood seemed to authorize, and no oftener. 
 There was another person who was more regular in his 
 visits. 
 
 . When Davie Deans intimated to the Laird of Dum- 
 biedikes his purpose of " quitting wi' the land and house 
 at Woodend," the Laird stared and said nothing. He 
 made his usual visits at the usual hour without remark, 
 until the day before the term, when, observing the bustle
 
 THE HEART OF MID-IOTHIAX. 109 
 
 of moving furniture already commenced, the great east- 
 country aivmrie dragged out of its nook, and standing 
 witli its shoulder to the company, like an awkward booby 
 about to leave the room, the Laird again stared mightily, 
 and was heard to ejaculate, " Hegh, sirs l^ Even after 
 the day of departure was past and gone, the Laird of 
 Dumbiedikes, at his usual hour, which w^as that at which 
 David Deans was wont to " loose the pleugh," present- 
 ed himself before the closed door of the cottage at 
 Woodend, and seemed as much astonished at finding it 
 shut against his approach, as if it was not exactly what 
 he had to expect. On this occasion he was heard to 
 ejaculate, " Gude guide us !" which, by those who knew 
 him, was considered as a very unusual mark of emotion. 
 From that moment forward, Dumbiedikes became an al- 
 tered man, and the regularity of his movements, hitherto 
 so exemplary,, was as totally disconcerted as those of a 
 boy's watch when he has hroken the main-spring. Like 
 the index of the said watch, did Dumbiedikes spin round 
 the whole bounds of his little property, which may be liken- 
 ed unto the dial of the time-piece, with unwonted veloc- 
 ity. There was not a cottage into which he did not 
 enter, nor scarce a maiden on whom he did not stare. 
 But so it was, that although there were better farm-hou- 
 ses on the land than Woodend, and certainly much pret- 
 tier girls than Jeanie Deans, yet it did somehow befall, 
 that the blank in the Laird's time was not so pleasantly 
 filled up as it had been. There was no seat accommo- 
 dated him so well as the " bunker" at Woodend, and no 
 face he loved so much to gaze on as Jeanie Deans's. 
 So, after spinning round and round his httle orbit, and 
 then remaining stationary for a week, it seems to have 
 occurred to him, that he was not pinned down to circu- 
 late on a pivot, like the hands of the watch, but possess- 
 ed the power of shifting his central point, and extending 
 his circle if he thought proper. To realize which privi- 
 lege of change of place, he bought a pony from a High- 
 
 10 VOL. I.
 
 110 TALES OF MY LAXDIORD. 
 
 land drover, and with its assistance and company stepped, 
 or rather stumbled, as far as Saint Leonard's Crags. 
 
 Jeanie Deans, though so much accustomed to the 
 Laird's staring that she was sometime scarce conscious 
 of his presence, had nevertheless some occasional fears 
 lest he should call in the organ of speech to back those 
 expressions of admiration which he bestowed on her 
 through his eyes. Should this happen, farewell, she 
 thought, to all chance of a union with Butler. For her 
 father, however stout-hearted and independent in civil 
 and religious principles, was not without that respect for 
 the Laird of the land so deeply imprinted on the Scot- 
 tish tenantry of the period. Moreover, if he did not 
 positively dislike Butler, yet his fund of carnal learning 
 was often the object of sarcasms on David's part, which 
 were perhaps founded in jealousy, and which certainly 
 indicated no partiality for the party against whom they 
 were launched. And, lastly, the match with Dumbie- 
 dikes would have presented irresistible charms to one v\ho 
 used to complain that he felt himself apt to take " ower 
 grit, an armfu' o' the warld." So that, upon the whole, 
 the Laird's diurnal visits were disagreeable to Jeanie from 
 apprehension of future consequences, and it served much 
 to console her, upon removing from the spot where she 
 was bred and born, that she had seen the last of Dum- 
 biedikes, his laced hat, and tobacco-pipe. The poor 
 girl no more expected he could muster courage to follow 
 her to Saint Leonard's Crags, than that any of her ap- 
 ple-trees or cabbages which she had left rooted in the 
 " yard" at Woodend, would spontaneously, and unaided, 
 have undertaken the same journey. It was, therefore, 
 with much more surprise than pleasure, that, on the sixth 
 day after their removal to Saint Leonard's, she beheld 
 Dumbiedikes arrive, laced hat, tobacco-pipe, and all, 
 and, with the self same greeting of " how's a' wi' ye, 
 Jeanie *? — Whare's the gudeman '?" assume as nearly as 
 he could the same position in the cottage at Saint Leon- 
 ard's, which he had so long and so regularly occupied at 
 Woodend. He was no sooner, however, seated, than.
 
 THE HEAUT OF MID-LOTHIAX. Ill 
 
 with an unusual exertion of his powers of conversation, he 
 added, " Jeanie — I say, Jeanie woman," here he ex- 
 tended his hand towards her shoulder with all the fingers 
 spread out as if to clutch it, but in so bashful and awk- 
 ward a manner, that, when she whisked herself beyond 
 its reach, the paw remained supended in the air with the 
 palm open, like the claw of a heraldic griffin — " Jeanie," 
 continued the swain, in this moment of inspiration, — " I 
 say, Jeanie, it's a braw day out bye, and the roads are 
 no that ill for boot-hose." 
 
 " The deil's in the daidling body," muttered Jeanie 
 between her teeth ; " wha wad hae thought o' his daiker- 
 ing out this length 9" And she afterwards confessed that 
 she threw a little of this ungracious sentiment into her 
 accent and manner j for her father being abroad, and the 
 " body," as she irreverently termed the landed proprie- 
 tor, " looking unco gleg and canty, she didna ken what 
 he might be coming out wi' next." 
 
 Her frowns, however, acted as a complete sedative, 
 and the Laird relapsed from that day into his former 
 taciturn habits, visiting the cow-feeder's cottage three or 
 four times every week, when the weather permitted, with 
 apparently no other purpose than to stare at Jeanie 
 Deans, while Douce David poured forth his eloquence 
 upon the controversies and testimonies of the day. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Her air, her manners, all who saw admired, 
 Courteous, though coy, and g-entle, though retired, 
 The joy of youth and health her eyes display'd : 
 And ease of heart her every look convey'd. 
 
 Crabbe. 
 
 The visits of the Laird thus again sunk into matters 
 of ordinary course, from which nothing was to be ex-
 
 112 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 pected or apprehended. If a lover could have gained a 
 fair one as a snake is said to fascinate a bird, by perti- 
 naciously gazing on her with great stupid greenish eyes, 
 which began now to be occasionally aided by spectacles, 
 unquestionably Dumbiedikes would have been the per- 
 son to perform the feat. But the art of fascination seems 
 among the artes perditce, and I cannot learn that this 
 most pertinacious of starers produced any effect by his 
 attentions beyond an occasional yawn. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the object of his gaze was gradual- 
 ly attaining the verge of youth, and approaching to what 
 is called in females the middle age, which is impolitely 
 held to begin a few years earlier with their more fragile 
 sex than with men. Many people would have been of 
 opinion, that the Laird would have done better to have 
 transferred his glances to an object possessed of far su- 
 perior charms to Jeanie's, even when Jeanie's were in 
 their bloom, who began now to be distinguished by all 
 who visited the cottage at Saint Leonard's Crags. 
 
 Effie Deans, under the tender and affectionate care of 
 her sister, had now shot up into a beautiful and blooming 
 girl. Her Grecian-shaped head was profusely rich in 
 waving ringlets of brown hair, which, confined by a blue 
 snood of silk, and shading a laughing Hebe countenance, 
 seemed the picture of health, pleasure, and contentment. 
 Her brown russet short-gown set off a shape, which time, 
 perhaps, might be expected to render too robust, the 
 frequent objection to Scottish beauty, but which, in her 
 present early age, was slender and taper, with that grace- 
 ful and easy sweep of outline which at once indicates 
 health and beautiful proportion of parts. 
 
 These growing charms, in all their juvenile profusion, 
 had no power to shake the steadfast mind, or divert the 
 fixed gaze of the constant Laird of Dumbiedikes. But 
 there was scarce another eye that could behold this living 
 ])icture of health and beauty, without pausing on it with 
 pleasure. The traveller stopped his weary horse on the 
 eve of entering the city which was the end of his jour- 
 ney, to gaze on the sylph-like form that tripped by him
 
 THE HEART OF MID-I.OTHIAN. 113 
 
 with her milk-pail poised on her head, bearing herself so 
 erect, and stepping so light and free under her burthen, 
 that it seemed rather an ornament than an encumbrance. 
 The lads of the neighbouring suburb, who held their 
 evening rendezvous for putting the stone, casting the 
 hammer, playing at long bowls, and other athletic exer- 
 cises, watched the motions of Effie Deans, and contend- 
 ed with each other which should have the good fortune 
 to attract her attention. Even the rigid presbyterians of 
 her father's persuasion, who held each indulgence of the 
 eye and sense to be a snare at least, if not a crime, were 
 surprised into a moment's delight while gazing on a crea- 
 ture so exquisite, — instantly checked by a sigh, reproach- 
 ing at once their own weakness, and mourning that a 
 creature so fair should share in the common and heredi- 
 tary guilt and imperfection of our nature. She was cur- 
 rently entitled the Lily of Saint Leonard's, a name which 
 she deserved as much by her guileless purity of thought, 
 speech, and action, as by her uncommon loveliness of 
 face and person. 
 
 Yet there w^ere points in Effie's character, which gave 
 rise not only to strange doubt and anxiety on the part of 
 Douce Davie Deans, whose ideas were rigid, as may 
 easily be supposed, upon the subject of youthful amuse- 
 ments, but even of serious apprehension to her more in- 
 dulgent sister. The children of the Scotch of the infe- 
 rior classes are usually spoiled by the early indulgence of 
 their parents ; how, wherefore, and to what degree, the 
 lively and instructive narrative of the amiable and accom- 
 plished authoress of " Glenburnie,"* has saved me and 
 all future scribblers the trouble of recording. EfEe had 
 had a double share of this inconsiderate and misjudged 
 kindness. Even the strictness of her father's principles 
 could not condemn the sports of infancy and childhood ; 
 and to the good old man, his younger daughter, the child 
 of his old age, seemed a child for some years after she 1> 
 
 — . c4^ 
 
 * Mrs. Elizabeth Hamilton, now no more. — Editor. 
 10* VOL. I.
 
 114 TALES OF MY LANDLORD^ 
 
 attained the years of womanhood, was still called the 
 " bit lassie," and " little Effie," and was permitted to 
 run up and down uncontrolled, unless upon the Sabbath, 
 or at the times of family worship. Her sister, with all 
 the love and care of a mother, could not be supposed to 
 possess the same authoritative influence, and that which 
 she had hitherto exercised became gradually limited and 
 diminished as Effie's advancing years entided her, in her 
 own conceit at least, to the right of independence and 
 free agency. With all the innocence and goodness of 
 disposition, therefore, which we have described, the Lily 
 of St. Leonard's possessed a httle fund of self-conceit 
 and obstinacy, and some warmth and irritability of tem- 
 per, partly natural, perhaps, but certainly much increased 
 by the unrestrained freedom of her childhood. Her 
 character will be best illustrated by a cottage evening 
 scene. 
 
 The careful father was absent in his well-stocked byre, 
 foddering those useful and patient animals on whose pro- 
 duce his living depended, the summer evening was be- 
 ginning to close in, when Jeanie Deans began to be very 
 anxious for the appearance of her sister, and to fear that 
 she would not reach home before her father returned 
 from the labour of the evening, when it was his custom to 
 liave " family exercise," and when she knew that Effie's 
 absence would give him the most serious displeasure. 
 These apprehensions hung heavier upon her mind, be- 
 cause, for several preceding evenings, Effie had disap- 
 peared about the same time, and her stay, at first so brief 
 as scarce to be noticed, had been gradually protracted to 
 half an hour, and an hour, and on the present occasion 
 had considerably exceeded even this last limit. And 
 now, Jeanie stood at the door, with her hand before her 
 eyes to avoid the rays of the level sun, and looked alter- 
 nately along the various tracks which led towards their 
 dwelling, to see if she could descry the nymph-hke form 
 of her sister. There was a wall and a stile which sepa- 
 rated the royal domain, or King's Park, as it is called, 
 from the public road ; to this pass she frequently direct-
 
 THE HEAltT OF MID-LOTHIAN. 115 
 
 cd her attention, when she saw two persons appear there 
 somewhat suddenly, as if they had walked close by the 
 side of the wall to screen themselves from observation. 
 One of them, a man, drew back hastily j the other, a fe- 
 male, crossed the stile, and advanced towards her — it was 
 EfEe. She met her sister with that affected Hveliness of 
 manner, which, in her rank, and sometimes in those above 
 it, females occasionally assume to hide surprise or coa- 
 fusion ; and she carolled as she came — 
 
 " The elfin knight sat on the brae, 
 The broom grows bonnV; the broom grows fair ; 
 
 And by there came lilting a lady so gay, 
 And we daurna gang down to the broom nae mair." 
 
 ♦ *' Whisht, Effie," said her sister ; " our father's com- 
 ing out o' the byre." — The damsel stinted in her song. — 
 '' M^hare hae ye been sae late at e'en 9" 
 
 " It's no late, lass," answered Effie. 
 
 " It's chappit eight on every clock o' the town, and the 
 
 sun's gaun down ahint the Corstorphine hills Whare 
 
 can ye hae been sae late r" 
 
 " Nae gate," answered Effie. 
 
 *' And wha was that parted wi' you at the stile 9" 
 
 " Naebody," repHed Effie once more. 
 
 " Nae gate 9 — Naebody 9 — I wish it may be a right 
 gate, and a right body, that keeps folk out sae late at 
 e'en, Effie." 
 
 " What needs ye be aye speering then at folk 9" re- 
 torted Effie. " I'm sure, if ye'll ask nae questions, I'll 
 tell ye nae lees. I never ask what brings the Laird of 
 Dumbiedikes glowering here like a wull-cat, (only his 
 een's greener, and no sae gleg,) day after day, till we are 
 a' like to gaunt our chafts aff." 
 
 " Because ye ken very weel he comes to see our 
 father," said Jeanie, in answer to this pert remark. 
 
 " And Dominie Butler — Does he come to see eur 
 father, that's sae taen wi' his Latin words 9" said Effie, 
 delighted to find that, by carrying the waF into the ene- 
 my's country, she could divert the threatened attack upon
 
 116 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 herself, and with the petulance of youth she pursued her 
 triumph over her prudential elder sister. She looked at 
 her with a sly air, in which there was something like 
 irony, as she chanted, in a low hut marked tone, a scrap 
 of an old Scotch song — 
 
 " Through the kirk-yard 
 
 I met wi" the Laird, 
 
 The silly puir body he said me nae harm ; 
 
 But just ere twas dark 
 
 I met wi' the clerk" 
 
 Here the songstress stopped, looked full at her sister, 
 and, observing the tear gather in her eyes, she suddenly 
 flung her arms round her neck, and kissed them away. 
 Jeanie, though hurt and displeased, was unable to resist 
 the caresses of this untaught child of nature, whose good 
 and evil seemed to flow rather from impulse than from 
 reflection. But as she returned the sisterly kiss, in token 
 of perfect reconciliation, she could not suppress the gen- 
 tle reproof, — " Effie, if ye will learn fule sangs, ye might 
 make a kinder use of them." 
 
 " And so I might, Jeanie," continued the girl, clinging 
 to her sister's neck ; " and I wish I had never learned 
 ane o' them — and I wish we had never come here — and 
 I wish my tongue had been blistered or I had vexed ye." 
 
 *' Never mind that, Effie," replied the affectionate 
 sister ; " I canna be muckle vexed wi' ony thing ye say 
 to me — But O dinna vex our father !" 
 
 "I will not — I will not," replied Effie ; " and if there 
 were as mony dances the morn's night as there are merry 
 dancers in the north firmament on a frosty e'en, I winna 
 budge an inch to gang near ane o' them." 
 
 " Dance !" echoed Jeanie Deans in astonishment. 
 " O, Effie, lassie, what could take ye to a dance V^ 
 
 It is very possible, that, in the communicative mood 
 into which the Lily of St. Leonard's was now surprised, 
 she might have given her sister her unreserved confidence, 
 and saved me the pain of telling a melancholy tale ; but 
 at the moment the word dance was uttered, it reached the
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 1 I 7 
 
 ear of old David Deans, who had turned the corner of 
 the house, and came upon his daughters ere they were 
 aware of his presence. The word prelate, or even the 
 word pope, could hardly have produced so appalling an 
 effect upon David's ear ; for, of all exercises, that of 
 dancing, which he termed a voluntary and regular fit of 
 distraction, he deemed most destructive of serious 
 thoughts, and the readiest inlet to all sort of licentious- 
 ness ; and he accounted the encouraging, and even per- 
 mitting, assemblies or meetings, whether among those of 
 high or low degree, for this fantastic and absurd purpose, 
 or for that of dramatic representations, as one of the 
 most flagrant proofs of defection and causes of wrath. 
 The pronouncing of the word dance by his own daugh- 
 ters, and at his own door now drove him beyond the 
 verge of patience. " Dance !" he exclaimed, " Dance ! 
 — dance, said ye '^ I daur ye, hmmers that ye are, to 
 name sic a word at my door cheek ! It's a dissolute pro- 
 fane pastime, practised by the Israelites only at their base 
 and brutal worship of the Golden Calf at Bethel, and by 
 the unhappy lass wha danced aff* the head of John the 
 Baptist, upon whilk chapter I will exercise this night for 
 your farther instruction, since ye need it sae muckle, 
 nothing doubting that she has cause to rue the day, lang 
 or this time, that ere she suld hae shook a limb on sic an 
 errand. Better for her to hae been born a cripple, and 
 carried frae door to door, like auld Bessie Bowie, beg- 
 ging bawbees, than to be a king's daughter, fiddling and 
 flinging the gate she did. I hae often wondered thatony 
 ane that ever bent a knee for the right purpose, should 
 ever daur to crook a hough to fyke and fling at piper's 
 wind and fiddler's squealing. And 1 bless God, (with 
 that singular worthy, Peter Walker, the packman at 
 Bristo-port,) that ordered my lot in my dancing days, so 
 that fear of my head and throat, dread of bloody rope 
 and swift bullet, and trenchant swords, and pain of boots 
 and thumkins, cauld and hunger, wetness and weariness, 
 stopped the lightness of my head, and the wantonness of 
 my feet. And now, if I hear ye, quean lasses, sae
 
 lis TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 muckle as name dancing, or think there's sic a thing in 
 this warld as flinging to fiddler's sounds and piper's 
 springs, as sure as my father's spirit is with the just, ye 
 shall be no more either charge or concern of mine ! 
 Gang in, then — gang in, then, hinnies," he added, in a 
 softer tone, for the tears of both daughters, but especial- 
 ly those of Effie, began to flow very fast, — " Gang in, 
 dears, and we'll seek grace to preserve us frae all man- 
 ner of profane folly, whilk causeth to sin, and promoteth 
 the kingdom of darkness, warring with the kingdom of 
 light." 
 
 The objurgation of David Deans, however well meant, 
 was unhappily timed. It created a division of feelings in 
 Eflie's bosom, and deterred her from her intended confi- 
 dence in her sister. " She wad hand me nae better than 
 the dirt below her feet," said Efiie to herself, " were I to 
 confess I hae danced wi' him four times on the green down 
 bye, and ance at Maggie Macqueen's ; and she'll maybe 
 hing it ower my head that she'll tell my father, and then 
 she wad be mistress and mair. But I'll no gang back 
 tliere again. I'm resolv'd I'll no gang back. I'll lay in 
 a leaf of my Bible, and that's very near as if I had made 
 an aith, that I winna gang back." And she kept her vow 
 for a week, during which she was unusually cross and 
 fretful, blemishes which had never been before observed 
 in her temper, except during a moment of contradiction. 
 
 There was something in all this so mysterious as con- 
 siderably to alarm the prudent and affectionate Jeanie, the 
 more so as she judged it unkind to her sister to mention 
 to their father grounds of anxiety which might arise from 
 her own imagination. Besides, her respect for the good 
 old man did not prevent her from being aware that he was 
 both hot-tempered and positive, and she sometimes sus- 
 pected that he carried his dishke to youthful amusements 
 beyond the verge that religion and reason demanded. 
 Jeanie had sense enough to see that a sudden and severe 
 curb upon her sister's hitherto unrestrained freedom might 
 be rather productive of harm than good, and that Effie, 
 in the headstrong wilfulness of youth, was likely to make
 
 THE UEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. 119 
 
 what might be overstrained in her father's precepts an ex- 
 cuse to herself for neglecting them altogether. In the 
 higher classes, a damsel, however giddy, is still under the 
 dominion of etiquette, and subject to the surveillance of 
 mammas and chaperones ; but the country girl, who 
 snatches her moments of gaiety during the intervals of 
 labour, is under no such guardianship or restraint, and her 
 amusement becomes so much the more hazardous. Jeanie 
 saw all this with much distress of mind, when a circum- 
 stance occurred which appeared calculated to relieve her 
 anxiety. 
 
 Mrs. Saddletree, with whom our readers have already 
 been made acquainted, chanced to be a distant relation of 
 Douce David Deans, and as she was a woman orderly in 
 her life and conversation, and, moreover, of good sub- 
 stance, a sort of acquaintance was formally kept up be- 
 tween the families. Now, this careful dame, about a 
 year and a half before our story commenced, chanced to 
 need in the line of her profession a better sort of servant, 
 or rather shop-woman. " Mr. Saddletree," she said, 
 *' was never in the shop when he could get his nose within 
 the Parliament-House, and it was an awkward thing for a 
 woman-body to be standing among bundles o' barkened 
 leather her lane, selling saddles and bridles ; and she had 
 cast her eyes upon her far-awa' cousin Effie Deans, as 
 just the very sort of lassie she would want to keep her in 
 countenance on such occasions." 
 
 In this proposal there was much that pleased old David, 
 — there was bed, board, and bounteth— it was a decent 
 situation — the lassie would be under Mrs. Saddletree's 
 eye, who had an upright walk, and hved close by the 
 Tolbooth Kirk, in which might still be heard the comfort- 
 ing doctrines of one of those few ministers of the Kirk of 
 Scotland who had not bent the knee unto Baal, according 
 to David's expression, or become accessary to the course 
 of national defections, — union, toleration) patronages, and 
 a bundle of prelatical Erastian oaihs which had been im- 
 posed on the church since the Revolution, asid particular- 
 ly in the reign of " the late w^oman," (as he called Queen
 
 120 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 Anne,) the last of that unhappy race of Stuarts. In the 
 good man's security concerning the soundness of the the- 
 ological doctrine which his daughter was to hear, he was 
 nothing disturbed on account of the snares of a different 
 kind, to which a creature so beautiful, young, and wilful, 
 might be exposed in the centre of a populous and corrupt- 
 ed city. The fact is, that he thought with so much hor- 
 ror on all approaches to irregularities of the nature most 
 to be dreaded in such cases, that he would as soon have 
 suspected and guarded against Effie's being induced to 
 become guilty of the crime of murder. He only regret- 
 ted that she should live under the same roof with such a 
 worldly-wise man as Bartoline Saddletree, whom David 
 never suspected of being an ass, but considered him as 
 endowed with all the legal knowledge to which he made 
 pretension, and only liked him the worse for possessing it. 
 The lawyers, especially those amongst them who sat as 
 ruling elders in the General Assembly of the Kirk, had 
 been forward in promoting the measures of patronage, of 
 the abjuration oath, and others, which, in the opinion of 
 David Deans, were a breaking down of the carved work 
 of the sanctuary, and an intrusion upon the liberties of 
 the kirk. Upon the dangers of listening to the doctrines 
 of a legalized formalist, such as Saddletree, David gave 
 his daugbter many lectures ; so much so, that he had time 
 to touch but slightly on the dangers of chambering, com- 
 pany-keeping, and promiscuous dancing, lo which, at her 
 time of hfe, most people would hav^e thought Effie more 
 exposed, than to the risk of theoretical error in her re- 
 ligious faith. 
 
 Jeanie parted with her sister, with a mixed feeling of 
 regret, and apprehension, and hope. She could not be 
 so confident concerning Effie's prudence as her father, 
 for she had observed her more narrowly, had more sym- 
 pathy with her feelings, and could better estimate the 
 temptations to which she was exposed. On the other 
 hand, Mrs. Saddletree was an observing, shrewd, notable 
 woman, entitled to exercise over Effie the full authority of 
 a mistress, and likely to do so strictly, yet with kindness.
 
 THE HEART OF MID-tOTHIAN . 121 
 
 Her removal to Saddletree's, it was most probable, would 
 also serve to break off some idle acquaintances, which 
 Jeanie suspected her sister to. have formed in the neigh- 
 bouring suburb. Upon the whole, then, she viewed her 
 remov^al from Saint Leonard's with pleasure, and it was 
 not until the very moment of their parting for the first time 
 in their hves. that she felt the full force of sisterly sorrow. 
 While they repeatedly kissed each other's^ cheeks, and 
 wrung each other's hands, Jeanie took that moment of 
 affectionate sympathy, to press upon her sister the neces- 
 sity of the utmost caution in her conduct while residing in 
 Edinburgh. Effie listened, without once raising her large 
 dark eye-lashes, from which the drops fell so fast as al- 
 most to resemble a fountain. At the conclusion she sob- 
 bed again, kissed her sister, and promised to recollect all 
 the good counsel she had giv^en her ; and they parted. 
 
 The first week or two, Effie was all that her kinswoman 
 expected, and even more. But with time there came a 
 relaxation of that early zeal which she manifested in 
 IMrs. Saddletree's service. To borrow once again from 
 the poet, who so correctly and beautifully describes hving 
 manners, — 
 
 " Something there was, what, none presumed to say, — 
 Clouds lightly passing on a summer's day ; 
 Whispers and hints, which went from ear to ear, 
 And mixed reports no judge on earth could clear." 
 
 During this interval, INIrs. Saddletree was sometimes dis- 
 pleased by Effie's fingering, when she was sent upon er- 
 rands about the shop business, and sometimes by a little 
 degree of impatience which she manifested at being re- 
 buked on such occasions. But she good-naturedly allow- 
 ed, that the first was very natural to a girl to whom every 
 thing in Edinburgh was new, and the other was only the 
 petulance of a spoiled child, when subjected to the yoke 
 of domestic discipline for the first time. Attention and 
 submission could not be learned at once — Holy-Rood was 
 not built in a day — use would make perfect. 
 
 11 VOL. I.
 
 122 TALES OF MY LAXDLORD. 
 
 It seemed as if the considerate old lady had presaged 
 truly. Ere many months had passed, Effie became al- 
 most wedded to her duties, though she no longer discharg- 
 ed them with the laughing cheek and light step, which at 
 first had attracted every customer. Her mistress some- 
 times observed her in tears, but they v/ere signs of secret 
 sorrow, which she concealed as often as she saw them 
 attract notice. Time wore on, her cheek grew pale, and 
 her step heavy. The cause of these changes could not 
 have escaped the matronly eye of Mis. Saddletree, but 
 she was chiefly confined by indisposition to her bed-room 
 for several months during the latter part of Effie's service. 
 This interval was marked by symptoms of anguish almost 
 amounting to despair. The utmost efforts of the poor girl 
 to command her fits of hysterical agony were often totally 
 unavailing, and the mistakes v;hich she made in the shop 
 the while were so numerous and so provoking, that Barto- 
 line Saddletree, who, during his wife's illness, was obliged 
 to take closer charge of the business than consisted with 
 his study of the weightier matters of the law, lost all pa- 
 tience with the girl, who, in his law Latin, and without 
 much respect to gender, he declared ought to be cognos- 
 ced by inquest of a jury, as fatuug,fu7'iosns, and natu- 
 raliter idiota. Neighbours, also, and fellow-servants, 
 remarked, with malicious curiosity or degrading pity, the 
 disfigured shape, loose dress, and pale cheeks of the once 
 beautiful and still interesting girl. But to no one would 
 she grant her confidence, answering all taunts with bitter 
 sarcasm, and all serious expostulation with sullen denial, 
 or with floods of tears. 
 
 At length, when Mrs. Saddletree's recovery was likely 
 to permit her wonted attention to the regulati //n of her 
 household, Euie Deans, as if unwilling to face an investn 
 gation made by the authority of her mistress, asked per- 
 mission of Bartoline to go home for a week or two, as- 
 signing indisposition, and the wish of trying the benefit of 
 repose, and the change of air, as the motives of her re- 
 quest. Sharp-eyed as a lynx (or conceiving himself to 
 be so) in the nice sharp quillets of legal discussion, Barto-
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 123 
 
 line was as dull at drawing inferences from the occurren- 
 ces of common life as any Dutch professor of mathematics. 
 He suffered Effie to depart without much suspicion, and 
 without any inquiry. 
 
 It was afterwards found that a period of a week inter- 
 vened betwixt her leaving her master's house and arriving 
 at Saint Leonard's. She made her appearance before 
 her sister in a state rather resembling the spectre than 
 the living substance of the gay and beautiful girl, who had 
 left her father's cottage for the first time scarce seventeen 
 months before. The lingering illness of her mistress had, 
 for the last few months, given her a plea for confining 
 herself entirely to the dusky precincts of the shop in the 
 Lawn-market, and Jeanie was so much occupied, during 
 the same period, with the concerns of her father's house- 
 hold, that she had rarely found leisure for a walk into the 
 city, and a brief and hurried visit to her sister. The 
 young women, therefore, had scarcely seen each other for 
 several months, nor had a single scandalous surmise reach- 
 ed the ears of the secluded inhabitants of the cottage at 
 St. Leonard's. Jeanie, therefore, terrified to death at her 
 sister's appearance, at first overwhelmed her with inquiries, 
 to which the unfortunate young woman returned for a time 
 incoherent and rambling answers, and finally fell into a 
 hysterical fit. Rendered too certain of her sister's mis- 
 fortune, Jeanie had now the dreadful alternative of com- 
 municating her ruin to her father, or of endeavouring to 
 conceal it from him. To all questions concerning the 
 name or rank of her seducer, and the fate of the being 
 to whom her fall had given birth, Effie remained mute as 
 the grave, to which she seemed hastening ; and, indeed, 
 the least allusion to either seemed to drive her to distrac- 
 tion. Her sister, in distress and in despair, was about to 
 repair to Mrs. Saddletree to consult her experience, and 
 at the same time to obtain what lights she could upon this 
 most unhappy affair, when she was saved that pain by a 
 new stroke of fate, which seemed to carry misfortune to 
 the uttermost.
 
 124 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 David Deans had been alarmed at the state of health 
 ill which his daughter had returned to her paternal resi- 
 dence ; but Jeanie had contrived to divert him from par- 
 ticular and specific inquiry. It was, therefore, like a clap 
 of thunder to the poor old man, when, just as the hour of 
 noon had brought the visit of the Laird of Dumbiedikes 
 as usual, other and sterner, as well as most unexpected 
 guests, arrived at the cottage of Saint Leonard's. These 
 were the officers of justice, with a warrant of justiciary to 
 search for and apprehend Euphemia, or Effie, Deans, ac- 
 cused of the crime of child-murther. The stunning 
 weight of a blow so totally unexpected bore down the old 
 man, w ho had in his early youth resisted the brow of mil- 
 itary and civil tyranny, though backed with swords and 
 guns, tortures and gibbets. He fell extended and sense- 
 less upon his own hearth ; and the men, happy to escape 
 from the scene of his awakening, raised, with rude hu- 
 manity, the object of their warrant from her bed, and 
 placed her in a coach, which they had brought with them. 
 The hasty remedies which Jeanie had applied to bring 
 back her father's senses were scarce begun to operate, 
 when the noise of the wheels in motion recalled her at- 
 tention to her miserable sister. To run shrieking after 
 the carriage was the first vain effort of her distraction, 
 but she was stopped by one or two female neighbours, 
 assembled by the extraordinary appearance of a coach in 
 that sequestered place, who almost forced her back to her 
 father's house. The deep and sympathetic affliction of 
 these poor people, by whom the httle family at St. Leon- 
 ard's were held in high regard, filled the house with la- 
 mentation. Even Dumbiedikes was moved from his 
 wonted apathy, and, groping for his purse as he spoke, 
 ejaculated, " Jeanie woman — Jeanie woman ! dinna greet 
 — it's sad wark — but siller will help it ;" and he drew 
 out his purse as he spoke. 
 
 The old man had now raised himself from the ground, 
 and, looking about him as if he missed something, seemed 
 gradually to recover the sense of his wretchedness. 
 " Where," he said, with a voice that made the roof ring,
 
 l-HE HEART OF MID-IOTHIAN. 125 
 
 *' where is the vile harlot, that has disgraced the blood of 
 an honest man 9 — Where is she, that has no place among 
 us, but has come foul with her sins, like the Evil One 
 among the children of God 9 — Where is she, Jeanie 9 — 
 Bring her before me, that I may kill her with a word and 
 a look." 
 
 All hastened around him with their appropriate sources 
 of consolation — the Laird with his purse, Jeanie with 
 burnt feathers and strong waters, and the women with their 
 exhortations. " O, neighbour — O, i\Ir. Deans, it's a sair 
 trial, doubtless — but think of the Rock of Ages, neigh- 
 bour — think of the promise !" 
 
 " And I do think of it, neighbours — and I bless God 
 that I can think of it, even in the wrack and ruin of a' 
 that's nearest and dearest to me — But to be tlie father of 
 a cast-a-way — a profligate — a bloody Zipporah — a mere 
 murderess ! — O, how will the wicked exult in the high 
 places of their wickedness ! — the prelatists, and the lati- 
 tudinarians, and the hand-waled murderers, whose hands 
 are hard as horn wi' handing the slaughter-weapons — they 
 will push out the lip, and say that we are even such as them- 
 selves. Sair, sair, I am grieved, neighbours, for the poor 
 cast-a-way — for the child of mine own old age — but sairer 
 for the stumbling-block and scandal it will be to all tender 
 and honest souls !" 
 
 " Davie — winna siller do't 9" insinuated the Laird, 
 still proffering his green purse, which was full of guineas. 
 
 " I tell ye, Dumbiedikes," said Deans, " that if telling 
 down my haill substance could hae saved her frae this 
 black snare, I wad hae walked out wi' naething but my 
 bonnet and my staff to beg an awmous for God's sake, 
 and ca'd mysell a happy man — But if a dollar, or a plack, 
 or the nineteenth part of a boddle, wad save her open 
 guilt and open shame frae open punishment, that purchase 
 wad David Deans never make ! — Na, na — an eye for an 
 eye, a tooth for a tooth, life for life, blood for blood — it's 
 the law of man and it's the law of God. — Leave me, sirs, 
 
 ]1* VOL. I.
 
 126 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 — leave me — I maun warstle wi' this trial in privacy and 
 
 on my knees." 
 
 Jeanie, now in some degree restored to the power of 
 thought, joined in the same request. The next day found 
 the father and daughter still in the depth of affliction, but 
 the father sternly supporting his load of ill through a proud 
 sense of religious duty, and the daughter anxiously sup- 
 pressing her own feelings to avoid again awakening his. 
 Thus was it with the afflicted family until the morning 
 after Porteous's death, a period at which we are now ar- 
 rived. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Is all the council that we two have shared, 
 The sister's vows, the hours that we have spent 
 When we have chid the hasty-footed time 
 For parting us— Oh ! and is all forgot ? 
 
 Midsummer Night's Dream. 
 
 We have been a long time in conducting Butler to the 
 door of the cottage at St. Leonard's ; yet the space which 
 we have occupied in the preceding narrative does not 
 exceed in length that which he actually spent on Salisbury 
 Crags upon the morping which succeeded the execution 
 done upon Porteous by the rioters. For this delay he 
 had his own motives. He wished, to collect his thoughts, 
 strangely agitated as they were, first by the melancholy 
 news of Effie Deans's situation, and afterwards by the 
 frightful scene which he had witnessed. In the situation 
 also in which he stood with respect to Jeanie and her fa- 
 ther, some ceremony, at least some choice of fitting time 
 and season, was necessary to wait upon them. Eight in 
 the morning was then the ordinary hour for breakfast, and 
 he resolved that it should arrive before he made his ap- 
 pearance at their cottage.
 
 THE HEART OF MID-IOTHIAX. 127 
 
 Never did" hours pass so heavily. Butler shifted his 
 place and enlarged his circle to while away the time, and 
 heard the huge bell of St. Giles's toll each successive hour 
 in swelhng tones, which were instantly attested by those 
 of the other steeples in succession. He had heard seven 
 struck in this manner, when he began to think he might 
 venture to approach nearer to St. Leonard's, from which 
 he was still a mile distant. Accordingly, he descended 
 from his lofty station as low as the bottom of the valley 
 which divides Sahsbury Crags from those small rocks 
 which take their naine from Saiut Leonard. It is, as 
 many of my readers may know, a deep, wild, grassy val- 
 ley, scattered with huge rocks and fragments which have 
 descended from the cliffs and steep ascent to the east. 
 
 This sequestered dell, as well as other places of the 
 open pasturage of the King's Park, was, about this time, 
 often the resort of the gallants of the time who had affairs 
 of honour to discuss with the sword. Duels were then 
 very common in Scotland, for the gentry were at once 
 idle, haughty, fierce, and addicted to intemperance, so that 
 there lacked neither provocation, nor inclination to resent 
 it when given ; and the sword, which was part of every 
 gentleman's dress, was the only weapon used for the de- 
 cision of such differences. When, therefore, Butler ob- 
 served a young man skulking, apparently to avoid obser- 
 vation, among the scattered rocks at some distance from 
 the footpath, he was naturally led to suppose that he had 
 sought this lonely spot upon that evil errand. He was so 
 strongly impressed with this, that, notwithstanding his own 
 distress of mind, he could not, according to his sense of 
 duty as a clergyman, pass this person without speaking to 
 him. There are times, thought he to himself, when the 
 slightest interference may avert a great calamity- — when a 
 word spoken in season may do more for prevention, than 
 the eloquence of TuUy could do for redeeming evil — And 
 for my own griefs, be they as they may, I shall feel them 
 the lighter, if they divert me not from the prosecution of 
 my duty.
 
 128 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 Thus thinking and feeling, he quitted the ordinary path, 
 and advanced nearer the object he had noticed. The 
 man at first directed his course towards the hill, in order, 
 as it appeared, to avoid him ; but when he saw that Butler 
 seemed disposed to follow him, he adjusted his hat fierce- 
 ly, turned round, and came forward as if to meet and 
 defy scrutiny. 
 
 Butler had an opportunity of accurately studying his 
 features as they advanced slowly to meet each other. 
 The stranger seemed about twenty-five years old. His 
 dress was of a kind which could hardly be said to indi- 
 cate his rank with certainty, for it was such as young gen- 
 tlemen sometimes wore while on active exercise in the 
 morning, and which, therefore, was imitated by those of 
 the inferior ranks, as young clerks and tradesmen, because 
 its cheapness rendered it attainable, while it approached 
 more nearly to the apparel of youths of fashion than any 
 other which the manners of the times permitted them to 
 w^ear. If his air and manner could be trusted, however, 
 this person, seemed rather to be dressed under than above 
 his rank ; for his carriage was bold and somewhat super- 
 cilious, his step easy and free, his manner daring and un- 
 constrained. His stature was of the middle size, or rather 
 above it, his limbs well-proportioned, yet not so strong as 
 to infer the reproach of clumsiness. His feaKires were 
 uncommonly handsome, and all about him would have 
 been interesting and prepossessing, but for that indescrib- 
 able expression which habitual dissipation gives to the 
 countenance, joined with a certain audacity in voice and 
 manner, of that kind which is often assumed as a mask 
 for confusion and apprehension. 
 
 Butler and the stranger met — surveyed each other — 
 when, as the latter, slightly touching his hat, was about to 
 pass by him, Butler, while he returned the salutation, ob- 
 served, " A fine morning, sir — You are on the hill early." 
 
 " I have business here," said the young man, in a tone 
 meant to repress further inquiry. 
 
 " I do not doubt it, sir," said Butler. " I trust you 
 will forgive my hoping that it is of a lawful kind 9"
 
 THE HEART OF MID-IOTHIAN. 129 
 
 '* Sir," said the other, with marked surprise, " I uever 
 forgive impertinence, nor can I conceive what title you 
 have to hope anything about what no way concerns you." 
 
 " I am a soldier, sir,*' said Butler, " and have a charge 
 to arrest evil-doers in the name of my blaster." 
 
 " A soldier 9" said the young man, stepping back, and 
 fiercely laying his hand on his sword — " A soldier, and 
 arrest me 7 Did you reckon what your life was worth 
 before you took the commission upon you '?" 
 
 " You mistake me, sir," said Butler, gravely ; " neith- 
 er my warfare nor my warrant is of this worl(j — I am 
 a preacher of the gospel, and have power, in my Master's 
 name, to command the peace upon earth and good will 
 towards men, which was proclaimed with the gospel." 
 
 " A minister !" said the stranger, carelessly, and with 
 an expression approaching to scorn. " I know the gen- 
 tlemen of your cloth in Scotland claim a strange right of 
 intermeddling with men's private affairs. But I have been 
 abroad, and know better than to be priest-ridden." 
 
 " Sir, if it be true that any of my cloth, or, it might be 
 more decently said, of my calling, interfere with men's 
 private affairs, for the gratification either of idle curiosity, 
 or for worse motives, you cannot have learned a better 
 lesson abroad than to contemn such practices. But, in 
 my Master's work, I am called to be busy in season and 
 out of season, and conscious as I am of a pure motive, 
 it were better for me to incur your contempt for speak- 
 ing, than the correction of my own conscience for being 
 silent." 
 
 " In the name of the devil," said the young man im- 
 patiently, " say what you have to say, then ; though whom 
 you take me for, or what earthly concern you can have 
 with me, a stranger to you, or with my actions and mo- 
 tives, of which you can know nothing, I cannot conjec- 
 ture for an instant." 
 
 '• You are about," said Butler, " to violate one of your 
 country's wisest laws — you are about, which is much 
 more dreadful, to violate a law, which God himself has 
 implanted within our nature, and written, as it were, in
 
 130 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 the table of our hearts, to which every thrill of our nerves 
 is responsive." 
 
 " And what is the law you speak of 9" said the stran- 
 ger, in a hollow and somewhat disturbed accent. 
 
 *' Thou shalt do no xMurder," said Butler, with a deep 
 and solemn voice. 
 
 The young man visibly started, and looked considera- 
 bly appalled. Butler perceived he had made a favoura- 
 ble impression, and resolved to follow it up. " Think," 
 he said, " young man," laying his hand kindly upon the 
 strangei;'s shoulder, " what an awful alternative you vol- 
 untarily choose for yourself, to kill, or be killed. Think 
 what it is to rush uncalled into the presence of an offend- 
 ed Deity, your heart fermenting with evil passions, your 
 hand hot from the steel you had been urging, with your 
 best skill and malice, against the breast of a fellow-crea- 
 ture. Or, suppose yourself the scarce less- wretched sur- 
 vivor, with the guilt of Cain, the first murderer, in your 
 lieart, with his stamp upon your brow — that stamp, which 
 struck all who gazed on him with unutterable horror, and 
 by which the murderer is made manifest to all who look 
 upon him. Think " 
 
 The stranger gradually withdrew himself from under 
 the hand of his monitor ; and, pulling his hat over his 
 brows, thus interrupted him : " Your meaning, sir, I 
 dare say, is excellent, but you are throwing your advice 
 away. 1 am not in this place with violent intentions against 
 any one. I may be bad enough — you priests say all men 
 are so — but lam here for the purpose of saving life, not 
 of taking it away. If you wish to spend your time rather 
 in doing a good action than in talking about you know not 
 what, 1 will give you an opportunity. Do you see yonder 
 crag to the right, over which appears the chimney of a 
 lone house 1 Go thither, inquire for one Jeanie Deuns, 
 the daughter of the goodman ; let her know that he she 
 wots of remained here from day-break till this hour, ex- 
 pecting to see her, and that he can abide no longer. Tell 
 her, she must meet me at the Hunter's bos^, to-night, as
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. 131 
 
 the moon rises, behind St. Anthony's Hill, or that she will 
 make a desperate man of me." 
 
 " Wlio, or what are you," replied Butler, exceedingly 
 and most unpleasantly surprised, " who charge me with 
 such an errand *?" 
 
 " I am the devil !" — answered the young man hastily. 
 
 Butler stepped instinctively back, and commended 
 himself internally to Heaven ; for, though a wise and 
 strong-minded man, he was neidier wiser nor more strong- 
 minded than those of his age aisd education, with whom, 
 to disbelieve witchcraft or spectres, was held an undeni- 
 able proof of atheism. 
 
 The stranger went on without observing his emotion. 
 " Yes, call me Apollyon, Abaddon ; whatever name you 
 shall choose, as a clergyman acquahited with the upper 
 and lower circles of spiritual denomination, to call me by, 
 you shall not find an appellation more odious to him that 
 bears it, than is mine own." 
 
 This sentence was spoken with the bitterness of self- 
 upbraiding, and a contortion of visage absolutely demon- 
 iacal. Butler, though a stout-hearted man, was over- 
 awed ; for intensity of mental distress has in it a sort of 
 sublimity which repels and overawes all men, but espe- 
 cially those of kind and sympathetic dispositions. The 
 stranger turned abruptly from Butler as he spoke, but 
 instantly returned, and, coming up to him closely and 
 boldly, saidj in a fierce determined tone, " I have told 
 you who, and what I am — who, and what are you 9 
 What is your name 9" 
 
 " Butler," answered the person to whom this abrupt 
 question wps addressed, surprised into answering it by tlie 
 sudden and- fierce manner of the querist — " Reuben 
 Butler, a preacher of the gospel." 
 
 At this answer, the stranger again plucked more deep 
 over his brows the hat which he had thrown back in his 
 former agitation. " Butler !" he repeated, — " the as- 
 sistant of the schoolmaster at Libberion *?" 
 
 " The same," answered Butler, composedly.
 
 132 TALES OF ?*tY liATVDLORD. 
 
 The stranger covered bis face with his hand, as if on 
 sudden reflection, and then turned away, but stopped 
 when he had walked a few paces ; and seeing Butler 
 follow him with his eyes, called out in a stern yet sup- 
 pressed tone, just as if he had exactly calculated that 
 his accents should not be heard a yard beyond the spot 
 on which Butler stood, '• Go your way, and do mine 
 errand. Do not look after me. 1 will neither descend 
 through the bowels of these rocks, nor vanish in a flash 
 of fire ; and yet the eye that seeks to trace my motions, 
 shall have reason to curse it was ever shrouded by eye- 
 lid or eye-lash. Begone, and look not behind you. 
 Teil Jednie Deans, that when the moon rises, 1 shall ex- 
 pect to meet her at Nicol Muschat's Cairn, beneath St. 
 Anlhony's Chapel." 
 
 As he uttered these words, he turned and took the 
 road against the hill, with a haste that seemed as peremp- 
 tory as his tone of authority. 
 
 Dreading he knew not what of additional misery to a 
 lot which seemed little capable of receiving augmentation, 
 and desperate at the idea that any living man should dare 
 to send so extraordinary a request, couched in terms so 
 peremptory, to tde half-betrothed object of his early and 
 only affection, Butler strode hastily towards the cottage, 
 in order to ascertain how far this daring and rude gallant 
 was actually entitled to press on Jeanie Deans a request 
 which no prudent, and scarce any modest, young woman 
 was likely to comply with. 
 
 Butler was by nature neither jealous nor superstitious ; 
 yet the feelings which lead to those moods of the mind 
 were rooted in his heart, as a portion derived from the 
 common stock of humanity. It was maddening to think 
 that a profligate gallant, such as the manner and tone of 
 the stranger evinced him to be, should have it in his power 
 to command forth his future bride and plighted true-love, 
 at a place so improper, and an hour so unseasonable. 
 Yet the tone in which the stranger spoke had iwthing of 
 the soft half-breathed voice proper to the seducer who 
 solicits an assignation ; it was bold, fierce, and imperative.
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAIf . 133 
 
 and had less of love in it than of menace and intimida- 
 tion. 
 
 The suggestions of superstition seemed more plausible, 
 had Butler's mind been very accessible to them. " Was 
 this indeed the Roaring Lion, who goeth about seeking 
 whom he may devour 9" This was a question which 
 pressed itself on Butler's mind with an earnestness that 
 cannot be conceived by those who hve in the present 
 day. The fiery eye, the abrupt demeanour, the occa- 
 sionally harsh, yet studiously subdued tone of voice, — 
 the features, whose perfect beauty was now clouded with 
 pride, now disturbed by suspicion, now inflamed with 
 passion — those dark hazel eyes which he sometimes 
 shaded with his cap, as if he were averse to have them 
 seen while they were occupied with keenly observing the 
 motions and bearing of others — those eyes that w^ere now 
 turbid with melancholy, now gleaming with scorn, and 
 now sparkling with fury — was it the passions of a mere 
 mortal they expressed, or the emotions of a fiend, who 
 seeks, and seeks in vain, to conceal his fiendish designs 
 under the borrowed mask of manly beauty ^ The whole 
 partook of the mien, language, and port of the arch- 
 angel ; and, imperfectly as we have been able to describe 
 it, the. effect of the interview upon Buder's nerves, shaken 
 as they were at the time by the horrors of the preceding 
 night, were greater than his understanding warranted, or 
 his pride cared to submit to. The very place where he 
 had met this singular person was desecrated, as it were, 
 and unhallowed, owing to many violent deaths, both in 
 duels and by suicide, which had in former times taken 
 place there ; and the spot which he had named as a ren- 
 dezvous at so late an hour, was held in general to be ac- 
 cursed, from a frightful and cruel murder which had been 
 there comniitted by the wretch from whom the place took 
 its name, upon the person of his owm wife. It was in 
 such places, according to the belief of that period, (when 
 the laws against witchcraft were still in fresh observance, 
 and had even lately been acted upon,) that evil spirits had 
 
 12 VOL. I.
 
 134 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 power to make themselves visible to human eyes, and to 
 practise upon the feelings and senses of mankind. Sus- 
 picions, founded on such circumstances, rushed on But- 
 ler's mind, unprepared as it was, by any previous course 
 of reasoning, to deny that which all of his time, country, 
 and profession, believed ; but common sense rejected 
 these vain ideas as inconsistent, if not with possibility, at 
 least with the general rules by which the universe is gov- 
 erned, — a deviation from which, as Butler well argued 
 with himself, ought not to be admitted as probable upon 
 any but the plainest and most incontrovertible evidence. 
 An earthly lover, however, or a young man, who, from 
 w^iatever cause, had the right of exercising such sum- 
 mary and unceremonious authority over the object of his 
 long-settled, and apparently sincerely returned affection, 
 was an object scarce less appalling to his mind, than those 
 which superstition suggested. 
 
 His limbs exhausted with fatigue, his mind harassed 
 with anxiety, and with painful doubts and recollections, 
 Butler dragged himself up the ascent from the valley to 
 Saint Leonard's Crags, and presented himself at the 
 door of Deans's habitation, with feelings much akin to the 
 miserable reflections and fears of its inhabitants. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Then she stretched out her lily hand, 
 
 And for to do her best ; 
 '•' Hae back thy faith and troth, Willie, 
 
 God gi'e thy soul good rest !" 
 
 Old Ballad. 
 
 " Come in," answered the low and sweet-toned voice 
 he loved best to hear, as Butler tapped at the door of 
 the cottage. He lifted the latch and found himself under 
 the roof of affliction. Jeanie was unable to trust herself
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTUIAN. 135 
 
 with more than one glance towards her lover, whom she 
 now met under circumstances so agonizing to her feelings, 
 and at the same time so humbhng to her honest pride. 
 It is well known, that much, both of what is good and 
 bad in the Scottish national character, arises out of the 
 intimacy of their family connexions. " To be come of 
 honest folk," that is, of people who have borne a fair 
 and unstained character, is an advantage as highly prized 
 among the lower Scotch, as the emphatic counterpart, 
 " to be of a good family," is valued among their gentry. 
 The worth and respectabihty of one member of a peas- 
 ant's family is always accounted by themselves and oth- 
 ers, not only a matter of honest pride, but a guarantee 
 for the good conduct of the whole. On the contrary, 
 such a melancholy stain as w^as now flung on one of the 
 children of Deans, extended its disgrace to all connected 
 with him, and Jeanie felt herself lowered at once, in her 
 own eyes, and in those of her lover. It was in vain that 
 she repressed this feeling, as far subordinate and too sel- 
 fish to be mingled with her sorrow for her sister's calam- 
 ity. Nature prevailed ; and while she shed tears for her 
 sister's distress and danger, there mingled with them bit- 
 ter drops of grief for her own degradation. 
 
 As Butler entered, the old man was seated by the fire, 
 with his well-worn pocket-bible in his hands, the com- 
 panion of the wanderings and dangers of his youth, and 
 beqi|^athed to him on the scaffold by one of those, who, 
 in the year 1686, sealed their enthusiastic principles with 
 their blood. The sun sent its rays through a small win- 
 dow at the old man's back, and, " shining motty through 
 the reek," to use the expression of a bard of that time 
 and country, illumined the grey hairs of the sufferer, and 
 the sacred page which he studied. His features, far 
 from handsome, and rather harsh and severe, from their 
 expression of habitual gravity, and contempt for earthly 
 things, had an expression of stoical dignity amidst their 
 sternness. He boasted, in no small degree, the attributes 
 which Southey ascribes to the ancient Scandinavians, 
 w^hom he terms " firm to resolve, and stubborn to en-
 
 136 TALES or MT XANDLORD. 
 
 dure." The whole formed a picture, of which the lights 
 might have been given by Rembrandt, but the outline 
 Avoiild have required the force and vigour of Michael 
 Angelo. 
 
 Deans lifted his eye as Butler entered, and instantly 
 withdrew it, as from an object which gave him at once 
 surprise and sudden pain. He had assumed such high 
 ground with this carnal-witted scholar, as he had in his 
 pride termed Butler, that to meet him of all men, under 
 feehngs of humiliation, aggravated his misfortune, and 
 vvas a consummation like that of the dying chief in the 
 old ballad — " Earl Percy sees my fall." 
 
 Deans raised the Bible with his left hand, so as partly 
 to screen his face, and putting back his right as far as he 
 could, held it towards Butler in that posidon, at the same 
 time turning his body from him, as if to prevent his see- 
 ing the working of his countenance. Butler clasped the 
 extended baud which had supported his orphan infancy, 
 wept over it, and in vain endeavoured to say more than 
 the words, — " God comfort you — God comfort you !" . 
 
 " He will — he doth, my friend," said Deans, assum- 
 ing firmness as he discovered the agitation of his guest ; 
 " he doth now, and he will yet more, in his own gude 
 time. I have been ower proud of my sufferings in a 
 gude cause, Reuben, and now I am to be tried with those 
 wliilk will turn my pride and glory into a reproach and a 
 hissing. How muckle better 1 hae thought myselj|iian 
 them that lay saft, fed sweet, and drank deep, wMn I 
 was in the moss-haggs and moors, wi' precious Donald 
 Cameron, and worthy Mr. Blackadder, called Guess- 
 again ! and how proud I was o' being made a spectacle 
 to men and angels, having stood on their pillory at the 
 Canongate afore I was fifteen years old, for the cause of 
 a national covenant ! To think, Reuben, that 1, wha hae 
 been sae honoured and exalted in my youth, nay, when I 
 was but a hafflins callant, and that hae borne testimony 
 again the defections o' the times yearly, monthly, daily, 
 hourly, minutely, striving and testifying with uplifted hand 
 and voice, crying aloud, and sparing not, against all great
 
 THE HEART OF MID-lOTHIAN. 137 
 
 national snares, as the nation-wasting and church-sinking 
 abomination of union, toleration, and patronage, imposed 
 by the last woman of that unhappy race of Stuarts ; also 
 against the infringements and invasions of the just pow- 
 ers of eldership, whereanent I uttered my paper, called 
 a * Cry of an Howl in the Desart,' printed at the Bow- 
 head, and sold by all flying stationers in town and coun- 
 try — and now^^ 
 
 Here he paused. It may well be supposed that Butler, 
 though not absolutely coinciding in all the good old man'* 
 ideas about church government, had too much considera- 
 tion and humanity to interrupt him, while he reckoned up 
 with conscious pride his sufferings, and the constancy of 
 his testimony. On the contrary, when he paused under 
 the influence of the bitter recollections of the moment, 
 Butler instantly threw in his mite of encouragement. 
 
 " You have been well known, my old and revered 
 friend, a true and tried follower of the Cross ; one whoj 
 as Saint Jerome hath it, ^ per Infamiam et bonam famam 
 grassari ad immortcditatem,^ which may be freely ren= 
 dered, ' who rusheth on to immortal life, through bad 
 report and ^ood report.' You have been one of those to 
 whom the tender and fearful souls cry during the mid- 
 night solitude, — ' WatT^hman, what of the night 9— - 
 Watchman, what of the niglrt V — And, .assuredly, this 
 heMK dispensation, as it comes not without Divine per- 
 mifJIPi, so it comes not without its special commission 
 and use." 
 
 " I do receive it as such," said poor Deans, returning 
 the grasp of Butler's hand, " and, if I have not been 
 taught to read the Scriptures in any other tongue but my 
 native Scottish, (ev^en in his distress Butler's Latin quo- 
 tation had not escaped his notice,) I have, nevertheless, 
 so learned them, that I trust to bear even this crook in 
 my lot with submission. But O, Reuben Butler, the 
 kirk, of whilk, though unworthy, I have yet been thought 
 a polished shaft, and meet to be a pillar, holding, from 
 my youth upward, the place of ruling elder — what will 
 
 12^ VOL. I.
 
 138 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 the lightsome and profane think of the guide that cannot 
 keep his own family from stumbling 9 How will they 
 take up their song and their reproach, when they see that 
 the children of professors are liable to as foul backsliding 
 as the offspring of Belial ! But I will bear my cross with 
 the comfort, that whatever showed Hke goodness in me 
 or mine, was but like the light that shines frae creeping 
 insects, on the brae-side, in a dark night — it kythes bright 
 to the ee, because all is dark around it ; but when the 
 morn comes on the mountains, it is but a puir crawling 
 kail-worm after a'. And sae it shows, wi' ony rag of 
 human righteousness, or formal law-work, that we may 
 pit round us to cover our shame." 
 
 As he pronounced these words, the door again opened, 
 and Mr. Bartoline Saddletree entered, his three-pointed 
 hat set far back on his head, with a silk . handkerchief 
 beneath it, to keep it in that cool position, his gold-head- 
 ed cane in his hand, and his whole deportment that of a 
 wealthy burgher, who might one day look to have a share 
 in the magistracy, if not actually to hold the curule chair 
 itself. 
 
 Rochefoucault, who has torn the veil from so many 
 foul gangrenes of the human heart, says, we find some- 
 thing not altogether unpleasant to us in the misfortunes of 
 our best friends. Mr. Saddletree would have been very 
 angry had any one told him that he felt pleasure ia.,the 
 disaster of poor Effie Deans, and the disgrace Q^^her 
 family ; and yet there is great question whether the grat- 
 ification of playing the person of importance, inquiring, 
 investigating and laying down the law on the whole affair, 
 did not offer, to say the least, full consolation for the pain 
 which pure sympathy gave him on account of his wife's 
 kinswoman. He had now got a piece of real judicial 
 business by the end, instead of being obliged, as was his 
 common case, to intrude his opinioi) where it was neither 
 wished nor wanted ; and felt as happy in the exchange 
 as a boy when he gets his first new watch, which actually 
 goes when wound up, and has real hands and a true dial- 
 plate. But besides this subject for legal disquisition,
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAIf . 139 
 
 Bartoline's brains were also overloaded with the affair of 
 Porteous, his violent death, and all its probable conse- 
 quences to the city and community. It was what the 
 French call Pembarras des richesses, the confusion arising 
 from too much mental wealth. He walked in with a con- 
 sciousness of double importance, full fraught with the 
 superiorty of one who possesses more information than 
 the company into which he enters, and who feels a right 
 to discharge his learning on them without mercy. " Good 
 morning, Mr. Deans, — good-morrow to you, Mr. Butler, 
 — I was not aware that you was acquainted with Mr. 
 Deans." 
 
 Butler made some slight answer ; his reasons may be 
 readily imagined for not making his connection with the 
 family, which, in his eyes, had something of tender mys- 
 tery, a frequent subject of conversation with indifferent 
 persons, such as Saddletree. 
 
 The worthy burgher, in the plenitude of self-import- 
 ance, now sat down upon a chair, wiped his brow, collect- 
 ed his breath, and made the first experiment of the re- 
 solved pith of his lungs, in a deep and dignified sigh, 
 resembhng a groan in sound and intonation — " Awfu' 
 times these, neighbour Deans, awfu' times." 
 
 '' Sinfu', shamefu', heaven-daring times," answered 
 Deans, in a lower and more subdued tone. 
 
 »T my part," continued Saddletree, swelling with 
 nee, " what between the distress of my friends, 
 ana my poor auld country, ony wit that ever J had may 
 be said to have abandoned me, sae that 1 sometimes think 
 myself as ignorant as if I were inter rusticos. Here 
 when I arise in the morning, wi' my mind just arranged 
 touching what's to be done in puir Effie's misfortune, and 
 hae' gotten the haill statute at my finger-ends, the mob 
 maun get up and string Jock Porteous to a dyester's 
 beam, and ding a' thing out of my head again." 
 jMr Deeply as he was distressed with his own domestic ca- 
 lamity, Deans could not help expressing some interest in 
 the news. Saddletree immediately entered on details of 
 the insurrection and its consequences, while Butler took
 
 140 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 the occasion to seek some private conversation witli 
 Jeanie Deans. She gave him the opportunity he sought, 
 by leaving the room, as if in prosecution of some part of 
 her morning labour. Butler followed her in a few min- 
 utes, leaving Deans so closely engaged by his busy visiter, 
 that there was little chance of his observing their absence. 
 
 The scene of their interview was an outer apartment, 
 where Jeanie was used to busy herself in arranging the 
 productions of her dairy. When Butler found an oppor- 
 tunity of stealing after her into this place, he found her 
 silent, dejected, and ready to burst into tears. In- 
 stead of the active industry with which she had been ac- 
 customed, even while in the act of speaking, to employ 
 her hands in some useful branch of household business, 
 she was seated listless in a corner, sinking apparently 
 under the weight of her own thoughts. Yet the instant 
 he entered, she dried her eyes, and, with the simplicity 
 and openness of her character, immediately entered on 
 the conversation. 
 
 " 1 am glad you have come in, Mr. Butler," said she, 
 a for — for — for I wished to tell ye, that all maun be end- 
 ed between you and me — it's best for baith our sakes." 
 
 " Ended !" said Butler, in surprise ; " and for what 
 should it be ended 9 — I grant this is a heavy dispensa- 
 tion, but it lies neither at your door nor mine — it's an evil 
 of God's sending, and it maun be borne ; but it jjonot 
 break plighted troth, Jeanie, while they that plight^jJPieir 
 word wish to keep it." 
 
 " But, Reuben," said the young woman, looking at 
 him affectionately, " I ken weel that ye think mair of me 
 than yoursell ; and, Reuben, I can only in requital think 
 mair of your weal than of my ain. Ye are a man of 
 spotless name, bred to God's ministry, and a' men say 
 that ye will some day rise high in the kirk, though pov- 
 erty keep ye down e'en now. Poverty is a bad back- 
 friend, Reuben, and that ye ken ower weel ; but ill fame 
 is a waur ane, and that is a truth ye sail never learn 
 through my means."
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 141 
 
 " What do you mean 9" said Butler, eagerly and im- 
 patiently ; " or how do you connect your sister's guilt, 
 if guilt there be, which, I trust in God, may yet be dis- 
 proved, with our engagements 9 — how can that affect you 
 or me 9" 
 
 " How can you ask me that, Mr. Butler ? Will this 
 stain, d'ye think, ever be forgotten as lang as our heads 
 are abune the grund 9 Will it not stick to us, and to our 
 bairns, and to their very bairns' bairns r* To hae been 
 the child of an honest man, might hae been saying some- 
 thing for me and mine ; but to be the sister of a 
 
 O, my God !" — With this exclamation her resolution 
 failed, and she burst into a passionate fit of tears. 
 
 The lover used every effort to induce her to compose 
 herself, and at length succeeded ; but she only resumed 
 her composure to express herself \^ith the same positive- 
 ness as before. " No, Reuben, I'll bring disgrace hame 
 to nae man's hearth ; my ain distresses I can bear, and I 
 maun bear, but there is nae occasion for buckling them 
 on other folks' shouthers. I will bear my load alone — 
 the back is made for the burthen." 
 
 A lover is by charter wayward and suspicious ; and 
 Jeanie's readiness to renounce their engagement, under 
 pretence of zeal for his peace of mind and respectabili- 
 ty of character, seemed to poor Butler to form a por- 
 tentous combination with the commission of the stranger 
 he YM met with that morning. His voice faltered as he 
 askea7 " Whether nothing but a sense of her sister's 
 present distress occasioned her to talk in that manner 9" 
 
 " And what else can do sae 9" she replied whh sim- 
 plicity. " Is it not ten long years since we spoke togeth- 
 er in this way 9" 
 
 " Ten years 9" said Butler. " It is a long time — 
 sufficient perhaps for a woman to weary" 
 
 " To weary of her auld gown," said Jeanie, " and to 
 wish for a new ane, if she Hkes to be brave, but not lang 
 enough to weary of a friend — The eye may wish change, 
 but the heart never."
 
 142 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 " Never 9" said Reuben, — " that's a bold promise." 
 
 " But not more bauld than true," said Jeanie, with the 
 same quiet simplicity which attended her manner in joy 
 and grief, in ordinary affairs, and in those which most in- 
 terested her feelings. 
 
 Butler paused, and, looking at her fixedly — " I am 
 charged," he said, " with a message to you, Jeanie." 
 
 *' Indeed ! From whom 9 Or what can ony ane have 
 to say to me 9" 
 
 " It is from a stranger," said Butler, affecting to speak 
 with an indifference which his voice belied — '' A young 
 man whom I met this morning in the Park." 
 
 " My God !" said Jeanie, eagerly ; " and what did he 
 say V 
 
 " ^That since he could not see you at the hour he pro- 
 posed, he required you should meet him alone at Mus- 
 chat's Cairn this night, so soon as the moon rises." 
 
 " Tell him," said Jeanie, hastily, " I shall certainly 
 come." 
 
 " May I ask," said Butler, his suspicions increasing at 
 the ready alacrity of the answer, " who this man is to 
 whom you are so willing to give the meeting at a place 
 and hour so uncommon 9" 
 
 " Folk maun do muckle they have little will to do, in 
 this world," replied Jeanie. 
 
 " Granted," said her lover ; " but what compels you 
 to this 9 — who is this person 9 What I saw of hiflL was 
 not very favourable — who, or what is he 9" 
 
 " I do not know," replied Jeanie, composedly. 
 
 " You do not know !" said Butler, stepping impatient- 
 ly through the apartment — " You propose to meet a 
 young man whom you do not know, at such a time, and 
 in a place so lonely — you say you are compelled to do this 
 — and yet you say you do not know the person who ex- 
 ercises such an influence over you ! — Jeanie, what am I 
 to think of this V 
 
 " Think only, Reuben, that I speak truth, as if I were 
 to answer at the last day, — I do not ken this man — I do
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAST. 143 
 
 not even ken that I ever saw him, and yet I must give 
 him the meeting he asks — there's life and death upon it." 
 
 " Will you not tell your lather, or take him with you 9" 
 said Butler. 
 
 *' I cannot," said Jeanie ; " I have no permission." 
 
 " Will you let me go with you 9 I will wait in the Park 
 till nightfall, and join you when you set out." 
 
 " It is impossible," said Jeanie ; " there raaunna be 
 mortal creature within hearing of our conference." 
 
 " Have you considered well the nature of what you 
 are going to do 9 — tlie time — the place — an unknown 
 and suspicious charticter^ — Why, if he had asked to see 
 you in this house, your father sitting in the next room, 
 and within call, at such an hour, you should have refused 
 to see him." 
 
 " My weird maun be fulfilled, Mr. Butler ; my life 
 and my safety are in God's hands, but I'll not spare to 
 risk either of them on the errand I am gaun to do." 
 
 " Then, Jeanie," said Butler, much displeased, " we 
 must indeed break short off, and bid farewell. When 
 the re can be no confidence betwixt a man and his plight- 
 ed wife on such a momentous topic, it is a sign that she 
 has no longer the regard for him that makes their en- 
 gagement safe and suitable." 
 
 Jeanie looked at him and sighed. " I thought," she 
 said, " that I had brought myself to bear this parting — 
 but — but — I did not ken that we were to part in unkind- 
 ness. "^ But I am a woman and you are a man — it may be 
 different wi' you — if your mind is made easier by thinking 
 sae hardly of me, I would not ask you to think other- 
 wise." 
 
 *' You are," said Butler, " what you have always been 
 — wiser, better, and less selfish in your native feelings, 
 than 1 can be, with all the helps philosophy can give to a 
 Christian. — But why — why will you persevere in an un- 
 dertaking so desperate 9 Why will you not let me be your 
 assistant — your protector, or at least your adviser V
 
 144 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 " Just because I cannot, and I dare not," answered 
 Jeanie. — " But hark, what's that "? Surely ray father is 
 no weel." 
 
 In fact, the voices in the next room became obstreper- 
 ously loud of a sudden, the cause of which vociferation 
 it IS necessary to explain before we go farther. 
 
 When Jeanie and Butler retired, Mr. Saddletree en- 
 tered upon the business which chieiiy interested the fam- 
 ily. In the commencement of their conversation he found 
 old Deans, who, in his usual state of mind, was nogranter 
 of propositions, so much subdued by a deep sense of his 
 daughter's danger and disgrace, that he heard without re- 
 plying to, or perhaps without understanding, one or two 
 learned disquisitions on the nature of the crime imputed 
 to her charge, and on the steps which ought to be taken 
 in consequence. His only answer at each pause was, " I 
 am no misdoubting that you wuss us weel — your wife's 
 our far-awa' cousin." 
 
 Encouraged by these symptoms of acquiescence, Sad- 
 dletree, who, as an amateur of the law, had a supreme 
 deference for all constituted authorities, again recurred 
 to his other topic of interest, the murder, namely, of Por- 
 teous, and pronounced a severe censure on the parties 
 concerned. 
 
 " These are kittle times — kittle times, Mr. Deans, 
 when the people take the power of life and death out of 
 the hands of the rightful magistrate into their ain rough 
 grip. I am of opinion, and so 1 believe will Mr.tCross- 
 myloof and the Privy-Council, that this rising in efFeir of 
 war, to take away the hfe of a reprieved man, will prove 
 little better llian perduellion." 
 
 " If I hadna that on my mind that's ill to bear, Mr. 
 Saddletree,** said Deans, " I wad make bold to dispute 
 that point wi' you." 
 
 " How could ye dispute what's plain law, man •?" said 
 Saddletree, somew^hat contemptuously ; '* there's no a 
 callant that e'er carried a pock wi' a process iivt, but will 
 tell you that perduellion is the vvarst and maist virulent 
 kind of treason, being an open convocating of the king's
 
 THE HEART OF MID-I.OTHIAN. 145 
 
 lieges against his authority, (mair especially in arms, and 
 by touk of drum, to baith whilk accessories my een and 
 lugs bore witness,) and muckle warse than lese-majesty, 
 or the concealment of a treasonable purpose — It vvinna 
 bear a dispute, neighbour." 
 
 " But it will though," retorted Douce Davie Deans ,• 
 " I tell ye it will bear a dispute — T never like your cauid, 
 legal, formal doctrines, neighbour Saddletree. 1 baud 
 unco httle by the Parliament-House, since the awfu' 
 downfall of the hopes of honest folk that followed the 
 Revolution." 
 
 " But what wad ye hae had, Mr. Deans V said Sad- 
 dletree, impatiently ; " didna ye get baith liberty and 
 conscience made fast, and settled by tailzie on you and 
 your heirs forever *?" 
 
 " Mr. Saddletree," retorted Deans, " I ken ye are one 
 of those that are wise after the manner of this world, and 
 that ye baud your part, and cast in your portion, wi' the 
 lang-heads and lang-gowns, and keep with the smart witty- 
 pated lawyers of this our land — Weary on the dark and 
 dolefu' cast that they hae gi'en this unhappy kingdom, 
 when their black hands of defection were clasped in the 
 red hands of our sworn murtherers : when those who had 
 numbered the towers of our Zion, and marked the bul- 
 warks of our Reformation, saw their hope turn into a 
 snare, and their rejoicing into weeping." 
 
 " 1 canna understand this, neighbour," answered Sad- 
 dletree. " I am an honest presbyterian of the Kirk of 
 Scotland, and stand by her and the General Assembly, 
 and the due administration of justice by the fifteen Lords 
 o' Session, and the five Lords o' Justiciary." 
 
 " Out upon ye, Mr. Saddletree !" exclaimed David, 
 who, in an opportunity of giving his testimony on the of- 
 fences and backsHdings of the land, forgot for a moment 
 his own domestic calamity — " out upon your General As- 
 sembly, and the back of my hand to your Court o' Ses- 
 sions ! — What is the tane but a w^aefu' bunch o' cauldrife 
 professors and ministers, that sat bien and warm when the 
 
 13 VOL. I.
 
 146 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 persecuted remnant were warstling wi' hunger, and cauld, 
 and fear o' death, and danger of fire and sword, upon 
 wat brae-sides, peat-haggs, and flow-mosses, and that now 
 creep out of their holes, like blue-bottles in a blink of 
 sunshine, to take the pu'pits and places of better folk — of 
 them that witnessed, and testified, and fought, and endur- 
 ed pit, prison-house, and transportation beyond seas — A 
 bonny bike there's o' them ! — xVnd for vour Court o' 
 SesFion" 
 
 " Ye may say what ye will o' the General Assembly," 
 said Saddletree, interrupting him, " and let them clear 
 them that kens them ; but as for the Lords o' Session, 
 forbye that they are my next-door neighbours, 1 would 
 have ye ken, for your ain regulation, that to raise scandal 
 anent them, whilk is termed, to murmur again them, is a 
 crime sid generis — sid generis, Mr. Deans — ken ye what 
 that amounts to 9" 
 
 *' I ken little o' the language of antichrist," said Deans ; 
 " and I care less than little what carnal courts may call 
 the speeches of honest men. And as to murmur again 
 them, it's what a' the folk that loses their pleas, and nine- 
 tenths o' them that win them, will be gay sure to be guilty 
 in. Sae I wad hae ye ken that I baud a' your gleg- 
 tongued advocates, that sell their knowledge for pieces of 
 silver, and your worldly-wise judges, that will gi'e three 
 days of hearing in presence to a debate about the peeling 
 of an in2;an, and no ae half-hour to the gospel testimony, 
 as legalists and formalists, countenancing, by sentences, 
 and quirks, and cunning terms of law, the late begun 
 courses of national defections — union, toleration, patron- 
 ages, and Yerastian prelatic oaths. As for the soul and 
 body-killing Court o' Justiciary" 
 
 The habit of considering his life as dedicated to bear 
 testimony in behalf of what he deemed the suffering and 
 deserted cause of true religion, had swept honest David 
 along with it thus far ; but with the mention of the crim- 
 inal court, the recollection of the disastrous condition of 
 his daughter rushed at once on his mind ; he stopped
 
 THE HEART OF MID-tOTHIAX. 147 
 
 short in the midst of his triumphant declamation, pressed 
 his hands against his forehead, and remained silent. 
 
 Saddletree was somewhat moved, but apparently not so 
 much so as to induce him to relinquish the privilege of 
 prosing in his turn, afforded him by David's sudden si- 
 lence. '* Nae doubt, neighbour," he said, " it's a sair 
 thing to hae to do wi' courts of law, unless it be to im- 
 prove ane's knowledge and practique, by waiting on as a 
 hearer ; and touching this unhappy affair of Effie — ye'li 
 hae seen the dittay doubtless 9" He dragged out of his 
 pocket a bundle of papers, and began to turn them over. 
 " This is no it — this is the information of Mungo Mars- 
 port, of that ilk, against Captain Lackland, for coming on 
 his lands of Marsport with hawks, hounds, lying-dogs, 
 nets, guns, cross-bows, hagbuts of found, or other engines 
 more or less, for destruction of game, sic as red-deer, 
 fallow-deer, caper-cailzies, grey-fowl, moor-fowl, patricks, 
 herons, and sic like ; he, the said defender, not being 
 ane quahfied person in terms of the statute sixteen hun- 
 dred and twenty-ane ; that is, not having ane plough-gate 
 of land. Now the defences proponed say, that non con- 
 stat at this present what is a plough-gate of land, vvhilk 
 uncertainty is sufficient to elide the conclusions of the 
 libel. But then the answers to the defences, (they are 
 signed by Mr. Crossmyloof, but Mr. Younglad drew 
 them,) they propone, that it signifies naething, in hoc statUj 
 what or how muckle a plough-gate of land may be, in 
 respect the defender has nae lands whatsoe'er, less or 
 mair. ' Sae grant a plough-gate' " (here Saddletree 
 read from the paper in his hand) ' to be less than the 
 nineteenth part of a guse's grass,' (I trow Mr. Crossmy- 
 loof put in that — I ken his style,) — ' of a guse's grass, 
 what the better will the defender be, seeing he hasna a 
 divot cast of land in Scotland ^ — Advocatus for Lack- 
 land duplies, that iiihil interest de possessione, the pursuer 
 must put his case under the statute' — now, this is worth 
 your notice, neighbour, — * and must show, formaliter et 
 specialittr, as well as generaliter, what is the qualification 
 that defender Lackland does not possess — let him tell me
 
 148 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 what a plough-gate of land is, and I'll tell him if I have 
 one or no. Surely the pursuer is bound to understand 
 ills own libel, and his own statute that he founds upon. 
 luiiis pursues Mav'ius for recovery of ane black horse 
 if lU to MaDvius — surely he shall have judgment ; but if 
 Titius pursue Msvius for ane scarlet or crimson horse, 
 doubtless he shall be bound to show that there is sic an 
 animal in rerum natura. No man can be bound to plead 
 to nonsense — that is to say, to a charge which cannot be 
 explained or understood,' — (he's wrang there — the better 
 the pleadings the fewer understand them,) — ' and so the 
 reference unto this undefined and unintelligible measure 
 of land is, as if a penalty was inflicted by statute for any 
 man who suld hunt or hawk, or use lying-dogs, without 
 
 having about him ane' But I am wearying you, Mr. 
 
 Deans, we'll pass to your ain business, — though this case 
 of iMarsport against Lackland has made an unco din in 
 the Outer-house — Weel, here's the dittay against puir 
 Effie : ' Vvhereas it is humbly meant and shown to us/ 
 &,c. (they are words of mere style,) ' that where, by the 
 laws of this and every other well-regulated realm, the 
 murder of any one, more especially of an infant child, is 
 a crime of ane high nature, and severely punishable : And 
 whereas, v/ithout prejudice to the foresaid generality, it 
 was, by ane act made in the second session of the First 
 Parliament of our most High and Dread Sovereigns Wil- 
 liam and IMary, especially enacted, that ane woman who 
 shall have concealed her condition, and shall not be able 
 to show that she hath called for help at the birlh, in case 
 that the child shall be found dead or amissing, shall be 
 deemed and held guilty of the murder thereof ; and the 
 said facts of concealment and pregnancy being found 
 proven or confessed, shall sustain the pains of law ac- 
 cordingly ; yet nevertheless, you Effie, or Euphemia 
 
 Deans' " 
 
 " Read no farther," said Deans, raising his head up ; 
 " I would rather ye thrust a sword into my heart than 
 read a word farther."
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. 149 
 
 " Weel, neighbour," said Saddletree, " I thought it 
 wad hae comforted ye to ken just the best and the warsi 
 o't. But the question is, what's to be dune '?" 
 
 " Nothing," answered Deans firmly, " but to abide the 
 dispensation that the Lord sees meet to send us. O, if 
 it had been His will to take the grey head to rest before 
 this awful visitation on my house and name ! But, His 
 will be done. I can say that yet, though I can say little 
 raair." 
 
 " But, neighbour," said Saddletree, " ye'Il retain ad- 
 vocates for the puir lassie ? it's a thing maun needs be 
 thought of." 
 
 " If there was ae man of them," answered Deans, 
 " that held fast his integrity — but I ken them weel, they 
 are a' carnal, crafty, and warld-hunting self-seekers, 
 Yerastians, and Arminians, evary ane o' them." 
 
 " Hout tout, neighbour, ye maunna take the warld at 
 its word," said Saddletree ; " the very de'il is no sae ill 
 as he's ca'd ; and I ken mair than ae advocate that may 
 be said to hae some integrity as weel as their neighbours ; 
 that is, after a sort o' fashion o' their ain." 
 
 " It is indeed but a fashion of integrity that yo will find 
 amang them," replied David Deans, " and a fashion of 
 wisdom, and fashion of carnal learning — gazing, glancing- 
 glasses they are, fit only to fling the glaiks in folks een, 
 wi' their pawky policy, and earthly ingine, their flights 
 and refinements and periods of eloquence, frae heathen 
 emperors and popish canons. They canna, in tliat daft 
 trash ye were reading to me, sae muckle as ca' men that 
 are sae ill-starred as be amang their hands, by ony name 
 o' the dispensation o' grace, but maun new baptize them 
 by the names of the accursed Titus, wha was made the 
 instrument of burning the holy Temple, and other sic-like 
 heathens." 
 
 " It'sTishius," interrupted Saddletree, " and no Thus, 
 Mr. Crossrayloof cares as little about Titus or the Latin 
 learning as ye do. — But it's a case of necessity — she 
 maun hae counsel. Now I could speak to Mr. Crossmy- 
 
 13* VOL. I.
 
 150 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 ]oof — he's weel kenned for a round-spun presbyterian, and 
 a ruling elder to boot." 
 
 " He's a rank Yerastian," replied Deans ; " one of the 
 public and polititious warldly-wise men that stude up to 
 prevent ane general owning of the cause in the day of 
 power." 
 
 " What say ye to the auld Laird of CufFabout 9" said 
 Saddletree ; " he whiles thumps the dust out of a case 
 gay and weel." 
 
 " He 9 the fause loon !" answered Deans — '' he was 
 in his bandaliers to hae joined the ungracious Highlanders 
 in 1715, an' they had ever had the luck to cross the Frith." 
 
 " Weel, Arniston ? there's a clever chield for ye," said 
 Bartoline, triumphantly. 
 
 " Ay, to bring popish medals intill their very library 
 from that schismatic woman in the north, the Duchess of 
 Gordon." 
 
 " Weel, weel, but somebody ye maun hae — What think 
 ye o' Kittlepunt *?" 
 
 " He's an Arminian." 
 
 " Woodsetter V 
 
 " He's, I doubt, a Cocceian." 
 
 « Auld Whilliewhaw ?" 
 
 " He's onything ye like." 
 
 " Young Naemmo 9" 
 
 " He's naething at a'." 
 
 " Ye're ill to please, neighbour," said Saddletree ; " I 
 hae run ower the pick o' them for you, ye maun e'en 
 choose for yoursell ; but bethink ye that in the multitude 
 of counsellors there's safety. — What say ye to try young 
 Mackenyie ? he has a' his uncle's practiques at the 
 tongue's end." 
 
 " What, sir I wad ye speak to me," exclaimed the 
 sturdy presbyterian in excessive wrath, " about a man that 
 has the blood of the saints at his fingers' ends 9 Didna 
 his eme die and gang to his place wi' the name of the 
 Bluidy Mackenyie 9 and winna he be kenned by that 
 name sae lang as there's a Scots tongue to speak the word ^ 
 If the life of the dear bairn that's under a suffering dis-
 
 THE HEART OF MID-tOTHlAX. 151 
 
 pensation, and Jeanie's, and my ain, and a' mankind's, de- 
 pend on my asking sic a slave o' Satan to speak sae 
 rauckle as a word for me or them, they should a' gae 
 down the water thegither for Davie Deans." 
 
 It was the exalted tone in which he spoke this last sen- 
 tence that broke up the conversation between Butler and 
 Jeanie, and brought them both " ben the house," to use 
 the language of the country. Here they found the poor 
 old man half frantic, between grief, and zealous ire against 
 Saddletree's proposed measures, his cheek inflamed, his 
 hand clenched, and his voice raised, while the tear in his 
 eye, and the occasional quiver of his accents, showed that 
 his utmost efforts were inadequate to shaking off the con- 
 sciousness of his misery. Butler, apprehensive of the 
 consequences of his agitation to an aged and feeble frame^ 
 ventured to utter to him a recommendation to patience. 
 
 " I am patient," returned the old man, sternly, — 
 ** more patient than any one who is alive to the woful 
 backslidings of a miserable time can be patient ; and in 
 so much, that I need neither sectarians, nor sons nor 
 grandsons of sectarians, to instruct my grey hairs how to 
 bear my cross." 
 
 " But, sir," continued Butler, taking no offence at the 
 slur cast on his grandfather's faith, " we must use human 
 means. When you call in a physician, you would not, I 
 suppose, question him on the nature of his religious prin- 
 ciples 9" 
 
 " Wad I no ?" answered David — " But I wad though ; 
 and if he didna satisfy me that he had a right sense of the 
 right-hand and left-hand defections of the day, not a goutte 
 of his physic should gang through my father's son." 
 
 It is a dangerous thing to trust to an illustration. But- 
 ler had done so and miscarried ; but, like a gallant soldier 
 when his musket misses fire, he stood his ground, and 
 charged with the bayonet. — " This is too rigid an inter- 
 pretation of your duty, sir. The sun shines, and the rain 
 descends on the just and unjust, and they are placed to- 
 gether in life in circumstances which frequently render 
 intercourse between them indispensable, perhaps that the
 
 152 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 evil may have an opportunity of being converted by the 
 good, and perhaps, also, that the righteous might, among 
 other trials, be subjected to that of occasional converse 
 with the profane." 
 
 " Ye're a silly callant, Reuben," answered Deans, 
 " with your bits of argument. Can a man touch pitch 
 and not be defiled 9 Or what think ye of the brave and 
 worthy champions of the Covenant, that wadna sae muokle 
 as hear a minister speak, be his gifts and graces as they 
 would, that hadna witnessed against the enormities of the 
 day '? Nae lawyer shall ever speak for me and mine that 
 hasna concurred in the testimony of the scattered, yet 
 lovely remnant, which abode in the chits of the rocks." 
 
 So saying, and as if fatigued, both with the arguments 
 and presence of his guests, the old man arose, and seem- 
 ing to bid them adieu with a motion of his head and hand, 
 went to shut himself up in his sleeping apartment. 
 
 " It's thrawing his daughter's hfe avva'," said Saddletree 
 to Butler, " to hear him speak in that daft gate. Where 
 will he ever get a Cameronian advocate ? Or wha ever 
 heard of a lawyer's suffering either for ae religion or 
 another '? The lassie's hfe is clean flung avva'." 
 
 During the latter part of this debate, Dumbiedikes had 
 arrived at the door, dismounted, hung the pony's bridle 
 on the usual hook, and sunk down on his ordinary settle. 
 His eyes, with more than their usual animation, followed 
 first one speaker, then another, till he caught the melan- 
 choly sense of the whole from Saddletree's last words. 
 He rose from his seat, stumped slowly across the room, 
 and, coming close up to Saddletree's ear, said, in a trem- 
 ulous anxious voice, " Will — will siller do naething for 
 them, Mr. Saddletree 9" 
 
 '* Umph !" said Saddletree, looking grave, — " siller 
 will certainly do it in the Parhament House, if onything 
 can do it ; but whare's the siller to come frae 1 Mr. 
 Deans, ye see, will do naething ; and though Mrs. Sad- 
 dletree's their far-awa' friend, and right gude weel-wisher, 
 and is weel disposed to assist, yet she wadna like to stand 
 to be bound singula in solidiim to such an expensive wark.
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 153 
 
 An' ilka friend wad bear a share o' the burthen, something 
 might be dune — ilka ane to be Hable for their ain input — 
 I wadna hke to see the case fa' through without being 
 pled — it wadna be creditable, for a' that daft whig body 
 says." 
 
 " I'll — I will — yes," (assuming fortitude,) " 1 will be 
 answerable," said Dumbiedikes, " for a score of punds 
 sterhng," — and he was silent, staring in astonishment at 
 finding himself capable of such unwonted resolution and 
 excessive generosity. 
 
 " God Almighty bless ye. Laird !" said Jeanie in a 
 transport of gratitude. 
 
 *' Ye may ca' the twenty punds thretty," said Dum- 
 biedikes, looking bashfully away from her and towards 
 Saddletree. 
 
 " That will do bravely," said Saddletree, rubbing his ■ 
 hands ; " and ye sail hae a' my skill and knowledge to 
 gar the siller gang far — I'll tape it out weel — I ken how to 
 gar the birkies tak short fees, and be glad o' them too — 
 it's only garring them trow ye hae twa or three cases of 
 importance coming on, and they'll work cheap to get cus- 
 tom. Let me alane for whillying an iidvocate ; — it's nae 
 sin to get as muckle frae them for our siller as we can — 
 after a', it's but the wind o' their mouth — it costs them 
 naething ; w^iereas, in my wretched occupation of a sad- 
 dler, horse-milliner, and harness-maker, we are out un- 
 conscionable sums just for barkened hides and leather." 
 
 " Can I be of no use 9" said Butler. " My means, 
 alas ! are only worth the black coat I wear ; but I am 
 young — I ow^e much to the family — Can I do nothing 9" 
 
 " Ye can help to collect evidence, sir," said Saddle- 
 tree ; " if we could but find ony ane to say she had gi'en 
 the least hint o' her condition, she wad be brought afi^ wi' 
 a wat finger — Mr. Crossmyloof tell'd rhe sae. The 
 crown, says he, canna be craved to prove a positive — 
 was't a positive or a negative they couldna be ca'd to 
 prove 9 — it was the tane or the tither o' them, 1 am sure, 
 and it raaksna muckle matter whilk. Wherefore, says
 
 164 TALES OF MY lANDLORD. 
 
 he, the libel maun be redargued by the pannel proving 
 her defences. And it canna be done otherwise." 
 
 *' But the fact, sir," argued Butler, " the fact that this 
 poor girl has borne a child ; surely the crown lawyers 
 must prove that 9" said Butler. 
 
 Saddletree paused a moment, while the visage of Dum- 
 biedikes, which traversed, as if it had been placed on a 
 pivot, from one spokesman to the other, assumed a more 
 blithe expression. 
 
 " Ye — ye — ye — es," said Saddletree, after some grave 
 hesitation ; " unquestionably that is a thing to be proved, 
 as the Court will more fully declare by an interlocutor in 
 relevancy in common form ; but I fancy that job's done 
 already, for she has confessed her guilt." 
 
 " Confessed the murder !" exclaimed Jeanie, with a 
 scream that made them all start. 
 
 " No, I didna say that," rephed Bartoline. " But she 
 confessed bearing the babe." 
 
 " And what became of it, then 9" said Jeanie ; " for 
 not a word could I get from her but bitter sighs and tears." 
 
 " She says it was taken away from her by the woman 
 in whose house it was born, and who assisted her at the 
 time." 
 
 " And who was that w^oman 9" said Butler. " Surely 
 by her means the truth might be discovered. — Who was 
 she '? I will fly to her directly." 
 
 " I wish," said Dumbiedikes, " I were as young and 
 as supple as you, and had the gift of the gab as weel." 
 
 " Who is she 9" again reiterated Butler impatiently, 
 — '' Who could that woman be 9" 
 
 " Ay, wha kens that but hersell "?" said Saddletree ; 
 *' she deponed further, and dechned to answer that inter- 
 rogatory." 
 
 " Then to herself will I instantly go," said Butler ; 
 " farewell, Jeanie ;" then coming close up to her, — 
 " Take no rash steps till you hear from me. Farewell !" 
 and he immediately left the cottage. 
 
 *' J wad gang too," said the landed proprietor, in an 
 anxious, jealous, and repining tone, " but my powney
 
 THE HEART OP MID-LOTHIAN. 155 
 
 winna for the life o' me gang ony other road than just 
 frae Duinbiedikes to this house-end, and sae straight back 
 again." 
 
 " Ye'll do better for them," said Saddletree, as they 
 left the house together, *' by sending me the thretty 
 punds." 
 
 " Thretty punds ?" hesitated Durnbiedikes, who was 
 now out of the reach of those eyes which had indamed 
 his generosity ; '' I only said twenty punds." 
 
 " Ay ; but,*' said Saddletree, " that uas under protes- 
 tation to add and eik ; and so ye craved leave to amend 
 your hbel, and made it thretty." 
 
 " Did 19 1 dinna mind that I did," answered Durn- 
 biedikes. " But whatever I said, I'll stand to." Then 
 bestriding his steed with some difficulty, he added, " Din- 
 na ye think poor Jeanie's een with the tears in them glanc- 
 ed hke lamour beads, Mr. Saddletree V 
 
 " I kenna muckle about women's een, Laird," replied 
 the insensible Bartoline ; " and I care just as little. 1 
 w^uss 1 were as weel free o' their tongues ; though few 
 wives," he added, recollecting the necessity of keeping up 
 his character for domestic rule, " are under bettei- com- 
 mand than mine. Laird. 1 allow nehher perduellion nor 
 laese-majesty against my sovereign authority." 
 
 The Laird saw nothing so important in this observation 
 as lo call for a rejoinder ; and when they had exchanged 
 a mute salutation, they parted in peace upon their differ- 
 ent errands. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 I'll warrant that fellow from drowning, were the ship no stronger than a 
 nut-shell. Tlie Tempest. 
 
 Butler felt neither fatigue nor want of refreshment, 
 although, from the mode in which he had spent the night,
 
 156 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 he might well have been overcome with either. But, in 
 the earnestness with which he hastened to the assistance 
 of the sister of Jeanie Deans, he forgot both. 
 
 In his first progress he walked with so rapid a pace as 
 almost approached to running, when he was surprised to 
 hear behind him a call upon his name, contending with an 
 asthmatic cough, and half-drowned amid the resounding 
 trot of an Highland pony. He looked behind, and saw 
 the Laird of Dumbiedikes making after him with what 
 speed he might ; for it happened fortunately for the Laird's 
 purpose of conversing with Butler, that his own road 
 homeward was for about two hundred yards the same with 
 that which led by the nearest way to the city. Butler 
 stopped when he heard himself thus summoned, internally 
 wishing no good to the panting equestrian who thus re- 
 tarded his journey. 
 
 " Uh ! uh ! uh !" ejaculated Dumbiedikes, as he 
 checked the hobbling pace of the pony by our friend 
 Buder. '* Uh ! uh ! it's a hard-set willyard beast this o' 
 mine." He had in fact just overtaken the object of his 
 chase at the very point beyond which it would have been 
 absolutely impossible for him to have continued the pur- 
 suit, shice there Butler's road parted from that leading to 
 Dumbiedikes, and no means of influence or compulsion 
 which the rider could possibly have used. towards his Bu- 
 cephalus, could have induced the Celtic obstinacy of Rory 
 Bean (such was the pony's name) to have diverged a yard 
 from the path that conducted him to his own paddock. 
 
 Even when he had recovered from the shortness of 
 breath occasioned by a trot much more rapid than Rory 
 or he was accustomed to, the high purpos-? of Dumbie- 
 dikes seemed to stick as it were in his throat, and impede 
 his utterance, so that Butler stood I >r nearly three minutes 
 ere he could utter a syllable, and . hen he did find voice, 
 it was only to say, after one or r- o efforts, " Uh ! uh ! 
 uhm ! I say, Mr. Butler, it's a bi iw day for the ha'rst." 
 
 " Fine day, indeed," said Butler. " 1 wish you good 
 morninp;, sir."
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. , 157 
 
 " Stay — stay a bit," rejoined Dumbiedikes ; *' that 
 wasna what J had gotten to say." 
 
 " Then, pray be quick, and let me have your com- 
 mands," rejoined Butler ; " I crave your pardon, but I 
 em in haste, and, Ternpus nemini — you know the prov- 
 erb." 
 
 Dumbiedikes did not know the proverb, nor did he 
 even take the trouble to endeavour to look as if he did, 
 as others in his place might have done. He was con- 
 centrating all his intellects for one grand proposition, and 
 could not afford any detachment to defend outposts. 
 
 *' I say, Mr. Butler," said he, " ken ye if Mr. Sad- 
 dletree's a great lawyer 9" 
 
 " 1 have no person's word for it but his own," answered 
 Butler drily ; " but undoubtedly he best understands his 
 own qualities." 
 
 " L'mph !" replied the taciturn Dumbiedikes, in a tone 
 which seemed to say, " Mr. Buder, I take your mean- 
 ing." " In that case," he pursued, " I'll employ my 
 ain man o' business Nichil Novit, (auld Nichil's son, and 
 amaist as gleg as his father,) to agent Effie's plea." 
 
 And having thus displayed more sagacity than Buder 
 expected from him, he courteously touched his gold- 
 laced cocked hat, and, by a punch on the ribs, conveyed 
 to Rory Bean, it vi^as his rider's pleasure that he should 
 forthwith proceed homewards ; a hint which the quadru- 
 ped obeyed with that degree of alacrity with which men 
 and animals interpret and obey suggestions that entirely 
 correspond with their own inclinations. 
 
 Butler resumed his pace, not without a momentary re- 
 vival of that jealousy, which the honest Laird's attention 
 to the family of Deans had at different times excited in 
 in his bosom. But he was too generous long to nurse any 
 feehng which was alHed to selfishness. " He is," said 
 Buder to himself, " rich in what I want ; why should I 
 feel vexed that he has the heart to dedicate some of his 
 pelf to render them services, which I can only form the 
 empty wish of executixig 1- In God's name ! let us each 
 
 14 VOL. I.
 
 158 TALES OF MY XANDLORD. 
 
 do what we can. May she be but happy ! — saved from 
 the misery and disgrace that seems impending — Let me 
 but find the means of preventing the fearful experiment 
 of this evening, and farewell to other thoughts, though 
 my heart-strings break in parting with them." 
 
 He redoubled his pace, and soon stood before the door 
 of the Tolbooth, or rather before the entrance where the 
 door had formerly been placed. His interview with the 
 mysterious stranger, the message to Jeanie, his agitating 
 conversation with her on the subject of breaking off their 
 mutual engagements, and the interesting scene with old 
 Deans, had so entirely occupied his mind as to drown 
 even recollection of the tragical event which he had wit- 
 nessed the preceding evening. His attention was not re- 
 called to it by the groups Avho stood scattered on the street 
 in conversation, which they hushed when strangers ap- 
 proached, or by the bustling search of the agents of the 
 city police, supported by small parties of the military, or 
 by the appearance of the Guard-House, before which 
 were treble sentinels, or, finally, by the subdued and in- 
 timidated looks of the lower orders of society, who, con- 
 scious that they v.ere liable to suspicion, if they were 
 not guihy of accession to a riot likely to be strictly in- 
 quired into, ghded about with an humble and dismayed 
 aspect, like men whose spirits being exhausted in the 
 revel and the dangers of a desperate debauch over night, 
 are nerve-shaken, timorous, and unenterprizmg, on the 
 succeeding day. 
 
 None of these symptoms of aiorm and trepidation struck 
 Butler, whos& mind was occupied with a different, and 
 to him still more interesting subject, until he stood before 
 the entrance to the prison, and saw it defended by -a 
 double file of grenadiers, instead of holts and bars. Their 
 " Stand, stand," the blackened appearance of the door- 
 less gateway, and the winding staircase and apartments 
 of the Tolbooth, now open to the public eye, recalled the 
 whole proceedings of the eventful night. Upon his re- 
 questing to speak with Effie Deans, the same tall, thin,
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. 159 
 
 silver-haired turnkey, whom he had seen on the preced- 
 ing evening, made his appearance. 
 
 " I think," he replied, to Butler's request of admission, 
 with true Scottish indirectness, " ye will he the same Idd 
 that was for in to see her yestreen V 
 
 Butler admitted he was the same person. 
 
 " And I am diinking," pursued the turnkey, " that ye 
 speered at me when we locked up, and if we locked up 
 earher on account of Porteous?" 
 
 "Very likely I might make some such observation, "said 
 Butler ; " but the question now is, can I see Effie Deans ?" 
 
 " I dinna ken — gang in bye, and up the turnpike stair, 
 and turn till the ward on the left hand. ' 
 
 The old man followed close behind him, whh his keys 
 in his hand, not forgetting even that huge one which had 
 once opened and shut the outward gate of his dominions, 
 though at present it was but uU idle and useless burthen. 
 No sooner had Butler entered the room to which he was 
 directed, than the experienced hand of the warder se- 
 lected the proper key and locked it on the outside. At 
 first Buder conceived this manoeuvre was only an effect 
 of the man's habitual and official caution and jealousy. 
 But when he heard the hoarse command, " Turn out the 
 guard !" and immediately afterwards heard the clash of 
 a sentinel's arms, as he was posted at the door of his 
 apartment, he again called out to the turnkey, " My 
 igood friend, I have business of some consequence with 
 Effie Deans, and I beg to see her as soon as possible." 
 No answer was returned. " If it be against your rules 
 to admit me," repeated Butler, in a still louder tone, 
 " to see the prisoner, I beg you vrill tell me so, and let 
 me go about my business. — Fugit irrevocabile tempus /" 
 muttered he to himself. 
 
 " If ye had buslnes to do, you suld hae dune it be- 
 fore ye cam here," replied the man of keys from the 
 outside ; " ye'll find it easier wunnin in than wunnin out 
 here — there's sma' hkelihood o' another Porteous-moj 
 coming to rabble us as;ain — the law will baud her aio 
 now, neighbour, and that ye'll find to your cost."
 
 160 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 " What do you mean by that, sir *?" retorted Butler. 
 " You must mistake me for some other person. My 
 name is Reuben Butler, preacher of the gospel. 
 
 " I ken that weel eneugh," said the turnkey. 
 
 " Well then, if you know me, 1 have a right to know 
 from you in return, what w^arrant you have for detaining 
 me ; that, I know, is the right of every British subject." 
 
 *' Warrant 9" said the jailor, — " the warrant's awa' to 
 Libberton wi' twa sheriff-officers seeking ye. If ye had 
 staid at hame, as honest men should do, ye wad hae seen 
 the warrant ; but if ye come to be incarcerated of your 
 ain accord, wha can help it, my jo ?" 
 
 " So I cannot see Effie Deans, then," said Butler ; 
 " and you are determined not to let me out 9" 
 
 " Troth will I no, neighbour," answered the old man, 
 doggedly ; " as for Effie Deans, ye'll hae aneugh ado to 
 mind your ain business, and let her mind hers ; and for 
 letting you out, that maun be as the magistrate will deter- 
 mine. And fare ye weel for a bit, for I maun see Dea- 
 con Sawyers put on ane or twa o' the doors that your 
 quiet folk broke down yesternight, Mr. Butler." 
 
 There was something in this exquisitely provoking, but 
 there was also something darkly alarming. To be im- 
 prisoned, even on a false accusation, has something in it 
 disagreeable and menacing even to men of more con- 
 stitutional courage than Butler had to boast ; for altliough 
 he had much of that resolution which arises from a senses 
 of duty, and an honourable desire to discharge it, yet, as 
 his imagination was lively, and his frame of body dehcate, 
 he was far from possessing that cool insensibihty to dan- 
 ger, which is the happy portion of stronger health, more 
 firm nerves, and less acute sensibility. An indistinct idea 
 of danger, which he could neither understand nor ward 
 off, seemed to float before his eyes. He tried to think 
 over the events of the preceding night, in hopes of dis- 
 covering some means of explaining or vindicating his 
 conduct for appearing among the mob, since it immedi- 
 ately occurred to him that his detention must be founded 
 on this circumstance. And it was with anxiety that he.
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. 161 
 
 found he could not recollect to have been under the ob- 
 servation of any disinterested witness in the attempts that 
 he had made from time to time to expostulate with the 
 rioters, and to prevail on them to release him. The dis- 
 tress of Deans's family, the dangerous rendezvous which 
 Jeanie had formed, and which he could not now hope to 
 interrupt, had also their share in his unpleasant reflections. 
 Yet, impatient as he was to receive an eclaircissement upon 
 the cause of his confinement, and if possible to obtain his 
 liberty, he was affected whh a trepidation which seemed 
 no good omen ; when, after remaining an hour in this 
 solitary apartment, he received a summons to attend the 
 sitting magistrate. He was conducted from prison strongly 
 guarded by a party of soldiers, with a parade of precau- 
 tion, that, however ill-timed and unnecessary, is generally 
 displayed after an event, which, if used in time, such pre- 
 caution might have prevented. 
 
 He was introduced into the Council Chamber, as the 
 place is called where the magistrates hold their sittings, 
 and which was then at a little distance from the prison. 
 One or two of the senators of the city were present, and 
 seemed about to engage in the examination of an indi- 
 vidual who was brought forward to the foot of the long 
 green-covered table round which the council usually as- 
 sembled. " Is that the preacher f " said one of the mag- 
 istrates, as the city-officer in attendance introduced But- 
 ler. The man answered in the affirmative. " Let him 
 sit down there for an instant ; we will finish this man's 
 business very briefly." 
 
 " Shall we remove Mr. Butler 9" queried the assistant. 
 
 " It is not necessary — Let him remain where he is." 
 
 Butler accordingly sat down on a bench at the bottom 
 of the apartment, attended by one of his keepers. 
 
 It was a large room, partially and imperfectly lighted, 
 but by chance, or the skill of the architect, who might 
 happen to remember the advantage which might occa- 
 sionally be derived from such an arrangement, one window 
 
 14* VOL. I.
 
 162 TALES or MY lANDLOftDi. 
 
 was so placed as to throw a strong light at the foot of the 
 table at which prisoners were usually posted for examina- 
 tion, while the upper end, where the examinants sat, was 
 thrown into shadow. Butler's eyes were instantly fixed 
 on the person whose examination was at present proceed- 
 ing, in the idea that he might recognize some one of the 
 conspirators of T^^e former night. But though the fea- 
 tures of this man were sufficiently marked and striking, 
 he could not recollect that ever he had seen them before. 
 
 The complexion of this person was dark, and his age 
 somewhat advanced. He wore his own hair, combed 
 smooth down, and cut very short. It was jet black, 
 slightly curled by nature, and already mottled with grey. 
 The man's face expressed rather knavery than vice, 
 more a disposition to sharpness, cunning, and roguery, 
 than the' traces of stormy and indulged passions. His 
 sharp, quick, black eyes, acute features, ready sardonic 
 smile, promptitude, and effrontery, gave him altogether 
 what is called among the vulgar a knowing look, which 
 generally implies a tendency to knavery. At a fair or 
 market you could not for a moment have doubted that 
 he was a horse-jockey, intimate with all the tricks of his 
 trade ; yet had you met him on a moor, you would not 
 have apprehended any violence from him. His dress 
 was also that of a horse-dealer — a close-buttoned jockey- 
 coat, or wrap-rascal, as it was then termed, with huge 
 metal buttons, coarse blue upper stockings, called boot- 
 hose, supplying the place of boots, and a slouched hat. 
 He wanted a loaded whip under his arm, and a spur 
 upon one heel, to complete the dress of the character he 
 seemed to represent. 
 
 " Your name is James RatclifFe V said the magistrate. 
 
 it Ay — always wi' your honour's leave." 
 
 " That is to say, you could find me another name, if I 
 did not like that ane'?" 
 
 " Twenty to pick and choose upon, always with your 
 honour's leave," resumed the respondent. 
 
 " But James RatclifFe is your present name 9 — what is 
 your trade V
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. 163 
 
 " I canna just say, distinctly, that I have what ye wad 
 ca' preceesely a trade." 
 
 " But," repeated the magistrate, " what are your 
 means of living — your occupation 9" 
 
 " Hout tout — your honour, wi' your leave, kens that as 
 weel as I do," replied the examined. 
 
 " No matter, 1 want to hear you describe it," said the 
 examinant. 
 
 " Me describe ? — and to your honour 9 — far be it from 
 Jemmie Ratchffe," responded the prisoner. 
 
 " Come, sir, no trifiing — I insist upon an answer." 
 
 " Weel, sir," replied the declarant, " I maun make a 
 clean breast ; for ye see, (wi' your leave,) I am looking 
 for favour — Describe my occupation, quo' ye .^ — troth it 
 will be ill to do that, in a feasible way, in a place like this 
 — but what is't again that the aught command says ?" 
 
 " Thou shalt not steal," answered the magistrate. 
 
 " Are ye sure o' that ? — Troth, then, my occupation, 
 and that command, are sair at odds ; for 1 read it, thou 
 shall steal ; and that makes an unco difference, though 
 there's but a wee bit word left out." 
 
 " To cut the matter short, Ratchffe, you have been a 
 most notorious thief," said the examinant. 
 
 " I believe Highlands and Lowlands ken that, sir, for- 
 bye England and Holland," repHed Ratcliffe, with the 
 greatest composure and effrontery. 
 
 " And what d'ye think the end o' your calling will be ?" 
 said the magistrate. 
 
 " I could have gi'en a brave guess yesterday — but I 
 dinna ken sae weel the day," answered the prisoner. 
 
 " And what would you have said would have been 
 your end, had you been asked the question yesterday 9" 
 
 " Just the gallows," replied Ratcliffe, with the samie 
 composure. 
 
 " You are a daring rascal, sir," said the magistrate ; 
 " and how dare you hope times are mended with you 
 to-day 9" 
 
 " Dear your honour," answered Ratchffe, " there's 
 muckle difference between lying in prison under sentence
 
 164 TALES OF MT LANDLORD. 
 
 of death, and staying there of ane's ain proper accord, 
 when it would have cost a man naething to get up and rin 
 awa' — what was to hinder me from stepping out quietly, 
 when the rabble walked awa' wi' Jock Porteous yestreen ? 
 — and does your honour really think 1 staid on purpose 
 to be hanged *?" 
 
 " I do not know what you may have proposed to 
 yourself ; but I know," said the magistrate, " what the 
 law proposes for you, and that is to hang you next 
 Wednesday eight days." 
 
 " Na, na, your honour," said RatclifFe firmly, " crav- 
 ing your honour's pardon, I'll ne'er believe that till 1 see 
 it. I have kenn'd the Law this mony a year, and mony 
 a thrawart job I hae had wi' her first and last ; but the 
 auld jaud is no sae ill as that comes to — I aye fand her 
 bark waur than her bite." 
 
 " And if you do not expect the gallows, to which you 
 are condemned, (for the fourth time to my knowledge,) 
 may 1 beg the favour to know," said the magistrate, 
 " what it is that you do expect in consideration of your 
 not having taken flight with the rest of the jail-birds, 
 which I will admit was a line of conduct little to have 
 been expected from you V 
 
 " 1 would never have thought for a moment of staying 
 in that auld gousty toom house," answered Ratcliffe, 
 " but that use and wont had just gi'en me a fancy to the 
 place, and I'm just expecting a bit post in't." 
 
 " A post !" exclaimed the magistrate ; " a whipping- 
 post, I suppose you mean 9" 
 
 " Na, na, sir, I had nae thoughts o' a whuppin-post. 
 After having been four times doomed to hang by the neck 
 till I was dead, I think I am far beyond being whuppit." 
 
 " Then, in Heaven's name, what did you expect V^ 
 
 " Just the post of under-turnkey, for I understand 
 there's a vacancy," said the prisoner ; " 1 wadna think 
 of asking the lockman's* place ower his head ; it wadna 
 
 * Hanginan, so called from the small quantity of meal (Scottice, lock,) which 
 he was eaiitled to take out of every boll exposed to market in the city. In
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 165 
 
 suit me sae weel as ither folk, for I never could put a 
 beast out o' the way, much less deal wi' a man." 
 
 " That's something in your favour," said the magis- 
 trate, making exactly the inference to which Ratcliffe 
 was desirous to lead him, though he mantled his art with 
 an affectation of oddity. " But," continued the magis- 
 trate, " how do you think you can be trusted with a 
 charge in the prison, when you have broken at your own 
 hand half the jails in Scotland ?" 
 
 " Wi' your honour's leave," said Ratcliffe, " if I 
 kenn'd sae weel how to wun out mysell, it's like 1 wad be 
 a' the better a hand to keep other folks in. I think they 
 wad ken their business weel that held me in when I want- 
 ed to be out, or wan out when I wanted to baud them in." 
 
 The remark seemed to strike the magistrate, but he 
 made no further immediate remark, only desired Ratcliffe 
 to be removed. 
 
 When this daring, and yet sly freebooter, was out of 
 hearing, the magistrate asked the city-clerk, " what he 
 thought of the fellow's assurance V^ 
 
 " It's no for me to say, sir," replied the clerk ; " but 
 if James Ratchffe be inclined to turn to good, there is 
 not a man e'er came within the*ports of the burgh could 
 be of sae muckle use to the good to\A'n in the thief and 
 lock-up Hne of business. I'll speak to Mr. Sharpitlaw 
 about him." 
 
 Upon Ratcliffe's retreat, Butler was placed at the table 
 for examination. The magistrate conducted his inqujlj^ 
 civilly, but yet in a manner which gave him to understand 
 that he laboured under strong suspicion. Whh a frank- 
 ness which at once became his calling and character, 
 Butler avowed his involuntary presence at the murder of 
 Porteous, and, at the request of the magistrate, entered 
 
 Edinburgh the duty has been very long commuted ; but in Dumfries the finish- 
 er of the law still exercises, orrlid lately exercise, his privilege, the quantity 
 taken being regulated by a small iron ladle, which he uses as the measure of 
 his perquisite. The expression lock, for a small quantity of any readily divis- 
 ible dry substance, as com, meal, flax, or the like, is sti'il preserved, not only 
 popularly, but in a legal description, as the lock and ^oicjjen, or small quantity 
 and handful, payable in thirlage cases, as in-town multure
 
 Wii 
 
 166 TAiES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 into a minute detail of the circumstances which attended 
 that unhappy affair. All the particulars, such as we have 
 narrated, were taken minutely down by the clerk from 
 Butler's dictation. 
 
 When the narrative was concluded, the cross-examina- 
 tion commenced, which it is a paniful task even for the 
 most candid witness to undergo, since a story, especially 
 if connected with agitating and alarming incidents, can 
 scarce be so clearly and distinctly told, but that some 
 ambiguity and doubt may be thrown upon it by a string 
 of successive and minute interrogatories. 
 
 The magistrate commenced, by observing, that Butler 
 had said his object was to return to the village of Lib- 
 berton, but that he was interrupted by the mob at the 
 West-port. " Is the West-port your usual way of leav- 
 ing town when you go to Libberton '?" said the magis- 
 trate, vrith a sneer. 
 
 " No, certainly," answered Butler, with the haste of 
 a man anxious to vindicate the accuracy of his evidence ; 
 " but I chanced to be nearer that port than any other, 
 and the hour of shutting the gates was on the point of 
 striking." 
 
 *' That was unlucky*" said the magistrate drily. 
 " Pray, being, as you say, under coercion and fear of the 
 lawless multitude, an compelled to accompany them 
 through scenes disagreeable to all men of humanity, and 
 more especially irreconcilable to the profession of a min- 
 mllkr, did you not attempt to struggle, resist, or escape 
 from their violence f " 
 
 Butler replied, " that their numbers prevented him 
 from attempting resistance, and their vigilance from 
 effecting his escape." 
 
 " That was unlucky," again repeated the magistrate, 
 in the same dry inacquiescent tone of voice and manner. 
 He proceeded with decency and politeness,- but whh a 
 stiffness which argued his continued suspicion, to ask 
 many questions concerning the behaviour of the mob, 
 •the manners and dress of the ringleaders ; and when he 
 conceived that the caution of Butler, if he was deceiving
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 167 
 
 him, must be lulled asleep, the magistrate suddenly and 
 artfully returned to former parts of his declaration, and 
 required a new recapitulation of the circumstances, to the 
 minutest and most trivial point which attended each part 
 of the melancholy scene. No confusion or contradic- 
 tion, however, occurred, that could countenance the sus- 
 picion which he seemed to have adopted against Butler. 
 At length the train of his interrogatories reached Madge 
 Wildfire, at whose name the magistrate and town-clerk 
 exchanged significant glances. If the fate of the Good 
 Town had depended on her careful mai^istrate's knowing 
 the features and dress of this personage, his inquiries 
 could not have been more particular. But Butler could 
 say almost nothing of this person's features, which were 
 disguised apparently with red paint and soot, like an In- 
 dian going to battle, besides the projecting shade of a 
 curch or coif, which muffled the hair of the supposed 
 female. He declared that he thought he could not know 
 this Madge Wildfire, if placed before him in a different 
 dress, but that he believed he might recognize her voice. 
 
 The magistrate requested him again to state by what 
 gate he left the city. 
 
 " By the Cowgate-port," repHed Butler. 
 
 *' Was that the nearest road to Libberton f " 
 
 " No," answered Butler, with embarrassment ; *' but 
 it was the nearest way to extricate myself frojn the mob." 
 
 The clerk and magistrate again exchanged glances. 
 
 *' Is the Cowgate-port a nearer way to Libberton, from 
 the Grass-market, than Brisio-port 9" 
 
 " No," replied Butler; " but I had to visit a friend." 
 
 " Indeed ']" said the interrogator—" You were in a 
 hurry to tell the sight you had witnessed, I supposed" 
 
 " Indeed I was not," replied Butler ; " nor did I 
 speak on the subject the whole time I was at Saint Leon- 
 ard's Crags." 
 
 *' Which road did you take to St. Leonards Crags ?" 
 
 " By the foot of Salisbury Crags," was the reply.
 
 168 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 " Indeed 9 — you seem partial to circuitous routes," 
 again said the magistrate. " Whom did you see after 
 you left the city .^" 
 
 One by one he obtained a description of every one of 
 the groups which had passed Butler, as already noticed, 
 their number, demeanour, and appearance ; and, at length, 
 came to the circumstance of the mysterious stranger in 
 the King's Park. On this subject Butler would fain have 
 remained silent. But the magistrate had no sooner got a 
 slight hint concerning the incident, than he seemed bent 
 to possess himself of the most minute particulars. 
 
 " Look ye, Mr. Butler," said he, " you are a young 
 man, and bear an excellent character ; so much I will 
 myself testify in your favour. But we are aware there 
 has been, at times, a sort of bastard and fiery zeal in some 
 of your order, and those, men irreproachable in other 
 points, Vv'hich has led them into doing and countenancing 
 great irregularities, by which the peace of the country is 
 liable to be shaken. — I will deal plainly with you. I am 
 not at all satisfied with this story, of your setting out 
 again and again to seek your dwelling by two several 
 roads, which were both circuitous. And, to be frank, no 
 one whom we have examined on this unhappy affair could 
 trace in your appearance anything like your acting under 
 compulsion. Moreover, the waiters at the Cowgate-port 
 observed something like the trepidation of guilt in your 
 conduct, and declare that you were the first to command 
 them to open the gate, in a tone of authority, as if still 
 presiding over the guards and outposts of the rabble, who 
 had besieged them the whole night." 
 
 " God forgive them !" said Butler ; *' I only asked 
 free passage for myself ; they must have much misun- 
 derstood, if they did not wilfully misrepresent me." 
 
 " Well, Mr. Butler," resumed the magistrate, " I am 
 inclined to judge the best and hope the best, as I am sure 
 I wish the best ; but you must be frank with me, if you 
 wish to secure my good opinion, and lessen the risk of 
 inconvenience to yourself. You have allowed you saw 
 another individual in your passage through the King's
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 169 
 
 Park to Saint Leonard's Crags — I must know every word 
 which passed betwixt you." 
 
 Thus closely pressed, Butler, who had no reason for 
 concealing what passed at that meeting, unless because 
 Jeanie Deans was concerned in it, thought it best to tell 
 the whole truth from beginning to end. 
 
 •' Do you suppose," said the magistrate, pausing, 
 " that the young woman will accept an invitation so mys- 
 terious'?" 
 
 " I fear she will," replied Butler. 
 
 " Why do you use the word /ear it *?" said the mag- 
 istrate. 
 
 " Because I am apprehensive for her safety, in meet- 
 ing, at such a time and place, one who had something of 
 the manner of a desperado, and whose message was of a 
 character so inexplicable." 
 
 " Her safety shall be cared for," said the magistrate. 
 " Mr. Butler, I am concerned I cannot immediately dis- 
 charge you from confinement, but I hope you will not be 
 long detained. — Remove Mr. Butler, and let him be pro- 
 vided with decent accommodation in all respects." 
 
 He was conducted back to the prison accordingly ; 
 but, in the food offered to him, as well as in the apart- 
 ment in which he was lodged, the recommendation of the 
 magistrate was strictly attended to. 
 
 15 VOL. I.
 
 170 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Dark and eerie was the night, 
 
 And lonely was the way, 
 As Janet, wi' her green mantell, 
 
 To Miles' Cross she did gae. 
 
 Old Ballad. 
 
 Leaving Butler to all the uncomfortable thoughts at- 
 tached to his new situation, among which the most pre- 
 dominant was his feeling that he was, by his confinement, 
 deprived of all possibility of assisting the family at St. 
 Leonard's in their greatest need, we return to Jeanie 
 Deans, who had seen him depart, without an opportunity 
 of further explanation, in all that agony of mind with 
 which the female heart bids adieu to the complicated 
 sensations so well described by Coleridge, — 
 
 Hopes, and fears that kindle hope. 
 
 An undistinguishable throng ; 
 And gentle ^^ ishes long subdued — 
 
 Subdued and cherish'd long. 
 
 It is not the firmest heart (and Jeanie, under her rus- 
 set rokelay, had one that would not have disgraced Cato's 
 daughter) that can most easily bid adieu to these soft and 
 mingled emotioiis. She wept for a few minutes bitterly, 
 and without attempting to refrain from this indulgence of 
 passion. But a moment's recollection induced her to 
 check herself for a grief selfish and proper to her own 
 affections, while her father and sister were plunged into 
 such deep and irretrievable affliction. She drew from her 
 pocket the letter which had been that morning flung into 
 her apartment through an open window, and the contents 
 of which were as singular as the expression was \dolent 
 and energetic. " If she w^ould save a human being from 
 the most damning guilt, and all its desperate consequen- 
 ces, — if she desired the life and honour of her sister to
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. ITi 
 
 be saved from the bloody fangs of an unjust law, — if she 
 desired not to forfeit peace of mind here, and happiness 
 hereafter,'* such was the frantic style of the conjuration, 
 '• she was entreated to give a sure, secret, and solitary 
 meeting to the writer. She alone could rescue him," so 
 ran the letter, " and he only could rescue her." He 
 w^as in such circumstances, the billet farther informed 
 her, that an attempt to bring any witness of their confer- 
 ence, or even to mention to her father, or any other per- 
 son whatsoever, the letter which requested it, would inev- 
 itably prevent its taking place, and insure the destruction 
 of her sister. The letter concluded with incoherent but 
 violent protestations, that in obeying this summons she 
 had nothing to fear personally. 
 
 The message delivered to her by Butler from the 
 stranger in the Park talhed exactly with the contents of 
 the letter, but assigned a later hour and a different place 
 of meeting. Apparently the writer of the letter had 
 been compelled to let Butler so far into his confidence, 
 for the sake of announcing this change to Jeanie. She 
 was more than once on the point of producing the billet, 
 in vindication of herself from her lover's half-hinted sus- 
 picions. But there is something in stooping to justifica- 
 tion which the pride of innocence does not at all times 
 willingly submit to, besides that the threats contained in 
 the letter, in case of her betraying the secret, hung heavy 
 on her heart. It is probable, however, that had they re- 
 mained longer together, she might have taken the resolu- 
 tion to submit the whole matter to Butler, and be guided 
 by him as to the line of conduct which she should adopt. 
 And when, by the sudden interruption of their confer- 
 ence, she lost the opportunity of doing so, she felt as if 
 she had been unjust to a friend, whose advice might have 
 been highly useful, and whose attachment deserved her 
 full and unreserved confidence. 
 
 To have recourse to her father upon this occasion, she 
 considered as highly imprudent. There was nopossiuil- 
 ity of conjecturing in what light the matter misht strike 
 old David, whose manner of acting and thinking in ex-
 
 172 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 traordinary circumstances depended upon feelings and 
 principles peculiar to himself, and the operation of which 
 could not be calculated upon even by those best acquaint- 
 ed with him. To have requested some female friend to 
 have accompanied her to the place of rendezvous, would 
 perhaps have been the most eligible expedient ; but the 
 threats of the writer, that betraying his secret would pre- 
 vent their meeting (on which her sister's safety was said 
 to depend) from taking place at all, would have deterred 
 her from making such a confidence, even had she known 
 a person in whom she thought it could with safety have 
 been reposed. But she knew none such. Their ac- 
 quaintance with the cottagers in the vicinity had been 
 very slight, and Hmited to httle trifling acts of good neigh- 
 bourhood. Jeanie knew little of them, and what she 
 knew did not greatly incline her to trust any of them. 
 They were of the order of loquacious good-humoured 
 gossips usually found in their situation of life ; and their 
 conversation had at all times few charms for a young 
 woman, to whom nature and the circumstance of a soli- 
 tary hfe had given a depth of thought and force of char- 
 acter, superior to the frivolous part of her sex, whether 
 in high or low degree. 
 
 Left alone and separated from all earthly counsel, she 
 had recourse to a friend and adviser, whose ear is open 
 to the cry of the poorest and most afflicted of his people. 
 She knelt, and prayed with fervent sincerity, that God 
 would please to direct her what course to follow in her 
 arduous and distressing situation. It was the belief of 
 the time and sect to which she belonged, that special an- 
 swers to prayer, differing little in their character from 
 divine inspiration, were, as they expressed it, '• borne in 
 upon their minds," in answer to their earnest petitions in a 
 crisis of difficulty. Without entering into an abstruse point 
 of divinity, one thing is plain ; namely, that the person 
 who lays open his doubts and distresses in prayer, with 
 feeling and sincerity, must necessarily, in the act of doing 
 so, purify his mind from the dross of worldly passions 
 and interests, and bring it into that state, when the reso-
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 173 
 
 lutions adopted are likely to be selected rather from a 
 sense of duty, than from any inferior motive. Jeanie 
 arose from her devotions, with her heart fortified to en- 
 dure affliction, and encouraged to face difficulties. 
 
 " I will meet with this unhappy man," she said to 
 herself — " unhappy he must be, since I doubt he has 
 been the cause of poor Effie's misfortune — but I will 
 meet him, be it for good or ill. My mind shall never 
 cast up to me, that, for fear of what might be said or 
 done to me, I left that undone that might even yet be the 
 rescue of her." 
 
 With a mind greatly composed since the adoption of 
 this resolution, she went to attend her father. The old 
 man, firm in the principles of his youth, did not, in out- 
 ward appearance at least, permit a thought of his family 
 distress to interfere with the stoical reserve of his coun- 
 tenance and manners. He even chid his daughter for 
 having neglected, in the distress of the morning, some 
 trifling domestic duties which fell under her department. 
 
 " Why, what meaneth this, Jeanie 9" said the old man 
 — " The brown four-year-auld's milk is not seiled yet, 
 nor the bowies put up on the bink. If ye neglect your 
 warldly duties in the day of affliction, what confidence 
 have I that ye mind the greater matters that concern sal- 
 vation 9 God knows, our bowies, and our pipkins, and 
 our draps o' milk, and our bits o' bread, are nearer and 
 dearer to us than the bread of life." 
 
 Jeanie, not unpleased to hear her father's thoughts thus 
 expand themselves beyond the sphere of his immediate 
 distress, obeyed him, and proceeded to put her house- 
 hold matters in order; while old David moved from 
 place to place about his ordinary employments, scarce 
 showing, unless by a nervous impatience at remaining long 
 stationary, an occasional convulsive sigh, or twinkle of the 
 eye-lid, that he was labouring under the yoke of such 
 bitter affliction. 
 
 The hour of noon came on, and the father and child 
 sat down to their homely repast. In his petition for a 
 
 15* VOL. I.
 
 174 TALES OF MY LANDLORD, 
 
 blessing on the meal, the poor old man added to his sup- 
 plication, a prayer that the bread eaten in bitterness, and 
 the waters of Merah, might be made as nourishing as 
 those which had been poured forth from a full cup and a 
 plentiful basket and store ; and having concluded his ben- 
 ediction, and resumed the bonnet which he had laid " rev- 
 erently aside," he proceeded to exhort his daughter to 
 eat, not by example indeed, but at least by precept. 
 
 " The man after God's own heart," he said, " washed 
 and anointed himself, and did eat bread, in order to ex- 
 press his submission under a dispensation of suffering, and 
 it did not become a Christian man or woman so to cling 
 to creature-comforts of wife or bairns," — (here the words 
 became too great, as it were, for his utterance) — " as to 
 forget the first duty — submission to the Divine will." 
 
 To add force to his precept, he took a morsel on his 
 plate, but nature proved too strong even for the powerful 
 feelings with which he endeavoured to bridle it. Asham- 
 ed of his weakness, he started up, and ran out of the 
 house, with haste very unlike the dehberation of his usual 
 movements. In less than five minutes he returned, hav- 
 ing successfully struggled to recover his usual composure 
 of mind and countenance, and affected to colour over his 
 late retreat, by muttering that he thought he heard " the 
 young staig loose in the byre." 
 
 He did not again trust himself with the subject of his 
 former conversation, and his daughter was glad to see that 
 he seemed to avoid farther discourse on that agitating 
 topic. The hours glided on, as on they must and do pass, 
 whether winged with joy or laden with affliction. The 
 sun set beyond the dusky eminence of the Castle, and the 
 screen of western hills, and the close of day summoned 
 David Deans and his daughter to the family duty of the 
 evening. It came bitterly upon Jeanie's recollection, how 
 often, when the hour of worship approached, she used to 
 watch the lengthening shadows, and look out from the door 
 of the house, to see if she could spy her sister's return 
 homeward. Alas ! this idle and thoughtless waste of time, 
 to what evils had it not finally led *? and was she alto-
 
 THE HEART OP MID-LOTHIAX. 175 
 
 gether guiltless, who, noticing Effie's turn to idle and light 
 society, had not called in her father's authority to restrain 
 her '] — But I acted for the best, she again reflected ; and 
 who could have expected such a flood of evil from one 
 grain of human leven, in a disposition so kind, and can- 
 did, and generous ? 
 
 As they sat down to the " exercise," as it is called, a 
 chair happened accidentally to stand in the place which 
 Effie usually occupied. David Deans saw his daughter's 
 eyes swim in tears as they were directed towards this ob- 
 ject, and pushed it aside, with a gesture of some impa- 
 tience, as if desirous to destroy every memorial of earthly 
 interest when about to address the Deity. The portion 
 of scripture was read, the psalm was sung, the prayer was 
 made ; and it was remarkable, that, in discharging these 
 duties, the old man avoided all passages and expressions, 
 of which Scripture affords so many, that might be con- 
 sidered as applicable to his own domestic misfortunes. 
 In doing so it w^as perhaps his intention to spare the feel- 
 ings of his daughter, as well as to maintain, in outward 
 show at least, that stoical appearance of patient endurance 
 of all the evil which earth could bring, which was, in his 
 opinion, essential to the character of one who rated all 
 earthly things at their own just estimate of nothingness. 
 When he had finished the duty of the evening, he came 
 up to his daughter, wished her good-night, and, having 
 done so, continued to hold her by the hands for half a 
 minute ; then drawing her towards him, kissed her fore- 
 head, and ejaculated, " The God of Israel bless you, even 
 whh the blessings of the promise, my dear bairn !" 
 
 It was not either in the nature or habits of David Deans 
 to seem a fond father ; nor was he often known to expe- 
 rience, or at least to evince, that fulness of the heart which 
 seeks to expand itself in tender expressions or caresses 
 even to those who were dearest to him. On the contrary, 
 he used to censure this as a degree of weakness in several 
 of his neighbours, and particularly in poor widow Butler. 
 It followed, however, from the rarity of such emotions in 
 this self-denied and reserved man, that his children attach-
 
 176 TAXES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 ed to occasional marks of his affection and approbation a 
 degree of high interest and solemnity ; well considering 
 them as evidences of feelings which were only exhibited 
 when they became too intense for suppression or con- 
 cealment. 
 
 With deep emotion, therefore, did he bestow, and his 
 daughter receive, this benediction and paternal caress. 
 " And you, my dear father," exclaimed Jeanie, when the 
 door had closed upon the venerable old man, " may you 
 have purchased and promised blessings multiphed .upon 
 you — upon you, who walk in this world as though you 
 were not of the world, and hold all tiiat it can give or take 
 from 3'ou but as the midges that the sun-bhnk brings out, 
 and the evening wind sweeps away !" 
 
 She now made preparation {qx her night-walk. Her 
 father slept in another part of the dwelling, and, regular 
 in all his habits, seldom or never left his apartment when 
 he had betaken himself to it for the evening. It was 
 therefore easy for her to leave the house unobserved, so 
 soon as the time approached at which she was to keep 
 her appointment. But the step she was about to take had 
 difficulties and terrors in her own eyes, though she had no 
 reason to apprehend her father's interference. Her life 
 had been spent in the quiet, uniforu], and regular seclu- 
 sion of their peaceful and monotonous household. The 
 very hour which some damsels of the present day, as well 
 of her own as of higher degree, would consider as the 
 natural period of commencing an evening of pleasure, 
 brought, in her opinion, awe and solemnity in it ; and the 
 resolution she had taken had a strange, daring, and ad- 
 venturous character, to which she could hardly reconcile 
 herself when the moment approached for putting it into 
 execution. Her hands trembled as she snooded her fair 
 hair beneath the ribbon, then the only ornament or cover 
 which young unmarried women wore on their head, and 
 as she adjusted the scarlet tartan screen or muffler made 
 of plaid, which the Scottish women wore, much in the 
 fashion of the black silk veils still a part of female dress 
 in the Netherlands. A sejise of impropriety as well as
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. 1<< 
 
 of danger jDressed upon her as she Hfted the latch of her 
 paternal mansion to leave it on so wild an expedition, and 
 at so late an hour, unprotected, and without the knowledge 
 of her natural guardian. 
 
 When she found herself abroad and in the open fields, 
 additional subjects of apprehension crowded upon her. 
 The dim cliifs and scattered rocks, interspersed wdth green 
 sward, through which she had to pass to the place of ap- 
 pointment, as they ghmmered before her in a clear au- 
 tumn night, recalled to her memory many a deed of vio- 
 lence, which, according to tradition, had been done and 
 suffered among them. In earlier days they had been the 
 haunt of robbers and assassins, the memory of whose 
 crimes is preserved in the various edicts which the council 
 of the city, and even the parliament of Scotland, had 
 passed for dispersing their bands, and insuring safety to 
 the heges, so near the precmcts of the city. The names 
 of these criminals, and of their atrocities, wese still remem- 
 bered in traditions of the scattered cottages and the neigh- 
 bouring suburb. In latter times, as we have already no- 
 ticed, the sequestered and broken character of the ground 
 rendered it a fit theatre for duels and rencontres among 
 the fiery youth of that period. Two or three of these 
 incidents, all sanguinary, and one of them fatal in its ter- 
 mination, had happened since Deans came to live at St. 
 Leonard's. His daughter's recollections, therefore, were 
 of blood and horror as she pursued the small scarce- 
 tracked solitary path, every step of which conveyed her 
 to a greater distance from help, and deeper into the om- 
 inous seclusion of these unhallowed precincts. 
 
 As the moon began to peer forth on the scene with a 
 doubtful, flitting, and solemn light, Jeanie's apprehensions 
 took another turn, too peculiar to her rank and country to 
 remain unnoticed. But to trace its origin will require 
 another chapter.
 
 l'7B TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 The Spirit I have seen 
 May be the devil : And the devil has power 
 To assume a pleasing shape. 
 
 Hamlet. 
 
 Witchcraft and demonology, as we have already had 
 occasion to remark, were at this period beheved in by al- 
 most all ranks, but more especially among the stricter 
 classes of presbyterians, whose government, when at the 
 head of the state, had been much sullied by their eager- 
 ness to inquire into, and persecute these imaginary criuies. 
 Now, in this point of view also. Saint Leonard's Crags 
 and the adjacent Chase were a dreaded and ill-reputed 
 district. Not only had witches held their meetings there, 
 but even of very late years the enthusiast, or impostor, 
 mentioned in Baxter's World of Spirits, had, among the 
 recesses of these romantic cliffs, found his way into the 
 hidden retreats where the fairies revel in the bowels of 
 the earth. 
 
 With all these legends Jeanie Deans was too well ac- 
 quainted, to escape that strong impression which they usu- 
 ally make on the imagination. Indeed, relations of this 
 ghostly kind had been famihar to her from her infancy, 
 for they were the only relief which her father's conversa- 
 tion afforded from controversial argument, or the gloomy 
 .history of the strivings and testimonies, escapes, captures, 
 tortures, and executions of those martyrs of the covenant, 
 with whom it was his chiefest boast to say he had been 
 acquainted. In the recesses of mountains, in caverns, 
 and in morasses, to which these persecuted enthusiasts 
 were so ruthlessly pursued, they conceived they had often 
 to contend with the visible assaults of the Enemy of Man- 
 kind, as in the cities, and in the cultivated fields, they 
 were exposed to those of the tyrannical government and 
 their soldiery. Such were the terrors which made one
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 179 
 
 of their gifted seers exclaim, when his companion return- 
 ed to him, after having left him alone in a haunted caveni 
 in Sorn in Galloway, " It is hard Hving in this world — in- 
 carnate devils above the earth, and devils under the earth ! 
 Satan has been here since ye went away, but I have dis- 
 missed him by resistance ; we will be no more troubled 
 with him this night." David Deans believed this, and 
 many other such ghostly encounters and victories, on the 
 faith of the Ansars, or auxiliaries of the banished prophets. 
 This event was beyond David's remembrance. Bui he 
 used to tell with great awe, yet not without a feeling oi 
 proud superiority to his auditors, how he himself had been 
 present at a field-meeting at Crochmade, where the duty 
 of the day was interrupted by the apparition of a tall 
 black man, who, in the act of crossing a ford to join .the 
 congregation, lost ground, and was carried down appar- 
 ently by the force of the stream. All were instantly at 
 work to assist him, but with so little success, that ten or 
 twelve stout men, who had hold of the rope which they 
 had cast in to his aid, were rather in danger to be dragged 
 into the stream, and lose their own lives, than likely to 
 save that of the supposed perishing man. " But famous 
 John Semple of Carsphairn," David Deans used to say 
 with exultation, " saw the whaupin the rape, — ' Quit the 
 tow,' he cried to us, (for 1 that was but a callant had a 
 baud o' the rape mysell ;) ' it is the Great Enemy ; he 
 will burn, but not drown ; his design is to disturb tlie good 
 work, by raising wonder and confusion in your minds ; 
 to put off from your spirits all that ye hae heard and felt.' 
 — Sae we let go the rape," said David, " and he went 
 adown the water screeching and bullering like a Bull of 
 Bashan, as he is ca'd in Scripture." 
 
 Trained in these and similar legends, it was no wonder 
 that Jeanie began to feel an ill-defined apprehension, not 
 merf ly of the phantoms which might beset her way, but 
 of tli(" quality, nature, and purpose of the being who had 
 thus appointed her a meeting, at a place and hour of hor- 
 ror, and at a time when her mind must be necessarily full 
 of those tempting and ensnaring thoughts of grief and
 
 180 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 despair, which were supposed to lay sufferers particularly 
 open to the temptatioiiS of tne Evil One. If such an idea 
 had crossed even Britler's well-uiforined mind, it was cal- 
 culated to make a much stronger impression upon her's. 
 Yet, firmly believins; the possibility of an encounter so 
 terrible to flesh ana fjiood, Jeanie, with a degree of reso- 
 lution of which we cannot sufficiently estimate the merit, 
 because the incredulity of the age has rendered us stran- 
 gers to the nature and extent of her feelings, persevered 
 in her determination not to omit an opportunity of doing 
 something iovvyrds saving her sister, although, in the at- 
 tempt to avail herself of it, she might be exposed to dan- 
 gers so dreadful to her imagination. So, hke Christiana 
 m the Pilgrim's Progress, when traversing with a timid 
 yet resolved step, the terrors of the Valley of the Shadow 
 of Death, slie glided on by rock and stone, " now in glim- 
 mer and now in gloom," as Ijer path lay through moon- 
 light or shadow, and endeavoured to overpovver the sug- 
 gestions of fear, sometimes by fixing her mind upon the 
 distressed condition of her sister, and the duty she lay 
 under to afford her aid, should that be in her power ; and 
 more frequently by recurring in mental prayer to the.pro- 
 tection of that Beiijg to whom night is as noon-day. 
 
 Thus, drowning at one time her fears by fixing her mind 
 on a subject of overpowering interest, and arguing them 
 down at others by referring herself to the protection of 
 the Deity, she at length approached the place assigned 
 for this mysterious conference. 
 
 It was situated in the depth of the valley behind Salis- 
 bury Crags, which has for a back-ground the north-west- 
 ern shoulder of the mountain called Arthur's Seat, on 
 whose descent still remain the ruins of what was once a 
 chapel, or hermitage, dedicated to Saint Anthony the 
 Eremite. A better site for such a building could hardly 
 have been selected ; for the chapel, situated among the 
 rude and pathless cliffs, lies in a desert, even in the im- 
 mediate vicinity of a rich, populous, and tumultuous cap- 
 ital ; and the hum of the capital might mingle with the 
 orisons of the recluses, conveying as little of worldly in-
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 181 
 
 terest as if it had been the roar of the distant ocean. 
 Beneath the steep ascent on which these ruins are still 
 visible, was, and perhaps is still pointed out, the place 
 where the wretch Nicol Muschat, who has been already 
 mentioned in these pages, had closed a long scene of cru- 
 elty towards his unfortunate wife, by murdering her, with 
 circumstances of uncommon barbarity. The execration 
 in which the man's crime was held, extended itself to the 
 place where it was perpetrated, which was marked by a 
 small cairn, or heap of stones, composed of those which 
 each chance passenger had thrown there in testimony .of 
 abhorrence, and on the principle, it would seem, of the 
 ancient British malediction, " May you have a cairn lor 
 your burial-place !" 
 
 As our heroine approached this ominous and unhallow- 
 ed spot, she paused and looked to the moon, now rising 
 broad on the north-west, and shedding a more distinct 
 ligiit than it had afforded during her walk thither. Eye- 
 ing the planet for a moment, she then slowly and fearfully 
 turned her head towards the cairn from which it was at 
 first averted. She was at first disappointed. JNothing 
 was visible beside the little pile of stones, which shone 
 grey in the moonlight. A multitude of confused sugges- 
 tions rushed on her mind. Had her correspondent de- 
 ceived her, and broken his appointment 1 — was he too 
 tardy at the appointment he had made 9 — or had some 
 strange turn of fate prevented him from appearing as he 
 proposed 9 — or if he were an unearthly being, as her se- 
 cret apprehensions suggested, was it his object merely to 
 delude her with false hopes, and put her to unnecessary 
 toil and terror, according to the nature, as she had heard, 
 of those wandering demons 9 — or did he propose to blast 
 
 r whh the sudden horrors of his presence when she 
 had come close to the place of rendezvous. These 
 anxious reflections did not prevent her approaching to the 
 cairn with a pace that, though slow, was determined. 
 
 When she was within two yards of the heap of stones, 
 a figure rose suddenly up from behind it, and Jeanie scarce 
 
 16 VOL. T.
 
 182 TALES OF MT LANDLORD. 
 
 forbore to scream aloud at what seemed the realization 
 of the most frightful of her anticipation^. She constrain- 
 ed herself to silence, however, and, making a dead pause, 
 suffered the figure to open the conversation, which he did, 
 by asking, in a voice which agitation rendered tremulous 
 and hollow, " Are you the sister of that ill-fated young 
 woman '?" 
 
 " I am — I am the sister of Effie Deans !" exclaimed 
 Jeanie. " And as ever you hope God will hear you at 
 your need, tell me, if you can tell, what can be done to 
 save her !" 
 
 " I do not hope God will hear me at my need," was 
 the singular answer. " I do not deserve — I do not ex- 
 pect he will." Tliis desperate language he uttered in a 
 tone cahner than that with which he had at first spoken, 
 })robably because the shock of first addressing her was 
 what he felt most difficult to overcome. Jeanie remained 
 mute with horror to hear language expressed so utterly 
 foreign to all which she had ever been acquainted with, 
 that it sounded in her ears rather like that of a fiend than 
 of a human being. The stranger pursued his address to 
 her without seeming to notice her surprise. " You see 
 before vou a wretch, predestined to evil here and here- 
 after."' 
 
 " For the sake of Heaven, that hears and sees us," said 
 Jeanie, " dinna speak in this desperate fashion ! The 
 gospel is sent to the chief of sinners — to the most miser- 
 able among the miserable." 
 
 " Then should I have my own share therein," said the 
 stranger, " if you call it sinful to have been the destruc- 
 tion of the mother that bore me — of the friend that loved 
 me — of the woman that trusted me — of the innocent child 
 that was born to me. If to have done all this is to be a 
 sinner, and to survive it is to be miserable, then am I most 
 guilty and most miserable indeed." 
 
 " Then you are the wicked cause of my sister's ruin 9" 
 said Jeanie, with a natural touch of indignation expressed 
 in her tone of voice.
 
 THE HEART 01' MID'tOTHIAX. 183 
 
 " Curse me for it, if you will," said the stranger ; " I 
 have well deserved it at your hand." 
 
 It is fitter for me," said Jeanie, " to pray to God to 
 
 y 
 
 »" Do as you will, how you will, or what you will,'* he 
 repHed, with vehemence ; " only promise to obey my 
 directions, and save your sister's life." 
 
 " 1 must first know," said Jeanie, '• the means you 
 would have me use in her behalf." 
 
 *• No ! — you must first swear — solemnly swear, that you 
 will employ them, when I make them known to you." 
 
 " Surely it is needless to swear that I will do all that 
 is lawful to a Christian, to save the life of my sister 9" 
 
 " I will have no reservation !" thundered the stranger ; 
 " lawful or unlawful. Christian or heathen, you shall swear 
 to do my liest, and aci hy my counsel, or — you little 
 know whose wrath you provoke !" 
 
 " I will think on what you have said," said Jeanie, who 
 began to get much alarmed at the frantic vehemence of 
 his manner, and disputed in her own mind whether she 
 spoke to a maniac, or an apostate spirit incarnate — " I will 
 think on what you say, and let you ken to-morrow." 
 
 " To-morrow ?" exclaimed the man, with a laugh of 
 scorn — " And where will I be to-morrow f — or, where 
 will you be to-night, unless you swear to walk by my 
 counsel 9 — There was one accursed deed done at this spot 
 before now ; and there shall be another to match it, un- 
 less you yield up to my guidance body and soul." 
 
 As he spoke, he offered a pistol at the unfortunate young 
 woman. She neither fled nor fainted, but sunk on her 
 knees, and asked him to spare her life. 
 
 " Is that all you have to say 9" 
 
 *' Do not dip your hands in the blood of a defenceless 
 creature that has trusted to you," said Jeanie, still on her 
 knees. 
 
 " Is that all you can say for your hfe/? — Have you no 
 promise to give ? — Will you destroy your sister, and com- 
 pel me to shed more blood 9"
 
 184 TALES 0¥ MY liAXDLORD. 
 
 " I can promise nothing," said Jeanie, " which is un- 
 lawful for a Christain." 
 
 He cocked the weapon, and held it towards her. 
 
 " IMay God forgive you !" she said, pressing her hands 
 forcibly against her eyes. 
 
 " D n !" muttered the man ; and, turning aside 
 
 from her, he uncocked the pistol, and replaced it in his 
 pocket — " I am a villain," he said, " steeped in guilt and 
 wretchedness, but not wicked enough to do you any harm ! 
 T only wished to terrify you into my measures — She hears 
 nie not — she. is gone ! — Great God ! what a wretch am 
 T become !" 
 
 As he spoke, she recovered herself from an agony 
 which partook of the bitterness of death ; and, in a min- 
 ute or two, th'tough the strong exertion of her natural sense 
 and courage, collected hpr^elf sumcienily to understand 
 he inicndcu her no personal injury. 
 
 " No !" he repeated ; " I would not add to the mur- 
 der of your sister, and of her child, that of any one be- 
 longing to her — 31ad, frantic as I am, and unrestrained by 
 either fear or mercy, given up to the possession of an evil 
 being, and forsaken by all that is good, I would not hurt 
 you, were the world offered me for a bribe I But, for the 
 sake of all that is dear to you, swear you will follow my 
 counsel. Take this weapon, shoot me through the head, 
 and with your own hand revenge your sister's wrong, only 
 follow the course — the only course, by which her life can 
 be saved." 
 
 " Alas ! is she innocent or guilty ?" 
 
 " She is guiltless — guihless of every thing, but of having 
 trusted a villain ! — Yet had it not been for those that were 
 worse than I am, — yes, worse than I am, though I am 
 bad enough — this misery had not befallen." 
 
 " And my sister's child — does it live V^ said Jeanie. 
 
 " No ; it was murdered — the new-born infant was bar- 
 barously murdered," he uttered in a low, yet stern and 
 sustained voice ; — " but," he added hastily, " not by her 
 knowledge or consent."
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. 185 
 
 " Then, why cannot the guilty be brought to justice, 
 and the innocent fre.ed ?" 
 
 " Torment me j]^t with questions which can serve no 
 purpose," he sternly lephed — " The deed was done by 
 those who are far enough from pursuit, and safe enough 
 from discovery ! — No one can save Effie but yourself." 
 
 " Woes me ! how is it in my power '?" asked Jeanie, 
 in despondency. 
 
 " Hearken to me ! — You have sense, — you can appre- 
 hend my meaning — I will trust you — Your sister i^ inno- 
 cent of the crime charged against her" 
 
 " Thank God for that !" said Jeanie. 
 
 " Be still and hearken ! — The person who assisted her 
 in her illness murdered her child ; but it was without the 
 mother's knowledge or consent — She is therefore guilt- 
 less, as guiltless as the unhappy innocent, that but gasped 
 a few minutes ifl this unhappy world — the better was its 
 hap to be soon at rest. She is as innocent as that infant, 
 and vet she must die — it is impossible to clear her of 
 the law !" 
 
 " Cannot the wretches be discovered, and given up to 
 punishment 9" said Jeanie. 
 
 " Do you think you v.ill persuade those who are hard- 
 ened in guilt to die to save another t — Is that the reed 
 you would lean to f" 
 
 " But you said there was a remedy," again gasped out 
 the terrified young woman. 
 
 '• There is," answered the stranger, " and it is in your 
 own hands. The blow which the law aims cannot be 
 broken by directly encountering it, but it may be turned 
 aside. You saw your sister during the period preceding 
 the birth of her child — what is so natural as that she should 
 have mentioned her condition to you f The doing so 
 would, as their cant goes, take the case from under the 
 statute, for it removes the quality of concealment. I 
 know their jargon, and have had sad cause to know it ; 
 and the quality of concealment is essential to this statutory 
 offence. Nothing is so natural as that Effie should have 
 
 16* VOL. I.
 
 186 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 mentioned her condition to you — think — reflect-^I am 
 positive that she did." 
 
 " Woes me !" said Jeanie, " she never spoke to me 
 on the subject, but grat sorely when I spoke to her about 
 her altered looks, and the change on her spirits." 
 
 " You asked her questions on the subject .''" he said 
 eagerly. " You must remember her answer was, a con- 
 fession that she had been ruined by a villain — yes, lay a 
 strong emphasis on that — a cruel false villain, call it: — any 
 other i^Tie is unnecessary ; and that she bore under her 
 bosom the consequences of his guilt and her folly ; and 
 that he had assured her he would provide safely for her 
 approaching illness. — Well he kept his word !" These 
 last words he spoke as it were to himself, and with a vio- 
 lent gesture of self-accusation, and then calmly proceed- 
 ed, " You will remember all this f — That is all that is 
 necessary to be said." % 
 
 " But I cannot remember," answered Jeanie, with sim- 
 plicity, " that which Effie never told me." 
 
 " Are you so dull — so very dull of apprehension !" he 
 exclaimed, suddenly grasping her arm, and holding it firm 
 in his hand. " 1 tell you," speaking between his teeth, 
 and under his breath, but with great energy, " you must 
 remember that she told you all this, whether she ever said 
 a syllable of it or no. You must repeat tbis tale, in which 
 there is no falsehood, (except in so far as it was not told 
 to you till now,) before these Justices — Justiciary — what- 
 soever they call their blood-thirsty court, and save your 
 sister from being murdered, and them from becoming 
 murderers. Do not hesitate — 1 pledge life and salvation, 
 that in saying what I have said, you will only speak the 
 simple truth." 
 
 " But," replied Jeanie, whose judgment was too ac- 
 curate not to see the sophistry of this argument, " I shall 
 be man-sw^orn in the very thing in which my testimony is 
 wanted, for it is the concealment for which poor EfFie is 
 blamed, and you would make me tell a falsehood anent it." 
 
 " I see," he said, " my first suspicions of you were 
 rightj and that you will let your sister, innocent, fair, and
 
 THE HEART OF MID-L0THIA>'. 187 
 
 guiltless, except in trusting a villain, die the death of a 
 murdress. rather than bestow the breath of your mouth 
 and the sound of your voice to save her." 
 
 '* I wad ware the best blood in my body to keep her 
 skaithless," said Jeanie, weeping in bitter agony, " but I 
 canna change right into wrang, or make that true which 
 is false." 
 
 '•' Foolish, hard-hearted girl," said the stranger, " are 
 you afraid of what they may do to you ? I tell you, even 
 the retainers of the law, who course Yde as greyhounds do 
 hares, will rejoice at the escape of a creature so young — 
 so beautiful ; that they will not suspect your tale ; that, 
 if they did suspect it, they would consider you as deserv- 
 ing, not only of forgiveness, but of praise for your natu- 
 ral affection." 
 
 " It is not man I fear," said Jeanie, looking upward ; 
 " the God, whose name I must call on to witness the truth 
 of what I say, he will know the falsehood." 
 
 " And he will know the motive," said the stranger, ea- 
 gerly ; '• he will know that you are doing this — not for 
 lucre of gain, but to save the hfe of the innocent, and 
 prevent the commission of a worse crime than that which 
 the law seeks to avenge." 
 
 '• He has given us a law," said Jeanie, " for the lamp 
 of our path ; if we stray from it, we err against know- 
 ledge — I may not do e\il, even that good may come out of 
 it. But you — you that ken all this to be true, which I 
 must take on your word, — you that, if I understood what 
 you said e'en now, promised her shelter and protection in 
 her travail, why do not you step forward, and bear leal 
 and soothfast evidence in her behalf, as ye may with a 
 clear conscience .''" 
 
 " To whom do you talk of a clear conscience, wo- 
 man .'" said he, with a sudden fierceness which renewed 
 her terrors, " to me ? — I have not known one for many a 
 year. Bear witness in her behalf ': — a proper witness, 
 that even to speak these few words to a woman of so little 
 consequence as yourself, must choose such an hour and 
 such a place as this. When you see owls and bats fly
 
 188 TALES OF MY LANDLORD, 
 
 abroad, like larks in the sunshine, you may expect to 
 see such as I am in the assemblies of men. — Hush ! — 
 listen to that." 
 
 A voice was heard to sing one of those wild and mo- 
 notonous strains so common in Scotland, and to which the 
 natives of that country chant their old ballads. The 
 sound ceased — then came nearer, and was renewed ; the 
 stranger listened attentively, still holding Jeanie by the arm, 
 (as she stood by him in motionless terror,) as if to pre- 
 vent her interrupting the strain by speaking or stirring. 
 When the sounds were renewed, the words were distinct- 
 ly audible : 
 
 •■' When the gledd's in the blue cloud, 
 
 The lavrock lies still : 
 When the hound's in the green-wood, 
 
 The hind keeps the hill." 
 
 The person who sung kept a strained and powerful voice 
 at its very highest pitch, so that it could be heard at a 
 very considerable distance. As the song ceased, they 
 might hear a stifled sound, as of steps and whispers of 
 persons approaching them. The song was again raised, 
 but the tune was changed : 
 
 '■' Oh sleep ye sound, Sir James, she said, 
 
 When ye suld rise and ride ? 
 There's twenty men. wi' bow and blade. 
 
 Are seeking- where ye hide." 
 
 '' I dare stay no longer," said the stranger ; *' return 
 home, or remain till they come up — you have nothing to 
 fear — but do not tell you saw me — your sister's fate is 
 in your hands." So saying, he turned from her, and 
 with a svv^ift, yet cautiously noiseless step, plunged into 
 the darkness on the side most remote from the sounds 
 which they heard approaching, and v/as soon lost to her 
 sight. Jeanie remained by the cairn, terrified beyond 
 expression, and uncertain whether she ought to fly home- 
 ward with all the speed she could exert, or wait the ap- 
 proach of those who were advancing towards her. This
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 189 
 
 uncertainty detained her so long, that she now distinctly 
 saw two or three figures already so near to her, that a 
 precipitate flight would have been equally fruitless and 
 inipohtic. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 She speaks things in doubt, 
 
 That carry but half sense : her speech is nothing, 
 Yet the uushaped use of it doth move 
 The hearers to collection ; they aim at it, 
 And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts. 
 
 Hamlet. 
 
 Like the digressive poet Ariosto, 1 find n:}'oClf "sdcr 
 the necessity of connecting the branches of my story, by 
 taking up the adventures of another of the characters, 
 and bringing them down to the point at which we have 
 left those of Jeanie Deans. It is not, perhaps, the most 
 artificial way of teOing a story, but it has the advantage 
 of sparing the necessity of resuming what a knitter (if 
 stocking-looms have left such a person in the land) might 
 call our " dropped stitches ;" a labour in which the au- 
 thor generally toils much, without getting credit for his 
 pains. 
 
 " I could risk a sma' wad," said the clerk to the mag- 
 istrate, " that this rascal RatclifFe, if he was insured of 
 his neck's safety, could do more than ony ten of our po- 
 lice people and constables, to help us to get out of this 
 scrape of Porteous's. He is weel acquent wi' a' the 
 smugglers, thieves, and banditti about Edinburgh ; and, 
 indeed, he may be called the father of a' the misdoersin 
 Scotland, for he has passed amang them for these twenty 
 years by the name of Daddie Rat." 
 
 " A bonny sort of a scoundrel," replied the magis- 
 trate, *' to expect a place under the city !"
 
 190 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 " Begging your honour's pardon," said the city's pro- 
 curator-fiscal, upon whom the duties of superintendent of 
 police devolved, " Mr. Fairscrieve is perfectly in the 
 right. It is just sic as Ratcliffe that the town needs in my 
 department ; an' if sae be that he's disposed to turn his 
 knowledge to the city-service, ye'll no find a better man. 
 — Ye'll get nae saints to be searchers for uncustomed 
 ^^oods, or for thieves and sic like ; — and your decent sort 
 of men, religious professors, and broken tradesmen, that 
 are put into the like o' sic trust, can do nae gude ava. 
 They are feared for this, and they are scrupulous about 
 that, and they arena free to tell a lie, though it may be for 
 the benefit of the city ; and they dinna hke to be out at 
 irregular hours, and in a dark cauld night, and they like a 
 clout ower the croun far waur 5 and sae between the 
 fear n' God, and the fear o' man, and the fear o' getting 
 Z Sair uiiOai, OF salr baRCS, there's a dozen o' our city- 
 folk, baith waiters, and officers, and constables, that can 
 find out naething but a wee-bit skulduddery for the benefit 
 of the Kirk-treasurer. Jock Porteous, that's stiff and 
 stark, puir fallow, was worth a dozen o' them ; for he 
 never had ony fears, or scruples, or doubts, or conscience, 
 about ony thing your honours bade him." 
 
 " He was a gude servant o' the town," said the Baillie, 
 " though he was an ower free-living man. But if you 
 really think this rascal Ratcliffe could do us ony service 
 in discovering these malefactors, I would insure him hfe, 
 reward, and promotion. It's an awsome thing this mis- 
 chance for the city, Mr. Fairscrieve. It will be very ill 
 tane wi' abune stairs. Queen Caroline, God bless her, 
 is a woman — at least 1 judge sae, and its nae treasop to 
 speak my mind sae far — and ye maybe ken as weel as I 
 do, for ye hae a housekeeper, though you are nae mar- 
 ried man, that women are wilfu', and downa bide a slight. 
 And it will sound ill in her ears, that sic a confused mis- 
 take suld come to pass, and naebody sae muckle as to be 
 put into the Tolbooth about it." 
 
 " If ye thought that, sir," said the procurator-fiscal, 
 *' we could easily clap into the prison a few blackguards
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAK^. 191 
 
 upon suspicion. It will have a gude active look, and I 
 hae aye plenty on my list, that vvadna be a hair the waur 
 of a week or tvva's imprisonment ; and if ye thought it 
 no strictly just, ye could be just the easier wi' them the 
 neist time they did ony thing to deserve it ; they arena 
 the sort to be lang o' geeing ye an opportunity to clear 
 scores wi' them on that account." 
 
 " I doubt that will hardly do in this case, Mr. Sharpit- 
 law," returned the town-clerk ; " they'll run their letters, 
 and be adrift again, before ye ken where ye are." 
 
 " I will spewk to the Lord Provost," said the magis- 
 trate, " about RatclifFe's business. Mr. Sharpitlaw, you 
 will go with me and receive instructions — something may 
 be made, too, out of this story of Butler's and his un- 
 known gentleman — I know no business any man has to 
 swrgger about m the King's Park, and call himself the 
 devil, to the terror of honest folks, who dinna care to hear 
 mair about the dev^il than is said from the pulpit on the 
 Sabbath. I cannot think the preacher himsell wad be 
 heading the mob, though the time has been, they hae 
 been as forward in a bruilzie as their neighbours." 
 
 '* But these times are lang bye," said Mr. Sharpitlaw^ 
 " In my father's time, there was mair search for silenced 
 ministers about the Bow-head and the Covenant-close, 
 and all the tents of Kedar, as they ca'd the dwellings o' 
 the godly in those days, than there's now for thieves and 
 vagabonds in the Laigh Calton and the back o' the Can- 
 ongate. But that time's weel bye, an' it bide. And if 
 the BaiUie will get me directions and authority from the 
 Provost, I'll speak wi' Dad die Rat my sell ; tor I'm think- 
 ing I'll make mair out o' him than ye'll do." 
 
 Mr. Sharpitlaw, being necessarily a man of high trust, 
 was accordingly empowered, in the course of the day, 
 to make such arrangements, as might seem in the emer- 
 gency most advantageous for the Good Town. He went 
 to the jail accordingly, and saw Ratcliffe in private. 
 
 The relative positions of a police-officer and a pro- 
 fessed thief bear a dif!<rrent complexion, according to 
 circumstances. The most obvious simile of a hawk
 
 192 TALES OF MY XANDLORD. 
 
 pouncing upon his prey is often least applicable. Some- 
 times the guardian of justice has the air of a cat watch- 
 ing a mouse, and, while he suspends his purpose of 
 springing upon the pilferer, taking care so to calculate his 
 motions that he shall not get beyond his power. Some- 
 times more passive still, he uses the art of fascination 
 ascribed to the rattle-snake, and contents himself with 
 glaring on the victim, through all his devious flutterings ; 
 certain that his terror, confusion-, and disorder of ideas, 
 will bring him into his jaws at last. The interview be- 
 tween Ratcliffe and Sharpitlaw had an aspect different 
 from all these. They sat for five minutes silent, on op- 
 posite sides of a small table, and looked fixedly at each 
 other, with a sharp, knowing, and alert cast of counte- 
 nance, not unmingled with an inclination to laugh, and 
 resembled, moi e than anything else, two dogs, who, pre- 
 psriiig for a game at romps, are seen to couch down, and 
 remain in that posture for a little time, watching each 
 other's movements, and waiting which shall begin the 
 game. 
 
 " So, Mr. Ratcliffe," said the officer, conceiving it 
 suited his dignity to speak first, " you give up business, 
 I find r' 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied Ratcliffe ; " I shall be on that lay 
 nae mair — and I think that will save your folk some 
 trouble, Mr. Sharpitlaw ?" 
 
 " Which Jock Dalgliesh" (then finisher of the law in 
 the Scottish metropolis) " wad save them as easily," re- 
 turned the procurator-fiscal. 
 
 " Ay ; if I waited in the Tolbooth here to have him 
 fit my cravat — but that's an idle way o' speaking, Mr. 
 Sharpitlaw." 
 
 " Why, I suppose you know you are under sentence 
 of death, Mr. Ratcliffe 9" replied Mr. Sharpitlaw. 
 
 " Ay, so are we a', as that worthy minister said in the 
 Tolbooth Kirk the day Robertson wan off; but naebody 
 kens when it will be executed. Gude faith, he had bet- 
 ter reason to say sae than he dreamed of, before the play 
 was played out that morning."
 
 THE HEART OF MID-JLOTHIAX. 193 
 
 " This Robertson," said Sharpillaw, in a lower and 
 something like a confidential tone, "d'ye ken, Rat — that 
 is, can ye gie us ony inkling where he is to be heard tell 
 o' 9" 
 
 " Troth, Mr. Sharpitlaw, I'll be frank wi' ye ; Robert- 
 son is rather a cut abune me — a wild deevil he was, and 
 mony a daft prank he played ; but except the Collector's 
 job that Wilson led him into, and some tuilzies about run 
 goods wi' the gangers and the waiters, he never did ony 
 thing that came near our line o' business." 
 
 " Umph ! that's singular, considering the company he 
 kept." 
 
 '* Fact, upon my honour and credit," said RatclifFe, 
 gravel}^ " He keepit out o' our litde bits of affairs, and 
 that's mair than Wilson did ; I hae dune business wi' Wil- 
 son afore now. But the lad will come on in time ; there's 
 nae fear o' him ; naebody will live the life he has led, 
 but what he'll come to sooner or later." 
 
 " Who or what is he, RatclifFe? you know, I sup- 
 pose 9" said Sharpitlaw. 
 
 " He's better born, I judge, than he cares to let on ; 
 he's been a soldier, and he has been a play-actor, and I 
 watna what he has been or hasna been, for as young as he 
 is, sae that it had dafSng and nonsense about it." 
 
 " Pretty pranks he has played in his time, I suppose .'*" 
 
 *' Ye may say that," said RatclilFe, with a sardonic 
 smile ; " and," (touching his nose,) " a deevil amang 
 the lasses." 
 
 " Like enough," said Sharpitlaw. " Weel, RatclifFe, 
 I'll no stand nifFering wi' ye ; ye ken the way that favour's 
 gotten in my office ; ye maun be usefu'." 
 
 " Certainly, sir, to the best of my power — naething for 
 naething — I ken the rule of the office," said the ex- 
 depredator. 
 
 " Now the principal thing in hand e'en now," said the 
 official person, " is this job of Porteous's ; an ye can gi'e 
 us a lift — why, the inner turnkey's office to begin wi', and 
 the captainship in time — ye understand my meaning *?" 
 
 17 VOL. I.
 
 194 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 " Ay, troth do I, sir ; a wink's as gude as a nod to a 
 blind horse ; but Jock Porteous's job — Lord help ye, I 
 was under sentence the haill time. God ! but J couldna 
 help laughing when I heard Jock skirhng for mercy in 
 the lads's hands ! Mony a het skin ye hae gi'en rne, neigh- 
 bour, thought I, tak ye what's gaun ; lime about's fair 
 play ; ye'll ken now what hanging's gude for." 
 
 " Come, come, this is all nonsense. Rat. Ye canna 
 creep out at that hole, lad ; you must speak to the point, 
 you understand me, if you want favour ; gif-gaf makes 
 gude friends, ye ken." 
 
 " But how can I speak to the point, as your honour 
 ca's it," said Ratcliffe, demurely, and with an air of great 
 simplicity, " when ye ken I was under sentence, and in 
 the strong-room a' the while the job was gaun on 9" 
 
 " And how' can we turn ye loose on the public again, 
 Daddie Rat, unless ye do or say something to deserve it .'^" 
 
 " Weel then, d — n it !" answered the criminal, 
 " since it maun be sae, I saw Geordie Robertson amang 
 the boys that brake the jail ; I suppose that will do me 
 some gude ?" 
 
 " That's speaking to the purpose, indeed," said the 
 office-bearer ; " and now, Rat, where think ye we'll find 
 him 9" 
 
 " De'il haet o' me kens," said Ratcliffe ; " he'll no 
 likely gang back to ony o' his auld howffs ; he'll be off 
 the country by this time. He has gude friends some 
 gate or other, for all the life he's led 5 he's been weel 
 educate." 
 
 " He'll grace the gallows the better," said Mr. Sharp- 
 itlavv ; " a desperate dog, to murther an officer of the 
 city for doing his duty ! Wha kens wha's turn it might be 
 next*? — But you saw him plainly 7" 
 
 " As plainly as I see you." 
 
 " How was he dressed 7" said Sharpitlaw. 
 
 " I couldna weel see ; something of a woman's bit 
 mutch on his head ; but ye never saw sic a ca'throw. 
 Ane couldna hae een to a' thing." 
 
 " But did he speak to no one .^" said Sharpitlaw.
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. 195 
 
 " They were a' speaking and gabbling through other," 
 said RatcHfFe, who was obviously unwilling to carry his 
 evidence farther than he could possibly help. 
 
 " This will not do, Ratcliffe," said the procurator ; 
 " you must speak out — out — om^," tapping the table em- 
 phatically as he repeated that impressive monosyllable. 
 
 " It's very hard, sir ; and but for the under-turnkey's 
 place" 
 
 " And the reversion of the captaincy — the captaincy of 
 the Tolbooth, man — that is, in case of gude behaviour." 
 
 " Ay, ay," said Ratcliffe, " gude behaviour ! — there's 
 the deevil. And then it's waiting for dead folks shooQ 
 into the bargain." 
 
 '' But Robertson's head will weigh something," said 
 Sharpitlaw ; " something gay and heavy. Rat ; the town 
 maun show cause — that's right and reason — and then 
 ye'll hae freedom to enjoy your gear honestly." 
 
 " I dinna ken," said Ratcliffe ; " it's a queer way of 
 beginning the trade of honesty — but de'il ma care. 
 Weel, then, I heard and saw hini speak to the wench 
 Effie Deans, that's up there for child-murder." 
 
 " The deevil ye did r Rat, this is finding a mare's nest 
 wi' a witness. — And the man that spoke to Buder in the 
 Park, and that was to meet wi' Jeanie Deans at Muschat's 
 Cairn — whew ! lay that and that thegither. As sure as 
 I live, he's been the father of the lassie's wean." 
 
 " There hae been waur guesses than that, I'm think- 
 ing," observed Ratcliffe, turning his quid of tobacco in 
 his cheek, and squirting out the juice. " I heard some- 
 thing a while syne about his drawing up wi' a bonny quean 
 about the Pleasants, and that it was a' Wilson could do 
 to keep him frae marrying her." 
 
 Here a city officer entered, and told Sharpitlaw that 
 they had the woman in custody whom he had directed 
 them to bring before him. 
 
 " It's little matter now," said he, " the thing is taking 
 another turn ; however, George, ye may bring her in." 
 
 The officer retired, and introduced, upon his return, a 
 tall strapping wench of eighteen or twenty, dressed fan-
 
 19G TALES OV MY XANDLORD. 
 
 tastically, in a sort of blue riding-jacket, with tarnished 
 lace, her hair clubbed like that of a man, a Highland 
 bonnet, and a bunch of broken feathers, a riding-skirt 
 (or petticoat) of scarlet camlet, embroidered with tar- 
 nished flowers. Her features were coarse and mascu- 
 line, yet at a little distance, by dint of very bright wild- 
 looking black eyes, an aquiline nose, and a commanding 
 profile, appeared rather handsome. She flourished the 
 switch she held in her hand, dropped a curtsey as low as 
 a lady at a birth-night introduction, recovered herself 
 seemingly according to Touchstone's directions to Audrey, 
 and opened the conversation without waiting till any ques- 
 tions were asked. 
 
 " God gi'e your honour gude e'en, and mony o' them, 
 bonny Mr. Sharpitlaw — Gude e'en to ye, Daddie Ratton 
 — they tauld me ye were hanged, man ; or did ye get 
 out o' John Dalgliesh's hands, Hke half-hangit Maggie 
 Dickson." 
 
 ^' Whisht, ye daft jaud," said Ratcliffe, " and hear 
 what's said to ye." 
 
 " \Vi' a' ray heart, Ratton. Great preferment for 
 poor Madge to be brought up the street wi' a grand 
 man, wi' a coat a' passemented wi' worset-lace, to speak 
 wi' provosts, and baillies, and town-clerks, and prokitors, 
 at this time o' day — and the haill town looking at me too 
 — This is honour on earth for anes !" 
 
 *' Ay, Madge," said Mr. Sharpitlaw, in a coaxing 
 tone ; " and ye're dressed out in your brav*s, I see ; 
 these are not your every-day's claiths ye have on." 
 
 '' De'il be in my fingers, then," said Madge — " Eh, 
 sirs !" (observing Butler come into the- apartment,) 
 " there's a minister in the Tolbooth — wha will ca' it a 
 graceless place now ? — I'se warrant he's in for the gude 
 auld cause — but its be nae cause o' mine," and off* she 
 
 " Hey for cavaliers, ho for cavaliers, 
 
 Dud a dub, dub a dub ; 
 
 Have at old Beelzebub, — 
 Oliver's runninsf for fear."
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTUIAN. 197 
 
 " Did you ever see that mad-woman before ?" said 
 Sharpitlaw to Butler. 
 
 '• ?sot to ray knowledge, sir," replied Butler. 
 
 '' 1 thought as much." said the procurator-fiscal, look- 
 ing towards Ratchffe, who ansvyered his glance with a 
 nod of acquiescence and intelligence. 
 
 " But that is ]\Jadge Wildfire, as she calls herself/* 
 said the man of law to Butler. 
 
 " Ay, that lam," said Madge, " and that I have been 
 ever since I was something better — Heigh ho" — (and 
 something like melancholy dwelt on her features for a 
 minute) — '• But I canna mind when that was — it was lang 
 syne at ony rate, and I'll ne'er fash ray thumb about it. — 
 
 " I glance like the wildSre through country and town ; 
 I'm seen on the causeway — I'm seen on the down ; 
 The lightning that flashes so bright and so free, 
 Is scarcely so blithe or so bc-noy as me."' 
 
 " Hand your tongue, ye skirling limmer," said the 
 officer, who had acted as master of the ceremonies to 
 this extraordinary performer, and who was rather scan- 
 dalized at the freedom of her demeanour before a person 
 of Mr. Sharpitlaw's importance — " hand your tongue, or 
 I'se gie ye something to skirl for." 
 
 " Let her alone, George," said Sharpitlaw ; *' dinna 
 put her out o' tune ; I hae some questions to ask her — 
 But first, 3Ir. Butler, take another look of her." 
 
 " Do sae, minister — do sae," cried 3Iadge ; " I am as 
 weel worth looking at as ony book in your aught. — And 
 I can say the single carritch, and the double carritch, and 
 justification, and effectual callijig, and the assembly of 
 divines at Westminster, that is," (she added in a low- 
 tone,) " I could say them anes — but its lang syne — and 
 ane forgets, ye ken." And poor Madge heaved another 
 deep sigh. 
 
 " Weel, sir," said Mr. Sharpidaw to Buder, '• what 
 think ye now .-*" 
 
 17* VOL. I.
 
 198 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 " As I did before," said Butler ; " that I never saw 
 the poor demented creature in my life before." 
 
 " Then she is not the person whom you said the riot- 
 ers last night described as Madge Wildfire ?" 
 
 " Certainly not," said Butler. " They may be near 
 the same height, for they are both tall, but I see httle 
 other resemblance." 
 
 " Their dress, then, is not alike 9" said Sharpitlavv. 
 
 " Not in the least," said Butler. 
 
 " Madge, my bonny woman," said Sharpitlaw, in the 
 same coaxing manner, " what did ye do wi' your ilka- 
 day's claise yesterday .'^" 
 
 " 1 dinna mind," said Madge. 
 
 " Where was ye yesterday at e'en, Madge f" 
 
 " I dinna mind ony thing about yesterday," answered 
 Madge ; " ae day is aneugh for ony body to wun ower 
 wi' at a time, and ower muckle sometimes." 
 
 " But maybe, Madge, ye wad mind something about 
 it, if I was to gie ye this half-crown .'"' said Sharpitlaw, 
 taking out the piece of money. 
 
 " That might gar me laugh, but it couldna gar me 
 mind." 
 
 " But, Madge," continued Sharpitlaw, '* were I to 
 send you to the wark-house in Leith Wynd, and gar Jock 
 Dalgliesh lay the tawse on your back" 
 
 " That wad gar me greet," said Madge, sobbing, 
 " but it couldna gar me mind, ye ken." 
 
 " She is ower far past reasonable folk's motives, sir," 
 said RatclifFe, " to mind siller, or John Dalgliesh, or the 
 cat and nine tails either ; but I think I could gar her tell 
 us something." 
 
 " Try her then, RatclifFe," said Sharpitlaw, " for I 
 am tired of her crazy pate, and be d — d to her." 
 
 " Madge," said RatclifFe, " hae ye ony joes now .^" 
 
 " An ony body ask ye, say ye dinna ken. — Set him to 
 be speaking o' my joes, auld Daddie Ratton !" 
 
 " I dare say, ye hae de'il ane f " 
 
 " See if I haena then," said Madge, with the toss of 
 the head of afFronted beauty — " there's Rob the Ranter,
 
 THE HEART OF MID-tOTHIAN. 199 
 
 and Will Fleming, and then there's Geordie Robertson, 
 lad — that's Gentleman Geordie — what think ye o' that 9" 
 
 Ratcliffe laughed, and, winking to the procurator-fiscal, 
 pursued the inquiry in his own way. " But, Madge, the 
 lads only hke ye when ye hae on your braws — they wad- 
 na touch you wi' a pair o' tangs when you are in your 
 auld ilka-day rags." 
 
 *' Ye're a leeing auld sorrow, then ; for Gentle Geor- 
 die Robertson put my ilka-day's claise on his ain bonnie 
 sell yestreen, and gaed a' through the town wi' them ; and 
 gawsie and grand he lookit, like ony queen in the land." 
 
 " I dinna believe a word o't," said RatclifFe, wntb 
 another wink to the procurator. " Thae duds were a' o' 
 the colour o' moonshine in the water, I'm thinking, Madge 
 — The gown wad be a sky-blue scarlet, I'se warrant ye *?" 
 
 " It was nae sic thing," said Madge, whose unreten- 
 tive memory let out, in the eagerness of contradiction, 
 all that she would have most wished to keep concealed, 
 had her judgment been equal to her inclination. " It 
 was neither scarlet nor sky-blue, but my ain auld brown 
 threshie-coat of a short gown, and my mother's auld 
 mutch, and my red rokelay— and he gied me a croun and 
 a kiss for the use o' them, blessing on his bonnie face — 
 though it's been a dear ane to me." 
 
 " And where did he change his clothes again, hinnie .f*" 
 said Sharpitlaw, in his most conciliatory manner. 
 
 " The procurator's spoiled a'," observed RatclifFe, 
 drily. 
 
 And it was even so ; for the question, put in so direct 
 a shape, immediately awakened Madge to the propriety 
 of being reserved upon those very topics on which Rat- 
 clifFe had indirectly seduced her to become communica- 
 tive. 
 
 *' What was't ye were speering at us, sir f " she resum- 
 ed, with an appearance of stolidity so speedily assumed, 
 as showed there was a good deal of knavery mixed with 
 her folly. 
 
 '* I asked you," said the procurator, " at what hour, 
 and to what place, Robertson brought back your clothes."
 
 200 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 " Robertson ? — Lord baud a care o' us, what Robert- 
 son r 
 
 " Why, the fellow we were speaking of, Gentle Geor- 
 die, as you call him." 
 
 " Geordie Gentle ?" answered Madge, with well-feign- 
 ed amazement — " I dinna ken naebody they ca' Geordie 
 Gentle." 
 
 " Come, my jo," said Sharpitlaw, " this will not do ; 
 you must tell us what you did with these clothes of 
 your's." 
 
 Madge Wildfire made no answer, unless the question 
 may seem connected with the snatch of a song with 
 which she indulged the embarrassed investigator : — 
 
 " What did ye wi' the bridal ring — bridal ring- — bridal ring ? 
 What did ye wi' your wedding ring, ye little cutty quean O ? 
 I gied it till a sodger, a sodger, a sodger, 
 I gied it till a sodger, an auld true love o' mine, O." 
 
 Of all the mad-w^omen who have sung and said, since 
 the days of Hamlet the Dane, if Opheha be the most 
 affecting, Madge Wildfire was the most provoking. 
 
 The procurator-fiscal was in despair. " I'll take some 
 
 measures with this d d Bess of Bedlam," said he. 
 
 *' that shall make her find her tongue." 
 
 '' Wi' your favour, sir," said Ratcliffe, " better let 
 her mind settle a little — You have aye made out some- 
 thing." 
 
 " True," said the official person ; " a brown short- 
 gown, mutch, red rokelay— that agrees with your Madge 
 Wildfire, Mr. Butler .'^" Butler agreed that it did so. 
 
 '^ Yes, there was a sufficient motive lor taking this 
 crazv creature's dress and name while he was about such 
 a job." 
 
 '* And I am free to say now?," said Ratcliffe 
 
 " When you see it has come out without you," inter- 
 rupted Sharpitlaw. 
 
 '• Just sae, sir," reiterated Ratcliffe. " I am free to 
 say, now since it's come out otherwise, that these were
 
 THE HEART OF MID-IOTHIAST. 201 
 
 the clothes I saw Robertson wearing last night in the 
 jail, when he was at the head of the rioters." 
 
 " That's direct evidence," said Sharpitlaw ; ^' stick 
 to that, Rat — I will report favourably of you to the pro- 
 vost, for I have business for you to-night. It wears late ; 
 I must home and get a snack, and I'll be back in the 
 evening. Keep Madge with you, RatchfFe, and try to 
 get her into a good tune again." So saying, he left the 
 prison. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 And some they whistled — and some they sang, 
 
 And some did loudly say, 
 Whenever Lord Bamard's horn it blew, 
 
 '■'■ Away, Musgrave, away !" 
 
 Ballad of Little Musgrave. 
 
 When the man of office returned to the Heart of Mid- 
 Lothian, he resumed his conference with RatclifFe, of 
 whose experience and assistance he now held himself se- 
 cure. " You must speak with this wench. Rat — this Effie 
 Deans — you must sift her a wee bit ; for as sure as a 
 tether she will ken Robertson's haunts — till her, Rat — till 
 her, without delay." 
 
 " Craving your pardon, Mr. Sharpitlaw," said the turn- 
 key elect, " that's what lam not free to do." 
 
 " Free to do, man ? what the de'il ails ye now f' — I 
 thought we had settled a' that." 
 
 " 1 dinna ken, sir," said RatclifFe ; " I hae spoken to 
 this Effie — she's strange to this place and to its ways, and 
 to a' our ways, Mr. Sharpitlaw ; and she greets, the silly 
 tawpie, and she's breaking her heart already about this 
 wild chield ; and were she the means o' taking him, she 
 wad break it outright."
 
 202 TALES OF MY lANDtOED. 
 
 " She wunna hae time, lad," said Sharpitlaw ; '^ the 
 woodie will hae his aia o' her before that — a woman's 
 heart takes a lang time o' breaking." 
 
 " That's according to the stuff they are made o', sir," 
 replied RatclifFe — " but to make a lang tale short, I canna 
 undertake the job. It gangs against my conscience." 
 
 " Your conscience, Rat .^" said Sharpitlaw, with a 
 sneer, which the reader will probably think very natural 
 upon the occasion. 
 
 " Ou ay, sir," answered RatclifFe calmly, " just my 
 conscience ; a' body has a conscience, though it may be 
 ill wunnin at it. I think mine's as weel out o' the gate 
 as maist folks' are ; and yet its just like the noop of my 
 elbow, it whiles gets a bit dirl on a corner." 
 
 " Weel, Rat," replied Sharpitlaw, " since ye are nice, 
 I'll speak to the hussy mysell." 
 
 Sharpitlaw, accordingly, caused himself to be intro- 
 duced into the little dark apartment tenanted by the un- 
 fortunate Effie Deans. The poor girl was seated on her 
 little flock-bed, plunged in a deep reverie. Some food 
 stood on the table, of a quality better than is usually sup- 
 plied to prisoners, but it was untouched. The person 
 under whose care she was more particularly placed, said, 
 " that sometimes she tasted naething frae the tae end of 
 the four-and-twenty hours to the t'other, except a drink 
 of water." 
 
 Sharpitlaw took a chair, and, commanding the turnkey 
 to retire, he opened the conversation, endeavouring to 
 throw into his tone and countenance as much commisera- 
 tion as they were capable of expressing, for the one was 
 sharp and harsh, the other sly, acute, and selfish. 
 
 " How's a' wi' ye, Effie f — How d'ye find yoursell, 
 hinny 9" 
 
 A deep sigh was the only answer. 
 
 " Are the folk civil to ye, Effie 9 — it's my duty to in- 
 quire." 
 
 " Very civil, sir," said Effie, compelling herself to an- 
 swer, yet hardly knowing what she said.
 
 THE HEART 0¥ MID-T.OTHIAX. 203 
 
 " And your victuals," continued Sharpitlaw, in the 
 same condoling tone — " do you get what you like *? — or 
 is there ony thing you would particularly fancy, as your 
 health seems but silly 9" 
 
 " It's a' very weel, sir, I thank ye," said the poor pris- 
 oner, in a tone how different from the sportive vivacity of 
 those of the Lily of Saint Leonard's I — *' it's a' very gude 
 — ower gude for me." 
 
 " He must have been a great villain, Effie, who brought 
 you to tills pass," said Sharpitlaw. 
 
 The remark was dictated partly by a natural feeling, of 
 which even he could not divest himself, though accustom- 
 ed to practise on the passions of others, and keep a most 
 heedful guard over his own, and partly by his wish to in- 
 troduce the sort of conversation which might best serve 
 his immediate purpose. Indeed, upon the present occa- 
 sion, these mixed motives of feeling and cunning har- 
 monized together wonderfully ; for, said Sharpitlaw to 
 himself, the greater rogue Robertson is, the more will be 
 the merit of bringing him to justice. " He must have 
 been a great villain, indeed," he again reiterated ; " and 
 I wish I had the skelping o' him." 
 
 " 1 may blame mysell mair than him," said Effie ; " 1 
 
 was bred up to ken better, but he, poor fellow," (she 
 
 stopped.) 
 
 " Was a thorough blackguard a' his life, I dare say," 
 said Sharpitlaw. " A stranger he was in this country, 
 and a companion of that lawless vagabond, Wilson, I 
 think, Effie." 
 
 " It wad hae been dearly telling him that he had ne'er 
 seen Wilson's face." 
 
 " That's very true that you are saying, Effie," said 
 Sharpitlaw. " Where was't that Robertson and you were 
 used to how^fF thegither 9 Somegate about the Laigh Cal- 
 ton, I am thinking." 
 
 The simple and dispirited girl had thus far followed 
 Mr. Sharpitlaw's lead, because he had artfully adjusted 
 his observations to the thoughts he was pretty certain must 
 be passing through her own mind, so that her answers be-
 
 204 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 came a kind of thinking aloud, a mood into which those 
 who are either constitutionally absent in mind or are ren- 
 dered so by the temporary pressure of misfortune, may 
 be easily led by a skilful train of suggestions. But the 
 last observation of the procurator-fiscal was too much of 
 the nature of a direct interrogatory, and it broke the 
 charm accordingly. 
 
 " What was it that I was saying ?" said Effie, starting 
 up from her reclining posture, seating herself upright, and 
 hastily shading her dishevelled hair back from her wast- 
 ed, but still beautiful countenance. She fixed her eyes 
 boldly and keenly upon Sharpitlaw ; — " You are too much 
 of a gentleman, sir, — too much of an honest man, to take 
 any notice of what a poor creature like me says, that can 
 hardly ca' my senses my ain — God help me !" 
 
 " Advantage ! — 1 would be of some advantage to you 
 if I could," said Sharpitlaw, in a sootliing tone ; " and I 
 ken naething sae likely to serve ye, Effie, as gripping this 
 rascal Robertson." 
 
 " O dinna misca' him, sir, that never misca'd you ! 
 Robertson 9 — I am sure I had naething to say against ony 
 man o' the name, and naething will I say." 
 
 " But if you do not heed your own misfortune, Effie, 
 you should mind what distress he has brought on your 
 family." 
 
 " O, Heaven help me !" exclaimed poor Effie — " My 
 poor father — my dear Jeanie — O, that's sairest to bide 
 of a' ! O, sir, if ye hae ony kindness — if ye hae ony 
 touch of compassion — for a' the folk I see here are as 
 hard as the wa'-stanes — If ye wad but bid them let my 
 sister Jeanie in the next time she ca's ! for when I hear 
 them put her awa' frae the door, and canna climb up to 
 that high window to see sae muckle as her gown-tail, 
 its like to pit me outo' my judgment." And she looked 
 on him with a face of entreaty so earnest, yet so humble, 
 that she fairly shook the steadfast purpose of his mind. 
 
 " You shall see your sister," he began, " if you'll tell 
 me," — then, interrupting himself, he added, in a more 
 hurried tone, — " no, d — n it, you shall see your sister
 
 THE HEART OF MID-tOTHIAN. 205 
 
 whether you tell me anything or no." So saying, he rose 
 up and left the apartment. 
 
 When he had rejoined RatclifFe, he observed, " You 
 are right, Ratton ; there's no making much of that lassie. 
 But ae thing I have cleared — that is, that Robertson has 
 been the father of the bairn, and so 1 will wager a bottle it 
 will be he that's to meet wi' Jeanie Deans this night at 
 Muschat's Cairn, and there we'll nail him, Rat, or my 
 name is not Gideon Sharpitlaw." 
 
 " But," said Ratcliffe, perhaps because he was in no 
 hurry to see anything which was like to be connected with 
 the discovery and apprehension of Robertson, " an that 
 were the case, Mr. Butler wad hae kenn'd the man in the 
 King's Park to be the same person wi' him in Madge 
 Wildfire's claise, that headed the mob." 
 
 " That makes nae difference, man," rephed Sharpitlaw 
 — " the dress, the hght, the confusion, and maybe a touch 
 o' a blackit cork, or a slake o' paint — hout, Ratton, I 
 have seen ye dress your ainsell, that the deevil ye belaog 
 to durstna hae made oatht'ye." 
 
 " And that's true, too," said RatclifFe. 
 
 " And besides, ye donnard carle," continued Sharpit- 
 law, triumphantly, " the minister c?iV/ say, that he thought 
 he knew something of the features of the birkie that 
 spoke to him in the Park, though he could not charge his 
 memory where or when he had seen them." 
 
 '' It's evident, then, your honour will be right," said 
 RatclifFe. 
 
 " Then, Rat, you and 1 will go with the party oursells 
 this night, and see him in grips or we are done wi' him." 
 
 " I seena muckle use I can be o' to your honour," said 
 RatclifFe, reluctantly. 
 
 *' Use 9" answered Sharpitlaw — " You can guide the 
 party — you ken the ground. Besides, I do not intend to 
 quit sight of you, my good friend, till I have him in hand." 
 
 " Weel, sir," said RatclifFe, but in no joyful tone of ac- 
 quiescence ; " Ye maun hae it your ain way — but mind 
 he's a desperate man." 
 
 18 VOL. I.
 
 206 TALES OE MY LANDLORD. 
 
 " We shall have that with us," answered Sharpitlaw, 
 " that will settle him, if it is necessary." 
 
 " But, sir," answered Ratcliffe, " I am sure I couldna 
 undertake to guide you to Muschat's Cairn in the night- 
 time ; I ken the place, as mony does, in fair daylight, but 
 how to find it out by moonshine, amang sae mony crags and 
 stanes, as like to each other as the collier to the de'il, is mair 
 than I can tell. 1 might as soon seek moonshine in water." 
 
 " What's the meaning o' this, Ratcliife ^" said Sharp- 
 itlaw, while he fixed his eye on the recusant, with a fatal 
 and ominous expression, — " Have you forgotten that you 
 are still under sentence of death ?" 
 
 " No, sir," said Riitcliffe, '' that's a thing no easily put 
 out o' memory ; and if my presence be judged necessa- 
 ry, uae doubt I maun gang wi' your honour. But I was 
 gaun to tell your honour of ane that has mair skeell o' 
 the gate than me, and that's e'en Madge Wildfire." 
 
 " The devil she has ! — Do you think me as mad as 
 she is, to trust to her guidance on such an occasion :"' 
 
 " Your honour is best judge," answered Ratclifl^e ; 
 *' but I ken 1 can keep her in tune, and gar her baud the 
 straight path — she aften sleeps out or rambles about 
 amang thae hills the haiil simmer night, the daft hmmer." 
 
 " Well, Ratchfi^e," replied the procurator-fiscal, " if 
 you think she can guide us the right way — but take heed 
 to what you are about — your life depends on your be- 
 haviour." 
 
 " It's a sair judgment on a man," said Ratcliffe, " when 
 he has ance gane sae far wrang as I hae done, that de'il 
 a bit he can be honest, try't whilk way he will." 
 
 Such was the reflection of Ratclifl^e, when he was left 
 for a few miuLites to himself, while the retainer of justice 
 went to procure a proper warrant, and give the neces- 
 sary directions. 
 
 The rising moon saw the whole party free from the 
 walls of the city, and entering upon the open ground. 
 Arthur's Seat, hke a couchant hon of immense size— Sal- 
 isbury Crags, like a huge belt or girdle of granite, were 
 dimly visible. Holding tlieir path along the southern side
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. 207 
 
 of the Canongate, they gained the Abbey of Holyrood- 
 house, and from thence found their way by step and stile 
 into the King's Park. Tliey were at first four in number 
 — an officer of justice and Sharpitlaw, who were well 
 armed with pistols and cutlasses ; Ratcliffe, who was not 
 trusted with weapons, lest he might, peradventure, have 
 used them on the wrong side ; and the female. But at 
 the last stile, when they entered the Chase, they were 
 joined by other two officers, whom Sharpitlaw, desirous 
 lo secure sufficient force for his purpose, and at the same 
 tiu)e.lo avoid observation, had directed to wait for him at 
 this place. RatclifFe saw this accession of strength with 
 some disquietude, for he had hitherto thought it likely that 
 Robertson, who was a bold, stout, and active young fellow, 
 might have made his escape from Sharpitlaw and the of- 
 ficer, by force or agility, without his being implicated in 
 the matter. But the present strength of the followers of 
 justice was overpowering, and the only mode of saving 
 Robertson, (which the old sinner was well disposed to do, 
 providing always he could accomplish his purpose without 
 compromising his own safety,) must be by contriving that 
 he should have some signal of their approach. It was 
 probably with this view that RatclifFe had requested the 
 addition of Madge to the party, having considerable con- 
 fidence in her propensity to exert her lungs. Indeed, she 
 had already given them so many specimens of her clam- 
 orous loquacity, that Sharpitlaw^ half determined to send 
 her back with one of the officers, rather than carry for- 
 ward in his company a person so extremely ill qualified 
 to be guide in a secret expedition. It seemed, too, as if 
 the open air, the approach to the hills, and the ascent of 
 the moon, supposed to be so portentous over those u^ose 
 brain is infirm, made her spirits rise in a degree tenfold 
 more loquacious than she had hitherto exhibited. To 
 silence her by fair means seemed impossible ; authorita- 
 tive commands and coaxing entreaties she set alike at de- 
 fiance, and threats only made her sulky, and altogether 
 intractable.
 
 208 TALES OF MY lANDtORD. 
 
 " Is there no one of you," said Sharpitlaw, impatient- 
 ly, " that knows the way to this accursed place — this Nicol 
 Sluschat's Cairn — excepting this mad clavering idiot ?" 
 
 " De'il ane o' them kens it, except mysell," exclaimed 
 Madge ; " how suld they, the poor fuJe cowards f But 
 I hae sat on the grave frae bat-fleeing time till cock-crow, 
 and had mony a fine crack wi' Nicol Muschat and Ailie 
 Muschat, that are lying sleeping below." 
 
 " The devil take your crazy brain," said Sharpitlaw ; 
 '* will you not allow the men to answer a question ?" 
 
 The officers, obtaining a moment's audience while Rat- 
 cliffe diverted Madge's attention, declared, that, though 
 they had a general knowledge of the spot, they could not 
 undertake to guide the party to it by the uncertain light 
 oT the moon, with such accuracy as to insure success ta 
 their expedition. 
 
 " What shall we do, RatcliiFe ?" said Sharpitlaw ; " if 
 he sees us before we see him, — and that's what he is cer- 
 tain to do, if we go strolling about, without keeping the 
 straight road, — we may bid gude day to the job ; and I 
 wad rather lose one hundred pounds, baith for the credit 
 of the police, and because the Provost says somebody 
 maun be hanged for this job o' Porteous, come o't what 
 likes." 
 
 *' I think," said RatclifFe, " we maun just try Madge ; 
 and I'll see if I can get her keepit in ony better order. 
 And at ony rate, if he suld hear her skirling her auld 
 ends o' sangs, he's no to ken for that that there's ony body 
 wi' her." 
 
 " That's true," said Sharpitlaw ; *' and if he thinks 
 her alone, he's as like to come towards her as to rin frae 
 her. So set forward — we have lost ower muckle time 
 already — see to get her to keep the right road." 
 
 " And what sort o' house does Nicol Muschat and his 
 wife keep now ?" said RatchfFe to the mad woman, by 
 way of humouring her vein of folly ; " they were but 
 ihrawn folk lang syne, an a' tales be true." 
 
 " Ou, ay, ay, ay — but a's forgotten now," replied 
 Madge, in the confidential tone of a gossip giving the his-
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIATf . 209 
 
 tory of her next-door neighbour — " Ye see I spoke to 
 them mysell, and tauld them byganes suld be byganes — 
 her throat's sair mis-guggled and mashackered, though she 
 wears her corpse-sheet drawn weel up to hide it, but that 
 canna hinder the bhiid seiping through, ye ken. I wus- 
 sed her to wash it in St. Anthony's Well, and thtit will 
 cleanse if onything can. — But they say bluid never 
 bleaches out o' linen claith — Deacon Sanders's new clean- 
 sing draps winna do't — I tried them mysell on a bit rag 
 we hae at hame that was mailed wi' the bluid of a bit 
 skirling wean that was hurt some gate, but out it winna 
 come — Weel, ye'il say that's queer ; but I will bring it out 
 to St. Anthony's blessed Well some braw night just like 
 this, and Til cry up Ailie Muschat, and she and 1 wjjl hae 
 a grand bouking-washing, and bleach our claise in the 
 beams of the bonny Lady Moon, that's far pleasanter to 
 me than the sun — the sun's ower het, and ye ken, cum- 
 mers, my brains are het aneugh already. But the moon, 
 and the dew, and the night-wind, they are just like a cal- 
 lar kail-blade laid on my brow ; and whiles I think the 
 moon just shines on purpose to pleasure me, when nae- 
 body sees her but mysell." 
 
 This raving discourse she continued with prodigious 
 volubility, walking on at a great pace, and dragging Rat- 
 clifFe along with her, while he endeavoured, in appearance 
 at least, if not in reahty, to induce her to moderate her 
 voice. 
 
 All at once, she stopped short upon the top of a little 
 liillock, gazed upward fixedly, and said not one word for 
 the space of five minutes. " What the devil is the mat- 
 ter with her now 9" said Sharpitlaw to Ratcliffe — " Can 
 you not get her forward *?" 
 
 " Ye maun just take a grain o' patience wi' her, sir," 
 said Ratcliffe. " She'll no gae a foot/aster than she hkes 
 hfersell — she'll take her ain time." 
 
 " D — n her, I'll take care she has her time in Bedlam 
 or Bridewell, or both, for she's both mad and mischiev- 
 ous." In the meanwhile, Madge, who had looked very 
 
 18* VOL. I.
 
 210 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 pensive when she first stopped, suddenly burst into a ve- 
 hement fit of laughter, then paused and sighed bitterly, — 
 then was seized with a second fit of laughter, — then fixed 
 her eyes on the moon, hfted up her voice and sung,- — 
 
 " Good even, good fair moon, good even to thee ; 
 1 prithee, dear moon, now show to me 
 The form and the features, the speech and degree, 
 Of the man that true lover of mine shall be." 
 
 '^ But I need not ask that of the bonny Lady Moon — I 
 ken that weel aneugh mysell — ^rwe-love though he w^asna. 
 — But naebody shall say that I ever tauld a word about 
 the matter — But whiles I wish the bairn had hved — Weel, 
 God guide us ! there's a heaven aboon us a'," — (here she 
 sighed bhterly,) " and a bonny moon, and sterns in it 
 forbye," (and here she laughed once more.) 
 
 " Are we to stand here all night ?" said Sharpitlaw, 
 very impatiently. *' Drag her forward." 
 
 " Ay, sir," said Ratclifie, " if we kenn'd whilk way to 
 drag her, that wad settle it at ance. — Come, Madge, hin- 
 ny," addressing her, " we'll no be in time to see Nicol 
 and his wife, unless ye show us the road." 
 
 " In troth and that I will, Ratton," said she, seizing him 
 by the arm, and resuming her route with huge strides, con- 
 sidering it was a female who took them. " And I'll tell 
 ye, Ratton, blithe will Nicol PJuschat be to see ye, for he 
 says he kens v/eel there is nae sic a villain out o' hell as 
 ye are, and he wad be ravished to hae a crack wi' you — 
 like to like, ye ken — it's a proverb never fails — and ye 
 are baith a pair o' the deevil's peats, I trow — hard to ken 
 whilk deserves the hettest corner o' his ingle-side." 
 
 RatclifFe was conscience-struck, and could not forbear 
 making an involuntary protest against this classification. 
 " I never shed blood," he replied. 
 
 " But ye hae sauld it, Ratton — ye hae sauld blood mony 
 a time. Folk kill wi' the tongue as weel as wi' the hand 
 — wi' the word as weel as wi' the gulley, —
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 211 
 
 " It is the bonny butcher lad, 
 
 That wears the sleeves of blue, 
 He sells the flesh on Saturday, 
 
 On Friday that he slew.'' 
 
 " And what is that I am doing now ?" thought R^- 
 cliffe. " But I'll hae nae wyte of Robertson's young 
 bluid, if I can help it ;" then, speaking apart to Madge, 
 he asked her, " Whether she did not remember ony o' 
 her auld sangs ?" 
 
 " Mony a dainty ane," said Madge ; " and bhthely can 
 T sing them, for hghtsome sangs make merry gate." And 
 she sang, — 
 
 " Wheu the gledd's in the blue cloud, 
 
 The lavrock lies still ; 
 When the hound's in the green-wood, 
 
 The hind keeps the hill." 
 
 " Silence her cursed noise, if you should throttle her," 
 said Sharpitlavv ; " I see somebody yonder. — Keep close, 
 my boys, and creep round the shoulder of the height. 
 George Poinder, stay you with Ratchffe and that mad 
 bitch ; and you other two, come with me round under 
 the shadow of the brae." 
 
 And he crept forward with the stealthy pace of an In- 
 dian savage, who leads his band to surprise an unsuspect- 
 ing party of some hostile tribe. RatclifFe saw them glide 
 off, avoiding the moonlight, and keeping as much in the 
 shade as possible. " Robertson's done up," said he to 
 himself ; " thae young lads are aye sae thoughtless. 
 What deevil could he hae to say to Jeanie Deans, or to 
 ony woman on earth, that he suld gang awa' and get his 
 neck raxed for her f And this mad quean, after cracking 
 Hke a pen-gun, and skirling like a pea-hen for the haill 
 night, behoves just to hae hadden her tongue when her 
 clavers might have done some gude ! But its aye the way 
 wi' women ; if they ever baud their tongues ava', ye may 
 swear it's for mischief. I wish I could set her on again 
 without this blood-sucker kenning what I am doing. But
 
 212 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 he's as gleg as Mackeachan's elshin, that ran through sax 
 plies of bend-leather and half an inch into the king's heel." 
 He then began to hum, but in a very low and suppres- 
 sed tone, the first stanza of a favourite ballad of Wild- 
 fire's, the words of which bore some distant analogy with 
 tfie situation of Robertson, trusting that the power of as- 
 sociation would not fail to bring the rest to her mind ; 
 
 " There's a bloodhound ranging Tinwald Woo<f, 
 
 There's harness glancing sheen ; 
 There's a maiden sits on Tinwald brae, 
 
 And she sings loud between." 
 
 Madge had no sooner received the catch-word, than 
 she vindicated Ratclifle's sagacity by setting off at score 
 with the song : 
 
 " Oh sleep ye sound, Sir James, she said, 
 
 When ye suld rise and ride ? 
 There's twenty men, wi" bow and blade, 
 
 Are seeking where ye hide." 
 
 Though RatclifFe was at a considerable distance from 
 the spot called Muschat's Cairn, yet his eyes, practised 
 like those of a cat to penetrate darkness, could mark that 
 Robertson had caught the alarm. George Poinder, less 
 keen of sight, or less attentive, was not aware of his flight 
 any more than Sharpitlaw and his assistants, whose view, 
 though they were considerably nearer to the cairn, was 
 intercepted by the broken nature of the ground under 
 which they were screening themselves. At length, how- 
 ever, after the interval of five or six minutes, they also 
 perceived that Robertson had fled, and rushed hastily to- 
 wards the place, while Sharpitlaw called out aloud, in the 
 harshest tones of a voice which resembled a saw-mill at 
 work, " Chase, lads — chase — baud the brae — I see him 
 on the edge of the hill." Then hollowing back to the 
 rear-guard of his detachment, he issued his farther or- 
 ders : " RatclifFe, come here, and detain the woman — 
 George, run and keep the stile at the Duke's Walk — Rat-
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 213 
 
 cliffe, come here directly — but first knock out that mad 
 bitch's brains." 
 
 " Ye had better rin for it, Madge," said Ratcliffe, " for 
 it's ill dealing vvi' an angry man." 
 
 Madge Wildfire was not so absolutely void of common 
 sense as not to understand this innuendo ; and while Rat- 
 cliife, in seemingly anxious haste of obedience, hastened 
 to the spot where Sharpitlaw waited to deliver up Jeanie 
 Deans to his custody, she fled with all the despatch she 
 could exert in an opposite direction. Thus the whole 
 party were separated, and in rapid motion of flight or pur- 
 suit, excepting Ratcliffe and Jeanie, whom, although mak- 
 ing no attempt to escape, he held fast by the cloak, and 
 who remained standing by Muschat's Cairn. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 You have paid the heavens your function, and the prisoner the very debt of 
 your calling. Measure for Measure. 
 
 Jeanie Deans, — for her own story unites itself with 
 that part of the narrative which broke off" at the end of 
 chapter XIV., — while she waited in terror and amaze- 
 ment, the hasty advance of three or four men towards 
 her, was yet more startled at their suddenly breaking 
 asunder, and giving chase in different directions to the late 
 object of her terror, who became at that moment, though 
 she could not well assign a reasonable cause, rather the 
 object of her interest. One of the party (it was Sharp- 
 itlaw) came straight up to her, and saying, " Your name 
 is Jeanie Deans, and you are my prisoner," immediately 
 added, " but if you will tell me which way he ran I will 
 let you go." 
 
 " I dinna ken, sir," was all the poor girl could utter ; 
 and, indeed, it is the phrase which rises most readily to
 
 214 TALES OF MY liAKDLORD. 
 
 the lips of any person in her rank, as the readiest reply 
 to any embarrassing question. 
 
 '' But ye ken wha it was ye were speaking wi', my 
 leddy, on the hill side, and midnight sae near ; ye surely 
 ken that, my bonny woman '?" 
 
 " 1 dinna ken, sir," again iterated Jeanie, who really 
 did not comprehend in her terror the nature of the ques- 
 tions which were so hastily put to her in this moment of 
 surprise. 
 
 " We will try to mend your memory by and by, hin- 
 ny," said Sharpitlaw, and shouted, as we have already 
 told the reader, to RatclifTe, to come up and take charge 
 of her, while he himself directed the chase after Robert- 
 son, which he still hoped might be successful. As Rat- 
 cliffe approached, Sharpitlaw pushed the young woman 
 towards him with some rudeness*, and, betaking himself 
 to the more important objects of his quest, began to scale 
 crags and scramble up steep banks, with an agility of which 
 his profession and general gravity of demeanour would 
 previously have argued him incapable. In a few minutes 
 there was no one within sight, and only a distant halloo 
 from one of the pursuers to the other, faintly heard on the 
 side of the hill, argued that there was any one within 
 hearing. Jeanie Deans was left in the clear moonlight, 
 standing under the guard of a person of whom she knew 
 nothing, and, what was worse, concerning whom, as the 
 reader is well aware, she could have learned nothing that 
 would not have increased her terror. 
 
 When all in the distance was silent, RatclifTe for the 
 first time addressed her, and it was in that cold sarcastic 
 indifFerent tone familiar to habitual depravity, whose 
 crimes are instigated by custom rather than by passion. 
 " This is a braw night for ye, dearie," he said, attempting 
 to pass his arm across her shoulder, " to be on the green 
 hill wi' your jo." Jeanie extricated herself from his 
 grasp, but did not make any reply. " J think lads and 
 lasses," continued the ruffian, " dinna meet at Muschat's 
 Cairn at midnight to crack nuts," and he again attempted 
 to take hold of her.
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTUIAX. 215 
 
 " If ye are an officer of justice, sir," said Jeanie, again 
 eluding his attempt to seize her, " ye deserve to have 
 your coat stripped from your back." 
 
 " Very true, hinny," said he, succeeding forcibly in his 
 attempt to s-eize her, " but suppose 1 should strip your 
 cloak off first 9" 
 
 " Ye are more a man, I am sure, than to hurt me, sir," 
 said Jeanie ; " for God's sake have pity on a half-distract- 
 ed creature !" 
 
 " Come, come," said Ratcliffe, " you're a good-look- 
 ing wench, and should not be cross-grained. I was 
 going to be an honest man — but the devil has this very 
 day flung first a lawyer, and then a woman, in my gale. 
 I'll tell you what, Jeanie, they are out on the hill-side — if 
 you'll be guided by me, I'll carry you to a wee bit corner 
 in the Pleasance, that I ken o' in an auld wife's, that a' 
 the prokitors o' Scotland wot naething o', and we'll send 
 Robertson word to meet us in Yorkshire, for there is a set 
 o' braw lads about the mid-land counties, thai I hae dune 
 business wi' before now, and sae we'll leave Mr. Sharpit- 
 law to whistle on his thumb." 
 
 It was fortunate for Jeanie, in an emergency like the 
 present, that she possessed presence of mind and courage, 
 so soon as the first hurry of surprise had enabled her to 
 rally her recollection. She saw the risk she was in from 
 a ruffian, who not only was such by profession, but had 
 that evening been stupifying, by means of strong liquors, 
 the mternal aversion which he felt at the business on which 
 Sharpitlaw had resolved to employ him. 
 
 " Dinna speak sae loud," said sne, in a low voice, 
 " he's up yonder." 
 
 " Who "]— Robertson *?" said Ratcliffe, eagerly. 
 
 " Ay," replied Jeanie ; " up yonder ;" and she point- 
 ed to the ruins of the hermitage and chapel. 
 
 " By G — d, then," said Ratcliffe, " I'll make my ain 
 of him, either one way or other — wait for me here." 
 
 But no sooner had he set off, as fast as he could run, 
 towards the chapel, than Jeanie started in an oppoiite di- 
 rection, over high and low, on the nearest path homeward.
 
 216 TALES or MY lANDLORD. 
 
 Her juvenile exercise as a herds-woman had put " life 
 and mettle" in her heels, and never had she followed 
 Dustiefoot, when the cows were in the corn, with half so 
 much speed as she now cleared the distance betwixt 
 Muschat's Cairn and her father's cottage at Saint Leon- 
 ard's. To lift the latch — to enter — to shut, bolt, and 
 double bolt the door — to draw against it a heavy article of 
 furniture, (which she could not have moved in a moment 
 of less energy,) so as to make yet farther provision against 
 violence, was almost the work of a moment, yet done with 
 such silence as equalled the celerity. 
 
 Her next anxiety was upon her father's account, and 
 she drew silently to the door of his apartment, in order 
 to satisfy herself whether he had been disturbed by her 
 return. He was awake, — probably had slept but little ; 
 but the constant presence of his own sorrows, the distance 
 of his apartment from the outer-door of the house, and 
 the precautions which Jeanie had taken to conceal her 
 departure and return, had prevented hun from being sen- 
 sible of either. He was engaged in his devotions, and 
 Jeanie could distinctly hear him use these words : " And 
 for the other child thou hast given me to be a comfort and 
 stay to my old age, may her days be long in the land, ac- 
 cording to the promise thou hast given to those who shall 
 honour father and mother ; may all her purchased and 
 promised blessings be multiplied upon her ; keep her in 
 the watches of the night, and in the uprising of the morn- 
 ing, that all in this land may know that thou hast not ut- 
 terly hid thv face from those who seek thee in truth and 
 in sincerity !" He w^ns silent, but probably continued his 
 petition in the strong fervency of mental devotion. 
 
 His daughter retired to her apartment, comforted, that 
 while she was exposed to danger, her head had been cov- 
 ered by the prayers of the just as by a helmet, and un- 
 der the strong confidence, that while she walked worthy 
 of the protection of Heaven, she would experience its 
 countenance. It was in that moment that a vague idea 
 first darted across her mind, that something might yet be 
 achieved for her sister's safety, conscious as she now was
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. 217 
 
 of her innocence of the unnatural murder with which she 
 stood charged. It came, as she described it, on her mind 
 like a sun-blink on a stormy sea ; and although it instantly 
 vanished, yet she felt a degree of composure which she 
 had not experienced for many days, and could not help 
 being strongly persuaded, that, by some means or other, 
 she would be called upon, and directed, to work out her 
 sister's deliverance. She went to bed, not forgetting her 
 usual devotions, the more fervently made on account of 
 her late deliverance, and she slept soundly in spite of her 
 agitation. 
 
 We must return to Ratcliffe, who had started, like a 
 greyhound from the slips when the sportsman cries halloo, 
 as soon as Jeanie had pointed to the ruins. Whether he 
 meant to aid Robertson's escape, or to assist his pursuers, 
 may be very doubtful ; perhaps he did not know himself, 
 but had resolved to be guided by circumstances. He had 
 no opportunity, however, of doing either ; for he had no 
 sooner surmounted the steep ascent, and entered under 
 the broken arches of the ruins, than a pistol was present- 
 ed at his head, and a harsh voice commanded him, in the 
 king's name, to surrender himself prisoner. " IMr. Sharp- 
 itlaw," said Ratcliffe, surprised, " is this your honour 9" 
 
 " Is it only you, and be d — d to you V^ answered the 
 fiscal, still more disappointed — '* what made you leave 
 the woman V 
 
 " She told me she saw Robertson go into the ruins, so 
 I made what haste I could to cleek the callant." 
 
 " It's all over now," said Sharpitlaw ; " we shall see 
 no more of him to-night ; but he shall hide himself in a 
 bean-hool, if he remains on Scottish ground without my 
 finding him. Call back the people, Ratcliffe." 
 
 Ratcliffe hollooed to the dispersed officers, who wil- 
 lingly obeyed tlie sig;nal ; for probably there was no indi- 
 vidual among them who would have been much desirous 
 of a rencontre hand to hand, and at a distance from his 
 comrades, with such an active and desperate fellow as 
 Robertson. 
 
 19 VOL, I.
 
 218 TALES or MY LANDLORD. 
 
 " And where are the two women 9" said Sharpitlaw. 
 " Both made their heels serve them, I suspect," repli- 
 ed Ratcliffe, and he hummed the end of the old song — 
 
 '' Then hey play up the rin-awa' bride, 
 For she has ta'en tlie gee." 
 
 " One woman," said Sharpitlaw,— for, Tike all rogues, 
 he was a great calumniator of the fair sex, — " is enough 
 to dirk the fairest ploy that ever was planned ; and how 
 could I be such an ass as to expect to carry through a job 
 that had two in it 9 But we know how to come by them 
 both, if they are wanted, that's one good thing." 
 
 Accordingly, like a defeated general, sad and sulky, he 
 led back his discomfited forces to the metropolis, and dis- 
 missed them for the night. 
 
 The next morning early he was under the necessity of 
 making his report to the sitting magistrate of the day. 
 The gentleman who occupied the chair of office on this 
 occasion (for the baillies, Anglice aldermen, take it by 
 rotation) chanced to be the same by whom Butler was 
 committed, a person very generally respected among his 
 fellow-citizens. Sosnething he was of a humourist, and 
 rather deficient in general education ; but acute, patient, 
 and upright, possessed of a fortune acquired by honest 
 industry, which made him perfectly independent ; and, in 
 short, very happily qualified to support the respectability 
 of the office which he held. 
 
 Mr. Middleburgh had just taken his seat, and was de- 
 bating in an animated manner, with one of his colleagues, 
 the doubtful chances of a game at golf which they had 
 played the day before, when a letter was delivered to him, 
 addressed " For Baillie Middleburgh ; These : to be for- 
 warded with speed." It contained these words : — 
 
 " Sir, 
 " I know you to be a sensible and a considerate magis- 
 trate, and one who, as such, will be content to worship 
 God, though the devil bid you. I therefore expect that, 
 notwithstanding the signature of this letter acknowledges
 
 THE HEART OF MIB-iOTHlAN. 219 
 
 my share in an action, which, in a proper time and place, 
 I would not fear either to avow or to justify, you will not 
 on that account reject what evidence I place before you. 
 The clergyman, Butler, is innocent of all but involuntary 
 presence at an action which he wanted spirit to approve 
 of, and from which he endeavoured, with his best set 
 phrases, to dissuade us. But it was not for him that it is 
 my hint to speak. There is a woman in your jail, fallen 
 under the edge of a law so cruel, that it has hung by the 
 wall, hke unscoured armour, for twenty years, and is now 
 brought down and whetted to spill the blood of the most 
 beautiful and most innocent creature whom the walls of a 
 prison ever girdled in. Her sister knows of her inno- 
 cence, as she communicated to her that she was betrayed 
 by a villain. — O that high Heaven 
 
 ' Would put in every honest hand a whip, 
 To scourge me such a villain through the world !' 
 
 ** I write distractedly — But this girl — this Jeanie Deans, 
 is a peevish puritan, superstitious and scrupulous after the 
 manner of her sect ; and I pray your honour, for so my 
 phrase must go, to press upon her, that her sister's Hfe 
 depends upon her testimony. But though she should re- 
 main silent, do not dare to think that the young woman is 
 guilty — far less to permit her execution. Remember the 
 death of Wilson was fearfully avenged ; and those yet 
 live who can compel you to drink the dregs of your poi- 
 soned chalice. — I say, remember Porteous, — and say that 
 you had good counsel from 
 
 " One of his Slayers." 
 
 The magistrate read over this extraordinary letter twice 
 or thrice. At first he was tempted to throw it aside as 
 the production of a madman, so little did " the scraps 
 from play-books," as he termed the poetical quotation, 
 resemble the correspondence of a rational being. On a 
 re-perusal, however, he thought that, amid its incoherence, 
 he could discover something like a tone of awakened pas- 
 sion, though expressed in a manner quaint and unusual.
 
 220 TALES or MY LANDLORD. 
 
 " It is a cruelly severe statute," said the magistrate to 
 his assistaut, " and I wish the girl could be taken from un- 
 der the letter of it. A child may have been born, and it 
 may have been conveyed away while the mother was in- 
 sensible, or it may have perished for want of that relief 
 which the poor creature herself, — helpless, terrified, dis- 
 tracted, despairing, and exhausted, — may have been una- 
 ble to afford it. And yet it is certain, if the w^oman be 
 found guilty under the statute, execution will follow. The 
 crime has been too common, and examples are necessary." 
 
 " But if this other wench," said the city-clerk, " can 
 speak as to her sister communicating her situation, it will 
 take the case from under the statute." 
 
 " Very true ; and I will walk out one of these days to 
 Saint Leonard's, and examine the girl myself. I know 
 something of their father Deans — an old true-blue Cam- 
 eronian, who would see house and family go to wreck ere 
 he would disgrace his testimony by a sinful complying with 
 the defections of the times ; and such he will probably 
 uphold the taking an oath before a civil magistrate. If 
 they are to go on and flourish wi* their bull-headed obsti- 
 nacy, the legislature must pass an act to take their affirma- 
 tions, as in the case of Quakers. But surely neither a 
 father nor a sister will scruple in a case of this kind. As 
 I said before, I will go speak with them myself, when the 
 hurry of this Porteous investigation is somewhat over ; 
 their pride and spirit of contradiction will be far less 
 alarmed, than if they were called into a court of justice 
 at once." 
 
 " And I suppose Butler is to remain incarcerated 9" 
 said the city-clerk. 
 
 " For the present, certainly," said the magistrate. 
 *' But I hope soon to set him at hberty upon bail." 
 
 *• Do you rest upon the testimony of that light-headed 
 letter V^ said the clerk. 
 
 " Not very much," answered the baillie ; " and yet 
 there is something striking about it too — it seems the let- 
 ter of a man beside himself, either from great agitation. 
 or great sense of guih."
 
 THE HEATlT OF MID-LOTHIAN. 221 
 
 " Yes," said the town-clerk, " it is very like the letter 
 of a mad strolling play-actor, who deserves to be hanged 
 with all the rest of his gang, as your honour justly ob- 
 serves." 
 
 '* I was not quite so blood-thirsty," continued the mag- 
 istrate. " But to the point. Butler's private character 
 is excellent ; and I am given to understand, by some in- 
 quiries I have been making this morning, that he did ac- 
 tually arrive in town only the day before yesterday, so that 
 it was impossible he could have been concerned in any 
 previous machinations of these- unhappy rioters, and it is 
 not likely that he should have joined them on a suddenty." 
 
 " There's no saying anent that — zeal catches fire at a 
 slight spark as fast as a brunstain match," observed the 
 secretary. " 1 hae kenn'd a minister wad be fair gude 
 day and fair gude e'en wi' ilka man in the parochine, and 
 hing just as quiet as a rocket on a stick, till ye mentioned 
 the word abjuration-oath, or patronage, or sic like, and 
 then, whiz, he was off, and up in the air a hundred miles 
 beyond common manners, common sense, and common 
 comprehension." 
 
 " 1 do not comprehend," answered the burgher-mag- 
 istrate, " that the young man Butler's zeal is of so inflam- 
 mable a character. But I will make further investiga- 
 tion. — What other business is there before us 9" 
 
 And they proceeded to minute investigations concerning 
 "the affair of Porteous's death, and other matters through 
 which this history has no occasion to trace them. 
 
 In the course of their business they were interrupted by 
 an old woman of the lower rank, who thrust herself into 
 the council-room. " What do you want, gude wife 9 — 
 Who are you 9" 
 
 " What do I want !" she replied, in a sulky tone — " I 
 want my bairn, or I want naething frae nane o' ye, for as 
 grand's ye are." And she went on muttering to herself, 
 with the wayward spitefulness of age — " They maun hae 
 lordships and honours, nae doubt — set them up, the gut- 
 ter-bloods ! and de'il a gentleman amang them." — Then 
 
 19* VOL. I.
 
 222 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 again addressing the sitting magistrate, " Will your honour 
 gi'e me back my puir crazy bairn 9 — His honour ! — I 
 hae kenn'd the day when less wad ser'd him, the oe of a 
 Campvere skipper." 
 
 " Good woman," said the magistrate to this shrewish 
 supplicant, — " tell us what it is you want, and do not in- 
 terrupt the court." 
 
 *' That's as muckle as till say, Bark, Bawtie, and be 
 dune wi't ! — I tell ye," raising her termagant voice, " I 
 want my bairn ! is na that braid Scots V 
 
 " Who are you 9 — who is your bairn 9" demanded the 
 magistrate. 
 
 " Wha am I 9 — wha suld I be, but Meg Murdockson : 
 and wha suld my bairn be, but Magdalen Murdockson '? — 
 Your guard soldiers, and your constables, and your offi- 
 cers, ken us weel aneugh when they rive the bitso' duds 
 air our backs, and take what penny o' siller we hae, and 
 harle us to the Correction-house in Leith Wynd, and pet- 
 tie us up w4' bread and water, and sic hke sunkets." 
 
 " Who is she V^ said the magistrate, looking round to 
 some of his people. 
 
 " Other than a good ane, sir," said one of the city -offi- 
 cers, shrugging his shoulders and smihng. 
 
 " Will ye say sae V^ said the termagant, her eye gleam- 
 ing with impotent fury ; " an I had ye amang the Frigate- 
 Whins, wadna I set my ten talents in your wuzzent face 
 for that very word 7" and she suited the word to the ac- 
 tion, by spreading out a set of claws resembhng those of 
 Saint George's dragon on a country sign-post. 
 
 ** What does she want here 9" said the impatient mag- 
 istrate — " Can she not tell her business, or go away 9" 
 
 " It's my bairn ! — it's Magdalen Murdockson I'm want- 
 in," answered the beldarne, screaming at the highest pitch 
 of her cracked and mistuned voice — " havena I been tell- 
 ing ye sae this half hour 9 and if ye are deaf, what deevil 
 needs ye sit cockit up there, and keep folk scraughin' t'ye 
 this gate 9" 
 
 " She wants her daughter, sir," said the same officer 
 whose interference had given the hag such offence before
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 223 
 
 — " her daughter, who was taken up last night — Madge 
 Wildfire, as they ca' her." 
 
 '' Madge Hellfire, as they ca' her !" echoed the bel- 
 dame ; " and what business has a blackguard like you to 
 ca' an honest woman's bairn out o' her ain name ?" 
 
 " An honest woman's bairn, Maggie !" answered the 
 peace-officer, smiling and shaking his head with an ironi- 
 cal emphasis on the adjective, and a calmness calcu- 
 lated to provoke to madness the furious old shrew. 
 
 " If I am no honest now, I was honest anes," she re- 
 plied ; " and that's mair llian ye can say, ye born and 
 bred thief, that never kenn'd ither folk's gear frae your 
 ain since the day ye was clecket. Honest, say ye 9 — ye 
 pykit your mother's pouch o' twalpennies Scotch when 
 ye were five years auld, just as she was taking leave o' 
 your father at the fit o' the gallows." 
 
 " She has you there, George," said the assistants, and 
 there was a general laugh ; for the wit was fitted for the 
 meridian of the place in which it was uttered. The gen- 
 eral applause somewhat gratified the passions of the old 
 hag ; '* the grim feature" smiled, and even laughed — but 
 it was a laugh of bitter scorn. She condescended, how- 
 ever, as if appeased by the success of her sally, to explain 
 her business more distinctly, when the magistrate, com- 
 manding silence, again desired her either to speak out her 
 errand, or to leave the place. 
 
 " Her bairn," she said, " was her bairn, and she came 
 to fetch her out of ill haft and waur guiding. If she 
 wasna sae wise as ither folks, few ither folks had suffered 
 as muckle as she had done ; forbye that she could fend 
 the waur for hersell within the four wa's of a jail. She 
 could prove by fifty witnesses, and fifty to that, that her 
 daughter had never seen Jock Porteous, ahve or dead, 
 since he had gi'en her a loundering wi' his cane, the neger 
 that he was, for driving a dead cat at the provost's wig 
 on the Elector of Hanover's birth-day." 
 
 Notwithstanding the wretched appearance and violent 
 demeanour of this woman, the magistrate felt the justice 
 of her argument, that her child might be as dear to her
 
 224 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 as to a more fortunate and more amiable mother. He 
 proceeded to investigate the circumstances which had led 
 to Madge Murdockson's (or Wildfire's) arrest, and as it 
 was clearly shown that she had not been engaged in the 
 riot, he contented himself with directing that an eye 
 should be kept upon her by the police, but that for the 
 present she should be allowed to return home with her 
 mother. During the interval of fetching Madge from the 
 jail, the magistrate endeavoured to discover whether her 
 mother had been privy to the change of dress betwixt 
 that young woman and Robertson, But on this point he 
 could obtain no light. She persisted in declaring, that 
 she had never seen Robertson since his remarkable escape 
 during service-time ; and that, if her daughter had chang- 
 ed clothes with him, it must have been during her absence 
 at a hamlet about two miles out of town, called Dudding- 
 stone, where she could prove that she passed that event- 
 ful night. And, in fact, one of the town-officers, who 
 had been searching for stolen linen at the cottage of a 
 washerwoman in that village, gave his evidence, that he 
 had seen Maggie Murdockson there, whose presence had 
 considerably increased his suspicion of the house in which 
 she was a visiter, in respect that he considered her as a 
 person of no good reputation. 
 
 '* I tauld ye sae," said the hag ; " see now what it is to 
 hae a character, gude or bad ! — Now, maybe, after a', I 
 could tell ye something about Porteous that you council- 
 chamber bodies never could find out, for as muckle stir 
 as ye mak." 
 
 All eyes were turned towards her — all ears were alert. 
 " Speak out," said the magistrate. 
 
 " It will be for your ain gude," insinuated the town- 
 clerk. " Dinna keep the baillie w^aiting," urged "the 
 assistants. 
 
 She remained doggedly silent for two or three minutes, 
 casting around a malignant and sulky glance, that seemed 
 to enjoy the anxious suspense with which they waited her 
 answer. And then she broke forth at once, — " A' that 
 I ken about him is, that he was neither soldier nor gen-
 
 THE HEART OF MID'iOTHIAN. 225 
 
 tleman, but just a thief and a blackguard, like maist o' 
 yoursells, dears — What will ye gie me for that news now ^ 
 — He wad hae served the gude town lang or provost or 
 baillie wad hae fund that out, my joe !" 
 
 While these matters were in discussion, Madge Wild- 
 fire entered, and her first exclamation was, " Eh ! see if 
 there isna our auld ne'er-do-weel deevil's buckie o' a 
 raither — Hegh, sirs ! but we are a hopefu' family, to be 
 twa o' us in the Guard at ance — But there were better 
 days wi' us ance — were there na, mither 9" 
 
 Old Maggie's eyes had glistened with something like 
 an expression of pleasure when she saw her daughter set 
 at hberty. But either her natural affection, like that of 
 the tigress, could not be displayed without a strain of fe- 
 rocity, or there was something in the ideas which Madge's 
 speech awakened, that again stirred her cross .and savage 
 temper. " What signifies what we were, ye street-raking 
 limmer !" she exclaimed, pushing her daughter before 
 her to the door, with no gentle degree of violence. " I'se 
 tell thee what thou is now — thou's a crazed hellicat Bess 
 o' Bedlam, that sail taste naething but bread and water 
 for a fortnight, to serve ye for the plague ye hae gien 
 me, and ower gude for ye, ye idle taupie." 
 
 Madge, however, escaped from her mother at the 
 door, ran back to the foot of the table, dropped a very 
 low" and fantastic curtsey to the judge, and said, with a 
 giggling laugh, " Our minnie's sair mis-set, after her or- 
 dinary, sir — She'll hae had some quarrel wi' her auld 
 gudeman — that's Satan, ye ken, sirs." This explanatory 
 note she gave in a low confidential tone, and the specta- 
 tors of that credulous generation did not hear it without 
 an involuntary shudder. " The gudeman and her disna 
 aye gree weel, and then I maun pay the piper ; but my 
 back's broad aneugh to bear't a' — an' if she hae nae hav- 
 ings, that's nae reason why wiser folk shouldna hae some.'* 
 Here another deep curtsey. The ungracious voice of 
 her mother was heard. 
 
 " Madge, ye limmer ! If I come to fetch ye !"
 
 ii^b TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 " Hear till her," said Madge. " But I'll wun out a 
 glifFthe night for a' that, to dance in the moonlight, when 
 her and the gudeman will be whirring through the blue 
 lift on a broomshank, to see Jean Jap, that they hae put- 
 ten intill the Kirkcaldy tolbooth — ay, they will hae a 
 merry sail ower Inchkeith, and ovver a' the bits o' bonny 
 waves that are popphng and plashing against the rocks in 
 the gowden glimmer o' the moon, ye ken. — I'm coming, 
 mother — I'm coming," she concluded, on hearing a scuffle 
 at the door betwixt the beldame and the officers, who 
 were endeavouring to prevent her re-entrance. Madge 
 then waved her hand wildly towards the ceiling, and 
 sung, at the topmost pitch of her voice, — 
 
 " Up in the air. 
 
 On my bonny grey marc, 
 
 And I see, and I see, and I see her yet." 
 
 And with a hop, skip, and jump, sprung out of the room, 
 as the witches of Macbeth used, in less refined days, to 
 seem to fiy upwards from the stage. 
 
 Some weeks intervened before Mr. Middleburgh, 
 agreeably to his benevolent resolution, found an opportu- 
 nity of taking a walk towards Saint Leonard's, in order 
 to discover whether it might be possible to obtain the 
 evidence hinted at in the anonymous letter respecting 
 Effie Deans. 
 
 In fact, the anxious perquisitions made to discover the 
 murderers of Porteous occupied the attention of all con- 
 cerned with the administration of justice. 
 
 In the course of these inquiries, two circumstances 
 happened material to our story. Butler, after a close in- 
 vestigation of his conduct, was declared innocent of ac- 
 cession to the death of Porteous ; but, as having been 
 present during the whole transaction, was obliged to find 
 bail not to quit his usual residence at Libberton, that he 
 might appear as a witness when called upon. The other 
 incident regarded the disappearance of Madge Wildfire 
 and her mother from Edinburgh. When they were 
 sought, with the purpose of subjecting them to some
 
 THE HEART OE MID-LOTIIIAX . 227 
 
 further interrogatories, it was discovered by Mr. Sharpit- 
 law that they had eluded the observation of the police, 
 and left the city as soon as dismissed from the council- 
 chamber. No efforts could trace the place of their 
 retreat. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the excessive indignation of the 
 Council of Regency, at the slight put upon their author- 
 ity by the murder of Porteous, had dictated measures, in 
 which their own extreme desire of detecting the actors 
 in that conspiracy was consulted, in preference to the 
 temper of the people, and the character of their church- 
 men. An act of parliament was hastily passed, offering 
 two hundred pounds reward to those who should inform 
 against any person concerned in the deed, and the pen- 
 alty of death, by a very unusual and severe enactment, 
 was denounced against those who should harbour the 
 guilty. But what was chiefly accounted exceptionable, 
 was a clause appointing the act to be read in churches by 
 the officiating clergyman, upon the first Sunday of every 
 month, for a certain period, immediately before the ser- 
 mon. The ministers who should refuse to comply with 
 this injunction were declared, for the first offence, inca- 
 pable of sitting or voting in any church judicature, and 
 for the second, incapable of holding any ecclesiastical 
 preferment in Scodand. 
 
 This last order united in a common cause those who 
 might privately rejoice in Porteous's death, though they 
 dared not vindicate the manner of it, with the more scru- 
 pulous presbyterians, who held, that even pronouncing the 
 name of tiie " Lord's Spiritual" in a Scottish pulpit was, 
 quodammodo an acknowledgment of prelacy, and that the 
 injimction of the legislature was an interference of the 
 civil government with ibe jus divinum of presbytery, 
 since to the General Assembly alone, as representing the 
 invisible head of the Kirk, belonged the sole and exclu- 
 sive right of regulating whatever appertained to public 
 worship. Very many also of different political or religious 
 sentiments, and therefore not much moved by these con- 
 siderations, thought they saw, in so violent an act of par-
 
 228 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 liament, a more vindictive spirit than became the legisla- 
 ture of a great country, and something like an attempt to 
 trample upon the rights and independence of Scotland. 
 The various steps adopted for punishing the city of Ed- 
 inburgh, by taking away her charter and Hberties, for 
 what a violent and over-mastering mob had done within 
 her walls, were resented by many, who thought a pretext 
 was too hastily taken for degrading the ancient metropo- 
 lis of Scotland. In short, there was much heart-burning, 
 discontent, and disaffection, occasioned by these ill-con- 
 sidered measures. 
 
 Amidst these heats and dissensions, the trial of Effie 
 Deans, after many weeks confinement, was at length 
 about to be brought forward, and Mr. Middleburgh found 
 leisure to inquire into the evidence concerning her. For 
 this pu]pose he chose a fine day for his walk towards her 
 fatiier's house. 
 
 The excursion into the country was somewhat distant, 
 in the opinion of a burgess of those days, although many 
 of the present inhabit suburban villas considerably be- 
 yond the spot to which we allude. Three quarters of an 
 hour's walk, however, even at a pace of magisterial gravi- 
 ty, conducted our benevolent office-bearer to the Crags of 
 St. Leonard's, and the humble mansion of David Deans. 
 
 The old man was seated on the deas, or turf-seat, at 
 the end of his cottage, busied in mending his cart-harness 
 with his own hands ; for in those days any sort of labour 
 which required a little more skill than usual, fell to the 
 share of the goodman himself, and that even when he was 
 well to pass in the world. With stern and austere grav- 
 ity he persevered in his task, after having just raised his 
 eyes to notice the advance of the stranger. It would 
 have been impossible to have discovered, from his coun- 
 tenance and manner, the internal feelings of agony with 
 which he contended. Mr. Middleburgh waited an in- 
 stant, expecting Deans would in some measure acknow- 
 ledge his presence, and lead irilo conversation ; but, as 
 he seemed determined to remain silent, he w^as himself 
 obliged to speak first.
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 229 
 
 " My name is Middleburgh — Mr. James Middleburgh, 
 one of the present magistrates of the city of Edinburgh." 
 
 " It may be sae," answered Deans laconically, and 
 without interrupting his labour. 
 
 " You must understand," he continued, " that the 
 duty of a magistrate is sometimes an unpleasant one." 
 
 " It may be sae," replied David ; '* 1 hae naething to 
 say in the contrair ;" and he was again doggedly silent. 
 
 " You must be aware," pursued the magistrate, 
 '• that persons in my situation are often obliged to make 
 painful and disagreeable inquiries at individuals, merely 
 because it is their bounden duty." 
 
 " It may be sae," again replied Deans ; " I hae nae- 
 thing to say anent it, either the tae way or the t'other. 
 But I do ken there was ance in a day a just and God- 
 fearing magistracy in yon town o' Edinburgh, that did not 
 bear the sword in vain, but were a terror to evil doers, 
 and a praise to such as kept the path. In the glorious 
 days of auld worthy, faithfu' Provost Dick, when there 
 was a true and faithfu' General Assembly of the Kirk, 
 walking hand in hand with the real noble Scottish-hearted 
 barons, and with the magistrates of this and other towns, 
 gentles, burgesses, and commons of all ranks, seeing with 
 one eye, hearing with one ear, and upholding the ark with 
 their united strength — And then folk might see men de- 
 liver up their silver to the state's use, as if it had been as 
 muckle sclate stanes. My father saw them toom the 
 sacks of dollars out o' Provost Dick's window intill the 
 carts that carried them to the army at Dunselaw ; and if 
 ye winna believe his testimony, there is the window itseli 
 still standing in the Luckenbooths — I think it's a claith- 
 merchant's booth the day — ^at the airn stanchells, five 
 doors abune Gossford's Close — But now we haena sic 
 spirit amang us ; we think mair about the warst wally- 
 draigle in our ain byre, than about the blessing which the 
 angel of the covenant gave to the Patriarch even at Peniel 
 and Mahanaim, or the binding obligation of our national 
 vows ; and we wad rather gi'e a pund Scots to buy an 
 20 VOL. I.
 
 230 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 unguent to clear our auld rannel-trees and our beds o' the 
 English bugs, as they ca' them, than we wad gi'e a plack 
 to rid the land of the swarm of Arminian caterpillars, 
 Socinian pismires, and deistical Miss Katies, that have 
 ascended out of the bottomless pit, to plague this per- 
 verse, insidious, and lukewarm generation." 
 
 It happened to David Deans on this occasion as it has 
 done to many other habitual orators ; when once he be- 
 came embarked on his favourite subject, the stream of 
 his own enthusiasm carried him forward in spile of his 
 mental distress, while his well-exercised memory suppli- 
 ed him amply v.ith all the types and tropes of rhetoric 
 peculiar to his sect and cause. 
 
 Mr. Middleburgh contented himself with answering — 
 " All this may be very true, my friend ; but, as you said 
 just now, I have nothing to say to it at present, euher one 
 way or other. — You have two daughters, I think, Mr. 
 Deans 9" 
 
 The old man winced, as one whose smarting sore is 
 suddenly galled, but instantly composed himself, resumed 
 the work which, in the heat of his declamation, he had 
 laid down, and answered widi sullen resolution, " Ae 
 daughter, sir — only ff«e." 
 
 " I understand you," said Mr. Middleburgh ; " you 
 have only one daughter here at home with you — but this 
 unfortunate girl v\ho is a prisoner — she is, I think, your 
 youngest daughter*?" 
 
 The presbyterian sternly raised his eyes. " After the 
 world, and according to the fiesh, she is my daughter ; 
 but when she became a child of Belial, and a compaiiy- 
 keeper, and a trader in guilt aad iniquity, she ceased to 
 be a bairn of mine." 
 
 " Alas ! Mr. Deans," said Middleburgh, sitting down 
 by him, and endeavouring to take his hand, which the 
 old man proudly withdrew, " we are ourselves all sin- 
 ners ; and the errors of our offspring, as they ought not 
 to surprise us, being the portion which they derive of a 
 common portion of corruption inherited through us, so
 
 THE HEART OF MID-tOTHIAN. 2iii 
 
 they do not entitle us to cast them off because they have 
 lost themselves." 
 
 " Sir," said Deans, impatiently, '' I ken a' that as 
 weel as — I mean to say," he resumed, checking the irri- 
 tation he felt at being schoolM — a discipline of the mind, 
 which those most ready to bestow it on others, do them- 
 selves most reluctantly submit to receive — " I mean to 
 say, that what ye observe may be just and reasonable — 
 But I bae nae freedom to enter into my ain private affairs 
 wi' strangers — And now, in this great national emergen- 
 cy, when there's the Porteous' Act has come doun frae 
 London, that is a deeper blow to this poor sinfu' kingdom 
 and suffering kirk, than ony that has been heard of since 
 the foul and fatal Test — at a time like this" 
 
 " But, goodman," interrupted Mr. Middleburgh, 
 " you must think of your own household first, or else 
 you are worse even than the infidels." 
 
 " I tell you, Baillie Middleburgh," retorted David 
 Deans, " if ye be a baillie, as there is little honour in 
 being ane in these evil days — I tell ye, I heard the gra- 
 cious Saunders Peden — I wotna whan it was ; but it was 
 in killing time, when the plowers were drawing alang their 
 furrows on the back of the Kirk of Scotland — I heard 
 him tell his hearers, gude and waled Christians they were 
 too, that some o' them wad greet mair for a bit drowned 
 calf or stirk, than for a' the defections and oppressions of 
 the day ; and that there were some o' them thinking o' ae 
 thing, some o' anither, and there was Lady Hundleslope 
 thinking o' greeting Jock at the fire-side ! And the lady 
 confessed, in my hearing, that a drow of anxiety had 
 come ower her for her son, that she had left at hame weak 
 of a decay — And what w^ad he hae said of me, if I had 
 ceased to think of the gude cause for a cast-a-way — a — 
 it kills me to think of what she is — " 
 
 " But the life of your child, goodman — think of that, 
 if her life could be saved," said Middleburgh. 
 
 " Her life !" exclaimed David — " I v^^adna gie ane o' 
 my grey hairs for her life, if her gude name be gane — 
 And yet," said he, relenting and retracting as he spoke.
 
 232 TALES OF MY LAIfDtORD. 
 
 '* 1 would make the niffer, Mr. Middleburgh — I wad gie 
 a' these grey hairs that she has brought to shame and sor- 
 row — I w^ad gie the auld head they grow on for her hfe, 
 and that she might hae time to amend and return, for 
 what hae the wicked beyond the breath of their nostrils 
 — But I'll never see her mair. — No ! — that — that I am 
 determined in — I'll never see her mair." His lips con- 
 tinued to move for a minute after his voice ceased to be 
 heard, as if he were repeating the same vow internally. 
 
 " Well, sir," said Mr. Middleburgh, " I speak to you 
 as a man of sense ; if you would save your daughter's 
 life, you must use human means." 
 
 " I understand what you mean ; but Mr. Novit, who is 
 the procurator and doer of an honourable person, the 
 Laird of Dumbiedikes, is to do what carnal wisdom can 
 do for her in the circumstances. T mysell am not clear 
 to trinket and traffic wi' courts o' justice, as they are 
 now constituted ; I have a tenderness and scruple in my 
 mind anent them." 
 
 " That is to say," said Middleburgh, " that you are a 
 Cameronian, and do not acknowledge the authority of 
 our courts of judicature or present government 9" 
 
 " Sir, under your favour," rephed David, who was 
 too proud of his own polemical knowledge, to call him- 
 self the follower of any one, " ye tak me up before 1 fall 
 down. I canna see why I suld be termed a Cameronian, 
 especially now that ye hae given the name of that famous 
 and savoury sufferer, not only until a regimental band of 
 soldiers, whereof I am told many can now curse, swear, 
 and use profane language, as fast as ever Richard Cameron 
 could preach or pray ; but also because ye have, in as 
 far as it is in your power, rendered that martyr's name 
 vain and contemptible, by pipes, drums, and fifes, playing 
 the vain carnal spring, called the Cameronian Rant, 
 which too many professors of religion dance to — a prac- 
 tice maist unbecoming a professor, to dance to any tune 
 whatsoever, more especially promiscuously, that is, with 
 {he female sex. A brutish fashion it is, whilk is the be-
 
 THE HEART OF MID-I.OTHIAy. 2o3 
 
 ginning of defection vritli many, as I may hae as niuckle 
 cause as maist folk to testify." 
 
 " Well, but, Mr. Deans," replied Mr. Middleburgh, 
 '• 1 only meant to say that you were a Cameronian or 
 Mac^Jilianite, one of the society people, in short, who 
 think it inconsistent to take oaths under a government 
 where the Covenant is not ratified." 
 
 " Sir," replied the controversialist, who forgot even 
 his present distress in such discussions as these, " you 
 cannot fickle me sae easily as you do opine. I am not 
 a Mac^Millauite, or a Russelite, or a Hamilionian, or a 
 Ilarleyite, or a Howdenite — 1 will be led by the nose by 
 none — and take my name as a Christian from no vessel 
 of clay. I have my own principles and practice to an- 
 swer for, and am an humble pleader for the gude auld 
 cause in a legal way." 
 
 '• That is to say, ?»fr. Deans," said Middleburgh, 
 '' that you are a Deaniie. and have opinions peculiar to 
 yourself." 
 
 ••' It may please you to say sae," said David Deans ; 
 " but 1 have maintained my testimony before as great 
 folks, and in sharper limes ; and though 1 will neither ex- 
 alt myself nor pull down others, 1 wish every man and 
 woman in this land had kept the true teslimony, and the 
 middle and straight path, as it were, on the ridge of a 
 hill, where wind ant^ water shears, avoiding right-hand 
 snares and extremes, and left-hand way slidings, as weel 
 as Johnny Dodds of Farthing's Acre, and ae man mair, 
 that shall be nameless." 
 
 '•' I suppose," replied tlie magistrate, " that is as much 
 as to say, that Johnny Dodds of Farthing's Acre, and 
 David Deans of St. Leonard's, constitute the only mem- 
 bers of the true, real, unsophisticated kirk of Scotland 9" 
 
 *' God forbid that I suld make sic a vain-glorious 
 speech, when there, are sae mony professing Christians," 
 answered David ; " but this I maun say, that all men act 
 according to their gifts and their srace. sae that it is nae 
 
 marvel that" 
 
 20- VOL. I.
 
 234 TALES OF MY LANDLORIJi. 
 
 " This is all very fine," interrupted Mr. Middleburgh ; 
 " but I have no time to spend in hearing it. The matter 
 in hand is this — I have directed a citation to be lodged in 
 your daughter's hands — If she appears on the day of 
 trial, and gives evidence, there is reason to hope she may 
 save her sister's life — if, from any constrained scruples 
 about the legality of her performing the office of an af- 
 fectionate sister and a good subject, by appearing in a 
 court held under the authority of the law and govern- 
 ment, you become the means of deterring her from the 
 discharge of this duty, I must say, though the truth may 
 sound harsh in your ears, that you, who gave life to this 
 unhappy girl, will become the means of her losing it by 
 a premature and violent death." 
 
 So saying, ^Ir. Middleburgh turned to leave him. 
 
 " Bide awee — bide awee, Mr. Middleburgh," said 
 Deans, in great perplexity and distress of mind ; but the 
 baillie, who was probably sensible that protracted discus- 
 sion might diminish the effect of his best and most forci- 
 ble argument, took a hasty leave, and dechned entering 
 farther into the controversy. 
 
 Deans sunk down upon his seat, stunned with a varie- 
 ty of conflicting emotions. It had been a great source of 
 controversy among those holding his opinions in religious 
 matters, how far the government which succeeded the 
 revolution could be, without sin, acknowledged by true 
 presbyterians, seeing that it did not recognize the great 
 iialional testimony of the Solemn League and Covenant. 
 And latterly, those agreeing in this general doctrine, and 
 assuming the sounding title of the anti-popish, anti-pre- 
 latic, anti-erastian, anti-sectarian, true presbyterian rem- 
 nant, were divided into many petty sects among them- 
 selves, even as to the extent of submission to the existing 
 laws and rulers, which constituted such an acknowledg- 
 ment as amounted to sin. 
 
 At a very stormy and tumultuous meeting, held in 16S2, 
 to discuss these important and delicate points, the testi- 
 monies of the faithful few were found utterly inconsistent 
 with each other. The place where this conference took
 
 THE HEART OF MID-lOTHlAN. 235 
 
 place was remarkably well adapted for such an assembly. 
 It was a wild and very sequestered dell in Tweeddale, 
 surrounded by iwgh hills, and far remote from human 
 habitation. A small river, or rather a mountain torrent, 
 called the Talla, breaks down the glen with great fury, 
 dashing successively over a number of small cascades, 
 which has procured the spot the name of Talla-Linns. 
 Here the leaders among the scattered adherents to the 
 covenant, men who, in their banishment from human so- 
 ciety, and in the recollection of the severities to which 
 they had been exposed, had become at once sullen in 
 their tempers, and fantastic in their religious opinions, met 
 with arms in their hands, and by the side of the torrent 
 discussed, with a turbulence which the noise of the stream 
 could not drown, points of controversy as empty and un- 
 substantial as its foam. 
 
 It was the fixed judgment of most of the meeting, that 
 all payment of cess or tribute to the existing government 
 was utterly unlawful, and a sacrificing to idols. About 
 other impositions and degrees of submission there were 
 various opinions ; and perhaps it is the best illustra- 
 tion of the spirit of these military fathers of the church 
 to say, that while all allowed it was impious to pay the 
 cess employed for maintaining the standing army and 
 militia, there was a fierce controversy on the lawfulness 
 of paying the duties levied at ports and bridges, for main- 
 taining roads and other necessary purposes ; that there 
 were some who, repugnant to these imposts for turnpikes 
 and postages, were nevertheless free in conscience to 
 make payment of the usual freight at public ferries, and 
 that a person of exceeding and punctilious zeal, James 
 Russel, one of the slayers of the Archbishop of St. 
 Andrews, had given his testimony with great warmth 
 even against this last faint shade of subjection to consti- 
 tuted authority. This ardent and enlightened person and 
 his followers had also great scruples about the lawfulness 
 of bestowing the ordinary names upon the days of the 
 week and the months of the year, which savoured in their 
 nostrils so strongly of paganism, that at length they ar-
 
 236 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 rived at the conclusion, that they who owned such names 
 as Monday, Tuesday, January, February, and so forth, 
 " served themselves heirs to the same, if not greater 
 punishment, than had been denounced against the idola- 
 ters of old." 
 
 David Deans had been present on this memorable oc- 
 casion, although too young to be a speaker among the 
 polemical combatants. His brain, however, had been 
 thoroughly heated by the noise, clamour, and metaphysi- 
 cal ingenuity of the discussion, and it was a controversy 
 to which his mind had often returned ; and though he 
 carefully disguised his vacillation from others, and per- 
 haps from himself, he had never been able to come to 
 any precise line of decision on the subject. In fact, his 
 natural sense had acted as a counterpoise to his contro- 
 versial zeal. He was by no means pleased with the quiet 
 and indiiferent manner in which King William's govern- 
 ment slurred over the errors of the times, when, far from 
 restoring the presbyterian kirk to its former supremacy, 
 they passed an act of oblivion even to those who had 
 been its persecutors, and bestowed on many of them 
 titles, favours, and employments. When, in the first 
 General Assembly which succeeded the Revolution, an 
 overture was made for the revival of the League and 
 Covenant, it was with horror that Douce David heard the 
 proposal eluded by the men of carnal wit and policy, as 
 he called them, as being inapplicable to the present times, 
 and not falling under the modern model of the church. 
 The reign of Queen Anne had increased his conviction, 
 that the Revolution government was not one of the true 
 presbyterian complexion. But then, more sensible than 
 the bigots of his sect, he did not confound the modera- 
 tion and tolerance of these two reigns with the active 
 tyranny and oppression exercised in those of Charles II. 
 and James II. The presbyterian form of religion, though 
 deprived of the weight formerly attached to its sentences 
 of excommunication, and compelled to tolerate the co- 
 existence of episcopacy, and of sects of various descrip- 
 tions, was still the National Church ; and though the
 
 THE HEART OF MID-IOT^IAN. 237 
 
 glory of the second temple was far inferior to that which 
 had flourished from 1639 till the battle of Dunbar, still it 
 was a structure that, wanting the strength and the terrors, 
 retained at least the form and symmetry, of the original 
 model. Then came the insurrection of 1715, and David 
 Deans's horror for the revival of the popish and prelatical 
 faction reconciled him greatly to the government of King 
 George, although he grieved that the monarch might be 
 suspected of a leaning unto Erastianism. In short, mov- 
 ed by so many different considerations, he had shifted his 
 ground at different times concerning the degree of freedom 
 which he felt in adopting any act of immediate acknow- 
 ledgment or submission to the present government, which, 
 however mild and paternal, was still uncovenanted ; and 
 now he felt himself called upon by the most powerful 
 motive conceivable, to authorize his daughter's giving 
 testimony in a court of justice, which all who have been 
 since called Cameronians, accounted a step of lamenta- 
 ble and direct defection. The voice of nature, however, 
 exclaimed loud in his bosom against the dictates of fa- 
 naticism ; and his imagination, fertile in the solution of 
 polemical difficulties, devised an expedient for extricating 
 himself from the fearful dilemma, in which he saw, on 
 the one side, a falhng off from principle, and, on the 
 other, a scene from which a father's thoughts could not 
 but turn in shuddering horror. 
 
 " 1 have been constant and unchanged in my testimo- 
 ny," said David Deans ; " but then who has said it of 
 me, that I have judged my neighbour over closely, be- 
 cause he hath had more freedom in his walk than I have 
 found in mine 9 I never was a separatist, nor for quar- 
 relling with tender souls about mint, cummin, or other the 
 lesser tithes. IMy daughter Jean may have a hght in this 
 subject that is hid frae my auld een — it is laid on her 
 conscience and not on mine — If she hath freedom to gang 
 before this judicatory, and hold up her hand for this poor 
 cast-away, surely I will not say she steppeth over her 
 bounds ; and if not" He paused in his mental ar- 
 gument, while a pang of unutterable anguish convulsed
 
 238 TALES OF MY X.ANDLORU. 
 
 his features, yet, shaking it off, he firmly resumed the 
 strain of his reasoning — " And if not — God forbid that 
 she should go into defection at bidding of mine ! 1 vvunna 
 fret the tender conscience of one bairn — no, not to save 
 the hfe of the other." 
 
 A Roman would have devoted his daughter to death 
 from different feelings and motives, but not upon a more 
 heroic principle of duty. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 To man, in this his trial state, 
 
 The privilege is given, 
 When tost by tides of human fate, 
 
 To anchor fast on heaven. 
 
 Watts's Hymns. 
 
 It was with a firm step that Deans sought his daugh- 
 ter's apartment, determined to leave her to the light of 
 her own conscience in the dubious point of casuistry in 
 which he supposed her to be placed. 
 
 The little room had been the sleeping apartment of 
 both sisters, and there still stood there a small occasional 
 bed which had been made for Effie's accommodation, 
 when, complaining of illness, she had declined to share, 
 as in happier times, her sister's pillow. The eyes of 
 Deans rested involimtarily, on entering the room, upon 
 this little couch, wilh its dark-green coarse curtains, and 
 the ideas connected with it rose so thick upon his soul as 
 almost to incapacitate him from opening his errand to his 
 daughter. Her occupation broke the ice. He found her 
 gazing on a slip of paper, which contained a citation to 
 her to appear as a witness upon her sister's trial in behalf 
 of the accused. For the worthy magistrate, determined 
 to omit no chance of doing Effie justice, and to leave 
 her sister no apology for not giving the evidence which
 
 THE HEART OF MID-]LOTHIAxV. 2'S^ 
 
 she was supposed to possess, had caused the ordinary ci- 
 tation, or subpcena, of the Scottish criminal court, to be 
 served upon her by an officer during his conference with 
 David. 
 
 This precaution was so far favourable lo Deans, that it 
 saved him the pain of entering upon a formal explanation 
 with his daughter ; he only said, \^ith a hollow and trem- 
 ulous voice, " 1 perceive ye are aware of the matter." 
 
 " O father, we are cruelly sted between God's laws 
 and man's laws — What will we do 9 — What will we do V 
 
 Jeanie, it must be observed, had no scruple whatever 
 about the mere act of appearing in a court of justice. 
 She might have heard the point discussed by her father 
 more than once ; but we have already noticed, that she 
 was accustomed to listen with reverence to much which 
 she was incapable of understanding, and tliat subtle argu- 
 ments of casuistry found her a patient, but unedified 
 hearer. Upon receiving the citation, therefore, her 
 thoughts did not turn upon the chimerical scruples which 
 alarmed her father's mind, but to the language which had 
 been held to her by the stranger at Muschat's Cairn.* In 
 a word, she never doubted but she was to be drogged 
 forward into the court of justice, in order to place her in 
 the cruel position of either sacrificing her sister by telling 
 the truth, or committing perjury in order to save her life. 
 And so strongly did her thoughts run in this channel, that 
 she applied her father's words, " Ye are aware of the 
 matter," to his acquaintance with the advice that had 
 been so fearfully enforced upon her. She looked up 
 with anxious surprise, not unmingled with a cast of hor- 
 ror, which his next words, as she interpreted and applied 
 them, were not qualified to remove. 
 
 " Daughier," said David, '' it has ever been my mind, 
 that in things of ane doubtf'! and controversial nature, 
 ilk Christian's conscience suld be his ain guide — V/here- 
 fore descend into yourself, try your ain mind with suffi- 
 ciency of soul exercise ; and as you sail finally find your- 
 self clear to do in this matter, even so be it."
 
 240 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 " But, father," said Jeanie, whose mind revoked at 
 the construction wliich she naturally put upon this lan- 
 guage, " can this — this be a doubtful or controversial 
 matter "7 — Mind, father, the ninth command — ' Thou 
 shah iiot bear false witness against thy neighbour.' " 
 
 David Deans paused ; for, still applying her speech to 
 his preconceived ditBculties, it seemed to him, as if she, 
 a woman, and- a sister, was scarce entitled to be scrupu- 
 lous upon this occasion, where he, a man, exercised in 
 the testimonies of that testifying period, had given indi- 
 rect countenance to her following what must have been 
 the natural dictates of her own feelings. But he kept 
 firm nis purpose, until his eyes involuntarily rested upon 
 the liitle settle-bed, and recalled the form of the child of 
 his old age, as she sat upon it, pale, emaciated, and brok- 
 en-hearted. His mind, as the picture arose before him, 
 involuntarily conceived, and liis tongue involuntarily ut- 
 tered — but in a tone how different from his usual dogmat- 
 ical precision, arguments for the course of conduct hkely 
 to insure his child's safety. 
 
 ^ Daughter," he said, " I did not say that your path 
 was free from stumbhng — and, questionless, this act may 
 be in the opinion of some a transgression, since he who 
 beareth witness unlawfully, and against his conscience, 
 dotl) in some sort bear false witness against his neigh- 
 bour. Yet, in matters of compliance, the guilt lietb not 
 in the compliance sae muckle, as in the mind and con- 
 science of him that doth comply ; and, therefore, al- 
 though ray testimony hath not been spared upon public 
 defections, I haena felt freedom to separate mysell from 
 the communion of many who have been clear to hear 
 those ministers who have taken the fatal indiilgence, be- 
 cause they might get -good of them, though I could not." 
 
 When David had proceeded thus far, his conscience 
 reproved him, that he might be indirectly undermining 
 the purity of his daughter's faith, and smoothing the way 
 for her falhng off from strictness of principle. He, 
 therefore, suddenly stopped, and changed his tone : — 
 '' Jeanie, 1 perceive that our vile affections — so I call
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 241 
 
 them in respect of doing the will of our Father, — cling 
 too heavily to me in this hour of trying sorrow, to permit 
 me to keep sight of my ain duty, or to airt you to yours. 
 I will speak uae mair anent this over-trying matter. — 
 Jeanie, if ye can, wi' God and gude conscience, speak in 
 favour of this puir unhappy" — (here his voice faltered)— 
 " she is your sister in the flesh — worthless and cast-away 
 as she is, she is the daughter of a saint in Heaven, that 
 was a mother to you, Jeanie, in place of your ain — but if 
 ye arena free in conscience to speak for her in the court 
 of judicature — follow your conscience, Jeanie, and let 
 GoJ's will be done." After this adjuration he left the 
 apartment, and his daughter remained in a state of great 
 distress and perplexity. 
 
 It would have been no small addition to the sorrows of 
 David Deans, even in this extremity of suffering, had he 
 known that his daughter was applying the casuistical ar- 
 guments which he had been using, not in the sense of a 
 permission to follow her own opinion on a dubious and dis- 
 puted point of controversy, but rather as an encourage- 
 ment to transgress one of those divine commandments 
 which Christians of all sects and denominations unite in 
 holding most sacred. 
 
 " Can this be 9" said Jeanie, as the door closed on her 
 father — " Can this be his words that 1 have heard, or 
 has the Enemy taken his voice and features to give weight 
 unto the counsel which causeth to perish ! — A sister's life, 
 and a father pointing out how to save it ! — O God deliv- 
 er me ! — this is a fearfu' temptation." 
 
 Roaming from thought to thought, she at one time im- 
 agined her father understood the ninth commandment ht- 
 erally, as prohibiting false witness against our neighbour, 
 without extending the denunciation against falsehood ut- 
 tered in favour of the criminal. But her clear and un- 
 sophisticated power of discriminating between good, and 
 evil, instantly rejected an interpretation so limited, and so 
 unworthy of the Author of the law. She remained in a 
 state of the most agitating terror and uncertainty — afraid 
 
 21 VOL, I.
 
 -^42 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 to communicate her thoughts freely to her father, lest she 
 should draw forth an opinion with which she could not 
 comply, — wrung with distress on her sister's account, ren- 
 dered the more acute by reflecting that the means of sav- 
 ing her were in her power, but were such as her con- 
 science prohibited her from using, — tossed, in short, like 
 a vessel in an open roadstead during a storm, and, like 
 that vessel, resting on one only sure cable and anchor, — 
 faith in Providence, and a resolution to discharge her duty. 
 
 Butler's affection and strons; sense of reh2;ion would 
 have been her principal support in these distressing cir- 
 cumstances, but he was still under restraint, which did not 
 permit him to come to Saint Leonard's Crags ; and her 
 distresses were of a nature, which, with her indifferent 
 habits of scholarship, she found it impossible to express 
 in w-jiting. She was therefore compelled to trust for 
 guidance to her own unassisted sense of what was right 
 o: wrong. 
 
 It was not the least of her distresses, that, although 
 she hoped and believed her sister to be innocent, she had 
 not the means of receiving that assurance from her own 
 mouth. 
 
 The double-dealing of RatclifFe in the matter of Rob- 
 ertson had not prevented his being rewarded, as double- 
 dealers frequently have been, with favour and preferment. 
 Sharpitlaw, who found in him something of a kindred 
 genius, had been intercessor in his behalf with the mag- 
 istrates, and the circumstance of his having voluntarily 
 remained in the prison, when the doors were forced by 
 the mob, would have made it a hard measure to take the 
 life which he had such e'asy means of saving. He re- 
 ceived a full pardon ; and soon afterwards, James Rat- 
 cliffe, the greate-st thief and housebreaker in Scotland, 
 was, upon the faith, perhaps, of an ancient proverb, se- 
 lected as a person to be intrusted with the custody of 
 other delinquents. 
 
 When Rutcliffe was thus placed in a confidential situa- 
 tion, he was repeatedly applied to by the sapient Saddle- 
 tree and others, who took some interest in the Deans'
 
 THE HEART OF MID-IOTHIAN. 24S 
 
 family, to procure an interview between the sisters ; but 
 the magistrates, who were extremely anxious for the ap- 
 prehension of Robertson, had given strict order to the 
 contrary, hoping that, by keeping them separate, they 
 might, from the one or the other, extract some information 
 respecting that fugitive. On this subject Jeanie had noth- 
 ing to tell them : She informed Mr. Middleburgh, that 
 she knew nothing of Robertson, except having met him 
 that night by appointment to give her some advice re- 
 specting her sister's concern, the purport of v/hich, she 
 said, was betwixt God and her conscience. Of his mo- 
 lions, purposes, or plans, past, present, or future, she 
 know nothing, and so had nothing to communicate. 
 
 Effie was equally silent, though from a different cause. 
 It was in vain that they offered a commutation and alle- 
 viation of her punishment, and even a free pardon, if she 
 would confess what she knew of her lover. 
 
 She answered only with tears ; unless, when driven 
 into pettish sulkiness by the persecution of the interroga- 
 tors, 'she made them abrupt and disrespectful answers. 
 
 At length, after her trial had been delayed for many 
 weeks, in hopes she might be induced to speak out on a 
 subject infinitely more interesting to the magistracy than 
 her own guilt and innocence, their patience was worn out, 
 and, even Mr. Middleburgh finding no ear lent to further 
 intercession in her behalf, the day was fixed for the trial 
 to proceed. 
 
 It was now, and not sooner, that Sharpitlaw, recollect- 
 ing his promise to Eftie Deans, or rather being dinned 
 into compliance by the unceasing remonstrances of Mrs. 
 Saddletree, who was his next-door neighbour, and who 
 declared it was heathen cruelty to keep the twa broken- 
 hearted creatures separate, issued the important mandate, 
 permitting them to see each other. 
 
 On the evening which preceded the eventful day of 
 trial, Jeanie was permitted to see her sister — an awful in- 
 terview, and occurring at a most distressing crisis. This, 
 however, formed a part of the bitter cup which she was 
 doomed to drink, to atone for crimes and follies to which
 
 244 TALES OF MT LANDLORD. 
 
 she had no accession ; and at twelve o'clock noon, being 
 the time appointed for admission to the jail, she went to 
 meet, for the first time for several months, her guilty, 
 erring, and most miserable sister, in that abode of guilt, 
 error, and utter misery. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 -Sweet sister, let me live 
 
 What sin you do to save a brother's life, 
 Nature dispenses with the deed so far, 
 That it becomes a virtue. 
 
 Measure for Meastare. 
 
 Jeanie Deans was admitted into the jail by RatclifFe. 
 This fellow, as void of shame as of honesty, as he open- 
 ed the now trebly secured door, asked her, with a leer 
 which made her shudder, " whether she remembered 
 him V 
 
 A half-pronounced and timid " No," was her answer. 
 
 *' What ! not remember moonlight, and Muschat's 
 Cairn, and Rob and Rat '?" said he, with the same sneer ; 
 — " Your memory needs redding up, my jo." 
 
 If Jeanie's distresses had admitted of aggravation, it 
 must have been to find her sister under the charge of such 
 a profligate as this man. He was not, indeed, without 
 something of good to balance so much that was evil in 
 his character and habits. In his misdemeanours he had 
 never been blood-thirsty or cruel; and in his present oc- 
 cupation, be had shown himself, in a certain degree, ac- 
 cessible to touches of humanity. But these good qual- 
 ities were unknown to Jeanie, who, remembering the scene 
 at Muschat's Cairn, could scarce find voice to acquaint 
 him, that she had an order from BailHe Middleburgh, per- 
 mitting her to see her sister.
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 245 
 
 " I ken that fu' weel, my bonny doo ; raair by token, 
 I have a special charge to stay in the ward with you a' 
 the time ye are thegilher." 
 
 " Must that be sae 7" asked Jeanie, with an imploring 
 voice. 
 
 *' Hout, ay, hinny," rephed the turnkey ; " and what 
 the waur will you and your litty be of Jim RatclifFe hear- 
 ing what ye hae to say to ilk other ? — De'il a word ye'll 
 say that will gar him ken your kittle sex better than he 
 kens them already ; and another thing is, that if ye dinna 
 speak o' breaking the Tolbooth, de'il a word will i tell 
 ower, either to do ye good or ill." 
 
 Thus saying, Ratcliffe marshalled her the way to the 
 apartment where Effie was confined. 
 
 Shame, fear, and grief, had contended for mastery in 
 the poor prisoner's bosom during the w-hole morning, while 
 she had looked forward to this meeting ; but when the 
 door opened, all gave way to a confused and strange feel- 
 ing that had a tinge of joy in it, as, throwing herself on 
 her sister's neck, she ejaculated, " ^ly dear Jeanie ! — my 
 dear Jeanie ! it's lang since 1 hae seen ye." Jeanie re- 
 turned the embrace with an earnestness that partook al- 
 most of rapture, but it was only a flitting emotion, hke a 
 sun-beam unexpectedly penetrating betwixt the clouds of 
 a tempest, and obscured almost as soon as visible. The 
 sisters walked together to the side of the pallet bed, and 
 sat dow^n side by side, took hold of each other's hands, 
 and looked each other in the face, but without speaking a 
 word. In this posture they continued for a minute, while 
 the gleam of joy gradually faded from their features, and 
 gave w'ay to the most intense expression, first of melan- 
 choly, and then of agony, till, throwing themselves again 
 into each other's arms, they, to use the language of Scrip- 
 ture, Hfted up their voices and wept bitterly. 
 
 Even the hard-hearted turnkey, who had spent his life 
 in scenes calculated to stifle both conscience and feehng, 
 could not witness this scene without a touch of human 
 sympathy. It was shown in a trifling action, but which 
 
 21* VOL. I.
 
 246 TALES OF MY LANDLORD- 
 
 had more delicacy in it than seemed to belong to Rat- 
 clifFe's character and station. The unglazed window of 
 the miserable chamber was open, and the beams of a 
 bright sun fell right upon the bed where the sufferers were 
 seated. With a gentleness that had something of rever- 
 ence in it, Ratcliffe partly closed the shutter, and seem- 
 ed thus to throw a veil over a scene so sorrowful. 
 
 " Ye are ill, Effie," were the first words Jeanie could 
 utter, "yeare very ill." 
 
 *' O what wad I gi'e to be ten times waur, Jeanie !" 
 was the reply — " what wad I gi'e to be cauld dead afore 
 the ten o'clock bell the morn ! And our father — but I am 
 nae his bairn langer now — O I hae nae friend left in the 
 warld ! — O that I were lying dead at my mother's side, 
 in Newbattle Kirk-yard !" 
 
 " Hout, lassie," said Ratcliffe, willing to show the in- 
 terest which he absolutely felt, " dinna be sae dooms 
 down-hearted as a' that ; there's mony a tod hunted that's 
 no killed. Advocate Langtale has brought folk through 
 waur snappers than a' this ; and there's no a cleverer 
 agent than Nichil Novit, e'er drew a bill of suspension. 
 Hanged or unhanged, they are weel afF has sic an agent 
 and counsel ; ane's sure o' fair play. Ye are a bonny 
 lass too, an ye wad busk up your cockernonie a bit; and 
 a bonny lass will find favour wi' judge and jury, when 
 they w^ould strap up a grewsome carle like me for the fif- 
 teenth part of a flea's hide and tallow, d — n them." 
 
 To this homely strain of consolation the mourners re- 
 turned no answer ; indeed they were so much lost in their 
 own sorrows as to have become insensible of RatclifFe's 
 presence. " O Effie," said her elder sister, " how could 
 you conceal your situation from me ! O, woman, had I 
 deserved this at your hand 7 — had ye spoke but ae word 
 — sorry we might hae been, and shamed we might hae 
 been, but this awfu' dispensation had never come ower us." 
 
 " And what gude wad that hae dune *!?" answered the 
 prisoner. " Na, na, Jeanie, a' was ower, when ance I 
 forgot what I promised when I faulded down the leaf of 
 my Bible. See," she said, producing the sacred volume,
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 247 
 
 " the book opens aye at the place o' itsell. O see, Jeanie, 
 what a fearfu' scripture !" 
 
 Jeanie took her sister's Bible, and found that the fatal 
 mark was made at this impressive text in the book of 
 Job : " He hath stripped me of my glory, and taken the 
 crown from my head. He hath destroyed me on every 
 side, and I am gone. And mine hope hath he removed 
 like a tree." 
 
 " Isnathatower true a doctrine 9" said the prisoner — 
 " Isna my crown, my honour removed 9 And what am I 
 but a poor wasted wan-thriven tree, dug up by the roots, 
 and flung out to waste in the highway, that man and beast 
 may tread it under foot 9 I thought o' the bonny bit thorn 
 that our father rooted out o' the yard last May, when it 
 had a' the flush o' blossoms on it ; and then it lay in the 
 court till the beasts had trod them a' pieces wi' their feet. 
 I little thought, when J was wae for the bit silly green bush 
 and its flowers, that 1 was to gang the same gait mysell." 
 
 " O, if ye had spoken a word," again sobbed Jeanie, 
 — '* if I were free to swear that ye had said but ae word 
 of how it stude wi' ye, they couldna hae touched your 
 hfe this day." 
 
 " Could they na 9" said Efiie, with something like 
 awakened interest — for life is dear even to those who feel 
 it as a burthen — " Wha tauld ye that, Jeanie 9" 
 
 " It was ane that kenned what he was saying weel 
 aneugh," replied Jeanie, who had a natural reluctance at 
 mentioning even the name of her sister's seducer. 
 
 " Wha was it 9 — I conjure ye lo tell me !" said Effie, 
 seating herself upright. — " Wha could tak interest in sic 
 a cast-by as I am now 9 — W^as it — was it him V 
 • " Hout," said RatciifFe, " what signifies keeping the , 
 poor lassie in a swither 9 — I'se uphaud its been Robert- >> 
 son that learned ye that doctrine when ye saw him at Mus- 
 chat's Cairn." 
 
 " Was it him 9" said Effie, catching eagerly at his 
 words — " was it him, Jeanie, indeed 9 — O, I see it was 
 him — poor lad, and I was thinking his heart was as hard
 
 248 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 as the nether millstane — and him in sic danger on his ain 
 part — poor George !" 
 
 Somewhat indignant at this burst of tender feeling to- 
 wards the author of her misery, Jeanie could not help ex- 
 claiming, — " O, Effie, how can you speak that gate of sic 
 a man as that *?" 
 
 " We maun forgi'e our enemies, ye ken," said poor 
 EfEe, with a timid look and a subdued voice, for her con- 
 science told her wdiat a different character the feelings 
 with which she still regarded her seducer bore, compared 
 with the Christian charity under which she attempted to 
 veil it. 
 
 " And ye bae suffered a' this for him, and ye can think 
 of loving him still *?" said her sister in a voice betwixt 
 pity and blame. 
 
 " Love him !" answered Effie — " if I had na loved as 
 woman seldom loves, I hadna been within these wa's this 
 day ; and trow ye, that love sic as mine is hghtly forgot- 
 ten 9 — Na, na — ye may hew^ down the tree, but ye canna 
 change its bend — And, O, Jeanie, if ye wad do good to 
 me at this moment, tell me every word that he said, and 
 whether he was sorry for poor Effie or no." 
 
 " What needs I tell ye onything about it," said Jeanie. 
 " Ye may be sure he had ower muckle to do to save him- 
 sell, to speak laiig or muckle about ony body beside." 
 
 '* That's no true, Jeanie, though a saunt had said it," 
 replied Effie, with a spark of her former lively and ir- 
 ritable temper. " But ye dinna ken, though I do, how 
 far he pat his life in venture to save mine." And looking 
 at Ratcliffe, she checked herself and was silent. 
 
 " I fancy," said Ratcliffe, with one of his famihar sneers, 
 " the lassie thinks that naebody has een but hersell — 
 Didna I see when Gentle Geordie was seeking to get other 
 folk out of the Tolbooth forbye Jock Porteous *? but ye 
 are of my mind, hinny — better sit and rue, than flit and 
 rue — Ye needna look in my face sae amazed. I ken mair 
 things than that, maybe." 
 
 " O my God ! my God !" said Effie, springing up and 
 throwing herself down on her knees before him — " D'ye
 
 THE HEART OF MID-IOTHIAN. 249 
 
 ken where they hae putten my bairn 9 — O, my bairn ! 
 my bairn ! the poor sackless innocent new-born wee ane 
 — bone of my bone, and flesh of my flesh ! — O, man, if 
 ye wad e'er deserve a portion in Heaven, or a broken- 
 hearted creature's blessing upon earth, tell me where they 
 hae put my bairn — the sign of my shame, and the partner 
 of my suffering ! tell me wha has ta'en't away, or what 
 they hae dune wi't '?" 
 
 " Hout, tout," said the turnkey, endeavouring to extri- 
 cate himself from the firm grasp with which she held him, 
 ** that's taking me at my word wi' a witaess — Bairn, quo' 
 she 9 How the de'il suld I ken onything of your bairn, 
 huzzy 9 Ye maun ask that auld Meg Murdockson, if ye 
 dinna ken ower muckle about it yoursell." 
 
 As his answer destroyed the wild and vague hope which 
 had suddenly gleamed upon her, the unhappy prisoner 
 let go her hold of his coat, and fell with her face on the 
 pavement of the apartment in a strong convulsion fit. 
 
 Jeanie Deans possessed, with her excellently clear un- 
 derstanding, the concomitant advantage of promptitude of 
 spirit, even in the extremity of distress. 
 
 She did not suffer herself to be overcome by her own 
 feelings of exquisite sorrow, but instantly applied herself 
 to her sister's rehef, with the readiest remedies which cir- 
 cumstances afforded ; and which, to do Ratcliffe justice, 
 he showed himself anxious to suggest, and alert in pro- 
 curing. He had even the delicacy to withdraw to the 
 farthest corner of the room, so as to render his official 
 attendance upon them as httle intrusive as possible, when 
 Effie was composed enough again to resume her confer- 
 ence with her sister. 
 
 The prisoner once more, in the most earnest and bro- 
 ken tones, conjured Jeanie to tell her the particulars of 
 the conference with Robertson, and Jeanie felt it was im- 
 possible to refuse her this gratification. 
 
 " Do ye mind," she said, " Effie, when ye were in the 
 fever before we left Woodend, and how angry your mo- 
 ther, that's now in a better place, was at me for gieing ye 
 milk and water to drink because ye grat for it 9 Ye were
 
 250 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 a bairn then, and ye are a woman now, and should ken 
 better than ask what canna but hurt you — But come weal 
 or woe, I canna refuse ye onything that ye ask me wi' the 
 tear in your ee." 
 
 Again Effie threw herself into her arms, and kissed her 
 cheek and forehead, murmuring, " O, if ye kenn'd how 
 lang it is since 1 heard his name mentioned, — if ye but 
 kenn'd how muckle good it does me but to ken onything 
 o' him, that's like goodness or kindness, ye wadna wonder 
 that 1 wish to hear o' him." 
 
 Jeanie sigiiedji and commenced her narrative of all that 
 had passed betwixt Robertson and her, making it at the 
 first as brief as possible. Efrie listened in breathless anx- 
 iety, holding her sister's hand in hers, and keeping her 
 eye fixed upon her face, as if devouring every word 
 she uttered. The interjections of " Poor fellow," — 
 *' poor George," which escaped in whispers, and betwixt 
 sighs, were the only sounds with which slie interrupted the 
 story. When it was finished she made a long pause. 
 
 " And this was his advice '?" were the first words she 
 uttered. 
 
 " Just sic as I hae tell'd ye," replied her sister. 
 
 " And he wanted you to say something to yon folks, 
 that wad save my young Hfe 9" 
 
 " He wanted," answered Jeanie, " that I suld be man- 
 sworn." 
 
 " And you tauld him," said Effie, " that ye wadna hear 
 o' coming between me and the death that I am to die, 
 and me no aughteen year auld yet *?" 
 
 '' I tauld him," replied Jeanie, who now trembled at 
 the turn which her sister's reflections seemed about to 
 take, " that I dared ua swear to an untruth." 
 
 " And what d'ye ca' an untruth 9" said Effie, again 
 showing a touch of her former spirit — " Ye are muckle 
 to blame, lass, if ye think a mother would, or could, mur- 
 der her ain bairn — Murder 9 — 1 wad have laid down my 
 life just to see a blink o' its ee." 
 
 " I do believe," said Jeanie, " that ye are as innocent 
 of sic a purpose as the new-born babe itsell,"
 
 THE HEART OF MID-I.OTHIAN. 251 
 
 " I am glad ye do me that justice," said Effie, haugh- 
 tily ; " it's whiles the faut of very good folk like you, 
 Jeanie, that they think a' the rest of the warld are as bad 
 as the warst temptations can make them." 
 
 " I dinna deserve this frae ye, Effie," said her sister, 
 sobbing, and feeling at once the injustice of the reproach, 
 and compassion for the state of mind which dictated it. 
 
 " Maybe no, sister," said Effie. " But ye are angry 
 because 1 love Robertson — How can I help loving him, 
 that loves me better than body and sonl baitb 9 — Here he 
 put his life in a niffer, to break the prison to let me out ; 
 and sure am I, had it stood \vi' him as it stands wi' you" 
 — here she paused and was silent. 
 
 " O, if it stude vvi' me to save you wi' risk of my hfe !" 
 said Jeanie. 
 
 " Ay, lass," said her sister, " that's lightly said, but no 
 sae hghtly credited, frae ane that winna ware a word for 
 me ; and if it be a wrang word, ye'll hae time aneugh 
 to repent o't." 
 
 " But that word is a grievous sin, and it's a deeper 
 offence when it's a sin wilfully and presumptuously com- 
 mitted." 
 
 " Weel, weel, Jeanie," said Effie, " I mind a' about the 
 sins o' presumption in the questions — we'll speak nae mair 
 about this matter, and ye may save your breath to say 
 your carritch ; and for me, I'll soon hae nae breath to 
 waste on ony body." 
 
 " I must needs say,'" interposed RatclifFe, " that it's 
 d — d hard, that when three w^ords of your mouth would 
 give the girl the chance to nick Moll Blood, ^ that you 
 mak such scrupling about rappingf to them. D — n me, 
 if they would take me, if 1 would not rap to all What- 
 d'yecallum's fabbs for her life — 1 am used to't, b — t me, 
 for less matters. Why, 1 have smacked calf-skin J fifty 
 times in England for a keg of brandy." 
 
 " Never speak mair o't," said the prisoner. " It's just 
 as weel as it is — and gude day, sister ; ye keep Mr. Rat- 
 
 * The Gallows. + Swearing^. t Kissed the book.
 
 252 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 clifFe wailing on — Ye'll come back and see me, I reckon, 
 before" here she stopped, and became deadly pale. 
 
 " And are we to part in this way," said Jeanie, " and 
 you in sic deadly peril 9 O Effie, look -but up, and say 
 what ye wad hae me do, and I could find in my heart 
 amaist to say that I wad do't." 
 
 " No, Jeanie," replied her sister, after an effort, " I 
 am better minded now. At my best, I was never hriif 
 sae gude as ye were, and what for suld you begin to mak 
 yoursell waur to save me now that I am na worth saving 9 
 God knows, that, in my bober mind, I wadna wuss ony 
 living creature to do a wrang thing to save my life. I 
 might have fled frae this tolbooth on that awfu' nighl wi' 
 ane wad hae carried me through the warld, and friended 
 me, and fended for me. But 1 said to them, let life gang 
 when gude fame is gane before it. But this lang impris- 
 onment has broken my spirit, and I am whiles sair left to 
 mysell, and then I wad gi'e the Indian mines.of gold and 
 diamonds, just for life and breath — for I think, Jeanie, I 
 have such roving fits as I used to hae in the fever ; but, 
 instead of the fiery een, and wolves, and Widow Butler's 
 buli-seg, that I used to see spieling up on my bed, I am 
 thinking now about a high black gibbet, and me standing 
 up, and such seas of faces all looking up at poor Effie 
 Deans, and asking if it be her that George Robertson 
 used to call the Lily of St. Leonard's — And then they 
 stretch out their faces, and make mouths, and girn at me, 
 and which ever way I look, I see a face laughing like Meg 
 Murdockson, when she tauld me I had seen the last of 
 ray wean. God preserve us, Jeanie, that carline has a 
 fearsome face !" She clapped her hands before her eyes 
 as she uttered this exclamation, as if to secure herself 
 against seeing the fearful object she had alluded to. 
 
 Jeanie Deans remained with her sister for two hours, 
 during which she endeavoured, if possible, to extract 
 something from her that might be serviceable in her ex- 
 culpation. But she had nothing to say beyond what she 
 had declared on her first examination, with the purport of 
 which the reader will be made acquainted in proper time
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 253 
 
 and place. " They wadna believe her," she said, " and 
 she had naething mair to tell them." 
 
 At length Ratcliffe, though reluctantly, informed the 
 sisters that there was a necessity that they should part. 
 " Mr. Novit," he said, " was to seethe prisoner, and may 
 be Mr. Langtale too. — Langtale likes to look at a bonny 
 lass, whether in prison or out o' prison." 
 
 Fveluctantly, therefore, and slowly, after many a tear, 
 and many an embrace, Jeanie retired from the apartment, 
 an:! heard its jarring bolts turned upon the dear being 
 from whom she was separated. Somewhat familiarized 
 now even with her rude conductor, she offered him a small 
 present in money, with a request he would do what he 
 could for her sister's accommodation. To her surprise 
 he declined the fee. " I wasna bloody when I was on 
 the pad," he said, " and I winna be greedy — that is, be- 
 yond what's right and reasonable, — now that I am in the 
 lock. — Keep the siller ; and for civility, your sister sail 
 hae sic as I can bestow ; but 1 hope you'll think better 
 on it, and rap an oath for her — de'il a hair ill there is in 
 it, if ye are rapping again the crown. I kenn'd a worthy 
 minister, as gude a man, bating the deed they deposed 
 him for, as ever ye heard claver in a pulpit, that rapped 
 to a hogshead of pigtail tobacco, just for as muckle as 
 filled his spleuchan. But maybe ye are keeping your ain 
 counsel — weel, weel, there's nae harm in that. — As for 
 your sister, Fse see that she gets her meat clean and warm, 
 and I'll try to gar her lie down and take a sleep after 
 dinner, for de'il a ee she'll close the night. — I hae gude 
 experience of these matters. The first night is aye the 
 warst o't. I hae never heard o' ane that sleepit the night 
 afore trial, but o' mony a ane that sleepit as sound as a 
 tap the night before their necks were straughied. And 
 it's nae wonder — the warst may be tholed when it's 
 kenn'd — Better a finger aff as aye wagging." 
 
 22 VOL. I.
 
 254 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Yet though thou may'st be dragg'd in scorn 
 
 To yonder ignominious tree, 
 Thou shalt not want one faitliful friend, 
 
 To share the cruel fate's decree. 
 
 Jermny Dawson. 
 
 After spending the greater part of the morning in his 
 devotions, for his benevolent neighbours had kindly in- 
 sisted upon discharging his task of ordinary labour, David 
 Deans entered the apartment when the breakfast meal 
 was prepared. His eyes were involuntarily cast down, 
 for he was afraid to look at Jeanie, uncertain as he was 
 whether she might feel herself at liberty, with a good 
 conscience, to attend the Court of Justiciary that day, to 
 give the evidence which he understood that she possess- 
 ed, in order to her sister's exculpation. At length, after 
 a minute of apprehensive hesitation, he looked at her 
 dress, to discover whether it seemed to be in her con- 
 templation to go abroad that morning. Her apparel was 
 neat and plain, but such as conveyed no exact intimation 
 of her intentions to go abroad. She had exchanged her 
 usual garb for morning labour, for one something inferior 
 to that with which, as her best, she was wont to dress 
 herself for church, or any more rare occasion of going 
 into society. Her sense taught her, that it was respectful 
 to be decent in her apparel on such an occasion, while 
 her feelings induced her to lay aside the use of the very 
 few and simple personal ornaments, wliich, on other oc- 
 casions, she permitted herself to wear. So that there 
 occurred nothing in her external appearance which could 
 mark out to her father, with anything like certainty, her 
 intentions on this occasion. 
 
 The preparations for their humble meal were that 
 morning made in vain. The father and daughter sat, 
 each assuming the appearance of eating, when the other's
 
 THE HEART OF MlD-LOTHIAJf . 255 
 
 eyes were turned to them, and desisting from the effort 
 with disgust, when the affectionate imposture seemed no 
 longer necessary. 
 
 At length these moments of constraint were removed. 
 The sound of St. Giles's heavy toll announced the hour 
 previous to the commencement of the trial ; Jeanie arose, 
 and, with a degree of composure for which she herself 
 could not account, assumed her plaid, and made her other 
 preparations for a distant walk. It was a strange con- 
 trast between the firmness of her demeanour, and the 
 vacillation and cruel uncertainty of purpose indicated in. 
 all her father's motions ; and one unacquainted with both 
 could scarcely have supposed that the former was, in her 
 ordinary habits of life, a docile, quiet, gentle, and even 
 timid country-maiden, while her father, with a mind nat- 
 urally proud and strong, and supported by religious opin- 
 ions, of a stern, stoical, and unyielding character, had in 
 nis time undergone and withstood the most severe hard- 
 ships, and the most imminent peril, without depression of 
 spirh, or subjugation of his constancy. The secret of 
 this difference was, that Jeanie's mind had already antic- 
 ipated the line of conduct which she must adopt, with all 
 its natural and necessary consequences ; while her father, 
 ignorant of every other circumstance, tormented himself 
 with imagining what the one sister might say or swear, or 
 what effect her testimony might have upon the awful 
 event of the trial. 
 
 He watched his daughter, with a faltering and indeci- 
 sive look, until she looked back upon him, with a loolj: of 
 unutterable anguish, as she was about to leave the apart- 
 ment. 
 
 " My dear lassie," said he, " I will" — His action, 
 hastily and confusedly searching for his worsted mittans 
 and staff, showed his purpose of accompanying her, 
 though his tongue failed distinctly to announce it. 
 
 " Father," said Jeanie, replying rather to his action 
 than his words, " ye had better not." 
 
 " In tho strength of my God," answered Deans, as- 
 suming firmness, " I will go forth."
 
 256 TALES or MY LAXDIORD. 
 
 And, taking his daughter's arm under his, he began to 
 walk from the door with a step so hasty, that she was 
 ahiiost unable to keep up with him. A trifling circum- 
 stance, but which marked the perturbed state of his 
 mind, checked his course, — " Your bonnet, father ']'* 
 said Jeanie, who observed he had come out with his grey- 
 hairs uncovered. He turned back with something like a 
 blush on his cheek, as if ashamed to have been detected 
 in an omission which indicated so much mental confusion, 
 assumed his large blue Scottish bonnet, and with a step 
 slower, but more composed, as if the circumstance had 
 obliged him to summon up his resolution, and collect his 
 scattered ideas, again placed his daughter's arm under 
 his, and resumed the way to Edinburgh. 
 
 The courts of justice were then, and are still held, in 
 what is called the Parliament Close, or, according to 
 modern phrase, the ParHament Square, and occupied the 
 buildings intended for the accommodation of the Scottish 
 Estates. This edifice, though in an imperfect and cor- 
 rupted style of architecture, had then a grave, decent, 
 and, as it were, a judicial aspect, which was at least en- 
 titled to respect from its antiquity. For which venerable 
 front, I observed, on my last occasional visit to the me- 
 troplis, that modern taste had substituted, at great appar- 
 ent expense, a pile so utterly inconsistent with every 
 monument of antiquity around, and in itself so clumsy at 
 the same time and fantastic, that it may be likened to the 
 decorations of Tom Errand the porter, in the Trip to the 
 Jubilee, when he appears bedizened with the tawdry fine- 
 ry of Beau Clincher. Sed transeat cum ceteris erroribus. 
 
 The small quadrangle, or Close, if we may presume 
 still to give it that appropriate, though antiquated title, 
 which at Litchfield, Salisbury, and elsewhere, is properly 
 appHed to designate the inclosure adjacent to a cathedral, 
 already evinced tokens of the fatal scene which was that 
 day to be acted. The soldiers of the City Guard were 
 on their posts, now enduring, and now rudely repelling 
 with the butts of their muskets, the motley crew who 
 thrust each other forward, to catch a glance at the unfor'
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 257 
 
 tunate object of trial, as she should pass from the adja- 
 cent prison to the Court in which her fate was to be 
 determined. All must have occasionally observed, with 
 disgust, the apathy with which the vulgar gaze on scenes 
 of this nature, and how seldom, unless when their sym- 
 pathies are called forth by some striking and extra- 
 ordinary circumstance, they evince any interest deeper 
 than that of callous, unthinking bustle, and brutal curios- 
 ity. They laugh, jest, quarrel, and push each other to 
 and fro, with the same unfeeling indifference as if they 
 were assembled for some holiday sport, or to see an idle 
 procession. Occasionally, however, this demeanour, so 
 natural to the degraded populace of a large town, is ex- 
 changed for a temporary touch of human affections ; and 
 so it chanced on the present occasion. 
 
 When Deans and his daughter presented themselves in 
 the Close, and endeavoured to make their way forward to 
 the door of the Court-house, they became involved in the 
 mob, and subject, of course, to their insolence. As 
 Deans repelled with some force the rude pushes which 
 he received on all sides, his figure and antiquated dress 
 caught the attention of the rabble, who often show an 
 intuitive sharpness in ascribing the proper character frora 
 external appearance. — 
 
 " Ye're welcome; whigs, 
 Frae Bothwell briggs," 
 
 sung one fellow, (for the mob of Edinburgh were at that 
 time jacobitically disposed, probably because that was 
 the line of sentiment most diametrically opposite to exist- 
 ing authority.) 
 
 " Mess David Williamson, 
 Chosen of twenty, 
 Ran up the pu'pit stair, 
 And sang Killiecrankie," 
 
 chanted a syren, whose profession might be guessed by 
 her appearance. A tattered cadie, or errand porter, 
 whom David Deans had jostled in his attempt to extri- 
 22* VOL. I.
 
 258 TALES OF MY lANDLOHD. 
 
 cate himself from the vicinity of these scorners, exclaim- 
 ed in a strong north-country tone, " Ta de'il ding out her 
 Cameronian een — what gies her titles to dunch gentle- 
 mans about*?" 
 
 " Make room for the ruling elder," said yet another ; 
 " he comes to see a precious sister glorify God in the 
 Grass-market." 
 
 " Whisht ; shame's in ye, sirs !" said the voice of a 
 man very loudly, which, as quickly sinking, said in a low 
 but distinct tone, " It's her father and sister." 
 
 All fell back to make way for the sufferers ; and all, 
 even the very rudest and most profligate, were struck 
 with shame and silence. In the space thus abandoned 
 to them by the mob. Deans stood, holding his daughter 
 by the hand, and said to her, with a countenance strong- 
 ly and sternly expressive of his internal emotion, " Ye 
 hear with your ears, and ye see with your eyes, where 
 and to whom the backslidings and defections of profes- 
 sors are ascribed by the scoffers. Not to themselves 
 alone, but to the kirk of which they are members, and 
 to its blessed and invisible Head. Then, weel may we 
 take wi' patience our share and portion of this out- 
 spreading reproach." 
 
 The man who had spoken, no other than our old 
 friend Dumbiedikes, whose mouth, like that of the pro- 
 phet's ass, had been opened by the emergency of the 
 case, now joined them, and, with his usual taciturnity, 
 escorted them into the Court-house. No opposition was 
 offered to their entrance, either by the guards or door- 
 keepers ; and it is even said, that one of the latter re- 
 fused a shilling of civihty-money, tendered him by the 
 Laird of Dumbiedikes, who was of opinion that " siller 
 wad make a' easy." But this last incident wants confir- 
 mation. 
 
 Admitted within the precincts of the Court-house, they 
 found the usual number of busy office-bearers, and idle 
 loiterers, who attend on these scenes by choice, or from 
 duty. Burghers gaped and stared ; young lawyers saun- 
 tered, sneered, and laughed, as in the pit of the theatre ;
 
 THE HEART OF MID-JLOTHIAN. 259 
 
 while others apart sat on a bench retired, and reasoned 
 highly on the doctrines of constructive crime, and the 
 true import of the statute. The bench was prepared for 
 the arrival of the judges : the jurors were in attendance. 
 The crown counsel, employed in looking over their briefs 
 and notes of evidence, looked grave, and whispered with 
 each other. They occupied one side of a large table 
 placed beneath the bench ; on the other sat the advo- 
 cates, whom the humanity of the Scottish law (in this 
 particular much more liberal than that of her sister coun- 
 try) not only permits, but enjoins, to appear and assist 
 with their advice and skill all persons under trial. Mr. 
 Nichil Novit, was seen actively instructing the counsel for 
 the pannel, (so the prisoner is called in Scottish law- 
 phraseology,) busy, bustling, and important. When they 
 entered the Court-room, Deans asked the Laird in a 
 tremulous whisper, " Where will she sit V 
 
 Dumbiedikes whispered Novit, who pointed to a vacant 
 space at the bar, fronting the judges, and was about to 
 conduct Deans towards it. 
 
 " No !" he said ; " I cannot sit by her — I cannot own 
 her — not as yet at least — I will keep out of her sight, 
 and turn mine eyes elsewhere — better for us baith." 
 
 Saddletree, whose repeated interference with the 
 counsel had procured him one or two rebuffs, and a spe- 
 cial request that he would concern himself with his own 
 matters, now saw with pleasure an opportunity of playing 
 the person of importance. He bustled up to the poor 
 old man, and proceeded to exhibit his consequence, by 
 securing, through his interest with the bar-keepers and 
 macers, a seat for Deans, in a situation where he was 
 hidden from the general eye by the projecting corner of 
 the bench. 
 
 " It's gude to have a friend at court," he said, con- 
 tinuing his heartless harangues to the passive auditor, who 
 neither heard nor replied to them ; " few folk but mysell 
 could hae sorted ye out a seat hke this — the Lords will 
 be here incontinent, and proceed instanter to trial. They 
 wunna fence the court as they do at the Circuit. — The
 
 260 TALKS OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 High Court of Justiciary is aye fenced. But, Lord's 
 sake ! what's this o't *? — Jeanie, ye are a cited witness — 
 Macer, this lass is a witness — she maun be inclosed — she 
 maun on nae account be at large. — Mr. Novit, suldna 
 Jeanie Deans be inclosed 7" 
 
 Novit answered in the affirmative, and offered to con- 
 duct Jeanie to the apartment, in which, according to the 
 scrupulous practice of the Scottish Court, the witnesses 
 remain in readiness to be called into court to give evi- 
 dence ; and separated, at the same time, from all who 
 might influence their testimony, or give them information 
 concerning that which was passed upon the trial. 
 
 " Is this necessary '?" said Jeanie, still reluctant to quit 
 her father's hand. 
 
 " A matter of absolute needcessity," said Saddletree; 
 •' wha ever heard of witnesses no being inclosed 9" 
 
 " Tt is really a matter of necessity," said the younger 
 counsellor," retained for her sister ; and Jeanie reluc- 
 tantly followed the macer of the court to the place ap- 
 pointed. 
 
 " This, Mr. Deans," said Saddletree, ^' is ca'd se- 
 questering a witness ; but it's clean different (whilk may 
 be ye wadna fund out o' yoursell) frae sequestering ane's 
 estate or effects. I hae aften been sequestered as a wit- 
 ness ; for the Sherifi' is in the use whiles to cry me in to 
 witness the declarations at precognitions, and so is Mr. 
 Sharpitlaw ; but I was ne'er like to be sequestered o' 
 land and gudes but ance, and that was lang syne, afore 
 I was married. — But whisht, whisht ! here's the Court 
 coming." 
 
 As he spoke, the five Lords of Justiciary, in their long 
 robes of scarlet, faced with white, and preceded by their 
 macQrbearerj entered with the usual formalities, and 
 took their places upon the bench of judgment. 
 
 The audience rose to receive them ; and the bustle 
 occasioned by their entrance was hardly composed, when 
 a great noise and confusion of persons struggling, and 
 forcibly endeavouring to enter at the doors of the Court- 
 room and of the galleries, announced that the prisoner
 
 THE HEART OE MID-LOTHIAN^. 261 
 
 was about to be placed at the bar. This tumult takes 
 place when the doors, at first only opened to those either 
 having right to be present, or to the better and more 
 quahfied ranks, are at length laid open to all whose curi- 
 osity induces them to be present on the occasion. With 
 . inflamed countenances and dishevelled dresses, struggling 
 with, and sometimes tumbling over each other, in rushed 
 the rude multitude, while a few soldiers, forming, as it 
 were, the centre of the tide, could scarce, with all their 
 efforts, clear a passage for the prisoner to the place which 
 she was to occupy. By the authority of the Court, and 
 the exertions of its officers, the tumult among the spec- 
 tators was at length appeased, and the unhappy girl 
 brought forward, and placed betwixt two sentinels with 
 drawn bayonets, as a prisoner at the bar, where she was 
 to abide her deliverance for good or evil, according to 
 the issue of her trial. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 We have strict statutes, and most biting laws — 
 The needful bits, and curbs for headstrong steeds — 
 Which, fnr these fourteen yeau-s, we have let sleep, 
 Like to an o'ergrown lion in a cave, 
 
 That goes not out to prey. 
 
 Measure for Measure. 
 
 " EuPHEMiA Deans," said the presiding judge, in an 
 accent in which pity was blended with dignity, " stand 
 up and hsten to the criminal indictment now to be pre- 
 ferred against you." 
 
 The unhappy girl, who had been stupified by the con- 
 fusion through which the guards had forced a passage, 
 cast a bewildered look on the multitude of faces around 
 her, which seemed to tapestry, as it were, the walls, in one 
 broad slope from the ceiHng to the floor, with human
 
 262 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 countenances, and instinctively obeyed a command, which 
 rung in her ears like a trumpet of the judgment-day. 
 
 " Put back your hair, Effie," said one of the macers ; 
 for her beautiful and abundant tresses of long fair hair, 
 which, according to the costume of the country, unmar- 
 ried women were not allowed to cover with any sort of 
 cap, and which, alas ! Efhe dared no longer confind with 
 the snood or riband, which implied purity of maiden- 
 fame, now hung unbound and dishevelled over her face, 
 and almost concealed her features. On receiving this 
 hint from the attendant, the unfortunate young woman, 
 with a hasty trembling, and apparently mechanical com- 
 pliance, shaded back from her face her luxuriant locks, 
 and showed to the whole court, excepting one individual, 
 a countenance, which though pale and emaciated, was so 
 lovely amid its agony, that it called forth a universal mur- 
 mur of compassion and sympathy. Apparently the ex- 
 pressive sound of human feeling recalled the poor girl 
 from the stupor of fear, which predominated at first over 
 every other sensation, and awakened her to the no less 
 painful sense of shame and exposure attached to her 
 present situation. Her eye, which had at first glanced 
 wildly round, was turned on the ground ; her cheek, at 
 first so deadly pale, began gradually to be overspread with 
 a faint blush, which increased so fast, that, when in agony 
 of shame she strove to conceal her face, her temples, her 
 brow, her neck, and all that her slender fingers and small 
 palms could not cover, became of the deepest crimson. 
 
 All marked and were moved by these changes except- 
 ing one. It was old Deans, who, motionless in his seat, 
 and concealed, as we have said, by the corner of the 
 bench, from seeing or being seen, did nevertheless keep 
 his eyes firmly fixed on the ground, as if determined that, 
 by no possibility whatsoever, would he be an ocular wit- 
 ness of the shame of his house. 
 
 " Ichabod !" he said to himself — " Ichabod ! my glory 
 is departed !" 
 
 While these reflections were passing through his mind, 
 the indictment, which set forth in technical form the crime
 
 THE HEART OF MlD-JiOTHlAX. 263 
 
 of which the pannel stood accused, was read as usual, and 
 the prisoner was asked if she was Guihy, or not Guihy. 
 
 *' Not guihy of my poor bairn's death," said Effie 
 Deans, in an accent corresponding in plaintive softness of 
 tone to the beauty of her features, and which was not 
 heard by the audience without emotion. 
 
 The Court next directed the counsel to plead to the 
 relevancy ; that is, to state on either part the arguments 
 in point of law, and evidence in point of fact, against and 
 in favour of the criminal ; after which it is the form of 
 the Court to pronounce a prehminary judgment, sending 
 the cause to the cognizance of tiie jury or assize. 
 
 The counsel for the crown briefly stated the frequency 
 of the crime of infanticide, which had given rise to the 
 special statute under which the pannel stood indicted. 
 He mentioned the various instances, many of them mark- 
 ed with circumstances of atrocity, which had at length 
 induced the King's Advocate, though with great reluct- 
 ance, to make the experiment, whether by strictly en- 
 forcing the Act of Parliament which had been made to 
 prevent such enormities, their occurrence might be pre- 
 vented. " He expected," he said, " to be able to 
 estabhsh by witnesses, as well as by the declaration of 
 the pannel herself, that she was in the state described by 
 the statute. iVccording to his information, the pannel had 
 communicated her pregnancy to no one, nor did she al- 
 lege in her own declaration that she had done so. This 
 secrecy was the first requisite in support of the indict- 
 ment. The same declaration admhted, that she had 
 borne a male child, in circumstances which gave but too 
 much reason to believe it had died by the hands, or at 
 least with the knowledge or consent, of the unhappy 
 mother. It was not, however, necessary for him to bring 
 positive proof that the pannel was accessary to the mur- 
 ther, nay, nor even to prove that the child wasmurthered 
 at all. It was sufficient to support the indictment, that it 
 could not be found. According to the stern, but neces- 
 sary severity of this statute, she who could conceal her 
 pregnancy, who should omit to call that assistance which
 
 264 TALES OF MY XANDLORD. 
 
 is most necessary on such occasions, was held already to 
 have meditated the death of her offspring, as an event 
 mcst likely to be the consequence of her culpable and 
 cruel concealment. And if, under such circumstances, 
 she could not alternatively show by proof that the infant 
 had died a natural death, or produce it still in life, she 
 must, under the construction of the law, be held to have 
 murthered it, and suffer death accordingly." 
 
 The counsel for the prisoner, a man of considerable 
 fame in his profession, did not pretend directly to combat 
 the arguments of the King's Advocate. " It was enough 
 for their Lordships," he observed, " to know, that such 
 was the law, and he admitted the Advocate had a riglit to 
 call for the usual interlocutor of relevancy." But he 
 stated, *' that when he came to establish his case by proof, 
 he trusted to make out circumstances which would saiis- 
 faclorily elide the charge in the libel. His client's story 
 was a short but most melancholy one. She was bred up 
 in the strictest tenets of religion and virtue, the daughter 
 of a worthy and conscientious person, who, in evil times, 
 had established a character for courage and religion, by 
 becoming a sufferer for conscience-sake." 
 
 David Deans gave a convulsive start at hearing himself 
 thus mendoned, and then resumed the situation, in which, 
 with his face stooped against his hands, and both resting 
 against tiie corner of tlie elevated bench on which the 
 Judges sat, he had hitherto listened to the procedure in 
 the trial. The whig lawyers seemed to be interested ; 
 and ilr^ tories put up their lip. 
 
 " Whatever may be our difference of opinion," resum- 
 ed the lawyer, whose business it was to carry his vvhole 
 audience with him if possible, " concerning the peculiar 
 tenets of these people," (here Deans groaned deeply,) " it 
 is impossible to deny them the praise of sound and even 
 rigid morals, or the merit of training up their children in 
 the fear of God ; and yet it was the datighter of such a 
 person whom a jury wouli shoitiy be called upon, in the 
 absence of evidence, and upon mere presumptions, to 
 convict of a crime, more properly belonging to a heathen,
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 265 
 
 or a savage, than to a Christian and civilized country. It 
 was true," he admitted, " that the excellent nurture and 
 early instruction which the poor girl had received, had 
 not been sufficient to preserve her from guilt and error. 
 She had fallen a sacrifice to an inconsiderate affection for 
 a young man of prepossessing manners, as he had been 
 informed, but of a very dangerous and desperate charac- 
 ter. She was seduced under promise of marriage — a 
 promise, which the fellow might have, perhaps, done her 
 justice by keeping, had he not at that time been called 
 upon by the law to atone for a crime, violent and desper- 
 ate in itself, but which became the preface to another 
 eventful history, every step of which was marked by blood 
 and guilt, and the final termination of which had not even 
 yet arrived. He believed that no one would hear him 
 without surprise, when he stated,- that the father of this 
 infant now amissing, and said by the learned x\dvocate to 
 have been murdered, was no other than the notorious 
 George Robertson, the accomphce of Wilson, the hero of 
 the memorable escape from the Tolbooth Church, and, 
 as no one knew better than his learned friend the Advo- 
 cate, the principal actor in the Porteous conspiracy." 
 
 " I am sorry to interrupt a counsel in such a case as 
 the present," said the presiding Judge ; " bur I must re- 
 mind the learned gentleman, that he is travelling out of 
 the case before us." 
 
 The counsel bowed, and resumed. " He only judged 
 it necessary," he said, " to mention the name and situa- 
 tion of Robertson, because the circumstance in which that 
 character was placed, went a great way in accounting for 
 the silence on which his Majesty's counsel had laid so 
 much weight, as affording proof that his client proposed 
 to allow no fair play for its life, to the helpless being whom 
 she was about to bring into the world. She had not an- 
 nounced to her friends that she had been seduced from 
 the path of honour — and why had she not done so '? — Be- 
 cause she expected daily to be restored to character, by 
 her seducer doing her that justice which she knew to be 
 23 VOL. I.
 
 266 TALES or MY XANDLORD. 
 
 in his power, and believed to be in his inclination. Was 
 it natural — was it reasonable — was it fair, to expect that 
 she should, in the interim, become /e/o de se of her own 
 character, and proclaim her frailty to the world, when she 
 had every reason to expect, that, by conceahng it for a 
 season, it might be veiled forever 'I Was it not, on the 
 contrary, pardonable, that, in such an emergency, a young 
 woman, in such a situation, should be found far from dis- 
 posed to make a confidante of every prying gossip, who, 
 with sharp eyes, and eager ears, pressed upon her for an 
 explanation of suspicious circumstances, which females in 
 the lower — he might say, which females of all ranks are 
 so alert in noticing, that they sometimes discover them 
 where they do not exist 9 Was it strange, or was it crim- 
 inal, that she should have repelled their inquisitive imper- 
 tinence, with petulant' denials !■ The sense and feeling 
 of all who heard him would answer directly in the nega- 
 tive. But although his client had thus remained silent 
 towards those to whom she was not called upon to com- 
 municate her situation, — to whom," said the learned gen- 
 tleman, " I will add, it would have been unadvised and 
 improper to her to have done so ; yet, I trust, I sliall re- 
 move this case most triumphantly from under the statute, 
 and obtain the unfortunate young woman an honourable 
 dismission from your Lordship's bar, by shoxving that she 
 did, in due time and place, and to a person most fit for 
 such confidence, mention the calamitous circumstances in 
 which she found herself. This occurred after Robertson's 
 conviction, and when he was lying in prison in expecta- 
 tion of the fate which his comrade Wilson afterwards suf- 
 fered, and from which he himself so strangely escaped. 
 It was then, when all hopes of having her honour repaired 
 by wedlock vanished from her eyes, — when a union wltli 
 one in Robertson's situation, if still practicable, might, 
 perhaps, have been regarded rather as an addition to her 
 disgrace — it was then, that I trust to be able to prove that 
 the prisoner communicated and consulted with lier sister, 
 ayoung woman several years older than herself, the daugh-
 
 THE HEART OF MID-tOTHIAX. 267 
 
 ter of her father, if 1 mistake not, by a former marriage, 
 upon the perils and distress of her unhappy situation." 
 
 " If indeed, you are able to instruct tJiat point, Mr. 
 Fairbrother," said the presiding Judge 
 
 " If I am indeed able to instruct that point, my Lord," 
 resumed Mr. Fairbrotiier, '^ I trust not only to serve my 
 client, but to relieve 3'our Lordships from that which I 
 know you feel the most painful duty of your high office ; 
 and to give all who now hear me the exquisite pleasure of 
 beholding a creature so young, so ingenuous, and so beau- 
 tiful, as she that is now at the bar of your Lordships* 
 Court, dismissed from thence in safety and in honour." 
 
 This address seemed to aitect many of the audience, 
 and was followed by a slight murmur of applause. Deans, 
 as he heard his daughter's beauty and innocence appeal- 
 ed to, was involuntarily about to turn his eyes towards her ; 
 but, recollecting himself, he bent them again on the ground 
 with stubborn resolution. 
 
 " Will not my learned brother, on the other side of the 
 bar," continued the advocate, after a shcrt pause, " share 
 in this general joy, since I know^, while he discharges his 
 duty in bringing an accused person here, no one rejoices 
 more in their being freely and honourably sent hence *? 
 My learned brother shakes his head doubtfully, and lays 
 his hand on the pannel's declaration. I understand him 
 perfectly — he would insinuate that the facts now stated to 
 your Lordships are inconsistent with the confession of 
 Euphemia Deans herself. I need not remind your Lord- 
 ships, that her present defence is no whit to be narrowed 
 within the bounds of her former confession ; and that it 
 is not by any account which she may formerly have given 
 of herself, but by what is now to be proved for or against 
 her, that she must uhimately stand or fall. I am not un- 
 der the necessity of accounting for her choosing to drop 
 out of her declaration the circumstances of her confes- 
 sion to her sister. She might not be aware of its import- 
 ance ; she might be afraid of implicating her sister ; she 
 might eten have forgotten the circumstance entirely, in 
 the terror and distress of mind incidental to the arrest of
 
 268 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 SO young a creature on a charge so heinous. Any of 
 these reasons are sufficient to account for her having sup- 
 pressed the truth in this instance, at whatever risk to her- 
 self ; and I inchne most to her erroneous fear of crim- 
 inating her sister, because 1 observe she had a similar ten- 
 derness to her lover, (however undeserved on his part.) 
 and has never once mentioned Robertson's name from be- 
 ginning to end of her declaration. 
 
 " But, my Lords," continued Fairbrotber, " I am aware 
 the King's Advocate will expect me to show, that the 
 proof 1 offer is consistent with oiher circumstances of the 
 case, which 1 do not and cannot deny. He will demand 
 of me how Effie Deans's confession to her sister, pre- 
 vious to her dehvery, is reconcilable with the mystery of 
 the birth, — with the disappearance, perhaps the murder, 
 (for 1 will not deny a possibility which 1 cannot disprove,) 
 of the infant. My Lords, the explanation of this is to be 
 found in the placability, perchance I may say, in the fa- 
 cility and pliability, of the female sex. The dulcis Am- 
 aryUidis irae, as your Lordships well know, are easily 
 appeased ; nor is it possible to conceive a woman so 
 atrociously offended by the man whom she has loved, but 
 that she will retain a fund of forgiveness, upon which his 
 penitence, whether real or affected, may draw largely, 
 with a certainty that his bills will be answered. We can 
 prove, by a letter produced in evidence, that this villain 
 Robertson, from the bottom of the dungeon whence he 
 already probably meditated the escape, which he after- 
 wards accomplished by the assistance of his comrade, con- 
 trived to exercise authority over the mind, and to direct 
 the motions, of this unhappy girl. It was in compliance 
 with his injunctions, expressed in that letter, that the pan- 
 nel was prevailed upon to alter the line of conduct which 
 her own better thoughts had suggested ; and, instead of 
 resorting, when her time of travail approached, to the 
 protection of her own family, was induced to confide her- 
 self to the charge of some vile agent of this nefarious 
 seducer, and by her conducted to one of thes^ solitary 
 and secret purlieus of villany, which, to the shame of our
 
 'rHE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAJf. 26^ 
 
 police, still are suffered to exist in the suburbs of this city, 
 where, with the assistance, and under the charge of a 
 person of her own sex, she bore a male child, under cir- 
 cumstances which added treble bitterness to the woe de- 
 nounced against our original mother. What purpose 
 Robertson had in all this, it is hard to tell, or even to guess. 
 He may have meant to marry the girl, for her father is a 
 i^nan of substance. But for the termination of the story, 
 and the conduct of the woman whom he had placed about 
 the person of Euphemia Deans, it is still more difficult 
 to account. The unfortunate young woman was visited 
 by the fever incidental to her situation. In this fever she 
 appears to have been deceived by the person that waited 
 on her ; and on recovering her senses, she found that she 
 was childless in that abode of misery. Her infant had 
 been carried off, perhaps for the worst purposes, by the 
 wretch that waited on her. It may have been murdered 
 for what I can tell." 
 
 He was here interrupted by a piercing shriek, uttered 
 by the unfortunate prisoner. She was with difficulty 
 brought to compose herself. Her counsel availed himself 
 of the tragical interruption, to close his pleading with effect. 
 
 " My Lords," said he, " in that piteous cry you heard 
 the eloquence of maternal affection, far surpassing the 
 force of my poor words — Rachel weeping for her chil- 
 dren ! Nature herself bears testimony in favour of the 
 tenderness and acuteness of the prisoner's parental feel- 
 ings. I will not dishonour her plea by adding a word 
 more." 
 
 " Heard ye ever the like o' that, Laird *?" said Sad- 
 dletree to Dumbiedikes, when the Counsel had ended bis 
 speech. " There's a chield can spin a muckle pirn out 
 of a wee tait of tow ! De'il haet he kens mair about it 
 than what's in the declaration, and a surmise that Jeanie 
 Deans suld hae been able to say something about her 
 sister's situation, whilk surmise Mr. Crossmyloof says, 
 rests on sma' authority. — And he's cleckit this great 
 muckle bird out o' this wee egg ! He could wile the very 
 23* VOL. I.
 
 270 TALES OF MY lANDIiORD. 
 
 flounders out o' the Frith. — What garr'd my father no 
 send nie to Utrelcht 9 — But whisht, the Court is gaun to 
 pronounce the interlocutor of relevancy." 
 
 And accordingly the Judges, after a few words, record- 
 ed their judgment, which bore, that the indictment, if 
 proved, was relevant to infer the pains of law : And that 
 the defence, that the pannel had communicated her situ- 
 ation to her sister, was a relevant defence : And, finally, 
 appointed the said indictment and defence to be submitted 
 to the judgment of an assize. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Most righteous judge ! a sentence. — Come, prepare. 
 
 Merchant of Venice. 
 
 It is by no means my intention to describe minutely 
 the forms of a Scottish criminal trial, nor am I sure that I 
 could draw up an account so intelligible and accurate as 
 to abide the criticism of the gentlemen of the long robe. 
 It is enough to say, that the jury was impannelled, and 
 the case proceeded. The prisoner was again required to 
 plead to the charge, and she again replied, " Not Guilty," 
 in the same heart-thrilling tone as before. 
 
 The crown counsel then called two or three female 
 witnesses, by whose testimony it was estabhshed, that 
 Effie's situation had been remarked by them, that they 
 had taxed her with the fact, and that her answers had 
 amounted to an angry and petulant denial of what they 
 charged her with. But, as very frequently happens, the 
 declaration of the pannel or accused party herself was 
 the evidence which bore hardest upon her case. 
 
 In case these Tales should ever find their way across 
 the Border, it may be proper to apprize the southern 
 reader, that it is the practice in Scotland, on apprehend-
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 271 
 
 irig a suspected person, to subject him to a judicial exam- 
 ination before a magistrate. He is not compelled to an- 
 swer any of the questions asked at him, but may remain 
 silent if he sees it his mierest to do so. But whatever 
 answers he chooses to give are formally written down, 
 and being subscribed by himself and the magistrate, are 
 produced against the accused in case of his being brought 
 to trial. It is true, that these declarations are not pro- 
 duced as being in themselves evidence properly so called, 
 but only as adminicles of testimony, tending to corrobo- 
 rate what is considered as legal and proper evidence. 
 Notwithstanding this nice distinction, however, introduced 
 by lawyers to reconcile this procedure to their own gen- 
 eral rule, that a man cannot be required to bear witness 
 against himself, it nevertheless usually happens that these 
 declarations become the means of condemning the accus- 
 ed, as it were, out of their own mouths. The prisoner, 
 upon these previous examinations, has indeed the privi- 
 lege of remaining silent if he pleases ; but every man 
 necessarily feels that a refusal to answer natural and per- 
 tinent interrogatories, put by judicial authority, is in itself 
 a strong proof of guilt, and will certainly lead to his being 
 committed to prison ; and few can renounce the hope of 
 obtaining liberty, by giving some specious account of them- 
 selves, and showing apparent frankness in explaining their 
 motives and accounting for their conduct. It therefore 
 seldom happens, that the prisoner refuses to give a judi- 
 cial declaration, in which, either by letting out too much 
 of the truth, or by endeavouring to substitute a fictitious 
 story, he almost always exposes himself to suspicion and 
 to contradictious, which weigh heavily in the minds of 
 the jury." 
 
 The declaration of Effie Deans was uttered on other 
 principles, and the following is a sketch of its contents, 
 given in the judicial form, in which they may still be found 
 in the Books of Adjournal. 
 
 The declarant admitted a criminal intrigue with an in- 
 dividual whose name she desired to conceal. ** Beingr 
 interrogated, what her reason was for secrecy on this
 
 272 TALES or MY LANDLORD. 
 
 point 9 She declared, that she had no right to blame that 
 person's conduct more than she did her own, ajid that she 
 was willing to confess her own faults, but not to say any- 
 thing which might criminate the absent. Interrogated, if 
 she confessed her situation to any one, or made any pre- 
 paration for her confinement 9 Declares, she did not. 
 And being interrogated, why she forebore to take steps 
 which her situation so peremptorily required 9 Declares, 
 she was asharned to tell her friends, and she trusted the 
 person she has mentioned would provide for her and the 
 infant. Interrogated, if he did so 9 Declares, that he did 
 not do so personally j but that it was not his fault, for that 
 the declarant is convinced he would have laid down his 
 life sooner than the bairn or she had come to harm. In- 
 terrogated, what prevented him from keeping his promise f 
 Declares, that it was impossible for him to do so, and de- 
 chnes farther answer to this question. Interrogated, 
 where she was from the period she left her master, Mr. 
 Saddletree's family, until her appearance at her father's, 
 at St. Leonard's, the day before she was apprehended 9 
 Declares, she does not remember. And, on the inter- 
 rogatory being repeated, declares, she does not mind 
 muckle about it, for she was very ill. On the question 
 being again repeated, she declares, she will tell the truth, 
 if it should be the undoing of her, so long as she is not 
 asked to tell on other folk ; and admits, that she passed 
 that interval of time in the lodging of a woman, an ac- 
 quaintance of that person who had wished her to that 
 place to be delivered, and that she was there delivered 
 accordingly of a male child. Interrogated, what was the 
 name of that person 9 Declares and refuses to answer 
 this question. Interrogated, where she lives 9 Declares, 
 she has no certainty, for that she was taken to the lodging 
 aforesaid under cloud of night. Interrogated, if the lodg- 
 ing was in the city or suburbs 9 Declares and refuses to 
 answer that question. Interrogated, whether, when she 
 left the house of Mr. Saddletree, she went up or down 
 the street 9 Declares and refuses to answer the question. 
 Interrogated, whether she had ever seen the woman be-
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. 273 
 
 fore she was wished to her, as she termed it, by the per- 
 son whose name she refuses to answer ? Declares and 
 replies, not to her knowledge. Interrogated, whether this 
 woman was introduced to her by the said person verbally, 
 or by writing 9 Declares, she has no freedom to answer 
 this question. Interrogated, if the child was alive when 
 it was born ') Declares, that — God help her and it ! — it 
 certainly was alive. Interrogated, if it died a natural 
 death after birth !■ Declares, not to her knowledge. In- 
 terrogated, where it now is 9 Declares, she would give 
 her right hand to ken, but that she never hopes to see 
 mair than the banes of it. And being interrogated, why 
 she supposes it is now dead 9 the declarant wept bitterly, 
 and made no answer. Interrogated, if the woman, in 
 whose lodging she was, seemed to be a fit person to be 
 with her in that situation ^ Declares, she might be fit 
 enough for skill, but that she was a hard-hearted bad 
 woman. Interrogated, if there was any other person in 
 the lodging except themselves two 9 Declares, that she 
 thinks there was another woman, but her head was so 
 carried with pain of body and trouble of mind, that she 
 minded her very little. Interrogated, when the child was 
 taken »away from her 9 Declares, that she fell in a fever, 
 and was light-headed, and when she came to her own 
 mind, the woman told her the bairn was dead ; and that 
 the declarant answered, if it was dead it had had foul play. 
 That, thereupon, the woman was very sair on her, and 
 gave her much ill language ; and that the deponent was 
 frightened, and crawled out of the house when her back 
 was turned, and went home to St. Leonard's Crags, as 
 well as a woman in her condition dought. Interrogated, 
 why she did not tell her story to her sister and father, and 
 get force to search the house for her child, dead or alive 9 
 Declares, it was her purpose to do so, but she had not 
 time. Interrogated, why she conceals the name of the 
 woman, and the place of her abode now 9 The de- 
 clarant remained silent for a time, and then said, that to 
 do so could not repair the skaith that was done, but might 
 be the occasion of more. Interrogated, whether she had
 
 274 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 herself, at any time, had any purpose of putting away the 
 child hy violence '? Declares, Never ; so might God be 
 merciful to her — and then again declares, Never, when 
 she was in her perfect senses ; but what bad thoughts the 
 Enemy might put into her brain when she was out of her- 
 self, she cannot answer. And again solemnly interroga- 
 ted, declares, that she would have been drawn with wild 
 horses, rather than have touched the bairn with an un- 
 motherly hand. Interrogated, declares, that among the 
 ill language the woman gave her, she did say, sure 
 enough, that the declarant had hurt the bairn when she 
 was in the brain-fever ; but that the declarant does not 
 believe that she said this from any other cause than to 
 frighten her, and make her be silent. Interrogated, what 
 else the woman said to her ? Declares, that when the de- 
 clarant cried loud for her bairn, and was hke to raise the 
 neighbours, the woman threatened her, that they that could 
 stop the wean's skirling would slop her's, if she did not 
 keep a' the lounder. And that this threat, with the man- 
 ner of the woman, made the declarant conclude, that the 
 bairn's life was gone, and her own in danger, for that the 
 \^'oman was a desperate bad woman, as the declarant 
 judged, from the language she used. Interrogated, de- 
 clares, that the fever and delirium were brought on her 
 by hearing bad news, suddenly told to her, but refuses to 
 say w^hat the said news related to. Interrogated, why she 
 does not now communicate these particulars, which might, 
 perhaps, enable the magistrate to ascertain whether the 
 child is living or dead ; and requested to observe, that 
 her refusing to^lo so exposes her own life, and leaves the 
 child in bad hands ; as also, that her present refusal to 
 answer on such points, is inconsistent with her alleged in- 
 tention to make a clean breast to her sister 7 Declares, 
 that she kens the bairn is now dead, or, if living, there is 
 one that will look after it ; that for her own living or dy- 
 ing, she is in God's hands, who knows her innocence of 
 harming her bairn with her will or knowledge ; and that 
 she has altered her resolution of speaking out, which she 
 entertained when she left the woman's lodging, on account
 
 THE HEAUT OF MID-LOTHIAX. ^iO 
 
 of a matter which she has since learned. And declares, 
 ID general, that she is wearied, and will answer no more 
 questions at this time." 
 
 Upon a subsequent examination, Euphemia Deans ad- 
 hered to the declaration she had formerly made, with this 
 addition, that a paper found in her trunk being shown to 
 her, she admitted thit it contained the credentials, in con- 
 sequence of which she resigned herself to the conduct of 
 the woman at whose lodgings she was dehvered of the 
 child. Its tenor ran thus : — 
 
 '' Dearest Effie, 
 " I have gotten the means to send to you by a woman 
 who is well qualified to assist you in your approaching 
 strait ; she is not what 1 could wish her, but I cannot do 
 better for you in my present condition. 1 am obliged to 
 trust to her in this present calamity, tor myself and you 
 too. I hope for the best, though lam now in a sore pinch ; 
 yet thought is free — I think Handle Andie and I may 
 queer the stifler* for all that is come and gone. You 
 will be angry for me writing this, to my little Cameronian 
 Lily ; but if I can but live to be a comfort to you, and a 
 father to your babie, you will have plenty of time to scold. 
 — Once more let none know your counsel — my life de- 
 pends on this hag, d — n her — she is both deep and dan- 
 gerous, but she has more wiles and wit than ever were in 
 a beldame's head, and has cause to be true to me. Fare- 
 well, my Lily — Do not droop on my account — in a w^eek 
 1 will be }ours, or no more my own." 
 
 Then fjllowed a postscript. " If they must truss me, 
 I will repent of nothing so much, even at the last hard 
 pinch, as of the injury I have done my Lily." 
 
 Effie refused to say from whom she had received this 
 letter, but enough of the story was now known, to ascer- 
 tain that it came from Robertson ; and from the date, it 
 appeared to have been written about the time when An- 
 drew Wilson and he were m.editating their first abortive 
 
 '^ Avoid the srallows.
 
 276 TALES or MY LANDLORD. 
 
 attempt to escape, which miscarried in the manner men- 
 tioned m the heginning of this history. 
 
 The evidence of the Crown heing concluded, the coun- 
 sel for the prisoner began to lead a proof in her defence. 
 The first witnesses were examined upon tlie girl's char- 
 acter. All gave her an excellent one, but none with more 
 feeling than worthy Mrs. Saddletree, who, with the tears 
 on her cheeks, declared, that she could not have had a 
 higiier opinion of Effie Deans, or a more sincere regard 
 for her, if she had been her own daughter. All present 
 gave the honest woman credh i'or her goodness of heart, 
 excepting her husband, who whispered to Dumbiedikes, 
 " That Nichil Novit of yours is but a raw hand at leading 
 evidence, I'm thinking. What signified his bringing 4 
 woman here to snotter and snivel, and bather their Lord- 
 ships 9 He should hae ceeted me, sir, and 1 should hae 
 g;t:n them sic a screed o' testimoiiy, they should nae hae 
 touched a hair o' her head." 
 
 " Hadna ye better get up and try't yet 9" said the 
 Laird. " I'll make a sign to Novit." 
 
 " Na, na," said Saddletree, " thank ye for naething, 
 neighbour — that would be ultroneous evidence, and I ken 
 what belangs to that ; but Nichil Novit suld hae had me 
 ceeted debito tempore.'^'' And wiping his mouth with his 
 silk handkerchief with great importance, he resumed the 
 port and manner of an edified and intelligent auditor. , 
 
 ]\Ir. Fairbrother now premised, in a few words, '* that 
 he meant to bring forward his most important witness, 
 upon whose evidence the cause must in a great measure 
 depend. What his client was, they had learned from the 
 preceding witnesses; and so far as general character, 
 given in the most forcible terms, and even with tears, 
 could interest every one in her fate, she had already 
 gained that advantage. It was necessary, he admitted, 
 that he should produce more positive testimony of her 
 innocence than what arose out of general character, and 
 this he undertook to do by the mouth of the person to 
 whom she had communicated her situation — by the month 
 of her natural counsellor and guardian — her sister. —
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 277 
 
 Macer, call into court, Jean, or Jeanie Deans, daughter 
 of David Deans, cowfeeder, at Saint Leonard's Crags." 
 
 When he uttered these words, the prisoner at the bar 
 instantly started up, and stretched herself half-way over 
 the bar, towards the side at which her sister was to enter. 
 And when, slowly following the officer, the witness ad- 
 vanced to the foot of the table, Effie, with the whole ex- 
 pression of her countenance altered, from that of confus- 
 ed shame and dismay, to an eager, imploring, and almost 
 ecstatic earnestness of entreaty, with outstretched hands, 
 hair streaming back, eyes raised eagerly to her sister's 
 face, and glistening through tears, exclaimed, in a tone 
 which went through the heart of all who heard her — " O 
 Jeanie, Jeanie, save me, save me !" 
 
 With a different feeling, yet equally appropriate to his 
 proud and self-dependent character, old Deans drew 
 himself back still farther under the cover of the* bench, 
 so that when Jeanie, as she entered the court, cast a timid 
 glance towards the place at which she had left him seated, 
 his venerable figure was no longer visible. He sat down 
 on the other side of Dumbiedikes, wrung his hands hard, 
 and whispered, " Ah, Laird, this is warst of a' — if lean 
 but win ower this part — I feel my head unco dizzy ; but 
 ray iMaster is strong in his servant's weakness." After a 
 moment's mental prayer, he again started up, as if impa- 
 tient of continuing in any one posture, and gradually edged 
 himself forward towards the place he had just quitted. 
 
 Jeanie in the meantime had advanced to the bottom of 
 the table, when, unable to resist the impulse of affection, 
 she suddenly extended her hand to her sister. Effie was 
 just whhin the distance that she could seize it with both 
 hers, press it to her mouth, cover it with kisses, and bathe 
 it in tears, with the fond devotion that a CathoUc would 
 pay to a guardian saint descended for his safety ; while 
 Jeanie, hiding her own face with her other hand, wept 
 bitterly. The sight would have moved a heart of stone, 
 much more of flesh and blood. Many of the spectators 
 shed tears, and it was some time before the presiding 
 24 VOL. I.
 
 278 TALES OF MY lANDLORD. 
 
 Judge himself could so far subdue his emotion, as to 
 request the witness to compose herself, and the prisoner 
 to forbear those marks of eager affection, which, however 
 natural, could not be permitted at that time, and in that 
 presence. 
 
 The solemn oath, — " the truth to tell, and no truth to 
 conceal, as far as she knew or should be asked at," was 
 then administered by the Judge, " in the name of God, 
 and as the witness should answer to God at the great day 
 of judgment ;" an awful adjuration, which seldom fails to 
 make impression even on the most hardened characters, 
 and to strike with fear even the most upright, Jeanie, 
 educated in the most devout reverence for the name and 
 attributes of the Deity, was, by the solemnity of a direct 
 appeal to his person and justice, awed, but at the same 
 time elevated above all considerations, save those which 
 she could, with a clear conscience, call him to witness. 
 She repeated the form in a low and reverend, but distinct 
 tone of voice, after the Judge, to whom, and not to any 
 inferior officer of the Court, the task is assigned in Scot- 
 land of directing the witnesses in that solemn appeal, 
 which is the sanction of his testimony. 
 
 When the Judge had finished the established form, he 
 added in a feehng, but yet a monitory tone, an advice, 
 which the circumstances appeared to him to call for. 
 
 *' Young woman," these were his words, " you come 
 before this Court in circumstances, wliich it would be 
 worse than cruel not to pity and to sympathize with. Yet 
 it is my duty to tell you, that the truth, whatever its con- 
 sequences may be, the truth is what you owe to your 
 country, and to that God whose word is truth, and whose 
 name you have now invok'ed. Use your own time in an- 
 swering the questions that gentleman," (pointing to the 
 counsel) " shall put to you — But remember, that what 
 you may be tempted to say beyond what is the actual 
 truth, you must answer both here and hereafter." 
 
 ■The usual questions were then put to her : Whether 
 any one had instructed her what evidence she had to de- 
 liver ? Whether any one had given or promised her any
 
 THE HEART OF MID-l.OTHlAX. 279 
 
 good deed, hire, or reward for her testimony 9 Whether 
 iihe had any malice or ill-will at his Majesty's Advocate, 
 being the party against whom she was cited as a witness f 
 To which questions she successively answered by a quiet 
 negative. But their tenor gave great scandal and offence 
 to her father, who was not aware that they are put to 
 every witness as a matter of form. 
 
 " Na, na," he exclaimed, loud enough to be heard, 
 " my bairn is no like the widow of Tekoah — nae man 
 has putten words into her mouth." 
 
 One of the Judges, better acquainted, perhaps, with 
 the Books of Adjournal than with the Book of Samuel, 
 was disposed to make some instant inquiry after this 
 Widow Tekoah, who, as he construed the matter, had 
 been tampering with the evidence. But the presiding 
 Judge, better versed in Scripture history, whispered to his 
 learned brother the necessary explanation ; and the pause 
 occasioned by this mistake, had the good effect of giving 
 Jeanie Deans time to collect her spirits for the painful 
 task she had to perform. 
 
 Fairbrother,* whose practice and intelligence were con- 
 siderable, saw the necessity of letting the witness com- 
 pose herself. In his heart he suspected that she came to 
 bear false witness in her sister's cause. 
 
 " But that is her own affair," thought Fairbrother ; 
 *' and it is my business to see that she has plenty of time 
 to regain composure, and to deliver her evidence, be it 
 true, or be it false — valeat quantum.''^ 
 
 Accordingly, he commenced his interrogatories with 
 uninteresting questions, which admitted of instant reply. 
 
 " You are, 1 think, the sister of the prisoner ?" 
 
 *• Yes, sir." 
 
 " Not the full sister, however ?" 
 
 '•' No, sir, — we arc by different mothers." 
 
 " True ; and you are, I think, several years older 
 than your sister ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir," &c. 
 
 Aft' • the advocate hnd conceived, that, by these pre- 
 liminary and unimportant questions, he had familiarized
 
 280 TALES OF MY lAXDLORD. 
 
 the witness with the situation in which she stood, he ask- 
 ed, " whether she had not remarked her sister's state of 
 health to be altered during the latter part of the term, 
 when she had lived with Mrs. Saddletree 9" 
 
 Jeanie answered in the affirmative. 
 
 " And she told you the cause of it, my dear, I sup- 
 pose 9" said Fairbrother, in an easy, and, as one may 
 ?ay, an inductive sort of tone. . 
 
 " 1 am sorry to interrupt my brother," said the Crown 
 Counsel, rising, " but I am in your Lordship's judgment, 
 whether this be not a leading question." 
 
 " If this point is to be debated," said the presiding 
 Judge, " the witness must be removed." 
 
 For the Scottish lawyers regard with a sacred and 
 scrupulous horror every question so shaped by the coun- 
 sel examining, as to convey to a witness the least intima- 
 tion of the nature of the answer which is desired from 
 him. These scruples, though founded on an excellent 
 principle, are sometimes carried to an absurd pitch of 
 nicety, especially as it is generally easy for a lawyer who 
 has his wits about him to elude the objection. Fairbroth- 
 er did so in the present case. 
 
 " It is not necessary to waste the time of the Court, 
 ray Lord ; since the King's Counsel thinks it worth while 
 to object to the form of my question, I will shape it oth- 
 erwise. — Pray, young woman, did you ask your sister 
 any question when you observed her looking unwell '? — 
 take courage — speak out." 
 
 " I asked her," replied Jeanie, " what ailed her." 
 
 " Very well — take your own time — and what was the 
 answer she made 9" continued Mr. Fairbrother. 
 
 Jeanie was silent, and looked deadly pale. It was not 
 that she at any one instant entertained an idea of the 
 possibility of prevarication — it was the natural hesitation 
 to extinguish the last spark of hope that remained for her 
 sister. 
 
 " Take courage, young woman," said Fairbrother. — 
 '' I asked what your sister said ailed her when you in- 
 quired 9"
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 281 
 
 " Nothing," answered Jeanie, with a faint voice, which 
 was yet heard distinctly in the most distant corner of the 
 Court-room, — such an awful and profound silence had 
 been preserved during the anxious interval, which had 
 interposed betwixt the lawyer's question and the answer 
 of the witness. 
 
 Fairbrother's countenance fell ; but with that ready 
 presence of mind, which is as useful in civil as in military 
 emergencies, he immediately rallied. " Nothing ? True ; 
 you mean nothing RXji)^st — but when you asked her again, 
 did she not tell you what ailed her *?" 
 
 The question was put in a tone meant to make her 
 comprehend the importance of her answer, had she not 
 been already aware of it. The ice was broken, howev- 
 er, and, whh less pause than at first, she now replied, — 
 '•' Alack ! alack ! she never breathed word to me about 
 it." 
 
 A deep groan passed through the Court. It was echo- 
 ed by one deeper and more agonized from the unfortunate 
 father. The hope, to which unconsciously, and in spite 
 of himself, he had still secretly clung, had now dissolved, 
 and the venerable old man fell forwards senseless on the 
 floor of the Court-house, with his head at the foot of his 
 terrified daughter. The unfortunate prisoner, with im- 
 potent passion, strove with the guards, betwixt whom she 
 was placed. " Let me gang to my father — I ivill gang 
 to him — I will gang to him — he is dead — he is killed — 1 
 hae killed him I" — she repeated in frenzied tones of 
 grief, which those who heard them did not speedily forget. 
 
 Even in this moment of agony and general confusion, 
 .Jeanie did not lose that superiority, w^hich a deep and 
 firm mind assures to its possessor, under the most trying 
 circumstances. 
 
 " He is my father — he is our father," she mildly re- 
 peated to those who endeavoured to separate them as she 
 stooped, — shaded aside his grey hairs, and began assidu- 
 ously to chafe his temples. 
 24* VOL. I.
 
 282 TALES or MY LANDLORD. 
 
 The Judge, after repeatedly wiping his eyes, gave di- 
 rections that they should be transported into a neighbour- 
 ing apartment, and carefully attended. The prisoner, as 
 her father was borne from the Court, and her sister slow- 
 ly followed, pursued them with her eyes so earnestly 
 fixed, as if they would have started from their socket. 
 But when they were no longer visible, she seemed to find, 
 in her despairing and deserted state, a courage which she 
 had not yet exhibited. 
 
 " The bitterness of it is now past," she said, and then 
 boldly addressed the Court. " My Lords, if it is your 
 pleasure to gang on wi' this matter, the weariest day will 
 hae its end at last." 
 
 The Judge, who, much to his honour, had shared 
 deeply in the general sympathy, was surprised at being 
 recalled to his duty by the prisoner. He collected him- 
 self, and requested to know if the pannel's counsel had 
 more evidence to produce. Fairbrother replied, with an 
 air of dejection, that his proof was concluded. 
 
 The King's Counsel addressed the jury for the crown. 
 He said in few words, that no one could be more con- 
 cerned than he was for the distressing scene which they 
 had just witnessed. But it was the necessary conse- 
 quence of great crimes to bring distress and ruin upon all 
 connected with the perpetrators. He briefly reviewed 
 the proof, in which he showed that all the circumstances 
 of the case concurred with those required by the act 
 under which the unfortunate prisoner was tried : That 
 the counsel for the pannel had totally failed in proving, 
 that Euphemia Deans had communicated her situation to 
 her sister : That, respecting her previous good character, 
 he was sorry to observe, that it was females who possessed 
 the world's good report, and to whom it was justly valuable, 
 who were most strongly tempted, by shame and fear of 
 the world's censure, to the crime of infanticide : That 
 the child w^as murdered, he professed to entertain no 
 doubt. The vacillating and inconsistent declaration of 
 the prisoner herself, marked as it was by numerous refu- 
 sals to speak the truth on subjects, when, according to her
 
 THE HEART OF 51ID-LOTHlAy. 283 
 
 own story, it would have been natural, as well as advan- 
 tageous, to have been candid ; even this imperfect decla- 
 ration left no doubt in his mind as to the fate of the un- 
 happy infant. Neither could he doubt that the pannel 
 was a partner iivthis guilt. Who else had an interest in 
 a deed so inhuman 1 Surely neither Robertson, nor 
 Robertson's agent, in whose house she was delivered, had 
 the least temptation to commit such a crime, unless upon 
 her account, with her connivance, and for the sake of 
 saving her reputation. But it was not required of him, 
 by the law, that he should bring precise proof of the 
 murder, or of the prisoner's accession to it. It was the 
 very purpose of tlie statute to substitute a certain chain 
 of presumptive evidence in place of a probation, which, 
 in such cases, it was peculiarly difficult to obtain. The 
 jury might peruse the statute itself, and tliey had also the 
 libel and interlocutor of relevancy to direct them in point 
 of law. He put it to the conscience of the jury, that 
 under both he was entitled to a verdict of Guilt}'. 
 
 The charge of Fairbrother was much cramped by his 
 having failed in the proof which he expected to lead. 
 But he fought his losing cause with courage and constan- 
 cy. He ventured to arraign the severity of the statute 
 under which the young woman was tried. " In all other 
 cases," he said, '• the first thing required of the criminal 
 •Vprosecutor was, to prove unequivocally that the crime 
 libelled had actually been committed, which lawjers call- 
 ed proving the corpus delicti. But this statute, made 
 doubtless with the best intentions, and under the impulse 
 of a just horror for the unnatural crime of infanticide, 
 ran the risk of itself occasioning the worst of murders, 
 the death of an innocent person, to atone for a murder 
 which may never have been corn ruined by any one. He 
 was so far from acknowledging the alleged probability of 
 the child's violent death, that he could not even allow 
 that there was evidence of its having ever lived." 
 
 The King's Counsel pointed to the woman's declaration ; 
 to which the counsel replied — " A production concocted 
 in a moment of terror and agony, and which approach-
 
 284 TAIES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 ed to insanity," he said, " his learned brother well knew 
 was no sound evidence against the party who emitted it. 
 It was true, that a judicial confession, in presence of the 
 Justices themselves, was the strongest of all proof, inso- 
 much that it is said in law, that ' in c$Tijitentem nulla 
 sunt partes judicis.^ But this was true of judicial con- 
 fession only, by which law meant that which is made in 
 presence of the Justices, and the sworn inquest. Of extra- 
 judicial confession, all authorities held with the illustrious 
 Farinaceus, and Matheus, ' confessio extrajudicialis in se 
 nulla est, et quod nullum est, non potest adminiculari.^ 
 It was totally inept, and void of all strength and effect 
 from the beginning ; incapable, therefore, of being bol- 
 stered up or supported, or, according to the law phrase, 
 adminiculated, by other presumptive circumstances. In 
 the present case, therefore, letting the extrajudicial con- 
 fession go, as it ought to go, for nothing," he contended, 
 " the prosecutor had not made out the second quality of 
 the statute, that a live child had been born ; and thai, at 
 least, ought to be established before presumptions were 
 received that it had been murdered. If any of the as- 
 size," he said, " should be of opinion that this was deal- 
 ing rather narrowly with the statute, they ought to con- 
 sider that it was in its nature highly penal, and therefore 
 entitled to no favourable construction." 
 
 He concluded a learned speech with an elegant pero- 
 ration on the scene they had just witnessed, during which 
 Saddletree fell fast asleep. 
 
 It was now the presiding Judge's turn to address tfce 
 jury. He did so briefly and distinctly. 
 
 " It was for the jury," he said, " to consider whether 
 the prosecutor had made out his plea. For himself, he 
 sincerely grieved to say, that a shadow of doubt remain- 
 ed not upon his mind concerning the verdict which the 
 inquest had to bring in. He would not follow the pris- 
 oner's counsel through the impeachment which he had 
 brought against the statute of King William and Queen 
 Mary. He and the jury were sworn to judge according 
 to the laws as they stood, not to criticise, or evade, or
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 285 
 
 even to justify them. In no civil case would a counsel 
 have been permitted to plead his client's case in the teeth 
 of the law ; but in the hard situation in which counsel 
 were often placed in the Criminal Court, as well as out 
 of favour to all presumptions of innocence, he had not 
 inclined to interrupt the learned gentleman, or narrow his 
 plea. The present law, as it now stood, had been insti- 
 tuted by the wisdom of their fathers, to check the alarm- 
 ing progress of a dreadful crime ; when it was found too 
 severe for its purpose, it would doubtless be altered by 
 the wisdom of the legislature ; at present it was the law 
 of the land, the rule of the court, and, according to the 
 oath which they had taken, it must be that of the jury. 
 This unhappy girl's situation could not be doubted ; that 
 she had borne a child, and that the child had disappear- 
 ed, were certain facts. The learned counsel had failed 
 to show that she had communicated her situation. All 
 the requisites of the case required by the statute were 
 therefore before the jury. The learned gentleman had, 
 indeed, desired them to throw out of consideration the 
 pannel's own confession, which was the plea usually urged 
 in penury of all others, by counsel in his situation, who 
 usually felt that the declarations of their chents bore hard 
 on them. But that the Scottish law designed that a cer- 
 tain weight should be laid on these declarations, which, 
 he admitted, were quodarnmodo extrajudicial, was evi- 
 dent from the universal practice by which they were al- 
 ways produced and read, as part of the prosecutor's 
 probation. In the present case, no person, who had heard 
 the witnesses describe the appearance of the young wom- 
 an before she left Saddletree's house, and contrasted it 
 with that of her state and condition at her return to her 
 father's, could have any doubt that the fact of dehvery had 
 taken place, as set forth in her own declaration, which 
 was, therefore, not a solitary piece of testimony, but ad- 
 miniculated and supported by the strongest circumstantial 
 proof. 
 
 " He did not," he said, " state the impression upon 
 his own mind with the purpose of biassing theirs. He
 
 286 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 had felt no less than they had done from the scene of do- 
 mestic misery which had been exhibited before them ; 
 and if they, having God and a good conscience, the 
 sanctity of their oath, and the regard due to the law of 
 their country, before their eyes, could come to a conclu- 
 sion favourable to this unhappy prisoner, he should re- 
 joice as much as any one in Court ; for never had he 
 found his duty more distressing than in discharging it that 
 day, and glad he would be to be relieved from the still 
 more painful task which would otherwise remain for him." 
 The jury, having heard the Judge's address, bowed 
 and retired, preceded by a macer of Court, to the apart- 
 ment destined for their deliberation. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Law, take thy victim — May she find the mercy 
 
 In yon mild Heaven, which this hard world denies her. 
 
 It was an hour ere the jurors returned, and as they 
 traversed the crowd with slow steps, as men about to dis- 
 charge themselves of a heavy and painfid responsibility, 
 the audience was hushed into profound, earnest, and aw- 
 ful silence. 
 
 " Have you agreed on your chancellor, gentlemen '?" 
 w^as the first question of the Judge. 
 
 The foreman, called in Scotland the chancellor of the 
 jury, usually the man of best rank and estimation among 
 the assizers, stepped forward, and, with a low reverence, 
 delivered to the Court a sealed paper, containing the ver- 
 dict, which, until of late years, that verbal returns are in 
 some instances permitted, was always couched in writing. 
 The jury remained standing while the Judge broke the 
 seals ; and having perused the paper, handed it, with an 
 air of mournful gravity, down to the clerk of Court who
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. 2ST 
 
 proceeded to engross in the record the yet unknown ver- 
 dict, of which, however, all omened the tragical contents. 
 A form still remained, trifling and unimportant in itself, 
 but to which imagination adds a sort of solemnity, from 
 the awful occasion upon which it is used. A lighted 
 candle was placed on the table, the original paper con- 
 taining the verdict was inclosed in a sheet of paper, and, 
 sealed with the Judge's ov/n signet, was transmitted to 
 the Crown Office, to be preserved among other records 
 of the same kind. As all this is transacted in profound 
 silence, the producing and extinguishing th^'candle seems 
 a type of the human spark which is shortly afteiwards 
 doomed to be quenched, and excites in the spectators 
 something of the same effect which in England is ob- 
 tained by the Judge assuming the fatal cap of judgment. 
 When these preliminary forms had been gone through, 
 the Judge required Euphemia Deans to attend to the 
 verdict to be read. 
 
 After the usual words of style, the verdict set forth, 
 that the Jury having made choice of John Kirk, Esq, to 
 be their chancellor, and Thomas Moore, mercliant, to be 
 their clerk, did, by a plurality of voices, find the said 
 Euphemia Deans Guilty of the crime hbelled ; but, in 
 consideration of her extreme youth, and the cruel cir- 
 cumstances of her case, did earnestly entreat that the 
 Judge would recommend her to the mercy of the Crown. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the Judge, " you have done your 
 duty — and a painful one it must have been to men of 
 humanity like you. I will undoubtedly transmit your re- 
 commendation to the throne. Biit it is my duty to tell 
 all who now hear me, but especially to inform that un- 
 happy young woman, in order that her mind may be set- 
 tled accordingly, that I have not the least hope of a par- 
 don being granted in the present cuse. You know the 
 crime has been increasing in this hud, and I know farth- 
 er, that this has been ascribed to the lenity in which the 
 laws havp been exercised, and that there is therefore no 
 hope whatever of obtaining a remission for this offence."
 
 288 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 The Jury bowed again, and, released from their painful 
 office, dispersed among the mass of bystanders." 
 
 The Court then asked Fairbrother, whether he had 
 anything to say, why judgment should not follow on the 
 verdict '? The counsel had spent some time in perusing, 
 and reperusing the verdict, counting the letters in each 
 juror's name, and weighing every phrase, nay every syl- 
 lable, in the nicest scales of legal criticism. But the 
 clerk of the jury had understood his business too well. 
 No flaw w^as to be found, and Fairbrother mournfully in- 
 timated, that iie had nothing to say in arrest of judgment. 
 
 The presiding Judge then addressed the unhappy pris- 
 oner : — " Euphemia Deans, attend to the sentence of the 
 Court now to be pronounced against you." 
 
 She rose from her seat, and, with a composure far 
 greater than could have been augured from her demean- 
 our during some parts of the trial, abode the conclusion 
 of the avv'fid scene. So nearly does the mental portion 
 of our feelings resemble those which are corporeal, that 
 the first severe blows which we receive bring with them 
 a stunning apathy, which renders us indifferent to those 
 that follow them. So said Mandrin, when he was under- 
 going the punishment of the wheel ; and so have all felt, 
 upon whom successive inflictions have descended with 
 continuous and reiterated violence. 
 
 " Young woman," said the Judge, " it is my paiLiful du- 
 ty to tell you, that your life is forfeited under a law, which, 
 if it may seem in some degree severe, is yet wisely so, 
 to render those of your unhappy situation aware what 
 risk they run, by concealing, out of pride or false shame, 
 their lapse from virtue, and making no preparation to 
 save the lives of the unfortunate infants whom they are 
 to bring into the w^orld. When you concealed your situ- 
 ation from your mistress, your sister, and other worthy 
 and compassionate persons of your own sex, in whose 
 favour your former conduct had given you a fair place, 
 you seem to me to have had in your contemplation, at 
 least the death of the helpless creature, for whose life 
 you neglected to provide. How the child was disposed
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 289 
 
 of — whether it was dealt upon by another, or by yourself 
 — whether the extraordinary story you have told is partly 
 false, or altogether so, is between God and your own 
 conscience. 1 will not aggravate your distress by press- 
 ing on that topic, but I do most solemnly adjure you to 
 employ the remaining space of your time in making your 
 peace with God, for which purpose such reverend cler- 
 gyman, as vou yourself may name, shall have access to 
 you. Notwithstanding the humane recommendation of 
 the jury, I cannot afford to you, in the present circum- 
 stances of the country, the slighest hope that your life 
 will be proiouged beyond the period assigned for the ex- 
 ecution of your sentence. Forsaking, therefore, the 
 though^ of this world, let your mind be prepared by re- 
 pentance for those of more awful moments — for death, 
 judgment, and eternity. — Doomster, read the sentence." 
 
 When the Doomster showed himself, a tall, haggard 
 figure, arrayed in a fantastic garment of black and grey, 
 passmented with lace, all fell back with a sort of in- 
 stinctive horror, and made wide way for him to approach 
 the fool of the table. As this office was held by the 
 common executioner, men shouldered each other back- 
 ward to avoid even the toucl; of his garirj2;:;t, and some 
 were seen to brush their own clothes, which had acci- 
 dentally become subject to such contamination. A sound 
 went through the court, produced by each person draw- 
 ing in their breath hard, as men do when they expect or 
 witness what is frightful, and at the same time affecting. 
 The caitiff villain yet seemed, amid his hardened bru- 
 tality, to have some sense of his being the object of pub- 
 lic detestation, which made iiim impatient of being in 
 pubhc, as birds of evil omen are anxious to escape from 
 dayhght, and from pure air. 
 
 Repeating after the Clerk of Court he gabbled over 
 the words of the sentence, which condemned Euphemia 
 Deans to be conducted back to' the Tolbooth of Edin- 
 burgh, and detained there until W'ednesdav I'ne day 
 
 of ', and upon that day, betwixt the hours of two 
 
 25 VOL. I.
 
 290 TALES OF MY LANDLORD . 
 
 and four o'clock afternoon, to be conveyed to the common 
 place of execution, and there hanged by the neck upon a 
 gibbet. " And this," said the Dooraster, aggravating his 
 harsh voice, " I pronounce for doom.''^ 
 
 He vanished when he had spoken the last emphatic 
 word, like a foul fiend after the purpose of his visitation 
 has been accomplished ; but the impression of horror, 
 excited by his presence and his errand, remained upon 
 the crowd of spectators. 
 
 The unfortunate criminal, so she must now be termed, 
 with more susceptibility, and more irritable feelings than 
 her father and sister, was found, in this emergence, to 
 possess a considerable share of their courage. She had 
 remained standing motionless at the bar while the sentence 
 was pronounced, and was observed to shut her eyes when 
 the Doomster appeared. But she was the first to break 
 silence when the evil form had left his place. 
 
 " God forgive ye, my Lords," she said, " and dinna 
 be angry wi' me for v/ishing it — we a' need forgiveness. — 
 As for myself, I canna blame ye, for ye act up to your 
 lights ; and if I havena killed my poor infant, ye may 
 witness a' that hae seen it tl]is day, that I hae been the 
 ?2.tt?.Z cf l-Iaiing my grey-iieaued father — I deserve the 
 warst frae man, and' frae God too — But God is mair mer- 
 eifu' to us than we are to each other." 
 
 3Vith these words llie trial concluded. The crowd 
 rushed, bearing forward and shouldering each other, out 
 of the court, in the same tumultuary mode in which they 
 had entered ; and, in the excitalioa of animal motion and 
 animal spirits, soon forgot what they had felt as impressive 
 in the scene which they had witnessed. The professio'ial 
 spectators, whom habit and theory had rendered as cal- 
 lous to the distress of the scene as medical men are to 
 those of a surgical operation, walked homeward in groups, 
 discussing the general principle of the statute under which 
 the young wom.an was condemned, the nature of the evi- 
 dence, and the arguments of the counsel, wiUiont consid- 
 ering even thatof the judge as exempt from their criticism.
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. 291 
 
 The female spectators, more compassionate, were loud 
 in exclamation against that part of the Judge's speech 
 which seemed to cut off the hope of pardon. 
 
 *' Set him up, indeed," said Mrs. Howden, " to tell us 
 that the poor lassie hehoved to die, when Mr. John Kirk, 
 as civil a gentleman as is within the ports of the town, 
 took the pains to prigg for her himsell." 
 
 " Ay, hut neighbour," said Miss Damahoy, drawing up 
 her thin maidenly form to its full height of prim dignity 
 — " I really think this unnatural business of having bas- 
 tard-bairns should be putten a stop to — There isna a huzzy 
 now on this side of thirty that ye can briiig within }our 
 doors, but there will be chields — writer-lads, prentice-lads, 
 and what not — coming traiking after them for their de- 
 struction, and discrediting ain's honest house into the bar- 
 gain — I hae nae patience wi' them." 
 
 ** Hout, neighbour," said Mrs. Howden, " we suld Hve 
 and let live — we hae been young ourseils, and we are no 
 aye to judge the warst when lads and lasses forgather." 
 
 " Young ourseils *? and judge the warst '?" said Miss 
 Damahoy. " I am no sae auld as that comes to, Mrs. 
 Howden ; and as for what ye ca' the warst, I ken neither 
 good nor bad about the matter, I thank my stars." 
 
 " Ye are thankfu' for sma' mercies, then," said Mrs. 
 Howden, with a toss of her head ; " and as for you and 
 young — I trow ye were doing for yoursell at the last riding 
 of the Scots Parliament, and that was in the gracious year 
 seven, sae ye can be nae sic chicken at ony rate." 
 
 Plumdamas, who acted as squire of the body to the two 
 contending dames, instantly saw the hazard of entering 
 into such delicate points of chronology, and being a lover 
 of peape and good neighbourhood, lost no time in bring- 
 ing back the conversation to its original subject. 
 
 " The judge didna tell us a' he could hae tell'd us, if 
 he had liked, about the application for pardon, neigh- 
 bours," said he ; " there is aye a wimple in a lawyers 
 clew ; but it's a wee bit of a secret." 
 
 " And what is't ? — what li't, neighbour Plumdamas V 
 said Mrs, Howden and ^liss Damahoy at once, the acid
 
 292 TALES OF MY lANDlORD. 
 
 fermentation of their dispute being at once neutralized by 
 the powerful alkali implied in the word secret. 
 
 " Here's Mr. Saddletree can tell ye that better than 
 nie, for it was him that tauld me," said Plumdamas as 
 Saddletree came up, with his wife hanging on his arm, 
 and looking very disconsolate. 
 
 When the question was put to Saddletree he looked 
 very scornful. " They speak about stopping the frequen- 
 cy of child murther," said he, in a contemptuous tone ; 
 " do ye think our auld enemies of England, as Glendook 
 aye ca's them in his printed Statute-book, cares a bod die 
 w!]ether we didna kill ane anither, skin and birn, horse 
 and foot, man, woman, and bairns, all and sindry, omnes 
 et singulos, as Mr. Crossmyloof says 9 Na, na, it's no 
 that hinders them frae pardoning the bit lassie. But here 
 is the pinch of the plea. The King and Queen are so ill 
 pleased wi' that mistak about Porteous, that de'il a kindly 
 Scot will they pardon again, either by reprieve or remis- 
 sion, if the haill town o' Edinburgh should be a' hanged 
 on ae tow." 
 
 " De'il that they were back at their German kale-yard 
 then, as my neighbour MacCroskie ca's it," said Mrs. 
 Howden, " an that's the way they're gaun to guide us." 
 
 " They say for certain," said Miss Damahoy, " that 
 King George flang his periwig in the fire when he heard 
 o' the Porteous mob." 
 
 '• He has done that, they say," replied Saddletree, 
 " for less thing." 
 
 '' Aweel," said Miss Damahoy, " he might keep mair 
 wit in his anger — but it's a' the better for his wigmaker, 
 I'se warrant." 
 
 " The Queen tore her biggonets for perfect anger, — 
 ye'll hae heard o' that too 9" said Plumdamas. " Anc 
 the King, they say, kickit Sir Robert Walpole for no 
 keeping down the mob of Edinburgh ; but I dinna believe 
 he wad behave sae ungenteel." 
 
 " It's dooms truth, though," said Saddletree ; " and he 
 was for kickin the Duke of Argyle too."
 
 fHE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX. 293 
 
 " Kickin the Duke of Argyle !" exclaimed the hearers 
 at once, in all the various combined keys of utter aston- 
 ishment. 
 
 " Ay, but MacCallumMore's blood wadna sit down 
 wi' that ; there was risk of Andro Ferrara coming in 
 third sm an." 
 
 " The duke is a real Scotsman — a true friend to the 
 country," answered Saddletree's hearers. 
 
 " Ay, troth is he, to king and country baith, as ye shall 
 hear," continued the orator, " if ye will come in bye to 
 our house, for it's safest speaking of sic things inter 
 parietes.'^ 
 
 When they entered his shop he thrust his prentice boy 
 out of it, and, unlocking his desk, took out, with an air of 
 grave and complacent importance, a dirty and crumpled 
 piece of printed paper ; he observed " This is new corn 
 — it's no every body could show ye the like of this. It's 
 the duke's speech about the Porteous mob, just promul- 
 gated by the hawkers. Ye shall hear what Ian Roy Ceaa 
 says for himsell. i\fy correspondent bought it in the 
 Palace-yard, that's like just under the king's nose — I 
 think he claws up their mittans. — It came in a letter about 
 a foolish bill of exchange that the man wanted me to re- 
 new for him. 1 wish ye wad see about it, Mrs. Sad- 
 dletree." 
 
 Honest Mrs. Saddletree had hitherto been so sincerely 
 distressed about the situation of her unfortunate protegee, 
 that she had suffered her husband to proceed in his own 
 way, without attending to what he was saying. The 
 words bill and renew, had, however, an awakening sound 
 in them ; and she snatched the letter which her husband 
 held towards her, and wiping her eyes, and putting on her 
 spectacles, endeavoured, as fast as the dew which collect- 
 ed on her glasses would permit, to get at the meaning of 
 the needful part of the epistle ; while her husband, with 
 pompous elevation, read an extract from the speech. 
 
 " I am no minister, I never was a minister, and I never 
 
 will be one" 
 
 25* VOL. I.
 
 294 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 " I didna ken his grace was ever designed for the min- 
 istry," interrupted Mrs. Howden. 
 
 " He disna mean a minister of the gospel, Mrs. How- 
 den, but a minister of state," said Saddletree with con- 
 descending goodness, and then proceeded : ^' The time 
 was when I might have been a piece of a minister, but I 
 was too sensible of my own incapacity to engage in any 
 state affair. And I thank God that I had always too great 
 a value for those few abihties which nature has given me, 
 to employ them in doing any drudgery, or any job of what 
 kind soever. Lhave, ever since I set out in the world, 
 (and I beheve few have set out more early,) served my 
 prince with my tongue ; I have served him with any little 
 interest I had, and 1 have served him with my sword, and 
 in my profession of arms. I have held employments 
 w^iich I have lost, and were I to be to-morrow-deprived 
 of those which still remain to me, and vA^'ich I have en- 
 deavoured honestly to deserve, 1 would still serve him to 
 the last acre of my inheritance, and to the last drop of 
 my blood." 
 
 Mrs. Saddletree here broke in upon the orator. — >" Mr. 
 Saddletree, what is the meaning of a' this 9 Here are ye 
 clavering about the Duke of Argyle, and this man Mar- 
 tingale gaun to break on our hands, and lose us gude sixty 
 pounds — I wonder what duke will pay that, quotha — I 
 wish the Duke of Argyle would pay his ain accounts — He 
 is in a thousand punds Scots on thae very books when he 
 was last at Roystoun — I'm no saying but he's a just no- 
 bleman, and that it's gude siller — but it wad drive ane daft 
 to be confeised wi' deukes and drakes, and thae distressed 
 folk up stairs, that's Jeanie Deans and her father. And 
 then, putting the very callant that was sewing the curple 
 out o' the shop, to play wi' blackguards in the close — Sit 
 still, neighbours, it's no that I mean to disturb you ; but 
 what between courts o' law and courts o' state, and upper 
 and under parliaments, and parhament-houses, here and 
 in London, the gudeman's gane clean gyte, I think." 
 
 The gossips understood civility, and the rule of doing 
 as they would be done by, too well, to tarry upon the
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 295 
 
 slight invitation implied in the conclusion of this speech, 
 and therefore made their farewells and departure as fast 
 as possible, Saddletree whispering to Plumdamas that he 
 would meet him at MacCroskie's, (the low-broued shop 
 in the Luckenbooths, already mentioned,) " in the hour 
 of cause, and put IMacCallumMore's speech in his pocket, 
 for a' the gudewife's din." 
 
 Wlien Mrs. Saddletree saw the house freed of her im- 
 portunate visiters, and tlie little boy reclaimed from the 
 pastimes of the wynd to the exercise of the awl, she went 
 to visit her unhappy relative, David Deans, and his elder 
 daughter, who had found in her house the nearest place of 
 friendly refuge. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Alas ! what poor ability's in me 
 To do him good ? 
 
 Assay the power you have. 
 
 Measure for Measure. 
 
 When Mrs. Saddletree entered the apartment in which 
 her guests had shrouded their misery, she found the win- 
 dow darkened. The feebleness which followed his long 
 swoon had rendered it necessary to lay the old man in 
 bed. The curtains were drawn around him, and Jeanie 
 sat motionless by the side of the bed. Mrs. Saddletree 
 was a woman of kindness, nay, of feeling, but not of del- 
 icacy. She opened the half-shut window, drew aside the 
 curtain, and taking her kinsman by the hand, exhorted him 
 to sit up, and bear his sorrow like a good man, and a 
 Christian man, as he was. But when she quitted his hand, 
 it fell powerless by his side, nor did he attempt the least 
 reply. 
 
 " Is all over '?" asked Jeanie, with lips and cheeks as 
 pale as ashes, — " And is there nae hope for her V
 
 296 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 " Nane, or next to nane," said Mrs. Saddletree ; " I 
 heard the Judge-carle say it with my ain ears — It was a 
 burning shame to see sae mony o' them set up yonder in 
 their red gowns and black gowns, and a' to take the life 
 o' a bit senseless lassie. I had never muckle broo o' my 
 gudeman's gossips, and now I like them waur than ever. 
 The only wise-like thing I heard ony body say was decent 
 Mr. John Kirk of Kirk-knowe, and he wussed them just 
 to get the King's mercy, and nae mair about it. But he 
 spake to unreasonable folk — he might just hae keepit his 
 breath to hae blawn on his porridge." 
 
 " But can the King gie her mercy 9" said Jeanie, 
 earnestly. " Some folk tell me he canna gie mercy in 
 cases of mur in cases like her's." 
 
 " Can he gie mercy, hinny 1 — I weel I wot he can, 
 when he likes. There was young Singlesword, that stickit 
 the Laird of Ballencleuch, and Captain Hackum, ihe 
 Englishman, that killed Lady Colgrain's gudeman, and 
 the Master of Saint Clair, that shot the twa Shaws, and 
 mony mair in my time — to be sure they were gentle blude, 
 and had their kin to speak for them — And there was Jock 
 Porteous the other day — I'se warrant there's mercy, an 
 folk could win at it." 
 
 " Porteous *]" said Jeanie ; " very true — I forget a' 
 that 1 suld maist mind. — Fair ye weel, Mrs. Saddletree ; 
 and may ye never want a friend in the hour o' distress." 
 
 " Will ye no stay wi' your father, Jeanie, bairn '? — Ye 
 had better," said Mrs. Saddletree. 
 
 " I will be wanted ower yonder," indicating the Tol- 
 booth with her hand, " and 1 maun leave him now, or I 
 will never be able to leave him. I fearna for his life — I 
 ken how strong-hearted he is — I ken it," she said, laying 
 her hand on her bosom, " by my ain heart at this minute." 
 
 " Weel, hinny, if ye think it's for the best, better he 
 stay here and rest him, than gang back to St. Leonard's." 
 
 " Muckle better — muckle better — God bless you — God 
 bless you ! — At no rate let him gang till ye hear frae me," 
 said Jeanie.
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN. 297 
 
 " But ye'll be back belive 1" said Mrs. Saddletree, 
 detaining her ; " they wiinna let ye stay yonder, hinny." 
 
 " But I maun gang to St. Leonard's — there's muckle 
 to be done, and little time to do it in — And I have friends 
 to speak to — God bless you — take care of my father." 
 
 She had reached the door of tlie apartment, when sud- 
 denly turning, she came back, and knelt down by the bed- 
 side. — " O father, gie me your blessing — I dare not go 
 till ye bless me. Say but God bless ye, and prosper ye, 
 Jeanie — try but to say that." 
 
 Instinctively, rather than by an exertion of intellect, 
 the old man murmured a prayer, that " purchased and 
 promised blessings might be multiphed upon her." 
 
 *' He has blessed mine errand," said his daughter, ris- 
 ing from her knees, " and it is borne in upon my mind 
 that I shall prosper." 
 
 So saying, she left the room. 
 
 !Mrs. Saddletree looked after her, and shook her head. 
 " I wish she binna roving, poor thing — There's something 
 queer about a' thae Deanses. I dinna like folk to be sae 
 muckle better than other folk — seldom comes gude o't. 
 But if she's gaun to look after the kye at St. Leonard's, 
 that's another story, to be sure they maun be sorted. — 
 Grizzle, come up here and take tent to the honest auld man, 
 and see he wants naething. — Ye silly tawpie," (addressing 
 the maid-servant as she entered,) " what garr'd ye busk 
 up your cockernony that gate 9 I think there's been 
 aneugh the day to gie an awfu' warning about your cock- 
 ups and your fal-lal duds — see what they a' come to," 
 Sic he. he. he. 
 
 Leaving the good lady to her lecture upon worldly van- 
 ities, we must transport our readers to the cell in which 
 the unfortunate Effie Deans was now immured, being re- 
 stricted of several liberties which she had enjoyed before 
 the sentence was pronounced. 
 
 When she had remained about an hour in the state of 
 stupified horror so natural in her situation, she was dis- 
 turbed by the opening of the jarring bolts of her place of
 
 298 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 confinement, and RatclifFe showed himself. " It's your 
 sister," he said, " wants to speak t'ye, Effie." 
 
 " 1 canna see naebody," said Effie with a hasty irrita- 
 bility which misery had rendered more acute — " I canna 
 see naebody, and least of a' her — bid her take care o' 
 the auld man — I am naething to ony o' them now, nor 
 them to me. 
 
 " She says she maun see ye, though," said Ratcliffe ; 
 and Jeanie, rushing into the apartment, threw her arms 
 round her sister's neck, who writhed to extricate herself 
 from her embrace. 
 
 " What signifies coming to greet ower me, when you 
 have killed me '? — killed me, when a word of your mouth 
 would have saved me — kihed me, when 1 am an innocent 
 creature — innocent of that guilt at least — and me, that 
 wad hae wared body and soul to save your finger from 
 being hurt !" 
 
 " Yon shall not die," said Jeanie, with enthusiastic 
 firmness ; " say what ye like o' me — think what ye like 
 o' me — only promise — for 1 doubt your proud heart — that 
 ye wunna harm yourself, and you shall not die this shame- 
 ful death." 
 
 " A shameful death I will not die, Jeanie, lass. I have 
 that in my heart — though it has been ower kind a ane — 
 that wunna bide shame. Gae hame to our father, and 
 think nae mair on me — I have eat my last earthly meal." 
 " O ! this was what I feared !" said Jeanie. 
 " Hout, tout, hinnie," said Ratcliffe ; " it's but little ye 
 ken o' thae things. Ane aye thinks at the first dinnle o' 
 the sentence, they hae hearl aneugh to die rather than 
 bide out the sax weeks ; but they aye bide the sax weeks 
 out for a' that. I ken the gate o't weel ; 1 hae fronted 
 the doomster three times, and here I stand, Jim Ratcliffe, 
 for a' that. Had I tied my napkin strait the first time, 
 as I had a great mind till't — and it was a' about a bit grey 
 covvt, wasna worth ten punds sterhng — where would I 
 liave been now V 
 
 " And how did you escape "?" said Jeanie, the fates of 
 this man, at first so odious to her, having acquired a sud-
 
 THE HEART OF MID-XOTIIIAX. 299 
 
 den interest in her eyes from their correspondence with 
 those of her sister. 
 
 " How did I escape V said RatclifFe, with a knowing 
 wink, — " I tell ye I scapit in a way that naebody will es- 
 cape from this tolbooth while 1 keep the keys." 
 
 " My sister shall come out in the face of the sun," 
 said Jeanie ; " I will go to London, and beg her pardon 
 from the King and Queen. If they pardoned Porteous, 
 they may pardon her ; if a sister asks a sister's life on 
 her bended knees, they will pardon her — they shall par- 
 don her — and they sball win a thousand hearts by it." 
 
 Ethe hstened in bewildered astonishment, and so earn- 
 est was her sister's enthusiastic assurance, that she almost 
 involuntarily caught a gleam of hope, but it instantly 
 faded away. 
 
 " Ah, Jeanie ! the King and Queen live in London, 
 a thousand miles from this — far ayont the saut sea ; I'll 
 be gane before ye win there." 
 
 " You are mista'en," said Jeanie ; " it is no sae far, 
 and they go to it by land ; T learned something about thae 
 things' from Reuben Butler." 
 
 " Ah, Jeanie ! ye never learned onything but what was 
 gude frae the folk ye keepit company wi' ; butl — butl"^ 
 — she wrung her hands and wept bitterly. 
 
 " Dhma think on that now," said Jeanie ; " there will 
 be time for that if the present space be redeemed. — Fare 
 ye week Unless f die by the road, I will see the King's 
 face that gies grace. — O, sir," (to RatcliiFe,) " be kind 
 to her — She ne'er kenn'd what it was to need stranger's 
 kindness till now — Fareweel — fareweel, Effie — Dinna 
 speak to me — I maunna greet now — my head's ower 
 dizzy already." 
 
 She tore herself from her sister's arms, and left the cell. 
 RatcliiFe followed her, and beckotied her into a small 
 room. She obeyed his signal, but not without trembling. 
 
 " What's the fule thing shaking for 9" said he ; " I 
 mean nothing but civihty to you — D — n me, I respect 
 you, and I can't help it. You have so much spunk, rhat, 
 d — n me, but I think there's some chance of your carry-
 
 300 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 ing the day. But you must not go to the King till you 
 have made some friend ; try the duke — try iVlacCalhim- 
 A'?ore ; he's Scotland's friend — I ken that the great folks 
 dinna muckle like him — but they fear him, and that will 
 serve your purpose as weel. D'ye ken naebody wad gie 
 ye a letter to him 9" 
 
 " Duke of Argyle 9" said Jeanie, recollecting hers'lf 
 suddenly — " what was he to that Argyle that suffered in 
 my father's time — in the persecution 1 
 
 " His son or grandson, I'm thinking," said Ratcliife ; 
 " but what o' that V 
 
 " Thank God !" said Jeanie, devoutly clasping her 
 hands. 
 
 " You whigs are aye thanking God f^or something," 
 said the ruffian. " But hark ye, hinny, I'll tell ye a se- 
 cret. Ye may meet wi' rough customers on the Bor Jer, 
 or in the Mid-land, afore ye get to Lunuun. Now de'il 
 ane o' them will touch an acquaintance o' Daddie Rattan ; 
 for rhough I am retired frae public practice, yet they ken 
 I can do a gude or an ill turn yet — and de'il a gude fellovv 
 that has been but a twelvemonth on the lay, be he ruffler 
 or padder, but he knows my gybe^ as well as the jarkf 
 of e'er a queer cuffinj in England — and there's rogue's 
 Latin for you." 
 
 It was, indeed, totally unintelligible to Jeanie Deans, 
 who was only impatient to escape from him. He hastily 
 scrawled a line or two on a dirty piece of paper, and said 
 to her, as she drew back when he offered it, " Hey ! what 
 the de'il — it wunna bite you, my lass — if it does nae' 
 gude, it can do nae ill. But 1 wish you to show it, if you 
 have ony fasherie wi' ony o' St. Nicolas's clerks." 
 
 " Alas !" said she, " I do not understand what you 
 mean 9" 
 
 " I mean if ye fall among thieves, my precious, — that 
 is a Scripture phrase, if ye will hae ane — the bauldestof 
 them w\\\ ken a scart o' my guse feather. — And now awa' 
 
 * Pass. t Seal. t Justice of Peace.
 
 THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAX . 301 
 
 wi' ye — and stick to Argyle ; if ony body can do the job, 
 it taaun be him." 
 
 After casting an anxious look at the grated windows 
 and blackened walls of the old Tolbooth, and another 
 scarce less anxious at the hospitable lodging of Mrs. Sad- 
 dletree, Jeanie turned her back on that quarter, and soon 
 after on the city itself. She reached St. Leonard's Crags 
 without meeting any one whom she knew, which, in the 
 state of her mind, she considered as a great blessing. 
 " I must do naething," she thought, as she went along, 
 " that can soften or weaken my heart — it's ower weak 
 already for what I hae to do. I will think and act as 
 firmly as I can, and speak as little." 
 
 There was an ancient female servant or rather cottar of 
 her father's who had lived under him for many years, and 
 whose fidelity was worthy of full confidence. She sent 
 for this woman, and, explaining to her that the circum- 
 stances of ber family required that she should undertake 
 a journey, which would detain her for some weeks from 
 home, she gave her full instructions concerning the man- 
 agement of the domestic concerns in her absence. With 
 a precision, which, upon reflection, she herself could not 
 help wondering at, she described and detailed the most 
 minute steps which were to be taken, and especially such 
 as were necessary for her father's comfort. " It was 
 probable," she said, " that he would return to St. Leon- 
 ard's to-morrow ; certain that he would return very soon 
 — all must be in order for him. He had enough to dis- 
 tress him, without being fashed about vvarldly matters." 
 
 In the meanwhile she toiled busily, along with May 
 Hettly, to leave nothing unarranged. 
 
 It was deep in the night when all these matters were 
 settled ; and when they had partaken of some food, the 
 first which Jeanie had tasted on that eventful day. May 
 Hettly, whose usual residence was a cottage at a little dis- 
 tance from Deans's house, asked her young mistress, 
 whether she would not permit her to remain in the house 
 all night. " Ye hae had an awfu' day," she said, '« and 
 26 VOL. I.
 
 302 TALES OF MY LANDLORD. 
 
 sorrow and fear are but bad companions in the watches of 
 the night, as I hae heard the gudeman say himsell." 
 
 *' They are ill companions, indeed," said Jeanie ; " but 
 I maun learn to abide their presence, and better begin in 
 the house than in the field." 
 
 She dismissed her aged assistant accordingly, — for so 
 slight was the gradation in their rank of hfe, that we can 
 hardly term May a servant, — and proceeded to make a 
 few preparations for her journey. 
 
 The simplicity of her education and country made these 
 preparations very brief and easy. Her tartan screen 
 served all the purposes of a riding-habit, and of an um- 
 brella ; a small bundle contained such changes of linen 
 as were absolutely necessary. Barefooted, as Sancho 
 says, she had come into the w^orld, and barefooted she 
 proposed to perform her pilgrimage ; and her clean shoes 
 and change of snow-white thread stockings were to be 
 reserved for special occasions of ceremony. She was not 
 aware, that the English habits of comfort attach an idea 
 of abject misery to the idea of a barefooted traveller ; 
 and if the objection of cleanUness had been made to the 
 practice, she would have been apt to vindicate herself up- 
 on the very frequent ablutions to which with Mahometan 
 scrupulosity, a Scotch damsel of some condition usually 
 subjects herself. Thus far therefore all was well. 
 
 From an oaken press or cabinet, in which her father 
 kept a few old books, and two or three bundles of papers, 
 besides his ordinary accounts and receipts, she sought out 
 and extracted from a parcel of notes of sermons, calcu- 
 lations of interest, records of dying speeches of the mar- 
 tyrs, and the like, one or two documents which she thought 
 might be of some use to her upon her mission. But the 
 most important difficulty remained behind, and it had not 
 occurred to her until that very evening. It was the want 
 of money, without which it was impossible she should un- 
 dertake so distant a journey as she now meditated. 
 
 David Deans, as we have said, was easy, and even 
 opulent in his circumstances. But his wealth, like that 
 of the patriarchs of old, consisted in his kine and herds,
 
 THE HEART OF MID-XOTHIAN. 303 
 
 and in two or three sums lent out at interest to neighbours 
 or relatives, who, far from being in circumstances to pay 
 anything to account of the principal sums, thought they 
 did all that was incumbent on them, when, with consider- 
 able difficulty, they discharged '* the annual rent." To 
 these debtors it would be in vain, therefore, to apply, even 
 with her father's concurrence ; nor could she hope to 
 obtain such concurrence, or assistance in any mode, with- 
 out such a series of explanations and debates as she felt 
 might deprive her totally of the power of taking the step, 
 which, however daring and hazardous, she felt was abso- 
 lutely necessary for trying the last chance in favour of her 
 sister. Without departing from filial reverence, Jeanie 
 had an inward conviction that the feelings of her father, 
 however just, and upright, and honourable, were too httle 
 in unison with the spirit of the time to admit of his being 
 a good judge of the measures to be adopted in this crisis. 
 Herself more flexible in manner, though no less upright 
 in principle, she felt that to ask his consent to her pil- 
 grimage would be to encounter the risk of drawing down 
 his positive prohibition, and under that she believed her 
 journey could not be blessed in its progress and event. 
 Accordingly, she had determined upon the means by 
 which she might communicate to him her undertaking 
 and its purpose, shortly after her actual departure. But 
 it was impossible to apply to him for money without alter- 
 ing this arrangement, and discussing fully the propriety of 
 her journey ; pecuniary assistance from that quarter, 
 therefore, was laid out of the question. 
 
 It now occurred to Jeanie that she should have con- 
 sulted with Mrs. Saddletree on this subject. But, be- 
 sides the time that must now necessarily be lost in recur- 
 ring to her assistance, Jeanie internally revolted from it. 
 Her heart acknowledged the goodness of Mrs. Saddle- 
 tree's general character, and the kind interest she took in 
 their family misfortunes ; but still she felt that Mrs. Sad- 
 dletree was a woman of an ordinary and vc'orldly way of 
 thinking, incapable, from habit and temperament, of 
 taking a keen or enthusiastic view of such a resolution as
 
 304 TJlLES of my lANDlORD. 
 
 she had formed ; and to debate the point with her, and 
 to rely upon her conviction of its propriety for the means 
 of carrying it into execution, would have been gall and 
 wormwood. 
 
 Butler, whose assistance she might have been assured 
 of, was greatly poorer than herself. In these circum- 
 stances, she formed a singular resolution for the purpose 
 of surmounting this difficulty, the execution of which 
 will form the subject of the next chapter. 
 
 END OF VOLUME I.
 
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 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
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