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heart Breckle hard
1823.
THE
Ꮋ Ꭼ Ꭱ MIT
IN
THE COUNTRY;
OR,
SKETCHES
OF
BRITISH MANNERS,
" Quite weary grown?
Of all the follies of the town,
And seeing in all public places,
The same vain fops, and painted faces."
SOAME JENYNS.
a New Edition,
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. III.
:
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR HENRY COLBURN & CO.
1823.


PR 4970
1114
H45
182.3
V.3
LONDON:
PRINTED BY COX AND BAYLIS, GREAT QUEEN STREET.


CONTENTS
OF
VOL. III.
57
Page
Scotland,
....... 1
The Scottish Emigrant,
17
Society in Edinburgh,
....... 31
Sunday Evening Amusements,
43
Truth and Taciturnity, ...
Lady Grizelda M‘Tab's Ball,
69
Scottish Discretion,
83
A Cockney in Scotland,
93
Hogmany; or, New Year's Morn in Edin-
burgh,
......113
Twal O'Clock,
127
The Scot's Fire-side. New Year, ......135
Northern Votaries of Bacchus,
145
......
.....
.....


iv
CONTENTS.
Page
....
......
....155
171
......
......183
193
.....205
Auld Lang Syne,
The Foy,
The Draje,......
Highland Hospitality,
Gregor M Gregor's Welcome, ......
Highland Sporting,
A Dandy in the Highlands,
The Highland Outlaw,
Highland Friendship,
A Highland Regiment's Return,
215
......225
HER)
237
....251
261
VOL.II


Page
...155
171
...183
193
....205
215
THE
-..225
HERMIT IN THE COUNTRY.
237
..251
261
N° L.
SCOTLAND.
VOL. III,
B


Their groves of sweet myrtles let foreign lands reckon,
Where bright-beaming summers exhale the perfume !
Far dearcr to me yon lone glen o'green brecken,
With the burn stealing under the lang yellow hroom;
Far dearer to me yon humble broom bowers,
Where the blue bell and gowan lurk lowly unseen ;
For there lightly tripping amang the wild flowers,
A’ listing the linnet, aft wanders my Jean.
BURNS.


SCOTLAND.
Of all the countries under the sun, there
is not one whose natives have the amor
patriæ more deeply impressed in their
bosoms than the Scots. Added to this
love of country, which identifies the inha-
bitant of the soil with the soil itself, which
makes its interest and its glory, its fame
or its misfortunes, personal—the Scotch-
man has the love of home beautifully in-
terwoven with his feelings, inalienably
mingled with his sympathies, ever pre-
sent to his mind, constituting the goal of
his career, the term and reward of all his
actions.
B 2


4
SCOTLAND.
This innate principle exists in other na-
tions. The advantages of many countries
cause their children to pine for them when
absent. The Caledonian has not these in-
ducements : yet he prefers his desolate
muir, his bleak mountain, his sepulchral
pine, his purple heather, and his humble
hut, to fertility, cultivation, the vine-
yard and the palace; and, although his
interest may plant him elsewhere, his
heart still sojourns at home.
But his independent spirit never allows
him to be a burthen to his family, or
an unproductive inhabitant of the soil.
Hence is he more frequently found self-
banished to the remotest quarters of the
globe, than any of his fellow subjects.
To the army and navy Scotland fur-
nishes more than an equal proportion of
members, comparatively to her popula-
tion. These circumstances arise from that
real amor patriæ, and sense of domestic
duty, which sharpen the endeavour, and
nerve the arm to endure any hardships


SCOTLAND.
5
or perils, in order to acquire a com.
petency, and to assist aged and unpro-
vided relations, as well as with the view
of returning, one day or other, to the
natale solum, there to spend the well-
earned price of honourable labour, and
there, in credit and consideration, to
close this earthly career. Does the Ca-
ledonian, like other emigrants, turn his
back on his country, adopt foreign ha-
bits and affections, deny his paternal soil,
naturalize himself any where, and, be-
coming a fixture of any spot, cry un.
feeling!y, “ Ubi bene, ibi patria ? -No, no.
He quits his country with more regret
than any other inhabitant of the civilized
globe; his heart, untravelled, ever points
to home. In the remotest parts of the
world, his mountain, his strath, his lake, his
glen, his rock, and his paternal roof, are
ever present to his mind. Should he expire
in Pennsylvania, or end his career in
Madras, you will find him a Lochaberian
American, or a Mid-Lothian Indian. He
B 3


6
SCOTLAND.
possesses a soul eudued with fortitude,
a body formed for labour and long-
suffering,-a strong hope which leads him
on to the most arduous enterprizes, and
stimulates energies which, when roused,
are astonishing. And to what do this
hope, this patience, and these energies,
refer? The thoughts of a return to his
native land; the encouraging expectation,
after. a life of hardships, of fatigues, of
dangers, and of difficulties, of struggles
by land and sea, of warfare betwixt life
and death, to lay him down amidst the pur-
ple heather and “lang yellow broom" of
his progenitors, peacefully to close the scene
in the arms of his dear parent Scotia, to re-
cline his weary head on her maternal bosom,
and " to be gathered to his forefathers."
: Even in the battle strife, it is "home"
that inspires his soul and nerves his arm.
When a commanding officer wished to
drive the finest body of French Grenadiers
-a part of Buonaparte's select guard,-
from a street of Fuentes d'Honory, which


SCOTLAND.
7
>
strikingly resembled a well known one at
Glasgow, where many of his men had been
raised, he had only to exclaim,“ Lads, will
ye let them keep the Gallowgate!”-and
instantly the French were swept before
them like the wreck before the tempest
of heaven. When at Waterloo, the rem-
nant of Scottish Royals formed the asto-
nishing resolution of attacking, though on
foot, the mass of the French Cuirassiers, it
was one sentiment, one shout- " Scotland
for ever !" which achieved that immortal
triumph.
My military relation conversing one day
on the Peninsular war with a companion in
arms, happened to mention the love of
country, and expatiating on the beauties
and the comforts of old England, observed,
“I dare say, Donald, you very often think
of your home too, though less rich in pro-
duce and felicitous in soil ?" The enthu-
siast, a lad of about nineteen, replied, “O
my ain hame! what else is there worth
thinking of, then? I can see at this moment
B 4


8
SCOTLAND.
be
thes
wo
plat
che
DOLE
doit
frog
die
my faither's hoose, the rough greyhound
at the door, and ilka glen and burnie, about
the place.
A’ are dear to me; an it
maks my heart warm, when I think on
them. What else is't that encourages a
man to earn a hard livelihood in order to
haud up there without the turmoil o' gett-
ing ane's ain bread! An what maks fa-
tigues an dangers easy, but the hope of so
easing our aged years ?”
Here the drum beat to arms, and Donald
jumped up, snapping his fingers and
singing the reel O'Tulloch-Gorum. But.
this was all honest pride, and not thought-
lessness or insensibility; for he wanted to
conceal the full tide of affection that was
swelling in his eye, and he turned hastily,
whilst the tears were (to use his own
phrase) rapping down his cheeks;-no man
did his duty better.
After the battle of Waterloo, I inquired
of a Roxburghshire private, of the ninety-
second, whether the regiment did not ar-
rive fatigued on the field, so that it did not
]] ។
"I
the
al
W
&
il


SCOTLAND.
9
come fresh into action. Aye,” replied
the soldier, “we were wearied eneugh, ,
that's true; but whan we heard the pipes
play up, an' our lads cheering, we were
as light fitted as linties, and we louped
on the enemy, as though we war rinning
a race to a wadding !--the pipes and the
cheering, brought home before us in every
note, and every man felt the necessity of
doing his duty from affection more than
from either glory or interest.” Poor San-
die (for that was his name) was wounded
in the thigh, of which he complained not.
“I did not mind that,” said he : “only I
thought it hard to be cut an' hacked by
a French dragoon after I was down. San-
die himself was too noble to act thus with
a fallen foe.
“ And what thought you
when you were down?" said his interro.
gator. “I dinna ken, Sir," replied he,
“if it was na' whether I should ever see my
puir mither again, and whether Wullie
(my brither) wha's in the Grey's, was hurt
or no!"
B 5


10
SCOTLAND.
Whilst I was in France, I became ac-
quainted with a worthy old Caledonian,
who had been absent from home for
thirty years.
Trained from his infancy
to the noble profession of arms, he had
been bandied about in the four quarters
of the globe, gathering laurels and bleed-
ing for his country, until the short peace
of Amiens ; when a desire to revisit France,
a
where he had been educated, induced him
to disembark on her shores. The bad
faith and perfidy of the Government de-
tained him a prisoner, until liberated by
the conquering arms of the Allied Powers;
when, however, he was so ill in health
that he could not be removed. In a few
short months, war broke out again : and
he again drew his sword for the honour of
his country.
During this very long lapse of time,
every relative whom he had in the world
was swept off from the stage of life, either
by the destroying hand of war, by sickness,
or by old age; and as this worthy man had


SCOTLAND.
given up his share of inheritance to an
aged mother, and to advance his nume-
rous brethren in their professions, he
found himself alone on earth, and with-
out any other provision but the hard-
earned half-pay on which he had reluc-
tantly retired.
In his language and appearance he had
also become a complete foreigner, and he
had no intercourse, direct or indirect, with
the Highlands, his native place; no share
of property therein, no apparent cause for
interest in it. He had formed many friend-
ships from his earliest childhood, to the
present date, in France, and was very
highly considered there, and much courted
by the people, among whom he seemed a
complete fixture; living in the south with
so much order and economy, that his small
pittance procured him the luxuries of life,
and gratified every wish in a mind natu-
turally prudent and moderate. Nor was
his heart a stranger to a tender impulse;
but the refinement of honour forbad him
B 6


12
SCOTLAND.
to ally to his poverty her whom he loved,
and to run the risk of ushering into life a
numerous and portionless brood, the fair
object of his affection being completely de-
pendent on her family. This circumstance
probably tinged his mind with a little me.
lancholy, and increased his studious turn,
in pursuing which he acquired no common
share of science and information. A strong
mind and a wholesome philosophy in time
enabled him to surmount his feelings, and
produced a calm after the first love fever
of the brain.
Age now came on apace, chilling the
ardour of departed youth ; prudence and
self-knowledge taught him that he was no
longer an amatory subject; thus making
celibacy not only supportable, but even de.
sirable. He had therefore every thing to
make life happy; tranquil habits, the trea-
sure of knowledge, mental enjoyments,
self-esteem, the respect of others, a good
constitution, morality, and a competency
in a cheap and fruitful country, whose cli-


SCOTLAND.
13
mate and features far transcended those
of cold and wild Caledonia. Yet was he
ever restless and uneasy. This restlessness
and discontent, moreover, increased with
his years; and at last he fretted himself
into ill health and habitual melancholy.
Attached to him by his merit, his kind-
ness and his urbanity, I felt' anxious to
remove his complaint, and to." pluck from
the memory a rooted sorrow." I accord-
ingly touched as delicately as possible on
his situation, and made an unqualified offer
of service. He seemed backward, nay al-
most ashamed to state his case. "At last
he confessed that he was home-sick, and
that although he had no family, no rela-
tions, and no home, his heart was in his
native hills, and he could not be easy
without revisiting them. This uneasiness
gained ground daily, and was the more de
structive, because he had a very unpromis-
ing prospect of indulging this irresistible
besoin du coeur.
" These sunshine views," said he to me


SCOTLAND.
ވެ
one day, are too fine for me; they are
like the gaudy trappings of a courtly dame,
which we admire without taking an inte-
rest in ; far dearer to me would be the
sterility of the land of the Gael, my rugged
rocks, sharp precipices, lone glens, and
homely whins. Could I climb' my native
mountain, I think that I should breathe
new life; I cannot bear the idea of falling
in a foreign land, instead of laying me
down on the blooming heather, during the
brief remnant of my fading existence, and
of taking up my narrow bed there at its
close !” Whenever he could speak of
Scotland, the crimson of his cheek in-
creased; whenever he took up his Burns
or Ossian, tears fell from his eyes; for with
all this love of country, the distance of
eight hundred miles, and the scanty means
of his retrenchments from half-pay, threw
powerful obstacles in the way of his wishes.
I lost not a moment in offering him a
place in my carriage to London; and he
lost not a moment in embarking for Leith.


SCOTLAND.
15
Arrived there, he set out on foot with
an old Highland veteran, who had served
in many campaigns with him, and whom
he found by accident. He arrived safely
in the land of heather; and although some
of his reminiscences must have been min-
gled with regretful sorrow,
66 Vincit amor
patriæ." The comfort of treading his
native land preponderated. His maladie
du pays is cured ; and he promises to live
to a good patriarchal age, and to be ga-
thered to his forefathers, at the close of a
ong and honourable life.
These instances of patriotic enthusiasm
are engraven in my heart, amongst many
others, and I trust that they are registered
in a more imperishable record than that of
THE HERMIT IN THE COUNTRY.


|


Nº LI.
THE SCOTTISH EMIGRANT.
(


What is the worst of ills that wait on age?
What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow?
To view each loved one blotted from life's page,
And be alone on earth, as I am now.
BYRON
Each friend by fate snatch'd from us, is a plume
Plucked from the wing of human vanity.
YOUNG.


THE SCOTTISH EMIGRANT.
We have considered that ardent love of
country which actuates the Caledonian,
and inspires his efforts to attain, abroad,
the means of enjoying retirement and
social happiness at home. Let us now
examine the qualities by which he is ena-
bled to accomplish these objects.
Tlie mind of the Caledonian is peculiar-
ly active,-a calmness of reason, a cool-
ness in difficulties, temperance, privation,
self-controul and patience strongly cha-
racterize him. These are quite national
qualities. He has also another very use-
ful virtue, which his enemies misrepresent


20
THE SCOTTISH EMIGRANT.
1
1
1
and deem servility, namely, a praise-
worthy submission to circumstances, which
makes him preserve discipline, order, and
subordination, with fortitude and without
murmuring : but if he observes a profound
silence, a tame resignation to fate or for-
tune, it is not that his mind is grovelling,
but that true wisdom dictates such con-
duct. No man is possessed of a finer
sense of feeling, of honour, and of ho-
nest and noble indignation, than he; but
e
he well knows that discipline is as essential
as valour in arms; and that obedience and
subordination in every walk of life are as
indispensable as his other high qualities of
incorruptible fidelity, and indefatigable in-
dustry.
By these means. do we so often see him
rise to the head of his profession; and in
commerce, become a partner in that house
where he has served, frequently, in the
most humble capacity. 'Tis not to in-
trigue (the true Caledonian is ill fitted for
that) but to this steady line of conduct,


THE SCOTTISH EMIGRANT.
21
that he owes bis rise and advancement in
life; for an employer of any kind, a com-
mander, or a commercial man, will natu-
rally feel safe in promoting and confiding
in one whose prudent guidance of his
passions, whose temperate use of power,
whose studious and persevering habits fit
him for arduous exertion, and render him
trust-worthy in situations of high confi-
dence; insomuch, that even those who
entertain a prejudice against his country,
are won and converted by his habits and
deserts.
Amongst these qualities, perseverance is
one of the most valuable and characteris-
tic. - As the perpetual drip of water fal-
ing on a huge hard stone, though dissi-
pated and defeated every moment, con-
stantly renews its feeble attack, and in
time subdues the apparently impenetrable
mass; so the Caledonian swerves not from
his purpose although his endeavours are
again and again brought to nothing; but
time, and courage, and patience at length


22
THE SCOTTISH EMIGRANT.
find their way through all obstacles, and
make their due impression in the end.
The Highlander possesses this virtue in
an eminent degree. Hence, as a friend or
a partisan, he is a rock; in love and in
affection he is as immovable as his native
mountains; in honesty and in adherence,
in respect and fidelity to his chief, he is a
tower of strength and support. The story
of Disappointed Donald furnishes a faith-
ful picture of this persevering temper.
Donald became early enamoured of the
lovely Margaret, the youngest daughter of
the head of the clan's numerous family:
Donald was himself not only a clansman,
but a kinsman. His father had been a
captain in the army; and the affection of
the clan for their successive chiefs had for
centuries known no wavering or diminu-
tion. Wherever the chief turned his views,
those of Donald's family were directed to
their support and furtherance. Donald
was beloved by all around him, young,
handsome, and brave; but he had one


THE SCOTTISH EMIGRANT.
23
66
fault in the eyes of the world-he was
poor!
The lovely Margaret was not insensible
to Donald's merit; but she dreaded her
father's anger; and Donald dared not for
his life to
anger the Laird."
It was too
great ambition for him to look so high
without a fortune to back his pretentions ;
he therefore conceived the design of sel-
ling his ensigncy, and of braving death
and danger in the most unhealthy climes,
in order to acquire that fortune, which
might enable him to support his chieftain's
daughter in a manner suitable to her rank.
Donald accordingly left the sash and gor-
get, the high-plumed bonnet and waving
plaid, “ with all the pomp and circum-
stance of war,”-divorced himself from a
profession which was dear to his heart,
and for which he seemed peculiarly fitted,
"'*
* The story of Come out, Donald, and be hanged
quietly, and dinna anger the Laird,” is too well known'
to need repetition in this place.


24
THE SCOTTISH EMIGRANT.
to toil and drudge, to struggle with and
surmount innumerable difficulties, in order
to amass what might place the object of
his idolatry upon the eminence he thought
she deserved.
It may easily be supposed that Donald
never mentioned his intentions to the
Laird, but quietly and resignedly put on
the galling yoke under which he was to
struggle for fortune and independence.
He bade adieu to the lovely Margaret.
Often did poor Donald whistle to himself
on his stormy passage :
“Oh! poortith cauld, and restless love,
“ Ye rack my heart between ye.”
Time rolled on, and with it increased
Donald's endeavours,-they were assiduous
beyond description. To every danger he
opposed the fond hope of his fair reward;
to every reverse he applied added courage
and augmented energy. Sickness, ship-
wreck, scorching heat and sleepless nights,
fatigues and hardships, all yielded to his


THE SCOTTISH EMIGRANT.
25
conquering love and Herculean industry.
During his absence he corresponded with
his beloved, and he felt a secret pride in
transmitting repeated presents to his chief;
being gratified to an immeasurable extent
at their finding favour in his sight, and
paving, as he hoped, the way to the hand
of her for whom he toiled.
The period at last arrived, when pos-
sessed of a handsome fortune, he was to
return to his native shore, and to pour out
his treasure on the shrine of love,-to
make at the chaste altar of Hymen the
offering of a brave and spotless heart.
How did the fever of expectation burn in
his veins as he drew near to the British
shore! His passage had been long and
perilous ; it was now. above three months
since he had heard from her whom he
loved., Disembarked, he travelled night
and day towards his home, his heart swel-
ling and throbbing with exulting, yet with
anxious glow.
How proudly he contemplated the fabric
VOL. III.
с


26
THE SCOTTISH EMIGRANT.
of his industry! how exultingly he looked
over his treasure ! not like the miser,-it
was for one dearer than himself. How
many things he thought and said, and
meant to say and do! What attentions-
what devotion hung on his lips, and dwelt
in his imagination ! How many privations
had he endured for the happy moment
which he thought at hand! They were
repaid tenfold in his mind. What were
such sacrifices for all-powerful love? They
were passed, and he felt ready to endure
them again and again.
Like the merchant, who sees his treasure
near the shore, then founder and perish in
his sight, at the very instant that he con-
ceived it had made the land, --so Donald
returned with swelling hope and aching
fondness to behold Margaret--the bride of
another! What were riches now to him ?
For what had he escaped shipwreck and
disease? For what had he endured heat
and cold, fever, hardship and humiliation ?
For what had he left that tented field to


THE SCOTTISH EMIGRANT.
27
which he was an honour ?--For nothing
but dire disappointment, blighted hope,
and faded prospect. Margaret was grate-
ful for his preference-but she had changed
her love; and what was gratitude to him?
an insult to his fidelity. He accordingly
sojourned but a short time in the scene of
his happier youth, and then expatriated
himself for life.
Instances of matchless faith and fidelity
like Donald's occur most frequently in the
Highlands, from the highest to the hum-
blest classes. The poor gentleman devotes
half his life to obtain wherewith to return
home, and to seek his reward in the arms
of immutable affection. The climate-
struck soldier or sailor collects his little
all, after a life of hardship, for home and
his sweetheart. I knew a young man,
who, not daring to avow his passion for his
patron's daughter, went out to India in
a medical capacity; and thence, having
amassed a considerable fortune, returned
in order to make proposals for the object
c2


28
THE SCOTTISII EMIGRANT.
of his affections, but (not having thought
;
it honourable to spoil her fortune by en-
gaging her promise until he was enabled
to provide nobly for her) he found her
disposed of to a poor officer. Not long
surviving, he left his property to her and
her children.
The poetical effusion subjoined origi-
nated in a more fortunate, and, I believe,
more common result of Scottish perseve-
rance and constancy.
There are but few Margarets, though
many Donalds ; for the sentiment of truth
and attachment is as firm in the one sex as
in the other, according to the observations
of
THE HERMIT IN THE COUNTRY.
THE BANKS OF THE SPEY.
A soldier of fortune, wi' naething but youth,
A sword, and a heart fu' of spirit and truth ;
'Twixt glory and love scarcely daring to chuse,
My country first ca'd me, I could nae refuse.


THE SCOTTISH EMIGRANT.
29
Yet I lingered, sair hearted, -for ah! I was wae
To leave the green banks o' the sweet-flowing Spey.
My knapsack was empty, my bosom was fu',
My love for my Jennie was constant and true ;
· An' I swore that for ever as pure it should be,
As the clear crystal drops that fell fast from her ee';
For Jennie was greeting, whilst mither did pray,
When I tore myself aff, frae the banks of the Spey.
'Midst perils unnumber'd and rough paths to fame,
I toil'd, aften longing for Jenny and hame.
Yet, Jennie, I surely unworthy shu'd be,
Were I fauss to my king, to my country, or thee!
With this thought my warm bosom no fear could
betray,
Could I live, and disgrace thus the Banks of the
Spey?
Return'd to my country, arriv'd from afar,
I've brought back my honour wi' many a scar,
As poor as I went, but my wants are but few,
For riches wi' honour hae nothing to do.
Oh! ye pow'rs, wi' what raptures once mair did
I stray,
On the sweet daisied banks o' my dear native Spey.
c 3


30
THE SCOTTISH EMIGRANT.
I found my ain Jennie as tender and kind,
As when I first left the dear lassie behind.
She's now a' the treasure and joy o' my
life,
My mistress, my friend, and my bonnie wee wife;
And we hope we shall aft see our bairnies at play,
In their infantine years, on the Banks o'the Spey.


samme
.
ç life
,
wee nie
25 at pleri
the best
N° LII.
SOCIETY IN EDINBURGH.
C4


But let us try these truths with closer eyes,
And trace them through the prospect as it lies.
GOLDSMITH.
I've been at drunken writers' feasts,
Nay been bitch-fou' 'mang godly priests,
W' rev’rence
it spoken ;
I've even join’d the honor'd jorum,
When mighty Squireships of the quorum
Their hydra-drouth did sloken
BURNS,
1
1
1


SOCIETY IN EDINBURGH.
A MAN who travels through a country
with the broad eye of curiosity fully ex-
panded, but with only few human sym-
pathies and affections, may well be fasti-
dious: he may find Scotland cold, barren,
and ungenial; and the sovner he turns his
back upon her, the better for both. He has
already turned his back on social life:
:
therefore bon voyage, any where he pleases.
A traveller of this description once found
out that Scotland was far inferior to Eng-
land; that Edinburgh was not London ;
that Scotsmen were very free in shaking
hands with strangers (this might be making
c5


34
SOCIETY IN EDINBURGH.
free with themselves in some instances);
that the ladies talked in a high key, that
the women were garrulous, that public
places were ill frequented, that the preva-
lence of black coats made all assemblies
look like funerals; that if a man neither
wanted law, physic, nor the benefit of the
clergy, he had nothing to do in the Edin-
burgh “ at homes," “ conversaziones," or
,"
balls; that the Sunday was a day of mourn-
ing, and the kirk-going folks looked not
only as if they were going to a burial, but
as if they were going to bury themselves.
It is, however, not very difficult to ex-
plain all these imputations on the Caledo-
nian, and to account for the habits and the
state of society in his metropolis.
And, first, the Scot is naturally drawn
towards the stranger; he meets him in the
attitude of kindness; he receives him in the
;
pure language and deportment of hospita-
lity; when he opens his hand to him, his
house is equally the welcome place of his
reception; nor does he take half his life to.


SOCIETY IN EDINBURGH.
35
get acquainted with him; therefore he
shakes him by the hand, and takes him to
his confidence, as far as is necessary for all
the purposes of festivity, and for all the
ends of general society. There is also ano-
ther reason for this giving of the hand in
token of welcome and of protection. The
remains of old border-inroads, and the en-
bers of the feudal system, have made this
pledge a habit; and no where is the pledge
more faithfully kept than in Scotland.
Where is there a firmer ally, a more de-
voted partisan?
Now, we should like to be informed,
what there is either immoral or indecorous,
in a custom which unites the links of the
social chain still closer, which reminds us
of being all brethren of the same great fa-
mily, and which cultivates urbanity until
it produces friendship, and matures friend-
ship until it grows into the plenitude of
the warmest philanthropy? We may also
?
ask, whether the travelling stranger has
not, in other countries, frequently felt the
c 6


36
SOCIETY IN EDINBURGH.
want of being taken by the hand? Whe:
ther he has not suffered under a nationa)
prejudice against him? The honest Scot
has himself often severely felt this, whilst
he is too generous to retaliate on his neigh-
bours.
Secondly: as to the ladies talking in a
high key, it requires very little observation
to know that each country has its music,
its accent, and its dialect; and not only
every country, but every county. Edin-
burgh has, of course, its vernacular-not
worse than that of London ; but, in the
first circles the travelled Scots are the same
as the people of fashion every where else,
-not less gentle, not less prepossessing,
but rather kinder and more urbane than
most of their neighbours.
It has been observed, and with truth,
that the parents of some the most ele-
gant women in Scotland are somewhat less
refined, have the Scottish accent in speak-
ing, and have not had the advantages (if
such they be) of dancing waltzes, of wear--


SOCIETY IN EDINBURGH.
37
ing Turkish trowsers, and of giving mas-
querades and“ at homes ;” but, as an off-
set for these deficiencies, these worthy do-
mestic matrons are less acquainted with
gaming, and with crim. con. trials than
their more dasbing sisters of the South:
These respectable mothers of families have
had less intercourse with warmer climates;
and the Continent being so long shut up,
maternity and the passage of the meridian
of life have taken from them the taste for
going abroad, and have denied them the
levity of French manners, and the pastiche
hump on their backs; having no protube-
rances but such as graceful and bountiful
nature may have given them for her wisest
purposes.
The reason why the public places of
Edinburgh are not thronged as they are in
London and Paris, is, that the industry
and economy of the middling and lower
orders of society impose a self-controul
upon them, which nearly excludes the


38
SOCIETY IN EDINBURGH.
latter,* and compresses the former within
discretion's bounds, which induces them to
frequent the theatre and other places of
public resort, only when peculiar merit is
in the performer, or in the piece perform-
ed. As to the higher classes, they make
their brief appearance at fashion's haunts
and in fashion's late hour, like the beau
monde elsewhere; whilst the thin assem-
blies in public amply increase the influx
of company in private parties, which are
no where more numerous, more festive, or
more general, than in Edinburgh. Even
in the middle class, the family dinners and
extensive friendly parties exceed those in
London, if we bear in mind the riches and
the population of the two cities : and with
respect to the votaries of Bacchus, I fear
they cannot complain of auld Reekie, for I
• The unfrequency of robbery, house-breaking, &c. in
Edinburgh, may probably be accounted for by the spirit
of self-denial, in this and other pleasures above the reach
of the lowest classes.


SOCIETY IN EDINBURGH.
39
am of Fergusson's opinion, who says-
“ I'm fain to think the joy's the same
In London town as here at hame,
Whar folk o'ilka
age
and
name,
'Baith blind an' cripple,
Forgather aft-O fy for shame!
To drink and tipple.”
9
I am sorry that the black coats of pro-
fessional men should have caused dark re-
flections to the fastidious traveller : but in
a town which is the centre of science, and
where the students of the grave and learn-
ed professions are in such numbers, it
would be hard to change their wise and
sober habits, and still more unjust to ex-
clude them entirely from society, although
I am aware that learning and morality are
no very welcome guests in the haunts of
levity and inordinate gallantry.
The charge against the features of the
Scottish Sunday has less of falsehood than
the other accusations. There would be no
harm in a more cheerful appearance of de-
votion; there are even scriptural authori-


40
SOCIETY IN EDINBURGH.
ties which inform us, when we fast and
pray, not to assume the external display of
either : but Sandie is a quiet, grave, dis-
creet chield, and he too has his little quo.
tation, in support of his Sabbath gravity.
Moreover, this accusation does not fall
upon the ultras in fashion, any more in
Edinburgh than elsewhere.
Lastly; in answer to a remark, on the
mad and melancholy seasons of the year in
Edinburgh, a very few words are necessary,
In many countries there is a carnival : the
Scot has his. The humbler class has its
saturnalia confined to the daft days, which
conclude the one, and commence the other
year. In the higher classes, the winter
begins with their session of parliament,
and their amusements proceed with that
winter, even more faithfully than in the
great metropolis ; for, when May lengthens
the day, and the face of nature invites man
to contemplate her works--when the coun-
try smiles, and the nights are contracted,
zociety lets down the fever of dissipation


SOCIETY IN EDINBURGH.
41
by air and exercise, and the rational Scot
is loth to close his lattice on the sun, or to
consume so much of his time in sleep, in
table excess, in morning orgies, or in walks
and rides after dark. His habits and his
purse, his education and his economy,
have rarely permitted him to sleep in the
afternoon before breakfast, or to dress two
hours by candle-light for a dinner party.
He is content that elsewhere the soi-disant
fashionable should leave the primrose to
wither in the rural scene, and turn his back
upon the violet, for the dust and rattle of
coaches in town; or, after a look at some
watering-place, just arrive in time for the
memento mori of the fall of the leaf, draw-
ing the sad yet salutary reflection which it
offers, as opposed to the adjourned dissipa-
tion of afternoon breakfasts, and eight
o'clock dinners, and potent libations in
the country! To the lover of nature and
of science, to the scholar, the sage, and
the philosopher, the decision of the two
modes of living is left by
THE HERMIT IN THE COUNTRY.





N° LIII.
SUNDAY EVENING AMUSEMENTS.


Obvious her goods ; in no extreme they dwell, –
There needs but thinking right and meaning well.
POPE


SUNDAY EVENING AMUSEMENTS.
THAT Sunday was, in every christian
country, designed to be chiefly dedicated
to the praise of the Creator, none of my
readers will, I trust, deny. Its second
object was, for the repose and relaxation
of the laborious part of the community,
who work for the rich and the great dur-
ing the six other toilsome days of the
week. Different countries, however, have
various modes of hallowing and occupying
this hebdomadal feast. The question, there-
fore, is, which is the most consistent with
religion and morality, and most calculated
to make men happy ?


46
SUNDAY EVENING AMUSEMENTS.
On the continent, the religious ceremo-
nies are scarcely closed, when balls, plays,
nay even masquerades succeed them. In
many places, the shops are entirely open:
in others, they are only half closed. Mum.
mers and mountebanks, tooth-drawers
and ballad-singers, fill the market places ;
and all is broad, popular, and unbecoming
mirth. Those who wish to justify such
customs, assert, that all this is done for
the innocent recreation of the hard-work-
ing classes, and that it is fit that they
should have their amusements, as well as
the rich and noble of the land. I have
no hesitation in joining in this assertion,
were their amusements of a tendency to
ameliorate their condition and improve
their morals. As it is, all comment
would be superfluous: the error must
strike every one.
In Scotland, on the contrary, the sab-
bath exhibits a busy scene of exterior and
of not unostentatious piety. All is church-
going, hymu chaunting, long faces, and


SUNDAY EVENING AMUSEMENTS.
47
crowded streets; the women servants bear-
ing the open profession of their faith,
namely, the bible, in their hands, often
to very unhallowed roofs, and carrying it
and the Psalms of David, as it were, in
triumph, to their respective conventicles.
All public places are forbidden; dancing
and music, even in private, are mortal
sins; the organ itself offends the presby-
terian ear; and the ordinary way of clos-
ing the day, is by sleeping over the sacred
volume, whilst the soi-disant liberals in-
dulge in the pleasures of the table, and
substitute spirituous for spiritual comforts.
The pious intentions of our neighbours
cannot be blamed, nor can any one help
praising their strict enforcement of the
respect due to the Sabbath ; but to clothe
religion in mourning, is as much against
its real interests, as it is to render sacred
truths so terrific, and fraught with gloom,
that they lose their natural, gentle, mild,
peaceful, and consoling qualities. This
excess of the external of piety is at the


48
SUNDAY EVENING AMUSEMENT3.
same time very apt to introduce hypo-
crisy as its companion, and to lead to
the indulgence of private voluptuousness,
in the place of public relaxation and de.
cent mirth; for a glass at a public house
not unfrequently leads to more than a
peccadillo, under the influence of Bacchus
and of Venus.
In England, public walks and gardens
are open on a Sunday, which invite the
humbler citizen to amusement and recrea-
tion. The charms of music are every
where added to religious ceremony. Vocal,
and even instrumental sounds, are rarely
forbidden at the festive board, or in the
family circle; and, in the highest classes,
private concerts are frequently given on
this day.
Our late venerable Monarch set the ex.
ample of having them composed of sacred
music only; but the example has not been
generally followed. The propriety of the
.
former cannot be doubted, although we
can see no transgression in listening to


SUNDAY EVENING AMUSEMENTS,
49
the notes of Haydn and Mozart, nor of
attending to the enchanting harmony of
Italian vocal music, or to the innocent, yet
bewitching strains of the harp, uncon-
nected with either church service or ora-
torio, after the hours of religious worship.
In a number of very great houses, how-
ever, it has become fashionable to have
private card parties, and thus to kill time,
as they call it, and beguile the dull Sun-
day evening. Some are more
or less
public; some more or less of a gaming
nature ; whilst the gouty General, or the
superannuated Right Honourable old maid
snarls over a chess-board, or dozes at a
piquet table. Where avarice, the rage for
play, extravagance, or ill-nature, reign
not at such boards, we have perhaps no
right to interfere ; but certainly where
heavy losses or gains, head-ache, heart-
ache, and loss of time occur, the passa
tempo is criminal; and indeed, it must be
acknowledged, that even in their most
harmless form they give bad examples to
VOL. III.
D


50
SUNDAY EVENING AMUSEMENTS.
domestics, and by keeping them late up,
destroy their lawful sabbath, and bring
the day itself into painfulness and disre-
pute.
We now come to another mode of pass-
ing the Sunday, which is considered as a
very innocent one.
A circle of young
people, most of whom have been abroad,
meet at a dinner, or at an evening party,
on a Sunday. The circle is small, friendly,
and unceremonious. The company con-
sists of both sexes. Averse to cards, and
divided in opinion, whether cousin Harriet
may play the piano, whilst the young
party waltzes; the noes, strengthened by
mammas and aunts, outvote the charming
minority, and it is settled, after the show-
ing off of the best family player in a con-
certo, that the young folks shall play at
forfeits, either in the shape of questions
and commands, dumb crambo, bout ri-
mées, cross-questions, or any other form.
The forfeit gives the principal zest to this
amusement; and here is struck the im-


SUNDAY EVENING AMUSEMENTS.
51
perceptible spark which may grow into
an unconquerable flame-here the seeds
of passion, more diminutive than the
acorn which is destined to be the monarch
of the wood, and the imperious ruler on
the ocean, are first sown.
Warm looks, gentle touches, impressive
squeezes, palm meeting palm, and foot
encountering foot, heightened complexions,
swelling bosoms, glistening eyes, mute
confusion, or whispered freedoms, all play
their dangerous parts. Preferences are
demonstrated, and weaknesses are betray-
ed, which have had the most serious re-
sults. These “ petits passe-tems de la so-
ciété” carry the incautious and unsuspect.
ing a great way. Under the cover of a
question put round, strange things are
said. Under the sanction of a forfeit,
dangerous ideas may be raised. Some
arch trick played, or some innocent sa-
lute given to a cousin, or to the intimate
friend and fellow collegiate of a brother,
is but the fore-runner of a serious attach-
D 2


52
SUNDAY EVENING AMUSEMENTS.
ment-perhaps a very unfortunate one.
Rings and lockets, gloves and bosom-knots
are lost and won, like favours given and
received; so that it is not quite impos-
sible, that, with the pledge, the heart
may be forfeited too, and that the reputa-
tion may be in equal jeopardy with the
gage detained
Nor do these infantine amusements end
here. When the evening is over, thought
continues its work in the brain; nor does
discreet silence place her seal upon either
the youth's or the maiden's lips. Heated
imagination retraces the scene, heightens
its colours, and extends its influence; con-
fidential avowals are made, projects are
formed, and plans arise in the thoughts;
realities follow ideal matters ; sleepless
nights and waking uneasiness, novel read-
ing, and love-letter writing, are on many
occasions the followers of the Sunday
evenings's simple and harmless amuse-
ments.
Whether so much importance ought, or


SUNDAY EVENING AMUSEMENTS.
53
ought not to be attached to these seeming
trifles, I leave to the candour of the youths
of both sexes who practise them. For
the most part they are of foreign intro-
duction, but have not lost in their effect
and application by British performances.
On the contrary, the minds of our fair
countrywomen are tenderer, and more
romantic than those of the attractive and
provoking Gallic fair ; and these petits
jeux are of course more dangerous to
them.
Without further remarks on all these
modes of passing Sunday, I shall now
state that of an old friend of mine; and
the reader may choose which of them he
pleases.
After the hour of morning church,
which he always attends with real devo-
tion and pleasure, my friend pays visits to
such of his acquaintance as are confined
by sickness, or to whom his visits may be
of utility, either as a giver of advice, a
reconciliator, or a dispenser of pecuniary
D3


54
SUNDAY EVENING AMUSEMENTS.
service. In fine, whether he takes a ride,
or walk, in as retired a route as he can find,
at half past five he assembles in his li-
brary a select party of men of science
and of artists, foreign as well as native,
amongst whom are some in unprosperous
circumstances, whose views he forwards,
and whose comforts he increases, to the
utmost of his power. At six precisely
the dinner is served, at which cheerful-
ness, hospitality, and instructive conver.
sation reign. Every servant but one is
dismissed to take his pleasure until eleven
at night; the servant in waiting coining
on duty only at the removal of the cloth,
and having had a previous part of the
day for his relaxation. At ten, coffee is
served in the library, and the conversa-
tion assumes a literary turn. The party
separates at or before midnight, and dis-
perses mutually satisfied.
The interests
of literature, and the welfare of mankind,
form the prime objects of this cheerful
yet learned assembly, and both these ends
are benefited by it.


SUNDAY EVENING AMUSEMENTS.
55
I war not on any man's faith ; but I
think that he must be scrupulous indeed,
who can find any thing useless or detri-
mental to society in such a division of
time, or in such a Sunday evening as this
which I have described of my friend's,
and which I have often shared in, at his
elegant house in St. James's-square, when
he has been in town, and at his still more
elegant, though less splendid retreat in
Surrey, when I have chanced to be
THE HERMIT IN THE COUNTRY.
D 4





N° LIV.
TRUTH AND TACITURNITY.
D 5


Nor yet the tenty curious lad,
Who o'er the ingle hings his head,
And begs of nei'bours books to read,
For hence arise
Thy country's sons who far are spread,
Baith bauld and wise
TELFORD,


TRUTH AND TACITURNITY.
TRUTH and taciturnity are the favourite
qualities of the Scot. He values them for
two reasons: first, on account of their in-
trinsic worth, and secondly, on account of
their great utility to himself. He is a lover
of truth, because, in the long-run, truth is
easiest and best. On the one hand, it does
him credit; on the other, it saves him from
many scrapes and exposures, into which
more dashing characters, who hazard their
reputation from the ambition either of be-
ing witty, or of appearing greater than
they really are, so frequently fall.
With the Scot, truth and silence play
D 6


60
TRUTH AND TACITURNITY.
into each other's hands, because where the
truth is hazardous, silence is certainly most
safe. But silence has another excellent
property: it is like a negative virtue, which
assumes the shape of an active and actual
good quality ; for it makes a man appear
by turns, well-bred, sensible, brave, mo-
derate, and well informed on subjects of
which he is totally ignorant.
A very unequivocal proof of real good-
breeding is the knowledge of“how to listen
to another." « Il sait écouter,” is a bright
and rare quality in a Frenchman; to him
« Il sait se taire is a sort of a boast.
Amongst the ladies it would be a vain one;
but there is nothing more amiable than
bestowing the silence of attention on a
person who is speaking. If the speaker be
an aged person, there is almost a religious
duty in it; if of higher rank than ourselves,
it is a courtesy,--perchance a painful one,
yet it is a necessary sacrifice to polite
society; should the orator be able to in:
struct or to edify us, the task of silence is


TRUTH AND TACITURNITY.
61
repaid tenfold; if he be an ignorant cox-
comb, we may still learn one lesson from
him, namely, to avoid similar empty
garrulity; if we punish self-love, by not
taking the lead in conversation, we at
least obtain time to reflect on what may
be proper to sav, or not to say, at an after
period.
In an argumeut, the man who is to make
the reply has a great advantage, from his
adversary's laying open his game to him,
as it were ; and on this account Sandy
likes to wait a wee, until he has thus
made himself doubly master of his sub-
ject; imprimis, from his own foreknow-
ledge of it, and next, from the errors of
his opponents.
One day, as I was getting my hair cut
by a more than usually prattling Scotch
hair-dresser in Edinburgh, he informed
me, that when he was in London, he
saved up a good purse in order to see
every thing, and taking a very handsome
wardrobe with him, a gold watch, a ring


62
TRUTH AND TACITURNITY.
and a quizzing-glass, he passed a whole
month in a boarding-house, as a private
gentleman of fortune.
" How did you
manage that, Mac?" said I, almost ready
to add, “ for thou art a Scandinavian, and
thy tongue betrayeth thee.” “Why, Sir,'
"
replied he, with a transient blush, but with
the determined lines of reflection on his
countenance, aware of his mean stature
and broad dialect, “I was aye dressed in
mourning, and I seldom or ever opened my
mouth at table.” This confirmed me in
my former opinion of Scottish prudence
and taciturnity, and of the intimate con-
nection of the two.
Touching truth, when it is dangerous,
the Scot either looks significantly without
speaking, which you may interpret as you
please; or, he affects not to understand
you, that he may make no answer ; or,
finally, he walks off unoffending, and with-
out uttering a word.— The Highlander,
for instance, is a sad hand at speaking
English, when it may commit him ; but


TRUTH AND TACITURNITY.
63
when it is to answer his purpose, he will
run on fast enough, should it cost him all
the pantomimic possible in order to be
understood, or expose him to laughter by
mistaking the masculine for the feminine
gender, just as ignorant John Bull does in
French; for the Highlander calls his fire-
lock and his claymore she, as well as his
house and his bagpipe, although his wife
be he, probably from wearing the breeches,
whilst he wears the kilt. But, after all,
what right has a foreigner to know these
distinctions ?
If the Scot, either Highlander or Low-
lander, be forced to make an answer, when
he understands not the business before him,
or when the measure is fraught with peril
to himself or his employers (for he is faith-
ful to both), he will give such a reply as
shall throw you off your guard, or go to
work in such a circuitous way that there
is no getting round him.
:I remember a Highlander, who spoke
very few words of English, being sentry


64
TRUTH AND TACITURNITY.
on a fort. His orders were to allow no
one to pass without giving the counter-
sign. The Fort Major approached him and
demanded entrance. Lachlan M’Lachlan
knew him ; but yet his orders were posi-
tive, and Lachlan “buid to be cautious,"
“to inak sicker,” so he pretended not to
know him. On demanding the counter-
sign, the Fort Major told him that he had
forgotten it; but as he must know his per-
son, he might let him pass. Lachlan ré-
plied in a stern tone, and with a violent
grunt at the end of his sentence--an ough,
meaning “there's for you! take your an-
swer! Do you take me for a novice ?”
(for these Highland expletives are more
expressive and significant than the Greek
ones). “I know no-body,” laying great
stress on the last word. "I am the Fort
Major," replied the other, in a tone of
expostulation, "Weel,” said Lachlan, in
a cool and discreet tone;
Sir, it will be a vary guid place, but you'll
no win in the night without the counter-
>
66 I dare say,


TRUTH AND TACITURNÍTY.
65
sign." Lachlan proved to be right; and
was highly commended by the Fort Major
himself, the ensuing day.
A proof of discretion, even in a person
of deranged intellect, occurs in the instance
of Lord ---, who, after having made the
-
tour of Europe, swore that there was not
such a soil, a garden, a house, fruit, flowers,
or any thing else abroad, as he had on his
estate in Scotland. Coming to the article
of grapes, " you'll surely give them up to
France ?" cried his numerous opponents.
He here saw derision in every countenance.
Coming to the recover, therefore, he ob-
served in a douce discreet tone of voice,
by no means; but, gentlemen, I premise
by telling you that I like them a wee sour :"
the whole of the sentence syllabled and
quietly drawn out in the urbane tone of
gentle and arch persuasion.
But, to conclude, nothing can be a
greater instance of the silence, the solemn
deliberation, and reflective property of the
$cot, than the answer which another
66


66
TRUTH AND TACITURNITY.
Scotch Peer, now no more, made to an ac-
count of the ingratitude of a person to-
wards him. The speaker gently touched
on the magnitude of the injury: the Peer
appeared unmoved. Encouraged by the
absence of passion and indignation, the
former proceeded to state the acts of in-
gratitude: the Peer was silent. He next
ventured to detail the personalities : not a
muscle of the Peer was deranged. His
gross abuse of his lordship: still no reply.
The injury intended was lastly fully de-
tailed: his lordship yet remained wrapt in
silence and reflection. The informant now
pondered as to what was to be the result of
this information :-Was the Peer's silence
that true revenge which collects all its
forces ere it proceed to deliberate on pu-
nishment Was it the pause of doubt?
Was it a pardon of the offence? Con-
tempt ? Stupefaction ?-it was none of
them, it was wisdom and circumspection.
The Peer, at length, broke silence with
a sigb; yet it was a sigh of unsuffering


TRUTII
67
AND TACITURNITY.
66
”
composure; it was more full of pity for
the offender, than for the offended. I
cannot, for the life of me," said he," think
why this man should slander me thus, for I
do not recollect ever doing him a service in
my life." He made no further observation
on the subject ; but took his measures
against his man. This was, perhaps, better
than giving way to passion ; yet, though
not remarkably irritable, I fear his example
would scarcely have been followed, in an
instance of similar provocation, by
THE HERMIT IN THE COUNTRY.





Nº LV.
LADY GRIZELDA M'TAB’S BALL,


Where yet the title stands in tarnish'd gold.
POPE.
t
i
1
1
1


LADY GRIZELDA MʻTAB'S BALL.
66
“What will your ladyship have for din.
ner ?” said Jessy, her female factotum,
with a hungry look and a broad anxious
eye. Parritch,” replied Lady Grizelda,
in broad Scotch; not that she could not
talk as high English as any one, but that
when she meant to be kind and condescend-
ing to her inferiors-to persuade the lower
order, or to be confidential and without
pretensions, she stooped to the vernacular
of Auld Reekie. Humph,” quoth Jessy,
whose interior echoed the word in a hollow
tone : for Jessy, as well as her lady mis-
tress, had had an egg and a glass of toast
66
a


72
LADY GRIZELDA M'TAB'S BALL.
and water for dinner the day before,-Jes-
sy's toast differing a little from that of her
mistress, for Lady Grizelda's was burned
bread immersed in the limpid stream,
whilst Jessey's was pure callar water, and
her toast was “The de'el tak thae quality
goings-on."
Now, it must be made known to the
reader, that this day was the vigil of a
grand ball to be given by her ladyship to
all the beauty and fashion of Edinburgh,
and all her numerous quality cousins and
companions; not forgetting the law-legion
which came in by dozens, like clauses in a
deed or agreement, to swell the list and to
increase the expense. Three hundred cards
of invitation had been issued on this im-
portant occasion; and her house had lite-
rally been turned inside out, in order to
prepare it for this grand let-off, the report
of which, Lady Grizelda was aware, would
spread far and near.
Three weeks had been occupied in ma.
king ornamental knick-knackeries for her


LADY GRIZELDA MÓTAB'S BALL.
73
suite of fanciful apartments, ornamental
hangings, transparencies, arches of ever-
greens, festoons, drawings, chalkings, &c.
and three nieces were all this time em-
ployed in uniting the efforts of their taste
to give effect to this fancy scene.
No mo-
ney was spared upon the occasion; al.
though dealt out with economy, and made
to go the further by the loan of the united
plate of six cousins, and by her floors being
chalked by a poor relation.
Lady Grizelda had much to accomplish
by this ball and supfer; for, first, it was
long talked of, and must answer all expec.
tations ; secondly, she had the honour of
her title and noble family to support,--al-
beit the former rested upon courtesy, and
the latter was supported by government
pension, yet there was nobility and anti-
quity enough in both, and neither must be
disgraced. Six suits of livery were, there-
fore, pulled out of an old chest, aired and
brushed up, and were to be made to fit five
mercenary flunkies, in addition to her la-
VOL. III.
E


74
LADY GRIZELDA M'TAB'S BALL.
dyship's old family footman, page and
butler-being one and the same represen-
tative of servitude in the house.
The drilling of the liveried recruits was
left to Andra ; and the table turn-out was
all rehearsed in models and ticketed cards,
by way of dishes and supper ornaments, by
the commander-in-chief (Lady Grizelda)
and by her three female aides-de-camp.
Above all, Andra was ordered to speak
high English in announcing the nobility a
they arrived; and his repeating lieutenant,
a smart footboy out of place, was instructed
to give audibility to each title of marquess,
earl, lord, lady, Sir Alexander, the baron
(a law lord), and even to the private gentle-
men bearing the names of their estates,
even should the estate be sold, because a
name goes a great way; for instance, Dal-
maglashing, Balmagash, Lavrock Hill,
Stoney Castle, Tinabyers, Glenburnie, In-
vercraigie or New Park!-why, the gen-
tlemen would be nothing without them!
But it is high time to introduce our rea-


LADY GRIZELDA M'TAB'S BALL.
75
a
der to Lady Grizelda. Her ladyship stands
about five feet ten and a half in her shoes,
is as upright as a serjeant's pike, as thin as
a hard run greyhound, and has so strong a
profile, and so national withal, that it re-
sembles one side of a Lochabar battle-axe.
If high cheek bones are marks of being
high bred and born, her ladyship has the
highest pretensions on that head, and-as
to points about her, she is all points toge-
ther. A supercilious look indicates the qua-
lity of old maid, who has either entirely
overlooked our sex (perhaps from retalia-
tion), or cannot stoop to the ordinary race
of beings. A flaxen wig surmounting her
argent crest (once fire red) completes her
picture.
The ball-night now arrived, and a fast
preceded it, in order to make her three
nieces the fitter for dancing, to keep her
domestics active and keen, and hersel' cool
and collected. The frugal egg and toast
and water was the family fare. Indeed,
Andra had been so egged on this week,
E 2


76
LADY GRIZELDA Mʻrab's BALL.
'that he felt scarcely able to bear the yoke
of servitude. The maids too had nothing
but a shake down for their couch, all the
furniture being displaced. A couple such
balls would have proved fatal to her lady-
ship's domestics.
At eleven o'clock at night, a blaze of
light and an open door, proclaimed that her
ladyship was at home; and by midnight, a
e
battalion of chairmen showed to all the
town that Lady Grizelda M‘Tab received
company.
The party was divided into three orders
of beings; the professionals, the moderés,
and the ultras of fashion. The black corps
of law and physic looked deadly to purse
and constitution; they mustered very strong,
and were made up partly of relatives, and
partly of entertaining friends. The mo-
derés were antiquated nobility and decent
gentry of the old school, who dropped in
at or before eleven; and who came to take
à hand at cards, or to see their children
and grandchildren dance, and to shake


LADY GRIZELDA M'taB's BALL.
77
hands with some threescore cousins and
connections with whom they are certain to
meet. The ultras were the travelled nobi-
lity of the country, together with their
shades and imitations, their sycophants and
copies, who served as caricatures to these
living pictures of haut ton and elegance.
These arrived from midnight until two in
the morning, and came only to lounge,
to waltz, and to cut up their acquaintance.
The ultras' ladies' heads were built up in
such castles of braids, hair-bows, ornamen-
tal combs, brilliant crescents, (no conjugal
reflections, this ornament being one of the
East and not of the North,) feathers, flow-
ers, &c., that the small women were extin-
guished under them, whilst the materialists
were like elephants bearing castles.
When the magnificent suite of apart-
ments was filled, the ladies with their
tower head-dresses recalled to mind the
Tower of Babel; for there was a variety of
tongues, the broad Scotch of the antiqua-
ries, the half and half of the moderés, the
E 3


78
LADY GRIZELDA M'TAB'S BALL.
1
lisp, the insipid, the draw), and the hyper-
English of the ultras and their followers.
The leading features, however, of the so-
ciety were winning smiles, modest beauty,
engaging deportment, and numerous fa-
milies.
Nowhere was more agility displayed
than in the youthful dancers. Sun-bright
eyes, with complexions which to look on
was to love, contrasted by raven or dark
auburn air, were frequently apparent in the
mazes of the dance : such northern lights
are attractive beyond expression. Next
came the mild, the humid, full blue eye,
with glossy light-brown hair, and that com-
plexion of repose, whose quietude tells the
heart that its best interests lie there, that
there its affections may rest, nor seek for
further happiness. Lastly, the November
tints of declining Flora, blooming in neg-
lect, like wall-flowers beyond the reach of
Hymen's hand, stood, statue like, against
the hangings of the apartment, glared the
forced smile, pouted the faded lip, joined


LADY GRIZELDA MÉTAB'S BALL.
79
mentally in the dance, or accepted, with
urbanity and gratitude, the hand of the
elderly advocate, the juvenile complaisant
clerk to the signet, or the related hanger-
on student.
Now turn to the groupes of lookers-on,
the knots of criticisers, and the files of con-
noisseurs. Quizzing-glasses are up; and
looks fall upon ankles, ivory necks, and
well-turned shoulders. What an ordeal for
the fair to pass through? Some dance with
all their hearts, and some with all their
minds. The untravelled Caledonian maid
is nature's child : she shines the Terpsichore
of the reel. The travelled, practised beau-
ty, studies each attitude and glance, and
conquers in the artful waltz. Returned
emigrants strike in the quadrille; whilst
the moderates do their best in the English
country dance.
And now the supper is announced !
What buzzing, what arming, what seeking
of partners, and what looking out for table
companions! How are the eyes at work!
E 4


80
LADY GRIZELDA MʻTAB's BALL.
WA
Hope, fear, delight, anxiety and doubt, all
reign in this little moment.— The supper is
of the best. It is well chosen and befitting
the table of a person of quality. The wines
are exquisite; but the Lady Grizelda is not
obtrusive in pressing them on her male
friends. An ultra remarks, that the cham-
pagne has the taste of Revenez-y; and the
ill-natured ones say, that the negus
is
ter-proof. But barring these two remarks,
every one goes away at day-light, delight-
ed with the urbanity, the kindness, the
welcome, and the hospitality of their Lady
Hostess, who has put herself to no incon-
siderable expense to please her friends.-
Nor was the féte without its effect; for
some made mischief, and some made
matches, in consequence thereof.
Gang to bed, children,” cries her lady-
ship, to her household troops, giving them
a glass of wine each. They retire with a
sigh. A great load is off their minds, a
very
little one is on their stomachs.-Now
do her ladyship and nieces collect the ends


LADY GRIZELDA MÓTAB's BALL.
81
of wax tapers, the fragments of the feast,
and unite the remains of bottles in comely
decanters for another day, this will be a
rare week for the calls of country cousins !
And they will not fail to make kind enqui-
ries after her ladyship's health. The car-
nival will be short, and Lent must succeed
it.
Well, it was one happy night! one splen-
did banquet! The wish to please overcame,
upon this occasion, every other passion ;
and, after all, what are Lady Grizelda's re-
flections after this costly treat? What the
difference betwixt herself and the most ex-
pensive dame at the west end of the Bri-
tish metropolis ? The former can reflect
with satisfaction on having made a return
to her numerous entertaining friends, can
flatter herself with standing on the record
of fashionable parties, without any injury
to herself or to her neighbours. A higlı-
land visit, or a prolongation of abstinence,
will soon make up the expenditure of the
feast; whilst Lady Squander is ruining
E 5


82
LADY GRIZELDA MỘTAB'S BALL.
herself by her parties in quick time, and
will either fall a self-devoted victim at the
altar of fashion; or visit the continent, un-
til time or death wipe off her debts, and
leave her unpaid tradesmen literally “ to
pay the Piper” of her fancy ball. How
many have thus closed a bright but brief
career, within the remembrance of
66
The HERMIT IN THE COUNTRY !


Nº LVI.
SCOTTISH DISCRETION.
E 6


For the future be prepared,
Guard wherever thou canst guard;
But thy utmost duty done,
Welcome what thou canst not shun.
Follies past give thou to air,
Make their consequence thy care :
Keep the name of man in mind,
And dishonour not thy kind.
KURNS.


SCOTTISH DISCRETION.
-
AMONG the virtues of the Caledonian,
there is one which is almost of a negative
kind, since it has for its basis self-interest
and self-love ; and yet it screens the pos-
sessor from many exposures, from many
expenses, and from many difficulties. Dis-
,
.
cretion is its name,-not taken in the lite-
ral sense in which the Englishman under-
stands it, but extended generally over the
Scottish character, not merely for the
purpose of using prosperity with modera-
tion, or of observing secrecy with fidelity,
but for many other ends of national con-
venience.


86
SCOTTISH DISCRETION.
A man is recommended as a lover be-
cause he is "a discreet lad.” Now it is
not in order that the Caledonian lassie
should trust him o'er muckle, or abandon
herself beyond the bounds of prudence to
him, for she too is a discreet lass; but
because a discreet lad will be a discreet
husband, and take good care of the main
chance. He will also use discretion in
every thing connected with their mutual
interests. However they may differ at
home, he will be discreet enough not to
let the report go abroad. If he err for a
moment, he will be too discreet to let his
wife know it; and “what the eye don't
see, the heart cannot grieve at," or, as
the Italian says,
" Peccato celato e mezzo
perdonato.”
Sandy and Sandy's wife are liable to
frailties; but they are aye o'er discreet to
trouble their neighbours aboot it, or to
expose their follies in the meridian of
notoriety, as English and Irish fashionables
do. Generally they are good domestic


SCOTTISH DISCRETION.
87
.
He slips
and excellent matrimonial characters ;
and when they are not so, why they
"make believe," as the children say.
Again, the Caledonian loves the bottle
in moderation, and would give and take
good cheer if in his power; but he is too
discreet to be caught in scrapes like our
ruffians and rakes of fashion.
awa aye discreetly, and never quarrels
about paying the reckoning, as Pat indis-
creetly does. He's too weel bred to dis-
pute aboot treating, too discreet to out-
run the constable, and too cautious to let
the constable outrun him. He is too mo-
derate to be a laughing-stock in his cups,
and too honest to pay the reckoning
" with a sprig of shilelah and shamrock
so green;" which is sometimes Pat's way
of club-ing for the bill.
The word discreet, again, applies even
to his loyalty ; for he is too discreet to ex-
pose the honour of his country, go where
he will; he would not affront auld Cale-
donia, nor affront himself for a' the world.


88
SCOTTISH DISCRETION.
The laugh seldom goes against Sandy ; or,
if it does, he finds his interest in the
thing. The West Briton, the Cambrian,
the country bumpkin, let out their igno-
rance, and make their blunders in town;
but if Sandy disclose his seeming ignorance,
it is to the best advantage: if Sandy seem
simple, it is because simplicity is most
advantageous, and pays best upon the
occasion.
Sandy's love for his country often keeps
him dumb, for fear of bringing discredit.
on his native toon and his native tongue;
but he makes up for his silence and re-
serve by keen observation, and diligent
listening ; both of which he turns to his
own account in future, and to the honour
and benefit of his natale solum. In prais-
ing, he is no niggard, for there he runs
no risk ; but in condemning, in innova-
ting, in rallying, he is very prudent. In
advice, he is cautious also, for there great
discretion is necessary; and a discreet
body never gives gratuitous advice, never


SCOTTISH DISCRETION.
89
a
ventures on this most slippery ground,
without being sure of receiving either the
meed of praise, or the remuneration of
service.
The Caledonian is seldom satirical, be-
cause he is too steady and discreet to be
mercurial; he has more d'à-plomb than
levity, and he has the good sense to know
that “a wit's a feather.” He has judg-
ment enough to be aware that a wag has
few friends, and perhaps deserves but few,
for he spares neither friend nor foe in his
rage for playing upon his companions, in
his ambition of eclipsing his f-llow men.
The discretion of Sandy aye leads him
to feel his way, ere he broach a new opi-
nion ; ere he venture on a subject which
may be hazardous in a general mixed com-
pany. So cautious, so cool, so quiet, and
gentle, is the Caledonian in leading, so
modest in remark, that if he saw your
house were on fire, he would strongly
suspect something combustible about the
dwelling! If a man in company commit


90
SCOTTISH DISCRETION.
himself, so as to talk like a maniac, and to
deliver sentiments offensive to all around,
Sandy would strongly suspect “ that the
gentleman was in a mistake."
This discreetness (as he sometimes calls
it) does not proceed from timidity, but
from circumspection; for, to be taken by
surprize is what a good general always
avoids; and although his heart and hand
are as firm and as kind as any man's, you
must give the countersign before you open
either, and, wheu applied to,“ he will
,
tak a thought” before he answer you ;
and, as the Scot is gifted with second sight,
another man's second thought becomes
twice two, his fourth reflection.
Seldom or never is Sandy severe at the
expense of a countryman; more for fear
of libelling old Scotland, than of affront-
ing the man. To turn a Scot into ridi-
cule is coming too near home, it might, by
a ricochet, and by a recoiling action, light
upon himself. Nay more, he honestly dis-
likes the measure, and feels for his country


SCOTTISH DISCRETION.
91
brother as for himself. However, when
he sees the vein of humour run that way,
when the tide is so strong that he cannot
stem it, so as to keep a brother above
water (which, by the bye, is very amia-
ble) he will cunningly take the Caledonian
in his own hands, for fear he should be
more roughly used by a stranger.
A Scottish recruit once joined the army
at Bombay; and when we say a Scottish
recruit, we mean a greenhorn of an officer.
He was troubled with a cutaneous distem-
per, of what nature matters not; and (as
he had heard of the thing in India) he com-
plained of the prickly heat. The English
and Irish officers laughed; and the sur-
geon looked quizzing-like. Sandy MÖGre-
gor, an officer of rank, present, had a
feeling for the young man (who afterwards
turned out a most valuable officer); and
he was apprehensive lest he should be too
much played upon by the young ones.
He, therefore, took the joke upon him- .
self, and took his countryman in his own


92
SCOTTISH DISCRETION.
hands, in order to turn off all national re-
flections. “I strongly suspect," said the
veteran, " that you brought that heat a'
the way from Speyside ; but you young
lads are aye sleeping in strange beds, and
lying wi' strangers, instead of keeping
discreetly at home.” This was completely
averting the shaft of ridicule; and every
one was disappointed, except the recruit,
who received a favour and an useful lesson
at the same time,
THE HERMIT IN THE COUNTRY.


- Nº LV1I.
A COCKNEY IN SCOTLAND.


Pleased to have left yon sable cloud,
That buries millions in its shroud ;
Alas! they toil, the sons of care !
And never breathe the purer air.
FAWKES.


A COCKNEY IN SCOTLAND.
I am so partial to Scotland that I always
peruse even the humblest tribute in its
praise with great pleasure. A couple of
letters on the subject having accidentally
fallen into my hands, I accordingly lay
them before my readers, that they may
sympathize in the delights of a Cockney,
escaping from the noise and dust of Cheap-
side, to freedom and fresh air in the land
of cakes and heather.
THE HERMIT IN THE COUNTRY.
LETTERS FROM MR. PETER PRIG, TRAVELLER
TO THE HOUSE OF CLUMPH AND COMPANY,
TO HIS FRIEND IN LONDON,
DEAR JOHN :- What an advantage tra-
velling gives a man over his neighhours !


96
A COCKNEY IN SCOTLAND.
A fellow who stands like a fixture behind
his compter has no chance of enlarging
his mind, whilst the traveller, who shakes
off the London dust from his trowsers,
divests himself of prejudice and the verna-
cular tongue together, and becomes, not
a Citizen of London, but a citizen of the
world. I was never so much convinced
of this, as after sojourning awhile in the
Caledonian metropolis, that Emporium of
Science, the great northern mart, as we
say. How you untravelled Cocknies do
mistake the Scot! You think Sandy a
heavy, uncouth, uncultivated, sly crea-
ture: he is nothing of all this. Well then,
you consider the Aberdonian to be a sharp,
tricky, slippery, selfish fellow: this is
equally false. He may have a bit of these
ingredients in his composition; but he is
just as honest as ourselves--much plea-
santer and easier to deal with : but that's
not to my purpose,-sink the shop !
On
my
first arriving on the Scottish bor-
ders, I was brimful of prejudice, and was


Á COCKNEY IN SCOTLAND.
97
me
come, Ben."
prepared to quiz Sandy, as much as I
could; and to mark his decided inferiority
to ourselves. How my heart and my rea-
son smite for such an unworthy
thought! kindness and hospitality bave
taken their revenge of me, in this point.
The first savage sound which assailed my
ears, was
For this fami-
liarity I took the liberty of observing, that
I did not stand nick-names, that I was nei-
ther Ben nor Dick, and that I thought the
address more free than welcome. The
chambermaid stared; she was a pretty
girl; and blushing modestly and enchant-
ingly, she replied, “ I hope, Sir, no offence;
will you step in to the fire?” “No, my
dear;" replied I, “ for if I did, I should
burn myself; and as it is, I am between
two fires,-a noble one of Scotch coal, and
your bright eyes, which is the most ardent
of the two ?” “What's your wull?” replied
Jeannie (such was her name). Why,
love, I have not made my will, and I have
no will of my own near such a sweet crea-
VOL. III.
66
.
R


98
A COCKNEY IN SCOTLAND.
>
ture as you."-" Tut,” cried Jeannie, “I
canna be fashed wi' you; you speak over
high English for me, but my mistress will
be at
you
in a moment.” What this meant
I knew not, but I was resigned. Her mis-
tress came in--as lady-like a woman as
ever I saw, and treated me with the most
courtly respect and attention: I was half
reconciled to Scotland already.
At this moment a barbarous fellow en-
tered with come awa' lassie; fire my
chops weel, and be dune as quick as pos-
sible; where awa's the guid wife ?" What
gibberish ! " I hope,” thought I to myself,
" that they won't attempt to fire my chops !
but I'm determined, for the fun of the
thing, to have a complete Scottish dinner.
I therefore ordered a sheep's head and a
haggis, with the view of seeing as much
of the country manners as I could : and I
left the third dish to the landlady's good
taste, calling for whiskey by way of beve-
rage. Now, John, the sheep's head was
singed, and had whole turnips around it ;


A COCKNEY IN SCOTLAND.
99
a
-
so that it looked like a black-a-moor's
head garnished with snow balls ; 'twas the
most disgusting thing I ever saw. At this
moment my epicurism got the better of
my politeness and knowledge of the world,
and I cried, with an oath, “ take away
,
that monster of a thing !”—“Oh!” said a
pert hussey, with coal-black eyes and au-
burn hair (a very pretty girl too), “ you
• dinna like sheep's-heed, ablins you'll hae
enough o’that at hame !" Devilish sharp !
thought I.
She now brought me some decentish
barley broth, and a boiled fowl, which
was tol-lol, but over-done; some very fine
fish, and a bottle of as good port as any in
the Lord Mayor's cellar. This made me
a little easy; and the active, bucksome
style of the lass quite struck my fancy. I
had, however, only seen her face. Look.
ing down. I beheld her naked feet, which
quite turned my stomach; but I was de-
termined to be condescending, and to
make myself agreeable to the natives; so
F 2


100
A COCKNEY IN SCOTLAND.
9
smiling, “ Bonny lassie,” said I, (for I am
an apt scholar, and had picked up that
much Scotch already) “ I think you have
got your birth-day stockings on!” “ And
you hae gotten your ball stays,” replied
she, alluding to my Cumberland corset.
" Oh! oh!” thought I;
“ quizzing,”
(which I had made the order of the day)
6 won't do here ;" so I changed my tone.
I now came to the haggis. Gemini ! what
a horror! It looked like a boiled bagpipe;
a
and when I stuck my knife in it, out gush-
ed such a flood of abomination, that I was
almost suffocated. I dispensed with mas-
ter haggis; but when I came to taste the
whiskey, it took me so powerfully by the
throat, that I thought it would have suffo-
cated me again. I can compare it to no-
thing but blue blazes and gunpowder,
fire and smoke; I now drank a bottle of
Bell's ale-nectar and ambrosia! finished
my wine, and ordering my horse, paid a
very moderate bil), and, prepared for my
departure.
1


A COCKNEY IN SCOTLAND.
101
a
Well, said I to myself, first impressions
are strong. I am now but a few miles in
Scotland, and I find civil treatment, mode-
rate charges, good wine and pretty girls :
a man may do well enough here. I took a
private lodging at Edinburgh, and made
myself comfortable. I lodge and board in
the new town, which beats Bath hollow, at
a widow M‘Clarty's. I took her at first for
a poor distressed woman; but she has a fine
sideboard of plate, engraved with the arms
of the M'Clarty family, as proudly as if she
were a duchess; table linen enough to set
up a draper's shop, and the most splendid
Bible I ever saw in my life, which she is
always quoting, besides a very decent libra-
ry, and handsome furniture. She says she
lets lodgings for company's sake, being a
lone woman, but that's all my eye. How-
ever, she is an uncommonly worthy, good
sort of person.
At table, I expected to show off, for the
party consisted of two ministers (as they
call the parsons) and two young students,
f 3


102
A COCKNEY IN SCOTLAND.
a
one of physic and the other of law; but I
could scarcely get in a word edgeways. I
began to flash a little about the state of Eu-
rope, when the elder minister, who might
have been a minister of state for his know.
ledge, opened upon me, until I was quite
dumb-founded. He had history at his fin-
gers' ends, and he knew more about the
continent than I did about the counting.
house, altho? a very uncouth shabby looking
chap. The younger parson, too, would quote
you all the British poets and authors,
with a facility that astonished me, but all
in a broad accent, which proved that he
had never crossed the borders. The law.
fellow seemed to want to talk nothing but
Greek and Latin, mathematics, arts and
sciences; but the medical gentleman, an
Irishman, was as gay and flighty as you
could wish; and seeing how flabergasted I
was, he took me under his wing to shew
me life. We finished the evening together,
and with this I will finish my letter. Edin-
burgh is a rare place for learning, as you


A
103
COCKNEY IN SCOTLAND.
shall hear another time. In the mean
while I remain,
Dear John,
Your's very truly,
PETER PRIG.
P.S. The lace takes finely; vous m'en-
tendes, as we say in French. Pray take
care of my bull bitch, and pay up my sub-
scription to the club.
F 4


104
A COCKNEY IN SCOTLAND.
LETTER II.
DEAR John:
I improve every day in my
knowledge of the Scots, and every day
they improve in my esteem ; which I attri-
bute to the enlargement of my views, and
my liberality. The student has taken me
all over Edinburgh, and shown me a good
deal of high life, and low life ; of both of
which you will easily conceive that there
is plenty, when I tell you that I breakfasted
with a learned doctor in the first floor
from Heaven, that is to say, in the seventh
story from the ground floor (high notions,
you'll allow); and that I danced reels, and
supped, seven stories below the doctor.
Such a breakfast, John ! tea and coffee,
eggs, ham, boiled fish, honey, marmalade,


A COCKNEY IN SCOTLAND.
105
cold moor fowl, dried fruit, besides a
hundred kinds of bread. I think a fellow
must be difficult indeed, if he is not pleased
with such fare, tacked on to a hearty wel-
come.
At the ball below stairs I expected to
be quite the go, but I found that I fell
short in my performance there, as well
as in the scientific conversation, for every
body reads, and every body dances, and
learning is so cheap in the Scotch me-
tropolis, that it is no wonder they call
it the modern Athens : you may be served
out at any price. By-the-by, talking of
Athens, I never met with a Greek in
Scotland: that's another good thing. But
to return to dancing,—the Scotch women
dance with all their souls : such activity!
such steps ! such good timists! 'Tis admi-
rable indeed ! Entre nous, I have got a
dancing master to give me private lessons,
and you may take your oath that I shall
be quite the kick at the Crown and An-
chor. A very peculiar thing here is a
F5


106
A COCKNEY IN SCOTLAND,
practising, and a dancing master's ball;
the former in the morning, the latter (of
course) at night. There, you may see as
good dancing, for a mere trifle, as you
can upon a London stage. They have
what they call a high dance, which is ini-
mitable.
But what particularly interested me, is
the peculiar character of maternity in
which the Scotch dames excel so much.
You may see aged grandmothers, and
elderly mammas, with half a dozen or a
dozen of their children on the floor at
once. The look of love, of interest, of
anxiety, of approbation, and even the tre-
mulous: -wish that they should excel, do
honour to the women of the country, and
prove how much heart there is even in
this little example. You may (whiles,
,
as the Scotch say) detect a look of in-
telligence between man and wife, kind-
ling into the kindest expression, nay, a
tincture of reflectiveness, as much as to


A COCKNEY IN SCOTLAND.
107
>
2
say, “such were we, on these very boards,
a few fleeting years back."
Apropos, the women call their husbands
my man," which you southern blades
laugh at; but let me tell you, that there
is something very fond in the term ; very
appropriate, very possessive, and I know
some husbands amongst us who do not
merit it, in any sense of the word. Happy
the husband who is a good mon ! 'Tis
a noble title I-From the practising let
me direct your attention to the theatre.
It is very fair; but not much attended. I
expected to find the mob all quietness ;
but the gods, as we call them, can kick up
a dust even here.
As to the learned professions, why they'll
knock you off a gross of Doctors in a
morning! I went to see the ceremony, and
we had 'em of all nations and colours,
They've a grinding machine that hits 'em
off to perfection ! Mercy upon the poor
patients! There was such a lot of 'em,
that my Irish conductor cried out “Oh!
F 6


108
A COCKNEY IN SCOTLAND.
murder?!” as he saw them go up for exami.
nation. They have very learned lectures,
too, upon law, physic, divinity, chemis-
try, and I don't know what besides. What
is most extraordinary is, that there is vir-
tue in the chair of a professor, so that he
who succeeds to it is sure to be a learned
man. This virtue, too, goes by inheri-
tance, like a name or an entailed estate,
so that some of them descend regularly from
father to son. How clever that must be !
By the way, it runs in my head, that there
is something in the old doctorial hat,
which they put on the candidate at gra-
duation, and you'll allow that if they can
thus put an old head on young shoulders,
it is a wonderful effort of genius.
a
The Scotch students fag like dray-
horses at their studies, but the rest of
the pieballed party of Irish, West Indians,
foreigners, yankees, &c. are the greatest
bloods in the town; so that one would
think they must have the merit of inspi-
ration, if they outdo the others, which,


A COCKNEY IN SCOTLAND.
109
nevertheless, is sometimes the case. My
stúdent, however, informs me that fashion
goes a great way in medicine; so that it
is only necessary to put a good face
on the business, in order to succeed. I
almost wish that I had been brought up
to physic, instead of the counting-house,
for I know that I have an accommodating
manner, which the M. D.'s consider as
the placebo, and which I am told is half
the battle.
My landlady is an excellent woman.
She introduced me to a writer who “ lives
on and off with her," that is to say (for I
am sure the term will puzzle you) they
inhabit the same floor, which they call
a land; and he kindly took me to a
half uncle's in the country, one of the
best fellows I ever met with. Mr.
Muckleweim, the lawyer, promised to
shew me his policy and his park; but
to my great disappointment, the policy
was nothing but a very small planta-
tion, and the park was about two acres


110
A COCKNEY IN SCOTLAND.
1
was well
of grass-land without a treee in it. Well,
but the inside of the house
furnished, and he had as good a library
and a cellar as any lord. I just looked
over the one, and I dipped a little more
into the other, by which means I got what
they call fou.
After supper we had an exquisite thing
which they call plotty, that is to say, a
little plot against the brain, and it suc-
ceeded with me perfectly. I was some-
what mortified at one thing. The next
morning, I dressed myself in a complete
highland dress belonging to a young offi-
cer, on a visit at Gowanbank; and I ex-
pected to have attracted the eye of my
landlord's neice, a very pretty girl ; but
she did nothing but laugh at me, whilst a
foreigner present cried, " Il n'est pas
montagnard qui veut -- he is not a
”
mountaineer who wishes to be one.
Recovered from my vexation, I was
overwhelmed with hospitable attention,
and I have set down Gowanbank in my


A COCKNEY IN SCOTLAND.
111
>
memorandum book, as one of the places to
which my memory will pay a tribute of
gratitude, whenever I think of it. But
the post hour approaches fast, and I must
conclude. Therefore farewell, and believe
me still,
Your faithful friend,
PETER PRIG.





1
Nº LVIII.
HOGMANY; OR, NEW YEAR'S
MORN IN EDINBURGH,


Let mirth abound; let social cheer
Invest the dawning o' the year;
Let blithesome Innocence appear,
To crown our joy ;
Nor Envy, wi' sarcastic sneer,
Our bliss destroy.
FERGUSSON,


HOGMANY; OR, NEW YEAR'S
MORN IN EDINBURGH.
In no part of the inhabitable globe is
the new year ushered in with more mirth
and hilarity than in Scotland. Devoid of
the mummery and intrigue of a carnival,
broad mirth and unrestrained freedom
reign triumphant upon this occasion. It
is not under a mask, that the sports of the
season are enjoyed. The honest, undis-
guised countenance appears clad in smiles;
the hand of friendship is every where as
open and as light as the heart; grave fea-
tures relax; stiff and starched manners
unbend; and the haughty master and ob-


116
HOGMANY.
1
sequious servant lose their constrained re-
presentations,-the one rising, the other
stooping to the level of Equality, and to
the proudest title of humanity :-namely,
that of being fellow-men, children of the
same great family, linked hand in hand,
in the golden chain of benevolence.
Let us then take our stand for a moment
in the Caledonian capital, there to witness
“the most. genuine—the only surviving ex-
ample of the Roman Saturnalia, where
honest mirth is every where afloat, and
where the faithful servant may answer his
master, when interrogated as to his iden-
tity, with “ Davusne”
“ Ita Davus,
mancipium amicum domino et frugi;" for
nowhere are fidelity and frugality more
the national characteristics than on this
ground. These national virtues have ever
distinguished them, not only as domestic
servants, but as the servants of their
country, abroad and at home.
The festival which I allude to, is called
Hogmany, a term which has been explain-


HOGMANY.
117
ed in various ways, all creditable to the
'customs and hospitality of the Scotch.
The religious man considers it as the oc-
tave of Christmas day, and hails it as the
anniversary of the blessed era of our re-
demption, when God vouchsafed to take
upon him our frail humanity. Such a
person may well conceive the meaning to
be a man (or rather the man) is born-
“L'homme est né.” Another translation
"
imagines it to be " l'an est né," - the year
is born, and he ushers it in with grateful
joy and jollity for added days bestowed on
him, and with a heartfelt wish for length
of life to all those that are near or dear to
him. If such a man meet his
enemy
of
yesterday, the national feeling, and the
generous pulse, impel him to outstretch
his hand; nor can he, for the life of him,
help saying, “A guid new year to you!"
How calculated is such a custom to in-
spire and improve friendship, to approxi-
mate and connect man to man, kindly to
link together rich and poor', 'to promote


118
ROGMANY.
harmony and good fellowship, and to bury
resentments and prejudices ! Nor is this
all. There is a tender tie, which is wide
awake on this merry occasion, and which
converts hoc mane into what, in my opi-
nion, is the real origin of the word (my
readers will pardon the pun), into hug
me nigh!
On the vigil of new year's day, anxious-
ly waiting for the stroke of twelve, you
will see the lassie, clad in nature's best
attire, that is, in youthfulness, sincerity,
and smiles, wearying for the first fit (first
foot*)—for the favoured youth who is first
to salute her ripe lips and damask cheek,
and fervently to wish that many a succeed-
Hence every
* It is supposed that the welfare and prosperity of every
family, especially the fair part of it, depend very much
upon the character of the person who is first admitted into
the house on the beginning of the new year.
suspected person is carefully excluded; and the lasses
generally engage before-hand, some favoured youth, who
willingly comes, happy in being honoured with that signal
mark of female distinction.


HOG MANY.
119
ing year may preserve those charms and
their possessor
probably for himself.
You will see almost tremulous anxiety and
apprehension all awake in the broad eye,
lest perhaps some “cankered auld carle,'
some superannuated bachelor, should slily
lie in wait to steal the bloom from off the
plum, and usurp the kiss which was in-
tended for her ain faithful Sandy, or for
her bonny Donald.
Now, in the other sex, is expectation all
on tiptoe, to watch the expiring vigil of
the new year, and to steal a salute there,
where, at another time, order and deco-
rum might have forbid the delicious treat;
to be close to fair Jenny's door, and to
knock at the last stroke o'twal',
other should be before-hand with him, to
offer the incense of an affectionate heart
at the shrine of beauty. What a heavy
disappointment, what a galling humilia-
tion is his, if a paukie maiden aunt, or
auld Christie, the female servant, should
first appear! for charity has decreed the
lest any


120
HOGMANY.
prime salute, even to our serving sisters;
and antique hospitality has hidden in that
honest salute, and in the cheering het
pint (egg flip), a kindly lesson of morality,
since
“ To teach us to be kind,
Is Nature's first, best lesson to mankind."
This lesson, on the expiring embers of
the last, and on the dawning birth of ano-
ther year, may perhaps sink deeper into
the heart than an hour's cold evening lec-
ture, or the nasal of a monotonous homily.
In addition to these kindly sensations
and social arrangements, there are many
merry youthful pranks played off on this
cheering occasion, when it may be said, at
the gay midnight hour,
<
1
“Rigour now is gone to bed,
And advice with scrup’lous head."
The humble swain watches a favourable
opportunity for declaring his passion; or,
for making the desired impression. The


HOGMANY.
121
lover of a higher rank, lies in ambush for
a celebrated beauty, for one whom he has
long admired, but to whom he is slightly
known, or perhaps scarcely introduced ;
and, should he be fortunate enough to in-
tercept her, on her road home, after
eleven o'clock, he sanguinely hopes that
the old year will fly upon the wings of
Cupid, to bring on the hour of twelve,
when he can claim the sanction of cus-
tom, and the national prerogative to taste
momentary bliss. Then may we see the
nimble foot of beauty, flying from her
active pursuer; and, not unfrequently,
like Virgil's Galatea,
“ As she flies,
“How much at variance are her feet and eyes ;"
Nor do the sons of Caledonia now forget
to dip the wings of old Time in rosy wine.
Many a generous flask is drained to the
bottom, whilst the hand of friendship
grasps the sympathetic palm, devoting
the foaming bumper to the pious orison of
VOL. II.
G


122
HOGMANY.
i
wishing length of days to the friend of his
bosom, to the partner of his heart, to the
kinsman of his own blood, to his reverend
benefactor, or his honoured patron.
Now, too, the aged sire drops, perhaps,
the involuntary tear in the joyous bowl;
and looking on his rising progeny, thinks
of " auld lang syne.” He sees how fleet-
ing time is—how brief the dream of youth;
yet, with a hopeful look, he pledges the
cup, and wishes that the passage through
life of those he loves may be calm and
untroubled, and that they may escape the
storms which he has weathered and sur-
vived. There is dignity in his mouth,
gravity in his enjoyment, and resignation
in his smile; whilst he looks forward to
living over again, in the tender shoots of
the family tree, the branches of which he
feels proud to see blooming around his
table.
The night is advanced. And now we
hear the hearty salutations, and cheering
sounds of “guid new year to you,"-"a


HOGMANY.
123
happy new year, sir,”—“ many happy
years, bonny lassie,”-will you taste wi'
us, friend?"" here's to you, Sandy,”-
“ here's to ye Donald,” _" a' happiness
attend you,” and such like brief home-
spun patches and sentences of Scottish
courtesy as leave far behind, in truth and
permanence, in service and trial, the most
courtly and circumlocutious compliments.
Let the fop and the fool smile contempt
on those honest, rough interchanges of
kindness; but let him not dare to scowl
at them. As for myself, I must say, that
when the poorest of the poor, the hum-
blest of the lowly, offers me the brim of
his votive pint, I take it with gratitude,
because it is offered with sincerity; nor
would it dishonour the prince on his
throne to cast an eye on those enjoyments
of his northern brethren at the new year.
“ In village, grange,
And borough town, the streaming flaggon, borne
From house to house, elates the poor man's heart,
And makes him feel that life has still its joys.
G 2


124
HOGMANY.
The aged and the young, man, woman, child,
Unite in social glee : e'en stranger dogs,
Meeting with bristling back, soon lay aside
Their snarling aspect, and in sportive chace
Excursive scour, or wallow in the snow.
With sober cheerfulness the grandam eyes
Her offspring round her, all in health and peace ;
And, thankful that she's spared to see this day
Return once more, breathes low a secret prayer,
That God would shed a blessing on their heads.”
THE HERMIT IN THE COUNTRY.


N° LIX.
TWAL O'CLOCK.
G3


“ That merry day the year begins,
They bar the door on frosty winds;
The nappy reeks wi' mantling ream,
An' sheds a heart inspiring steam;
The luntin pipe and sneeshin mill
Are handed round wi' right guid will ;
The cantie auld folks crack an crouse
The young anes rantin thro’ the house."
BURNS.
“ Long ere the lingering dawn of that blithe morn
Which ushers in the year, the roosting cock,
Flapping his wings, repeats his larum shrill ;
But on that morn no busy flail obeys
His rousing call; no sounds but sounds of joy
Salute the year,—the first foot's entering step,
That sudden on the floor is welcome heard,
Ere blushing maids have braided up their hair ;
The laugh, the hearty kiss, the good new year
Pronounced with honest warmth,”
GRAHAM


TWAL O'CLOCK.
re-
BELVIDERA never said to Jaffier,
member twelve !" in a more impassioned
tone than the Scottish lass trysts her lad at
that eventful hour on new year's morning.
At twelve o'clock a new era is com-
menced, and the circle of past months has
died away. The elderly moralist lingers
in thought on this departed period. He
compares it with the declining sand of his
hour-glass. He thinks on the many suns
which have arisen and set upon him, the
variety of seasons which have witnessed
his journey through life, the many summers
and winters which have scorched his brow,
64


128
TW'AL O'clock.
blanched his cheek, and silvered over his
hoary locks; he thinks how strength and
power have declined, and how beauties
and honours have faded away with himself
and others, leaving no trace behind.
The young adventurer, whether male or
female, who has but just reached the meri.
dian of youth, who has just put the little
bark to sea, who blooms only in promise
of a glorious summer, looks not back,
but lives in expectation of many more
youthful pleasurable days and years. To
such a one, time seems to hobble; his
scythe appears like an old man's crutch;
his hour-glass freezes in its passage. Fain
-
would the youthful expectant lash on the
chariot horses of the departing sun, in
order to see the nimble race of one impe-
tuous day.
In polished circles, the family party,
strengthened by particular friends, and
wide-spreading connexions (for no where
does the family tree shoot its branches
wider or with more honour to the stem


TWAL o'clock.
129
-
than in Scotland), is assembled round the
supper table. -Eleven has struck.- The
joke, the smile, and the mantling glass,
circulate with the winged moments. The
eye of vigilant severity is closed like the
benighted flower. The busy hour of twelve
is to call new loves, - new friendships, and
fresh pledges of regard and adherence, into
life and action.
It is a trenulous moment for
many
an
anxious bosom, whose beating, like the
movement of a watch, marks the increas-
ing moments, and wavers betwixt hope
and fear, lest any intruder should first
make that offering of regard which she
prizes from one alone.
It is a merry second to the father of a
family, or to the jovial guest, who rises,
all heart, to salute his friends and favou-
rites, to give a fillip to the pulse of
age,
and to pour the votive benediction over a
beloved progeny.
It is a time of reminiscence to the happy
wife and mother, whose eyes glisten with
G 5


130
TWAL O'clock.
lustre borrowed from the treasures of me-
mory, and who has an arch something in
her countenance, half devout and half vo-
luptuous. The new year's kiss from hus-
band and children has all its virtue and
price with her.
And now are frolic and fancy both at
work to promote the interest of the heart,
and to play arch tricks and merry conceits
on some object marked out for mirth.
Here is an uncouth country kinsman placed
next to an antique aunt, or unattractive
cousin, who has passed unsaluted and un-
solicited for years. On the other side of
him is placed the domine, perhaps ; so that
he has nobody to salute but the auld maid.
Opposite him is all the artillery of pawkie
een, and the
“ Becks and winks and wreathed smiles,
Such as dwell on Hebe's cheek;"
the titters and inuendoes of lovely ones
in their teens.
There is no retreating,
and the silly loon must pass through the
ordeal. Aunt Margaret and cousin Tibby


TWAL O'CLOCK.
131
ken it weel, and try to shift their place.
But then will the arch beauties also make
a move, so as to keep the object of their
sport betwixt the granny and the domine.
Now is the honest undisguised roar, and
the full deep tone of mirth admissible, even
in good company, because liberty and an-
cient custom give the sanction of time and
truth to the usage.
Now, however, must delicious kisses
be enjoyed with modesty, and little morti-
fications be borne with gracefulness and
equanimity. Sometimes the sly beauty
leaves the table, and takes her stand near
a door where he who has to enter is pre-
viously known to her. In what a flutter
is her youthful pulse for fear of a mistake!
for she has two objects in this arrange-
ment: first, the object of her choice ; and
secondly, that of letting the embrace pass
unobserved.
As we should never slight “ the humble
annals of the poor," we must travel, in
thought, to the outer door, and there be-
G6


132
TWAL O'CLOCK.
1
hold Jenny or Peggy looking out for the
lad they loo best," and ready to give and
take the premices of the new year dis-
creetly, and without muckle din. Should
a superior or a master arrive, instead of
trysted Jemmie, they may be flattered, but
they will not be delighted. Keep tryst"
(which we confess, from certain associa-
tions, pleases us beyond “keep your ap-
pointment) is then the national motto ;
and those who violate the promise must be
faithless nymphs and swains.
“Delays are dangerous in love;" mis-
takes may be fatal on this exhilarating oc-
casion. It is a sad reproach to the honest
bosom of sincerity, which sinks with dejec-
tion, whilst the sunbright eye is overcast,
and the features bespeak faded hope, to
hear “ Sae, sae, bonny lassie, your lad has
mistrysted you !". May these scenes of vio-
lated promise and wounded affection be
far, far from all the sons and daughters of
Caledonia !
And you, ye frozen Stoics, ye souls of


TWAL O'CLOCK.
133
apathy, whom “man delighteth not, nor
woman either”-ye who can mark the dis-
tance which chance, perhaps, has placed
betwixt you and your fellow men, darken
not the lightsome merry scenes of Scotland's
Hogmany. Your closets and retirement
are fitter for you than the haunts of mirth,
and better “suit the gloomy habit of your
souls."
But all ye blithesome lads and lasses,
whoe'er ye be, who tread on heather, or
who cull the forest flowers-ye mountain
children, lowland lads and lasses, or merry
borderers, may ye first salute or be saluted
by them who have the first place in your
hearts! May no mortifying mistakes dim
your een, or shed more than nature's com-
mon crimson on your blooming cheeks!
May the busy hour of midnight bear the
gilded, yet steady reflection of the morn!
May mirth steer clear of intemperance ;
and may frolic not put off the mask of
native innocence! May the joys of this
year be only the jocund heralds and happy


134
TWAL O'CLOCK.
1
forerunners of many succeeding ones! May
youth improve and mature, and old age
be preserved and respected! May a happy
blending of " the myrtle of Venus and Bac-
chus's vine" be arranged with that eco-
nomy which wisdom and chaste love will
dictate to their followers; and, whilst you
strew flowers over your past paths and
opening prospects, may the fruits of your
enjoyment be peace ! plenty! harmony !
and festivity! and may ye accept this heart-
felt wish, as a sincere and votive offering
from
THE HERMIT IN THE COUNTRY.


No LX.
THE SCOT'S FIRE-SIDE.
NEW YEAR.


The cordial greetings of the soul
Were visible in every face;
Affection, void of all controul,
Govern'd with a resistless grace.
BLOOMFIELD,
1


THE SCOT'S FIRE-SIDE.
And now six and thirty cousins have
been embraced; cards of congratulation
have been exchanged; all the dependents
have received some tokens of kindness;
and the numerous family is assembled
round the fire.
The mother looks proudly on her many
bairns, thinking at least that she has quan-
tity, if not quality in her family; but she
has room in her heart for all of them. The
husband has a care-worn face, lit up by a
smile, a placid forehead, but a very keen,
inquiring eye. He knows how to make
himself baith loved and feared by his chil-


138
THE scor's FIRE-SIDE.
a
dren. He looks like an anxious shepherd
over his flock. There is all the master in
his air, yet fondness shines across assumed
severity, of which there is not an iota more
than necessary for keeping up the family
drill. The eldest daughter is deputy go-
verness of the castle; the chief government
being divided betwixt the elderly couple.
Therefore has Annie a little step above the
rest; whilst wee Johnny is a little the
more indulged, on account of his being
the last born, and the increase of children
baving ended with him.
Barring, however, the little weight
which greater confidence throws into the
scale in favour of the elder, and a little
leaning to the child of this honest couple's
old age, there is no undue favour or affec-
tion shown to any of the children. The
father casts his parental eye over them,
hegh, hegh !” cries he, thinking whát a
fight he has had to bring up such a family.
Now Annie has been attending to pies,
custards, and tarts; she has cast an eye
66


THE scor'S FIRE-SIDE.
139
over the cook’s concerns; the turkey, she
thinks, will be roasted to a turn; and her
own confectionery, she expects, will be
praised to the skies. She has been drilling
the aukward highland footboy, in order
that lie should make the best appearance
in his new livery, and wait like a town
flunkey, that the family may not be affront-
ed before their rich cousin the general,
just come from India, with plenty o? siller,
and in whose eyes (somehow or other),
she wishes to have merit. 'Tis a pity that
Annie is turning a little old, for Annie
would mak' a discreet wife.
Jane has just come in from her morning
round. She salutes her father, who looks
with much affection on her. She is not so
handsome as Margaret; but then, she has
much more to say for hersel': she has a
deal o'mither wit, and a pretty arch way
of telling her story.
Now all the family are assembled; the
general is announced ; and the dinner cir-
l
cle is formed. The father looks round with


140
THE SCOT'S FIRE-SIDE.
a self-approving smile, and counts, in si-
lence, his bairns-no less than twelve.
Hegh, hegh! but Sandie and Donald, and
Andrew are not there. This costs a sigh.
-But Sandie is fighting his country's bat-
tles in the east, and expects to be included
in the next brevet ; and Donald, who is a
strapping fellow, is fighting by his side ;
and their patron Lord has promised
not to lose sight of him until he gets a
company.-Poor Andrew died like a hero
at Waterloo. Well, 'twas better to have a
glorious son, and to give him to the state,
than to have a disgraceful one who should
be a stain on his family. This reflection
cheers him, and chases the coming tear.
He has no blot in his escutcheon.
The bottle circulates briskly; and with
it, the jest.' The female tongues are not
paralized, but run as if no anti-attrition
were necessary to their main spring.- And
now the females have left the table. Papa
tells his male companions“ how he has
seen the day, and what success he has had”


THE scot's FIRE-SIDE.
141
in war and in love; but he takes care to
name the latter to the old general in a semi-
tone, lest his cousin should overhear him,
or his boys be scandalized. And then he
praises the good qualities of his daughters,
and sincerely wishes them married. None
of them, however, are yet off his hands,
but Ellen, who has made a good match.
The laird of Glen Eagle seems to have a
fancy for Betsey; but he's very long in de-
claring himself.
Now reels are announced. There are
three-score assembled. Behold the jealou-
sies of the girls about getting cousin Chair-
ley, the captain, and uncle John, the rich
writer, for partners ! Now such frisking
and bounding ! such nimble footing and
agile attitudes ! such dancing, and snapping
of fingers (amongst the men), that you
would think their very hearts were in their
feet! The reel may be thought a very sim-
ple piece of business; but it's no such
thing : there is a vast deal of exertion, fe-
male flirting, exhibition of strength and


142
THE scor's FIRE-SIDE.
activity, and even a complete national cha-
racter in this national dance.
Suffice it to say, on this occasion, that
jealous looks and partial preferences were
shewn in the reel,--which, for a passing
moment, caused dry answers and cold
looks betwixt relatives ; but all was soon
right. A rival easily perceived the increas-
ed interest which 'fair Susan discovered in
setting to the captain ; and a neglected
lovely one was aware that the laird dou-
bled in activity and enterprize, when danc.
ing opposite cousin Betty. The lawyer
seemed to have an eye to a rich aunt, and
danced languidly with all the others : and
the eldest daughter was fearful and anxious
that the general should acquit himself de.
cently.
The head of the house, nerved with good
port and Madeira, and elated with a glass
of peatreekit, rose like the oak in the
forest, in the pride and fullness of its
branches, and took out the faithful partner
of thirty years. Attention-was the word,


THE scor's FIRE-SIDE.
143
Faither and Mother sailed, rather than
danced through the reel. Faither's head
got light with whiskey, and innocent and
honourable remembrance of the days of
lang syne. But, if the head were light,
the foot betrayed its director, and the aged
sinew forgot its usual elasticity. Some
stood clear; and on more than one giddy
countenance, the titter of derision tried
to steal; but a grave look from a sister, a
fond and dutiful reflection, punished the
wanton lip and eye, and gave a transitory
pang to the bosom, whispering at the same
time in the ear, “what a good father he
has been to thee! what an upright maa !
how beloved ! how respected ! how honest!
how venerable! What will these charms
- these feet-these ancles of thine be at
sixty-six ?” Truth triumphed, and a beam
of joy, enriched by dutiful affection, shone
in every face as it met that of the father of
the family, whilst increased rapidity of
pulse vibrated in his children's veins, as
they turned their friend and father.


144
THE scoT'S FIRE-SIDE.
The dance is o'er.The auld general
proposed kissing of partners; but he was
of the old school; the custom is obsolete.
The girls said that the very idea was hor-
ri-ble.
The supper succeeded ; Jane sang very
pathetically; and every thing promises the
perpetuation of the family; since the ge-
neral is to take Annie, Jane is to have the
captain, and the laird and lawyer have both
made proposals, all of which particulars
were communicated, with much exultation,
by one of the clan, to
THE HERMIT IN THE COUNTRY.


No LXI.
NORTHERN VOTARIES OF
BACCHUS.
VOL. III.
H


He loved him weel as ony brither,
They had been fu' for weeks thegither.
BURNS.


NORTHERN VOTARIES OF
BACCHUS.
毒
​66
2
ONE cold winter's evening, as I was sit-
ting with a certain jovial Marquis over a
flowing cup, we were led to enumerate
the companions of our festive hours, to
mention their various qualities, and to
question each other as to their fate.
Pledge me a cup to the immortal me-
mory of Burns," said his lordship, “ that
favourite of the muses, the bard of nature.
What heart-inspiring sentiments flow in
his numbers ! they warm the bosom like
generous wine, and wrap a man, as it
were, in affection's mantle! Nothing but
the pure milk of human kindness runs
н 2


148' NORTHERN VOTARIES OF BACCHUS.
warm and clear through his heart on these
occasions. Alas! where is he?-in an un-
timely grave.-But he lives in the bosom
of every true Caledonian.”
We next passed in review the gallant
No warmer heart ever animated a
manly breast. In his sober moments he
was sentimental ; and in his hours of fes-
tivity he was indeed delightful. He would
divide his all with a brother. What would
he not do, at any time, to relieve distress!
But over the fancy-stirring bowl, his life,
his liberty, his property seemed cheap to
rescue the orphan or the widow, to dry
up affliction's tear, to protect the help-
less, or avenge injured honour ! Yet
scarcely thirty summers have tinged his
brow, empurpled with the grape's ripe
juice, when he too has made his passage
to that country “ from whose bourne no
traveller returns :" “ Alas! poor Yorick !'
6 !
Here an unbidden swelling of the heart
cominanded silence for many moments,
when we drank to our friend's memory...


NORTHERN VOTARIES OF BACCHUS.
149
some
." Poor Donald Bain !” exclaimed his
lordship ; “shall you ever forget the no-
bility of his disposition ? - too proud to
-
receive a favour, too delicate to incur debt.
In his latter days," continued the peer,
6 when he was nearly burned out, and
when he had sold his little Highland pro-
perty, and was living on the almost ex-
hausted produce of his commission, I went
to dine with him, and hinted that I had
ey to spare if he wanted it.
His answer was no, no ; I love to increase
a friend's comforts, but never to diminish
them; your ain guid heart (to use poor
Donald's own words) will find plenty o?
ways for your siller.'
I insisted upon
drinking nothing but whiskey punch after
the bottle at dinner. To this he consent-
ed; but when, after a most potent quan-
tity of the barley bree had been drunk, I
talked of parting and of taking no more,
"What!' exclaimed Donald ; and wad
ye, after I had been half starving mysel
for a month to hae a heavy drink the-
6
H 3


150
NORTHERN VOTARIES OF BACCHUS.
gither, leave me this way in the middle o'
the night?' I felt the friendship, the com-
pliment, the hearty welcome of my host,
and--the sun lit us at our parting. Poor
Donald perished in fording a river, when
Bacchi plenus !”
We next touched on the exit from this
eventful scene of life of Colonel
produced by his own hands; and then
came to the witty, the inimitable L,
whose table bon mots, and flashes of wit,
called forth by Bacchus, would fill entire
folios; whose company was the talisman
of conviviality, whose presence was a
charm at the festive board, whose naïve,
pure Scottish humour, had a secret ex-
cellence of originality which mingled ad-
miration with mirth, and wedded esteem
to laughter,--whose good-natured satire
injured none, yet frolicksomely brushed or
tickled all.-What spirits, what genius,
what constitution! and yet, to what is he
now reduced ! Debilitated, and nearly
bent double, he energes from a feverish


NORTHERN VOTARIES OF BACCHUS. 151
bed in the afternoon, and carries a living
death about him until the hour of dinner,
when the stimulus of wine and stronger
liquors awakens memory, and gives him
a kind of false existence. In the morning,
so nervous is he, that the opening of a
door shakes him to the centre : the least
surprise subdues him ; involuntary tears
flow upon the most trivial occasions ;
whilst he turns aside from his own wast-
ing and decaying strength, and scarcely
dares to contemplate in his glass the ruins
of a fine manly form, and those features
which bespeak a glorious intellect sadly
misapplied. “I saw him one day,” said
the Marquis, “trembling and hesitating
on the brink of a little burnie, as we call
it, not two feet wide. His nerves were
shaking; he was all fear, shame, regret,
and irritation ; yet dared he not attempt
to step across it-such was the enfeebled
state of his mind, such the languid, para-
lyzed condition of his body! and this in a
man who was as active as a roe, on foot,
>
H 4


152
NORTHERN VOTARIES OF BACCHUS.
and would leap a five barred gate when
out with the hounds, a few years ago.
Confound the bit burnie!' cried he; I
hae seen the day when I wad ha drunk it
dry, if it had been whiskey! and now to
be sae fashed about sic a trifle is awfu'
indeed!'
Taking a retrospect of these scenes, and
of the actors in life's drama who endeared
them to me, “how sincerely,” said I to
myself, “ is it to be regretted that such
souls should have been but like summer
insects, and have enjoyed only a mere.
sunny ray, a transitory apparition, a lucid
interval before the darkness of futurity!
How lamentable that such talents, such
virtues, and brilliant qualities should have
suddenly expired in the haze of intoxica-
tion, after having been little more than
ignes fatui, to lure our erring steps to
the brink of that precipice whence they
have fallen."
I mean not to say, that these scenes
have no charm. I am alive to all the mel.


NORTHERN VOTARIES OF BACCHUS.
153
а
low feelings of ripened and overflowing
benevolence, which wine matures and
softens in the bosom, during the glow of
friendship and festivity! How many a rap-
turous delight has the Bacchanalian torch
lighted men to ! how often do we see the
wrinkles of age, and the furrows of care
smoothed into youthful softness and rosy
health, when the vessels of the wasted
heart have swelled with "the juice of Velez'
scorched vine!” how does the potentdraught
expand the narrow heart; nay, even unlock
the miser's chest! how arch is wit, how
artless is brotherhood, how kind the softer
sex, touched by this magic wand !
Alas! we must not trust the witchcraft
of the enchanter's cup! Often the un-
locked heart has received a serpent to its
centre, and the dazzled imagination has
unbraced the thorns of conscience, which
lurked amongst the flowers of love. Tis
dangerous to touch the foaming brim of
that inviting bowl, whose dregs are pover-
ty, misery, and remorse. To taste is de.
н 5


154 NORTHERN VOTARIES OF BACCHUS.
lightful; but to drink deep is to drain it
of the poison which its dregs contain.
How many valuable friends, victims to
the infatuation of intemperance, have been
lost to
The HERMIT IN THE COUNTRY.


Nº LXII.
AULD LANG SYNE.
E 6


“ We twa ha paid'lit in the brook,
Whan simmer days war prime,
But seas between us baith have roar'd
Sin days of auld lang syne.”
BURNS.


AULD LANG SYNE.
EDUCATION in Scotland is an object of
major importance. The Scot thirsts for
knowledge; the poorest get a taste of the
stream; even very humble individuals
make the most generous, praiseworthy sa-
crifices, in order to educate their progeny
in a decent and respectable manner.
Hence the rapid improvement of the coun-
try, the frequency of eminence in different
branches of learning and science; the stu-
dious turn of the Scotchman, the grave
and tranquil habits which he imbibes; the
paucity of crimes, and the fair proportion


158
AULD LANG SYNE.
of prosperity generally attendant on his
honest and industrious endeavours,
Wisdom makes the Caledonian pecu-
liarly happy, because wisdom cannot exist
without morality. A man may be pro-
found in some branch of knowledge : but
he only is truly wise, who is truly good.
But not to the grave and solid advantage
of education and learning only, does the
Caledonian owe the happiness which they
produce. His most pleasurable enjoy-
ments are in the links and associations of
blended friendship and education, Dear
to him is the school companion of his
early years : closely connected with his
own well doing is the welfare of such a
brother of adoption, a class fellow ! the
word is full of the most warm and kindly
feeling. The fraternity of the school, of
lectures, of instruction, and of letters, ope-
rates most powerfully on his heart and
mind. “What, my auld school cronie!"
will cry a brother Scot, meeting such a
one at the very extremity of the globe, or


AULD LANG SYNE.
159
care.
couching in the cold bivouac—“My auld
class fellow !”-“Why, man, what brought
you here?"
There is an electric effect
in this which warms the Scot to his heart's
core. To see the companion of his early
studies, cheers the lone hour, charms the
overcoming toil, cheats the weary mo-
ments, and sweetens the bitterest cup of
Strewed with flowers is the path
which they tread together ; gently and be-
witchingly with them roll on the hours of
social intercourse. How affection beans
in each eye whilst enjoying a crack on the
subject of the school, the honest Domine,
the quaint, yet worthy maister ; about the
classics, the playing truant, the juvenile
sports, and all these dear nothings, which,
summed up together, amount to volumes
of benevolence and good fellowship. Can
łe then who has visited the early fount of
knowledge, with his cronie and playmate,
see him cold or hungry, poor or ill lodged,
unprosperous and neglected, oppressed or
insulted, without looking back to former


160
AULD LANG SYNE.
years of mutual intimacy, which lead him
to take him by the hand, nay by the heart,
and to support and uphold him, with
a share of what he has ? It is for this
reason that we see Scotchmen shoulder to
shoulder, in ascending the steep acclivity
of fortune, and that the envious reproach
them with nationality, instead of lauding
them for that neighbourly feeling, which
makes self-love and social but one. This
strong Caledonian feeling operates in every
stage and circumstance of life; and is of
the most beneficial tendency in all, even
the humblest classes.
Sandy or Donald
cannot be disgraced in any undertaking
abroad or at home; for he is sure to meet
with his schoolfellow go where he will.
The honour of his mountain, his straith,
his glen, his town or his country, is ever
jealously supported : the eye of a play-
mate or class-fellow, of a clansman or of
à neighbour's child, is ever proudly and
anxiously turned upon him, and he must
'neither disgrace them, nor himself.


AULD LANG SYNE.
161
How many a Scottish heart has burned
within its owner's bosom, when he has
recognized a school-fellow leading on to
death, or victory! How many a tearful
eye has run over, whilst reading the detail
of a school-fellow's well deserving of his
country! Mark the eye of the early play-
mate upon unexpectedly opening on a kin-
dred soul, a second self, who needed not the
more imperious claim of relationship to
endear him to him. Behold the adhe-
rence through life, of men brought up and
educated together; and then let the world-
lings call it prejudice if they dare.
Losing my road in the wilds of Bade-
noch, I halted, and cast an anxious, fear-
ful eye round, to see if any human being
was within hail, for the veil of night was
dropping over the earth, and I expected
that its sable covering would soon render
every object undiscernible. Never did I
more sensibly feel the dependence of one
being on another ;-that beautiful prac-
tical lesson of a Heavenly Parent, who


162
AULD LANG SYNE.
teaches us “ to love each other,”-not
"
only from our affections, but from our
mutual necessities. I looked at the ho.
rizon, and saw the last streak of light was
going down. There was but the never-
sleeping eye. of Omnipresence open to
protect the wanderer; no light but His,
who gives the traveller courage, recol-
lection, and hope, to guide him on his
lone path.
At length the welcome appearance of
a fellow man shone through the twilight,
for it was now what the Caledonian appro-
priately and descriptively calls the gloam-
ing, when the hour of shadows is past,
and there no longer remains the last gilded
ray elongating objects.
The old man, at a distance, looked
almost like a speck upon the face of dark-
His stature, gradually increased by
approach, in magnitude and importance.
He stepped up to me with a cheerful, con-
fident air, whistling a strathspey, and fol-
lowed by two shaggy Highland dogs, full
ness.
a


AULD LANG SYNE.
163
of fidelity and intelligence. “Guid e'en
to ye,” said he, making a rustic bow; " ye
need na' be afraid o’ being benighted; for
even if we were to miss the road, Whiskey
and Columdubh would conduct us safe
hame."
I here observed that whiskey had led
me a sad dance, for that a generous High-
lander had kept me so long at his house,
taking a lunch, and the cup o' better ac-
quaintance, and then the cup o' friend-
ship, and lastly the parting cup, that I
had lost all account of time, and was ap-
prehensive of losing my way, and of having
to bivouac on the moor.
" Hout!” cried
he, with an air of disdain of care or mis-
adventure, “ye maun juist tak a wie drap
mair in my cabin the night, and a check
o' mutton ham, and a muir fool wi' me,
for it is quite dangerous to pass the fuird."
Blessed retirement and simplicity of
manners ! true parents of friendship and
of hospitality! how base and paltry do
town habits appear before ye! In great
а


164
AULD LANG SYNE.
towns, man mistrusts man. In these wilds,
bleak muirs, and woods of sepulchral pine,
man clings to man, every heart beats in
unison, hand seeks for hand, and the links
of social connexion are double locked and
rivetted to each other!
I accepted the venerable old man's in-
vitation, and partook of the hospitality
of his cottage. It would be an insult to
attempt to clothe in wordiness and cir-
cumlocution, his kind reception-his ge-
nuine Highland welcome. Every High-
lander is hospitable, and “he maks nae
words aboot it.” Good cheer, good hu-
mour, honest civility, and improving con-
verse, sweetened the hours betwixt re-
past and repose; but the morning scene
was what dwells most in
my
mind.
I had gone, in company with the school-
master's son, to look over the improve-
ments of his very small farm, in which
courtesy and gratitude taught me to take
all possible interest; when, on entering
his saloon, boudoir, study, library, and


AULD LANG SYNE.
165
refectory (for they were all one and the
same apartment), I saw two tall, sun-
burnt, weather-beaten young men enter.
The one was in the garb of old Gaul ;
the other had on a regimental great coat
and a highland bonnet, with an eagle's
feather in it.
The old man rose and gave a pure
Highland shout, demonstrative of surprise
and extacy, and with electrical rapidity,
the two youths had each a hand of the
schoolmaster clenched in both of theirs.
They shook hands heartily, and for a few
seconds it was the magic eloquence of
eyes, the matchless expression of silence.
: At length the old man relieved his
bosom by ejaculating, “Heigh! heigh!
!
sirs, and is it ye? after seven long years
o'absence, in which ye've wandered mony
a weary fit! What brought ye here?
and” (his face brightening with smiles
and rosy health, his nerves doubly strung,
his pulse dancing with the velocity of
youth, and proud self-approbation crim-


166
AULD LANG SYNE,
soning his cheek,) is it possible that ye hae
come on purpose to see me?”
“Juist sae, my worthy maister,” said
the eldest. Just so, my dear Domine,"
exclaimed the younger, with an arch and
affectionate air, and tapping bim spor-
tively and kindly on the back. “ Tears
rapped down the auld man's cheeks,” and
again all was momentary silence.
“How's mither?" cried one of them.
“Oh! brawly,” replied the schoolmaster,
"she'll be maist out o' her senses wi'
joy to see ye: we heard that ye war
killed at Talavera."-" Tut!" exclaimed
they simultaneously, with a manly and
soldier-like expression of contenipt for
danger. “Sandy got a clink upon's airm,
.
but he can wield the braid-sword yet;
and as for me, it seemed that bullets had
no fancy for me, for plenty of them played
crack upon comrade's heads, but I got off
scot free.”
“But, I say, how's auld Syntax, the
shelty?" Here the schoolmaster heaved


AULD LANG SYNE.
167
à deep sigh “ Puir beastie !” replied
he, in a subdued tone, “ he is deed."
" Deed !” exclaimed the youngest war-
rior: "I wud nae a' had him die for a
purse o' goud.” And here the rose twice
visited and twice left his cheek. “What
pranks I hae played wi' the puir beastie !"
Here he looked back to infantine days and
sports, and the gravity of retrospect sat
very becomingly on the front of youth.
“Heigh! Heigh !” concluded he, which
meant, “Every thing is transitory in this
nether world."
The old man quite forgot me, and I
quite forgot myself, standing in profound
attentiveness and in undivided respect for
the actors in this scene of sensibility. At
length, starting and apologizing, he in-
troduced me to the two young officers,
who shook me by the hand as a friend and
comrade at first sight.
The old lady, the schoolmaster's wife,
now entered, and a new scene of congra-
tulation and affection followed. At length


168
AULD LANG SYNE.
the hour of departure arrived. The old
man expressed much regret at the short-
ness of his pupils' visit, which however
was unavoidable. He conducted them
forth, walking betwixt them, and linked
hand in hand, bald and bare-headed, and
with his silver locks whistling in the high-
land breeze. At length they shook hands;
looked eloquently at each other, and he
watched them until they were out of sight.
I distinguished, in the expression of his
manly features, the reminiscences of scenes
of their infancy and tender years, and, as
the first anacreontic writer of the age
says-
“He gaz'd, as fond memory's vision went by,
And doubled his bliss through the tear in his eye.”
What were the young men? his sons ?-
No. His relatives ?-No.
or benefactors ?-No. They merely had
been his scholars in their juvenile years,
and, out of respect and love for the old
man, they had travelled thirty miles to see
him. All the localities of their childhood
His patrons


AULD LANG SYNE.
169
were dear to them; all the associations of
past time weighed deeply in their minds.
How creditable to youth this feeling! how
honourable to old age and to the old man's
character !
Such scenes are amongst the most
agreeable reminiscences of
TAE HERMIT IN THE COUNTRY.
VOL. III.
C





No LXIII.
Τ Η E F Ο Υ.
I 2


Scotland, my auld, respected mither,
Tho' whiles ye moistify your leather
Till where ye sit, on craps o' heather
You tine your dam :
Freedom and whiskey gang thegither!
Tak' aff
your
dram!
BURNS.
1
>


THE FOY.
a
THERE is a gentle pleasure in reflection,
which sinks deeper into the heart than the
greatest blaze of present pomp and enjoy-
ment, which always dazzles more than it
delights. The present may deceive us ; the
past cannot : like tried and experienced
friendship, the past has no uncertainty in
it. Moreover, as it is the lot of man to
mingle regrets with his fondest affections
and his keenest bliss, so the gentle glow of
regret for the days o' lang syne, are to the
heart, what the declining rays of the set-
ting sun, or the fainter and gentler moon-
beam, modestly succeeding the orb of day,
are to landscape.
I 3


174
THE FOY.
Thus is it with the reminiscences which
the festive scene called a Foy ever brings
to my mind; when sitting alone, with my
glass before me, I yield to the waking dream
of life, and look back to dear scenes, and
dearer friends of my bosom, who have pass-
ed away, borne on the stream of time, and
have faded from life's picture, alas ! to re-
turn no more.
At a very early period of life I parted
with a college companion, who at the in-
stant I am penning these lines, stands pre-
sent in every feature before me; and brings
a tremulous tear into my eye, which I nei-
ther could, nor would chase away from it.
I see him, at this moment, in the strength
of youth, in the beauty of manliness, in
the verdure of years; tall, robust, strong-
minded, yet that masculine intellect so
blended with the milk of human kindness,
that the softest of the softer sex was not
gentler, milder, or tenderer than he. Peace
to thy manes, thou comrade of my youth?
thou hast fallen in thy country's cause, like


THE FOY.
175
the young oak in the forest; but thou wilt
never cease to be firmly rooted in my
heart's core !
This valued friend had completed his
academic studies, and with an adorned
mind and a courageous heart, was about
to follow the banners of his native country,
in quest of laurels. He resolved, therefore,
to give his Foy to his chosen college
friends, with whom he had been the most
intimate, and who loved him as a brother;
nor was the honest Domine, who had di-
.rected his intellectual exercises, and culti-
vated morality in his mind, excepted from
the treat. It was a delightful scene, a truly
festive night, where all was heart; not a:
word exhaled the lip which breathed not
kindness; not a hand met the hand of fel-
low man but was rivetted in the clasp of
honest attachment.
I shall pass, however, from all that may
appear selfish (though in such a scene, self-
love and social are the same); and instead
of describing the magic operations of our
I 4


176
THE FOY.
bowl, or mingling the regretful tear in
the goblet foaming with friendship, I shall
describe the Foy of the Caledonian, as it is
unknown to his southern brethren.
When a chum is about to quit college, or
when a relative, or friend, or neighbour,
is on the eve of leaving home, it is an old
Scottish custom for him to give his farewell
treat. This is no banquet of pride, no false
display of plate, mirror and porcelain, no
intriguing dinner to purchase a vote, or to
worm out an opinion-no Greeking enter-
tainment, at which the beart presides not,
and for which the guests may sooner or
later pay dear; here, on the contrary, all
is warmth and sincerity. The head may
ache from the juice of the grape, or from
the honest « barley bree;" the heart may
sorrow for the loss of a dear friend : but,
“like affection's dream,” it leaves no sting
behind. It is one of the occasions in life
where the affections are feasted, and where
the votive glass is but a dumb orison pour-
ed for the welfare and the return of him


THE FOY.
177
whom we love, whilst he pledges us in ge-
nerous, unqualified, undisguised recipro-
city of sentiment; and if the tongue be a
stranger to eloquence, yet the eye glisten-
ing with expression, the cheek crimsoning
with tenderness and truth, are nature's
interpreters, and render it superfluous,
nay impossible,“ da raggionar d'amori.”
The very name Foy given to such a
feast, bespeaks its integrity, and discovers
its value. It is “ sa foy,” his faith, which
the departed friend plights to the compa-
nions of his youth : 'tis a faith, not specu.
lative or sceptical ; not wavering or biassed
by interest; not feigned or saleable; but
true, firm and unshaken ; honest and im-
1
mutable; it is one on which you may risk
your life, or pledge your honour,—the
donor of the Foy will defend both at the
hazard of his heart's blood. Thus it was
with my friend. Thus it was with the
whole festive circle of which he was the
light, in which he shone, and which he
warmed with the rays of his generous and
1 5


178
THE FOY.
hospitable benevolence. And it is but jus-
tice to Scotland to say of her with the im-
mortal Burns
-
“ An if she promise auld or young
To tak their part,
Tho' by the neck she should be strung,
She'll no desert.”
On such an occasion, the founder of the
feast plights you his faith that you shall
not be forgotten; that in distance he will
ever keep in view. his country and his
friends : he solemnly promises with the
heart, not with the lips, that no changes
or chances, no time or absence, no increase
of years or variety of circumstances, shall
alter his views, so as to exclude from his
bosom bis home and comrades, or break
the fine thread of duty, patriotism, and
fraternity, which binds him to his native
shore.
Let any man after this say, that there is
not a solemnity in such a meeting. No
one can make such an assertion without
violating truth and insulting humanity.


THE FOY.
179
The Foy is hallowed by friendship, and
dignified by antiquity. It is dear to the
Scotchman, not only from the nature of its
sacred obligation, but from its correspon-
dence with the Scottish heart, from its
affinity to his feelings, from its fitness, to
his honest nature. I may be thought par-
tial, in drawing this picture so strongly;
but I should be base if I drew it other-
wise -if I slurred over the strong re-
semblance, disfigured one feature of the
Scotchman's heart, or misrepresented one
iota of his habits.
The Foy, therefore, is not merely an
adieu dinner as in other countries, but it
is a treat given for the express purpose of
pledging regard and good wishes; a meet-
ing instituted for the contracting of a
mutual, voluntary engagement, amongst
friends and countrymen, in addition to all
former ones interwoven in our nature, and
registered in the tablets of our memory.
In life it binds us mutually to each other ;
in death it makes us still live in the bo.
1 6


180
THE FOY.
a
som of friendship, and survives the shock
of mortality.
The faith of a Scotchman to his friends
and country, is a main object in his life,
distinctive mark of true birth and unsul-
lied nature. It commences at as early a
period as that of quitting home after his
academical studies, and on his entry into
professional or other life; and it only closes
with his being borne, amidst sorrowing
companions, to his last home and narrow
lodging, to his turf pillow and final rest.
Happy those friends who have been unit-
ed in youth, who have stedfastly adhered
together through the warfare of life, and
who have had the soft hand of affection to
smooth their pillow of death, - who have
shared together the smiles of fortune and
the endearments of love, and have assisted
each other in partaking of those burthens
which life's toil, and the checquered lot
of man impose, more or less, upon us all.
Such men can look back with tender
emotion and grateful feeling to the past,


THE FOY.
181
and with cheerful humility and smiling
hope to the future. Memory gilds the past
scene; confidence in the Supreme Being
throws glowing colours on their perspec-
tive; the surviving playmates of their in-
fancy will be the approving companions of
their increasing years, whilst uprightness,
truth and honour will make them respected
in old age, as the constant heliotrope wor-
ships the sun in its decline with the same
zeal as at its rising. Such were my reflec-
tions on the Foy given by my friend ; and
of many convivial recollections it has al-
ways been the dearest to the memory of
THE HERMIT IN THE COUNTRY.





Nº LXIV.
T Ꮋ Ꭼ Ꭰ Ꭱ Ꭺ Ꭻ Ꭼ.


There bore him barefac'd on his bier,
Six proper youths and tall;
And many a tear bedew'd his grave,
Within yon kirk-yard wall.
PERCY.
1


THE DRAJE, OR TRAJET.
In no country of the habitable globe do
relations and friends more strictly adhere
to punctilious decorum, and ancient rites
and ceremonies, than in Scotland : every
marked event in life is noticed by them ;
and they kindly attend upon the members
of their family, giving support, and iden-
tifying themselves with the name of their
house, or the not less sacred name of
friendship, on all occasions where respect
and adherence can render service, or mark
attachment.
At the close of the eventful drama of
life, this reverential attention is paid by


186
THE DRAJE.
>
1
the Scotch in the most impressive manner.
The remotest relations hold it a bounden
duty to attend the remains of the deceased,
and not only to attend, but to contemplate
him, to look their last on the departed, to
pay the generous tribute of a tear, or of a
sigh, where further service and respect
must cease; and where worldly interest
has no promise to claim, no view to realize.
They are, therefore, present even at what
they call “ the chesting” (the nailing
down of the coffin); and whoever knows
the Scottish character, or whoever has
been present at this ceremony, will allow
that there reigns, on the occasion, a sober,
sedate deportment, a grave and dignified
bearing, a submissive and respectful con-
duct, truly befitting the awful occasion.
Whatever be the rank of the deceased,
whatever the situation in life of the as-
sembled friends and kinsmen, the same
adherence to propriety presides at the sad
Relatives mildly and tranquilly
greet each other; the flush of youth mel-
scene.


THE DRAJE.
187
lows into the ripeness of reflection; the
furrowed cheek of age wears the pale
livery of woe. Often do the bye-standers
shake their heads, or bend the neck in
token of heartfelt remembrance, in the
expression of their conviction of the un-
certainty of human existence, and in re-
signation to the will of the Most High.
Not unfrequently are the merits of the
deceased made the lugubrious theme of
short but serious converse; or some brief
sentence of bitter regret, or of warmest
eulogy, does honour to his memory.
The coffin is closed : the earthly picture
is blotted out for ever; but the impression
sinks deep in the beholder's heart. “We
ne'er shall look upon his like again," is
generally in terms more or less eloquent,
briefer or more detailed) uttered and re-
echoed by the mournful train. The body
moves slowly forward ; it is followed with
inore than ordinary decent pomp ; and if
in Scotland, according to the rites of the
Presbyterian Church, all orison ceases with


188
THE DRAJE.
.
the departure of the corpse from the
house of the deceased : if there are now no
longer any " pious orgies, pious prayers,
there are not wanting "decent sorrow,
decent tears." The body is. laid in its
lonely bed; and every one salutes its
lowering, bareheaded, and with no com-
mon degree of reverence. Friends then
look on friends; relatives incline to rela-
tives; and most generally separate in the
profoundest silence.
We do not mean to deny that there is
something majestically commanding to
the feelings in the pealing anthen, in the
swelling organ, in the chaunted requiems
and eloquent service of other religions-
the burning taper, and the badge of our
redemption carried before the dead. “We
war not on men's creeds :" it is not here
our province to discuss them; all we mean
to show is, the dutiful observation of re-
spect exhibited by the Scotch on this, as
well as in every other serious circumstance
of life. They are naturally grave, and


THE DRAJE.
189
hence arises much of their worth-hence
springs much of their talent and success
in life.
We now come to the ceremony of drink-
ing the draje, or rather of the votive cup-
offering which is poured over the departed.
In polished circles, this antiquated cere-
mony is reduced to refreshment, consisting
of wine and cake given to the funeral party,
and it is incorrect not to touch the briin
of the cup on such occasion. In remoter
times, and even now in situations remote
from the capital, the regular custom of
drinking the Trajet is observed. An ori-
son, merely mental, or conveyed in words
lowly uttered, is poured over this last cup;
;
for the deceased is still in the room, still
do his mortal remains hallow the hospita-
ble hall of his progenitors. “To his me:
“
mory,” is often sobbed, or sighed out, or
perhaps some sturdy clansman takes off
the cup in expressive silence, with burn-
ing eye, bent brow, and quivering lip,
warring strongly with half-sudued and


190
THE DRAJE.
half-yielding nature. Such a man nay
tremble in such a scene; but try him in
the field, with all his tenderness in his
rugged breast, and see if he make not his
enemy shake in return.
The clay-cold worldling, refining na-
ture's best feelings and dearest ties away,
until they come to a polished shining no-
thing, may scoff at these highland cere-
monies, may number them with the lum-
ber of feodalty, and confound them with
the barbarous customs of unenlightened
times; but we confess that wherever we
see strong feeling, and that feeling con-
nected with humanity, we hail its unex-
tinguished flame, and if we dispense with
the calling it into public action, we glory
in even its latent existence, which warms
so many rude minds into heroic ardour,
bold patriotism, generous benevolence,
and unshaken friendship.
In the lower classes of Scotland, and
still more in Ireland, these funeral rites
are religiously observed. To these are ad-


THE DRAJE.
191
JE
wch as
be make it
arest tiesa
Ed Shine
michael
with the
nd then
uneolibet
ded the howl, or death-wail, the sponta-
neous vocal dirge, the untutored panegyric
of the dead, the watching the corpse, the
lighting of tapers, the funeral festival,-
and not unfrequently the funeral orgies,
and intoxication with serious and calami-
tous consequences. But who would con-
sider this as a part of the ceremony, or in
fine as any thing connected with it? Mis.
.
fortunes and errors, feuds and family
broils, may grow out of even the best
institutions; but they certainly bear no
affinity to this gloomy ceremony, instituted
for the purpose of honouring departed
worth, commemorating past valour, and
building a monument of living praise on
the remains of what was held dear in life,
by the assisting circle.
In addition to these Gaelic and Hiber-
nian ceremonies, the Highlander displays
on this awful occasion the banners of his
clan adorned with black; the piper proud-
ly paces with his black ensign pouring the
sad lament, pistols are fired over the clans-
wherever
feeling
il its un
persed
we
ich wart
ic ardou
verwhen
land, and
eral rites
are ad


192
THE DRAJE.
man's grave; and in general the Trajet is
drunk on this final occasion.
Having now given a faithful account of
this national ceremony, I leave its effect
to the reader's own feeling, observing only
that this custom, though modified in higher
life, and considered as nearly obsolete in
Anglified Scotland, is still in full force
amongst the more northern Scots, whose
manners and whose minds bear the impres-
sion of primitive times. For my own part,
I confess that my interest and affection
are strongly entangled in these venerable
rites, and I hail the principles of them with
every fibre of my heart. Love and adhe-
rence to the living, sorrow and veneration
for the dead, are not light or trivial sub-
jects, and shall never be treated as such by
THE HERMIT IN THE COUNTRY.


Nº LXV.
HIGHLAND HOSPITALITY.
VOL. III.
K


With gold and gems if Chilian mountains glow;
If bleak and barren Scotia's hills arise ;
There, plague and poison, lust and rapine grow;
Here, peaceful are the vales and pure the skies,
And freedom fires the soul, and sparkles in the eyes.
BEATTIE.


HIGHLAND HOSPITALITY.
SOME years since I left London for a
short time, merely on the principle that
“short absence urges sweet return;" and
as Quin, the famous epicure, had said that
he would go down to Land's End to eat
a John Dory fresh out of the water, so
did I determine to set off for the Moors,
that I might see the game which they pro-
duce dressed in the highest perfection.
I put my dogs in under my gig, took
my servant and gun by the side of me, and
set off. I will say nothing of my tour
until I came to Perth. There I was de-
lighted with its localities, with the urba,
K 2


196
HIHGLAND HOSPITALITY.
nity of its inhabitants, and with the easy,
unembarrassed, unceremonious hospitality
of its vicinity. I then started for the Moors
in earnest, loaded with all sorts of sport-
ing tackle.
I remarked at the very worst road-side
inns, built by Government for the accom-
modation of travellers, a degree of un-
obtrusive civility and attention, of kind-
ness and of anxiety to please, highly con-
trasted to the officious impertinence of
our London landlords and waiters,—the
former full of consequence, the latter
aping the higher puppies on whom they
wait. We had no “Coming, Sir,” and
allow me to recommend
the old hock, or hermitage:" no obtru-
sive praises of the cellar, nor scraping and
capering like that of the frosty-faced waiter
at Long's; neither had we the bills as
long in proportion. However humble the
fare, the wine .was always excellent, and
the charge reasonable.
I should have had pretty good sport the
66
Yes, my
Lord ;


HIGHLAND HOSPITALITY.
197
first day, but I lost my way on the moors,
and got wet to the skin ; my strong shoes
gave way like brown paper ; and I came
back to the inn almost barefooted. I called
for some spirits to rub the soles of any feet
with; and sat down by the kitchen fire, in
order to change a part of iny apparel and
to dry the rest.
In one corner of the huge fireplace sat
Jeannette, the grandmother of the family,
spinning, and singing an old martial bal-
lad, which sounded to me more wooden .
and monotonous than the noise of her
reel. In another corner was a little ragged
boy, reading Latin ! and in the third
corner, a venerable-looking, ruddy, sil-
ver-haired highlander, in the garb of old
Gaul, with a thick staff, reclining on one
arm, and a cutty pipe (ie. a short pipe)
in his mouth. He very urbanely raised
his 'bonnet from his head, and asked me if
his smoking was offensive? A courtier
could not have done it better. I answered
in the negative. As I pulled off my
.
.
к 3


198
HIGHLAND HOSPITALITY.
ragged shoes, he looked at them with an
air of pity, and exclaimed, “ Heigh !
heigh! Sirs, what sort o’dancing shoon
to cross our muirs wi! Nae wonder an
ye'll hae your feet sair!"
I now proceeded to rub the soles of
my feet with a mixture, as I imagined, of
gunpowder, sulphur, and other combus-
tibles, which they called Fairntosh. The
aged highlander was indignant at this.
“ Fie, fie !" cried he; "Lad, tak it i' your
mou ; it will be soon eneugh down at your
heels, without wasting and abusing the
liquor sae.” I was going to comply with
his advice, but the liquid nearly choked
me.
It had all the smell of a turf-cabin
under conflagration, and was as hot as the
flame. He laughed immoderately at see-
ing me spit it out, and, taking two bun-
pers, in order to encourage' me, and to
prove that it was not poison, and tapping
me good-naturedly on the shoulder, he in-
formed me that it was mother's milk to
him ; that he always took a bumper fast-


HIGHLAND HOSPITALITY.
199
ing, and that a bottle o't would nae frigh-
ten him any day. I asked his age-about
eighty. Had he always lived so? “Much
aboon it." I now found that he was the
grandfather; and that he often used to
dance all the night, with four and twenty
children and grandchildren.
We soon got quite familiar and intimate.
As I was proceeding in my toilette, lie
took out his mull, and offered me a pinch
of snuff; but it was not to be endured :
I would just as soon have taken burning
touchwood pulverized. I therefore lite-
rally let it slip through my fingers; and
taking out my gold snuff-box, in which
there was the happy mixture of Etrennes,
bureau, macauba, and a Tonkin bean, I
presented it to the Caledonian. He was
dazzled a little with the box; but smelling
slightly to the delicious mixture, he ex-
claimed with disdain, “ It's only fit for
lasses.” But recovering himself, and re-
"
pressing a blush, which was partly tinged
with a contempt of what his severe and
K 4


200
HIGHLAND HOSPITALITY.
athletic habits deemed effeminacy, and
deeper crimsoned from a generous fear
that he had offended me, he added—“ but
I'm a' the same obleeged to ye; we dinna
understand the nick-nackeries o'the toun.'
I made an excellent dinner on some
muir-fowl and a mutton-ham, and drank
my bottle of wine, with my highlander by
my side (for I thought the old man an
original, and asked him to dinner). He
sung me some war-songs with the voice
of a Stentor. They were unintelligible to
me, being in Gaelic; but lie explained to
me that they were about war and love ;
and as these two passions brought impres-
sive remembrances to his mind, his colour
went and came, and a jewel of the first
water glistened in his eye. In the course
of conversation, he told me that he had
been out wi' Chairlie in the forty-five.
Here he heaved a sigh " for the days of
lang syne," and for a moment his manly
features assumed a contemplative expres-
sion of reminiscence, which would not


HIGHLAND HOSPITALITY.
201
It was
have disgraced the Roman pencil, or the
Grecian chisel.
We parted good friends at night; and
the next morning, it was agreed that he
should lend me a pair of brogues for shoot-
ing, and that I should both hunt and
fish, as shouting is called hunting in his
wild country, and not without reason, since
a man hunts for game as well as shoots.
moreover settled that his hoy,
meaning his son, a man nearly sixty,
should be my guide, and that, in return
for the honour I did the old man in asking
him to dine, I should pass the night at his
cabin, on my way to other moors. The
old man was to wake me in the morning,
and then to proceed on before me to pre-
pare my welcome.
He came at daybreak; and, finding my
belt on the chair by my bedside, ran off as
if he had been bitten by a mad dog.
Donald, Rorie, Moggie," I heard him
cry, whilst he held 'the belt in his hand,
66 shoot me, if we ha’ na gotten a wo-
66
K 5


202
HIGHLAND HOSPITALITY.
man (making two strongly accepted syl-
lables of it) in bed instead of a man. Nae
wonder that the puir thingy should be sae
worn out yestreen, an' could nae drink
the whuskey!" I confess that this mor-
tified me a little; but I called out lustily
to him for my belt, and assured him that
all people of fashion wore them in town.
For a moment, he looked contempt; but
changing to an air of paternity and kind-
ness, he said, “Sae, sae! wonders will
never cease. That I should live to see a
man wear stays! Weel a weel, Sirs; but
(turning to me,) my dear, dinna wear the
nasty things; you're weel made eneugh
without them, and ye'll never climb oor
hills wi' sic whalebone vagaries.” To
please my old man, I dressed myself with-
out them, and it proved pretty clear in
the sequel that they would have somewhat
encumbered me in hill-climbing.
When I had paid my reckoning, and
received a thousand blessings and good
wishes, to none of which I was insensible,


HIGHLAND HOSPITALITY.
203
as they seemed to proceed from the heart,
I set forward with the boy of sixty, who
certainly was a boy to me in his activity
and resistance of fatigue. My good hostess
put in some cold moor-fowl and a flagon
of old brandy, for neither of which she
would take payınent, observing, “ That
my guidness to her faether merited any
kindness which, in their humble way, they
could shew me; and besides that, kindness
to strangers and travellers was as much
their duty and pleasure as their interest."
I heartily shook my landlady by the hand,
and proceeded on my way, a little boy
begging to lighten me of my gun, until
I came to the first likely place for game.
All this, though humbly and simply de-
monstrated, is the very essence of hospi-
tality; but it is nothing to what I shall
have hereafter to state of old Gregor's
(the grandfather's) cabin; the recollection
of which, whilst writing these lines, warms
the heart of
THE HERMIT IN THE COUNTRY.





N° LXVI.
GREGOR MCGREGOR'S WELCOME.


Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil
Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content !
And O may Heaven their simple lives prevent
From luxury's contagion ,weak and vile!
BURNS,


GREGOR M'GREGOR'S WELCOME.
The boy of sixty left the inn to the care
of his wife, and, habited like an ancient
warrior, set forth with me on my day's
sport previous to the finish at Gregor's
cabin. He very much pressed me to take
the glass at the door before starting, for ill
luck would attend his house if the stranger
left it with dry lips. I therefore just tasted
the brandy.
Mine host was clad in a suit of red-
grounded Tartan, a kilt, philebeg, purse,
and Highland bonnet, adorned with the
straight feather of the eagle. He had his
rifle slung at his back, his dirk by his


208
GREGOR MʻGREGOR's welcome.
side, stockings checquered in imitation of
the Roman sandal, and tied up with red
garters below knee, his fishing rod packed
up in a case, and his trident, or laster, for
spearing salmon, in his hand. Although
he was very bald on the forehead, and of
a swarthy complexion and sunk eye, yet
the latter was full of fire, his jet black
ringlets curled in his neck; his figure was
upright and elastic; his limbs well knit
together; and, on the whole, he had quite
a martial appearance.
Throughout the day's sport we encoun.
tered many difficulties, which seemed
greatly to heighten the pleasure to him ;
or, rather, the fact was, that he gratified
his highland pride a little in surmounting
so many dangers, and in shewing me the
spirit and activity of his country. Twice
should I have been drowned had he not
waded through rapid fords with me on
his back; and as it was I was wet up to my
knees. In carrying me through the water
he assumed a very triumphant air, and


GREGOR MⓇGREGOR'S WELCOME.
209
whistled as he splashed through the im-
petuous flood.
We had so much hill
climbing, and so many leaps to perforın,
that, about mid-day, he perceived I was
a good deal fatigued. He accordingly
pointed out to me the red Scar Mar,
where lived one of his cousins, Alpin
M'Gregor. It was two miles off; but
that was a mere step to my intrepid
guide.
Arrived at the threshold of the door,
he halted, scraped his brogues, and lifting
his bonnet, exclaimed, with a pious air,
66 Peace be to this house!”
There was
something so apostolic in this practice,
that I felt filled with respect and bro-
therly love. Now appeared an aged Celt,
surrounded by his numerous children, a
smile on his high-boned cheeks, and a
bottle of wine in his hand. « Welcome
be the stranger,” exclaimed he, in an au-
dible sonorous tone; and extending his
right hand to receive mine, he shook me
heartily, whilst one of his sons stood be-


210
GREGOR MʻGREGOR'S WELCOME.
66
>
66
>
hind him as his bottle-holder. He now
swallowed a bumper to my health, and
long life to me.” An Englishman, or
a polished lowlander would have offered
me a glass first ; but highland hospitality
commanded him to drink first. 'Twas
anciently a proof that I might drink of the
same safely : besides, he then welcomed
me with a blessing and with a full cup.
Bring the cup which the Prince gave
your grand uncle," cried Alpin; and I had
then to drink half a pint out of a silver
goblet, which the family received from
him whom we call the Pretender, but
whom Alpin and his family called the Prince
-not but they are as loyal subjects as any
in the land, but they still look back “ to
the days o' lang syne."
Cold' game, fine butter, old ewe milk
cheese, fresh eggs, and whiskey, were
brought in abundance. We refreshed our-
selves; and the laird of the small farm
then gave me a convoy on the road, and
insisted on my allowing him to carry my


GREGOR MʻGREGOR'S WELCOME.
211
game-bag and fowling-piece, in order to
ease me on my journey. He was very
much flattered at my having a sprig of hea.
ther in my hat, and produced the bottle at
parting, on the road. He then, in Gaelic,
bid the good spirit go in our company, and
left us with that pious heartfelt wish.
When we were near old Gregor's cabin
my guide fired off his rifle. It was a sig-
nal, and the whole of the family, with
Gregor full-dressed at the head, came out
to meet us, and a piper played us up to the
door, the peasants cheering and welcom-
ing the stranger the whole way. I was
fool enough to shed tears !--so little was I
prepared for such distinction, so little did
I merit such a welcome, and so forcibly
was I taken by the heart. Being wet up
to the knees, and splashed all over, they
proposed my assuming, for the day, the
Highland garb, which I accepted cheer-
fully, seeing the force of the compliment;
and be it well understood, that to refuse a
Highlander's kindness is the greatest


212 GREGOR MÖGREGOR's WELCOME.
affront which you can offer him.
66 Weel
you set it,” exclaimed Gregor.
I now came to table. Plain but plentiful
cheer and good liquor filled the hospitable
board, whilst the quality of the stranger
obtained me the respect which a prince
might have felt gratified to accept. Next
to me was placed Highlaud Mary, their
eldest daughter, a brunette of the first at-
traction; yet so modest,---so blushing,
though friendly, at first sight, that I felt a
tendre for her which wants a name. 1
would not have staid a week in the cabin
on any account, else must I have left my
heart there, or have taken Mary for the
companion of my journey through life.
We had a festive night. My dogs and
horse were well tended and fed; and my
servant was made drunk; for he had fol-
lowed us, in order to be ready to proceed
on my journey next day,
At breakfast the next morning I was re-
galed with tea, coffee, and honey, which
reminded me of what we read respecting


GREGOR MʻGREGOR'S WELCOME.
213
:
the sweets of Hybla; marmalade, cold
game, eggs. broiled fish, and liquid com-
bustibles, of which I swallowed a glass,
in order to pay a compliment to mine host.
Our parting was the worst, for the old
man, recollecting his age, wept and said,
“ Perhaps I may ne'er see ye again; but,
(recovering, as if ashamed of his weakness,)
Oh! man, come back next year, and if
Gregor be alive, ye'll aye be ane o' the fa-
mily.” “Heaven bless you all,” said I, from
”
,
my heart : and I tore myself away from the
good family, 'midst the shouts of the pea-
sants, the sound of the bagpipe, and the
waving of bonnets. I drove off furiously,
because I felt a commotion ip my bosom
which depressed my spirits ; but, pulling
up at some distance, to take a farewell view
of the friendly cabin, I perceived Gregor
and his family, who had climbed the hill
which commands the serpentine road (and
which had formerly served as a look-out
in times of ancient feuds), in order, as the
Irishman calls it, to see me out of sight.


214
GREGOR MʻGREGOR'S WELCOME.
Gregor had insisted on my keeping the
Highland dress as a token of remembrance ;
and bonny Mary had given me a piece of
Tartan, from a family web, as old as the
hills (I was going to say), to remind me of
her. These presents I guard with affection
and care; and whenever I look at them, I
remember with gratitude the Highlander's
hearty welcome to
THE HERMIT IN THE COUNTRY.


N° LXVII.
HIGHLAND SPORTING.


Dear to the peasant's heart his fire-side blaze,
And floor new swept to greet his glad return;
And dear the welcome of his child, and dog
Fawning to share his favour, still bestowed
Upon the climbing infant; sweet meanwhile,
His only guest, the redbreast, wakened, trills
A summer.carol short, then 'neath his wing,
In trust implicit, veils his little head.
GRAHAM.


HIGHLAND SPORTING.
The pleasurable feelings with which
the retrospect of my Highland tour occa-
sionally cheered a solitary reverie, induced
me, last autumn, to make the fashionable
rage for moor-game an excuse for retrac-
ing my steps among scenery which had
made a lasting impression upon my imagina-
tion, among a people whose virtues were
indelibly traced upon my heart, by the
hand of gratitude, the most delightful of
remembrancers.
I found a “ plentiful scarcity” of birds,
for I arrived late upon the ground, and
the tents of the great had been pitched
a
VOL. III.
L


218
HIGHLAND SPORTING.
long before mine, in open hostility to the
poor inhabitants of their native hether.
The murderous tubes of the descendants
of the Mac Duffs, the rifles of the tartaned
chiefs, the double barrels of a legion of
strangers, had all preceded me in depopu-
lating the feathered tribe; but what was
lost in sport was, every where, made up
to me in hospitality : open doors and open
hearts met me at every turn; and I had
l
every reason to be pleased with a nearer
acquaintance with the land which pro-
duced a Burns, a Thomson, a Graham, a
Scott, a Campbell, and a Ferguson.
To paint the lake scenery would require
an abler pen than mine. Never did I con-
template the works of nature with more
delight : never did I see a finer alliance of
the beautiful and sublime ; having before
me all that the combination of lofty moun-
tains, wild woods, and abrupt cataracts
could produce of the latter ; and all that
crystal lakes, purling streamlets, gilded
prospects, picturesque views, sunny skies,


HIGHLAND SPORTING.
219
and blooming hether could display of the
former. I had a letter of introduction to
a hospitable Highland chief; and he in-
sisted upon passing me from friend to
friend, each vying with the other, not
only in kindly entertaining me, but in as
kindly detaining me, until the hoary winter
had advanced so far forward, that I deter-
mined to wait until spring; and to get
some snipe shooting, &c. in the interme-
diate time.
A snowy day is very favourable for the
tracking of hares; and I set out, with
sanguinary intent, with a number of small
spaniels, for the water-fowl, greyhounds
coupled, two double-barrelled guns, a
Highlander with a long pole to beat the
bushes, my own two domestics with pro-
visions, a shooting poney, and as much
apparel as if I had been taking the field
against an army. The day was beautiful,
.
but brief. The sun's smile was like that
of the great, short and uncertain ; and
his warmth, like that of declining pas-
a
L 2


220
HIGHLAND SPORTING.
sion, gleaming and transitory. The
streaked horizon and the twinkling of the
fading light soon warned us to withdraw.
An immense expanse of silvery heath lay
before us; and we retreated as precipitate-
ly as possible.
From amidst " the lang yellow broom,"
the whins of high stature, and the sober
coloured brechin, bespangled with the
gems produced by the dew, rose the spiral
smoke in a calm and cloudless sky. But
as we gained on the rustic retreat whence
it proceeded, the air became cold and more
àctive, and the vapour ascended curling
more rapidly. We gained the humble
dwelling. I hesitated a moment. “Chap,"
said my Highland attendant, “they'll be
sure to let you in ; ye'll be as welcome as
their ane sels.” “ That's a great deal,
M'Gregor," said I: “ that's a volume of
truth, of kindness, and of hospitality.
When man opens his door and his bosom
to his fellow-man, he has fulfilled an im-
portant duty.
9
“


HIGHLAND SPORTING.
221
:
I now entered the cabin, and saw before
me the head of a numerous family. I in-
formed him that I would claim his hospi-
tality for a few hours, whilst I sent for my
dog-cart, in which I proposed returning to
my friend's house. “Surely,” said Do-
nald; the word being elongated so as to
prove to me that he was in earnest ; that
he was surprised I should doubt his warmth
and kindness for a moment; and that I
might rely on a Highlander and trust my
life to him : so I understood him. M'Gre-
gor said something to him in Gaelic about
the Sasenach or Saxon, and all were in
motion to welcome me. The bottle was
brought, in order to remove all coldness
and dryness, and my honest hostess tasted
first, according to the Highland custom.
Eggs, mutton, ham, dried salmon and
bannocks were speedily prepared for my-
self and my attendants, with whiskey, the
best I ever tasted.
What surprised me most was the cool-
ness of my host, in going on with his family
L 3


222
HIGHLAND SPORTING.
arrangements. “ Read your lesson to the
stranger, Jessy,” said the father; and at
the word stranger the child made a low
curtesy, in which there was more of respect
and of sincerity than in the lowest reve-
rence, the most graceful inclination, or the
profoundest obeisance at Court. Here
Jessy brought a chapter in the Bible to
me, and read it very distinctly. Her mo-
ther, who is an Iuverness woman, was
her instructress, and even her accent was
good. Rorie now. came, and rehearsed in
Gaelic a song from Ossian.
At this moment my dog-cart came up,
and I was preparing to go; but first I
thought it right to give my kind friends a
couple of brace of birds and a hare. I
lifted up my game bags. The slaughter
had been great. “Eh ! Eh ! puir birdies,'
cried the host and hostess together, “ you
have had a sad day o't!"
Something
of wounded humanity, indescribable,
brought a pang into my bosom, and a
swelling sensation, which expressed sor-
>


HIGHLAND 'SPORTING.
223
row and humiliation at the same time. In-
stead of admiring my feats, these good
people were all sorrow for the victims to
my amusement.
I mounted my dog-cart and went off, but
not without carrying a moral with me.
My whole day's occupation had been the
mispending of time. I had benefitted my
own species in no way whatever, and had
been spreading terror, dismay, and death,
far and near, amongst the innocent birds
of the air'; whilst the husbandman had
been plying his useful labour abroad, and
at home was promoting the cause of hu-
manity, and sowing the seeds of know-
ledge. Mine was a work of death ; his,
that of life. I was the destroyer; he the
receiver of the roofless and unprotected..
There was no manner of parallel. I
blushed for myself, and resolved to be, dur-
ing my future excursions, not a destroying
Nimrod, but a
HERMIT IN The Country.
L4





N° LXVIII.
A DANDY IN THE HIGHLANDS.
15


Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents by flood and field.
SHAKESPEARE.
" On donne bien souvent des divers noms aux choses,
“ Des épines pour moi, vous les nommez des roses.'
>


A DANDY IN THE HIGHLANDS.
I CANNOT better exemplify the truth of
the above lines, or more pointedly prove
that what is a pillow of thorns to one is a
bed of roses to another, than by copying li-
terally a letter of a young relation, a very
great Exquisite, from the Highlands, where
I had myself received so much pleasure ; --
where the beauties of Nature enchanted
my eyes, and the warmest hospitality still
has a claim upon my heart-where I met
with so much unaffected and genuine kind-
ness, that the land of blue. heather will ever
be dear to me, and the children of the
mountains will always have an additional
L 6


228
A DANDY IN THE HIGHLANDS.
title to my sympathy and regard. But I
must come to my Exquisite's letter.
" Dear UNCLE :
66 You advised me to make a tour to the
lakes, and be hanged to them. I wish that
I never had gone there. I had, further, the
folly (in imitation of your noble example)
to visit the Hebrides, where I am half-
starved, and where I have met with such a
catalogue of miseries as scarcely ever befel
human being. I am embargoed by the rain,
poisoned with vile cookery, and disgusted
with coarse habits; can't getso much as a lit-
tle chicken hazard toamuse me, nora pretty
milliner to kill time with-roads where no
curricle or tilbury can pass, and my horses
as lame as the devil. How I miss Long's
and the Clarendon, the Countess in the
Rules, and the little figurante ! There is
not such a thing as an intrigue in these
desolate regions. Ice is unknown but on
the tops of their cursed mountains ! Not a
pine-apple for love or money! No theatre !


A DANDY IN THE HIGILANDS.
229
no waltzing ! the girls don't understand
soft nonsense ! and no one knows how to
make Regent punch.
“The names of the places strangle you to
pronounce them! the female wretches of
servants go barelegged! Half the sans-cu-
lottes men don't speak English ; and those
who do are unintelligible! Besides, all
my clothes are torn, spoiled, and played the
devil with ; and I am laughed at wherever
I go. These fellows are three centuries be-
hind us in the St. James's and Bond Street
cut; and don't know what a Dandy is! My
servant is drunk from morning till night;
and I am dying of ennui. A pretty name of
a place I am going to to-morrow!-Acha
de Shenoch, and Ach na Craig ! Break-
neck Place would be better.
“ But to proceed with my misfortunes.
It rained so on my road, in my tilbury from
Glasgow to Loch Lomond, that I could not
see it; and I got so drunk at Mr. Mac—'s
house, that I saw double at the other lakes,
and had such a head-ache, that objects,


230
A DANDY IN THE HIGHLANDS.
whether by land or water, swam equally
before my eyes. Besides, I was so much
out of humour with all the world, that I
swore that every thing was frightful. I
embarked in a beastly cockboat from Oban,
and was almost drowned by the way. In
addition to losing my pearl ring, betwixt
the landing-place and your friend's house, I
lamed one of my horses in their perilous
and almost inaccessible tracks, which they
call roads, and was laughed at by a bare.
bottomed scoundrel, and called a molly and
a doll to boot. I lost my hat with the high
wind; and have been forced to wear my
travelling-cap ever since.
I dare say my
hat will be picked up and preserved as a
curiosity; for there is not another made by
Bicknell in the whole place.
"I was so wet on arriving, that I called
for either Curaçoa, Marasquina, er Noyau.
Not a drop to be had ! But my host almost
choked me with a confounded liquid which
he called Hottentosh, and which is a com-
pound offire and smoke--fire as to its infer-
a


A DANDY IN THE HIGHLANDS.
231
nal heat and strength, smoke as to its of-
fensive smell.
“I had scarcely recovered from the
agonies of this drug, when dinner was an-
nounced. Dinner at four o'clock !!! how
barbarous ! just about a man of fashion's
breakfast time ! Then we had no delicious
soup, no iced wines, no made dishes, no-
thing but the coarsest and most vulgar fare.
I sat behind a huge mountain of beef,
which made me imperceptible to the other
side of the table ! There was a ham too,
from which fids were cut as thick as a
schoolboy's bread and butter, instead of
being as thin as a wafer! Two pair of
fowls ! monstrous ! I thought to have fared
better with what they called venison ; but
I had nearly lost a couple of teeth in the
attempt, the vile animal being as tough as
a dead donkey, though they said it was a
wild roe (I wish Richard Roe was choked
with him) which our host shot with his rifle
a few days before. Then the lady of the
house proposed ale to me with my cheese!
زا


232
A DANDY IN THE HIGHLANDS.
a
and there was no other wine but vulgar
blackstrap and madeira, with a solitary
bottle of bad claret, out of compliment to
me. Indeed, no claret but Lafitte's is worth
a man's drinking.
“ After dinner, the barbarians drank
toasts! whilst some of the young folks went
into an adjacent room, and danced reels
like mad people. I proposed a round at
Faro, or even at quinze, but the cautious
Scotchmen would not touch a card. One
fellow sang a song in Gaelic, which was as
odious as incomprehensible to me, and
they forced me to continue hard drinking
until midnight. The next day they brought
an amazing turn-out of broiled fish and ho-
ney, and marmalade and eggs, with tea and
coffee, for breakfast ; but the vulgarity of
the scene, the rude health of the ladies, and
the more rustic unpolished appetites of the
men, quite sickened me. Some of the
party swallowed bumpers of the liquid fire
after breakfast. I took one cup of tea, with
some brandy in it, and eat about a quarter


A DANDY IN THE HIGHLANDS.
233
of an inch of their dry toast, which smelt of
turf smoke.
" I endeavoured to ascend some rugged
mountains after breakfast, in order to shoot
grouse ; but my stay-lace gave way, my
morocco boots burst, and my dowlas trow-
sers got wet through. I returned faint, and
almost breathless, when my over-kind in-
delicate host had the impudence to propose
a glass of this essence of smoke as a resto-
rative, and to put me into petticoats until
my trowsers were dried, holding out to me
a tartan worsted scrubbing kelt of his
grand-father's, which he told me, by way
of a recommendation, had been in four
battles. On the third day, we risked our
lives in a crazy, rickety boat, and were half
drowned in attempting to see lona, and
Staffa-two trumpery islands : the one a
ci-devant royal burial ground, the other not
worth observation. A pretty notion, to
bring a man to see ruins and tombs! as if
one could not get agreeable ruin enough in
London, or would go to see tombs, whilst


234
A DANDY IN THE HIGHLANDS,
66
а
any livelier amusement was to be found in
the world.
“ The bread fell short one day; and my
horses and myself were both fed on oats.
Moreover, I have had a fall in one of their
rugged roads, and have torn my tunic; so
that I should be obliged to wear an evening
frock (could I go out), which would be like
a cit or a tradesman. The beast of a
washerwoman too, has spoiled half a dozen
of my cravats. She does not know how to
starch them; and has torn off the strings
that tied them behind. The moment that
the weather clears up, I shall quit this pri.
son, where I am the laughing-stock of the
profanum vulgus ; but I heartily regret ever
having left Bond Street, or having turned
my face towards the Highlands, and parti-
cularly these savage isles, where I have
not seen a tree in a week.
“ P.S. Might I trouble you to tell my
man to get me a new Cumberland corset?
I am as lean as my greyhound. None of
my clothes will fit me, and had I not lived
a


A DANDY IN THE HIGHLANDS.
235
upon moor-fowl, madeira, and biscuit, I
should have been famished."
Thus ended this Exquisite's epistle. I
doubt not but that he was the laughing
stock of the island, as he must have exhi-
bited a striking contrast to the robust inha-
bitants. However, when I visited these
parts, I came away lustier than I went;
and had only to complain of too much hos-
pitality shewn to
THE HERMIT IN THE COUNTRY.





NLXIX.
THE HIGHLAND OUTLAW.


Hope no inore-in peace he sleepeth
All his pains and toils are o'er ;
'Tis thine eye alone that weepeth,
His is closed, to ope no more.
He hath gain'd that unknown river,
He hath found a hero's grave,
There his head, in peace for ever,
Rests beneath the dashing wave.
ANON.


THE HIGHLAND OUTLAW.
.
THERE cannot be a more distressing
sight to humanity, than a country distract-
ed and divided; brother armed against
brother, and neighbour fighting against
neighbour: yet have these three kingdoms,
at different periods, exhibited many such
melancholy scenes.
Nor is Ireland even yet free from those
bitter animosities and strifes, which rend
the bosoms of families, and disgrace the
felicitous soil to which nature has been so
bountiful, but which her unnatural chil-
dren are every day defiling by murder and


240
THE HIGHLAND OUTLAW.
rapine, in the name of religion and party
spirit.
There was an era, that of the struggle
of the Stuarts, when Scotland displayed
lamentable examples of domestic feud,
which depopulated the face of her land,
and stained her soil with the bravest blood
of the country (in truth, blood, than which
there is none braver in the world); but it
is consolatory to think with how little
slaughter, with how few crimes, public
executions, or private reverses, peace,
union, and amity were restored to the
country,-how undisturbed it has remain-
ed since, ' after a convulsive revolution :
whilst in the sister kingdom her sangui-
nary spirit of rebellion and stifled animosity
is unceasingly breaking out like an ill cured
wound, and for ever impeding the march
of science, arresting the hand of improve-
ment, and obscuring the rays of wisdom
faintly darting through the cloud of pre-
judice and error, which is ever impending
over the smiling fields, and bland climate


THE HIGHLANI) OUTLAW.
241
of Hibernia-a temperature so mild and
benignant, that we marvel when we see it
without influence on the inhabitants of the
soil.
But to return to Caledonia. The affairs
of the 15 and 45, and the migration which
followed defeat, whilst they thinned the
Scottish ranks, and deprived the mother-
country of many a hardy and valiant arm,
recruited foreign armies with expatriated
heroes, who perished in the hostile field
abroad, or dragged out a living death in
exile; while the remaining branches of
the family at home either obtained their
own by submission, or kept aloof in the
day and hour of trial, and joined the
strongest party at the close. This was not
common in the Highlands :--but it is
neither my province to quote painful dis-
tinctions, nor to discuss the expediency of
that spirit of peace and reconciliation
which might have won many a brave
heart and hand to the government cause,
instead of levying war upon their posses-
VOL. III.
M


242
THE HIGHLAND OUTLAW.
sions with fire and sword in their absence,
or punishing the poor remaining relatives
for the deeds of their forefathers and kins-
men.
Suffice it to say, that the house of Clan
was of this number. The head of the
clan had been out in the 45; the numerous
brothers had fought, bled, and died in the
Stuart cause; they had drained the last re-
sources of their coffers, anticipated the
produce of their fields, felled timber, and
encumbered their estates to a fearful ex-
tent. Their faithful clansmen had fol.
lowed them through the most perilous ad-
ventures, stemming, in vain, the purple
tide of war until they were mowed down
in their invincible ranks, and left nothing
behind them but a brave name, and a
faith entire and unbroken to the grave.
Many had fled from after persecutions,
from poverty and roofless homes, from the
sentence of the law, but, above all, from
the shame attached to it.
A younger brother's children, under the


THE HIGHLAND OUTLAW,
243
guidance of a prudent Lowland dame,
now became the possessors of the domain
and the representatives of the outlawed
house; and, as possession is sweet, and a
Scotch lawyer (such was the new laird
bred to be) is.generally sicker, he thought it
no sae discreet and advisable to remit sums
of money to the lawful heir, now an out-
law in the service of France.
But time rolled on, and feuds faded in
remembrance; royal mercy was extended
to a few of the exiled families; and the
death of prejudice brought others home to
lie down on their last pillow in their native
land, and to be gathered to their fore-
fathers. Peace and sweet hope smiling
once more upon the Highland hills, the
long absent Roderick, the rightful heir,
whom death and bullets seemed to have
shunned, returned to greet his native land
again, and to pour the fond tear of remem.
brance, or murmur the requiem over de-
parted bravery and worth. He had a
M 2


244
THE HIGHLAND OUTLAW.
a
pension from the French court, a decora-
tion, and high military rank.
The second brother, who had likewise
been exiled, and had become a colonel in
the French service, had married a foreign
lady, who dying prematurely, left him a small
fortune, on which he contrived to live with
dignity and economy in his native moun-
tains. To him every object was welcome,
save the usurpers of the lands of the fa.
mily; and as his faith, his politics, and his
habits were completely at variance with
theirs, there was no cementing the divided
members of the house, no building up a
new edifice of mutual adhesion and sup-
port. He treated the legal laird as a re-
negade and a plunderer, an apostate and
a time-server; whilst the latter considered
him as a rebel and an outlaw, a foreigner
and a papist.
On his return, he had found out an aged
cousin-german covered with wounds, who
had been allowed to wander about the
country almost a pauper, but who was now


THE HIGHLAND OUTLAW.
245
taken by him into his house, and shared
his property. The unnatural cruelty shown
towards this kinsman was a fresh source of
animosity; and it was a guerre à mort,
between the lawyer and the returned emi-
grant Colonel.
At length old Roderick fell in the fulness
of years, and a numerous assemblage of
relations prepared to attend him to the
grave. Even those who had denied him
during his life, now smote their breasts,
and passed the hard palm before their eyes,
filled with regretful and bitter tears, cry.
ing, “Wae's me! puir Rorie; he was as
brave's his braid-sword. Wha'd a thought
that he wad a gane sae soon!” Many who
had slighted him whilst living, now ho-
noured his cold clay, and fain would have
given half their estates to have saved his
life, or to have treated him more kindly
during the period thereof. Many who
had avoided him when living, were now
ambitious of the honour of being nearest
him in the sad train of sepulchral homage
M 3


246
THE HIGHLAND OUTLAW.
and respect. Cousins flocked from all
quarters, undeterred by distance, bad wea-
ther, or bad roads ; so that he had an im-
mense population in the centre of a barren
land to pay him the last tribute of affection
and regret, to laud his merit, and to join
their condolence with a host more of
neighbours and friends.
Nor was the legal laird insensible to this
just tribute. It cheered his soul; it mingled
in the same tear, pride, honour, and bro-
therly love. The broken remnants of the
clan gathered together. The banner of
their house, which had long hung like the
suspended fame of their ancestry, and the
pipe, which slept in mournful repose, now
moved each kinsman's breast, and spoke
a history of woe to an assemblage melted
and inspired beyond all expression.
The Colonel felt as if old Roderick were
not yet dead--as if his spirit breathed in
every heart. Looking his last on him,-
“There, kinsman,” said he, “there is a
brave fellow," putting a white cockade


国家​,
THE HIGHLAND OUTLAW.
247
and :
Die
and his broad sword on his coffin. He
was almost smothered with grief, and
looking what he could not speak, he
scowled sternly around him, and broke out
in a convulsive shriek-" There !" then he
bent his brows as in defiance on the circle.
“ There !" as much as to say—“Ye ken
what he has dune--how he has fought,
bled, and suffered, and how unconquer-
able he was in courage and in opinion to
the last.” “ There !” he exclaimed, again;
and he kissed the hilt of the claymore,
adding, “it shall be buried wi' him; nane
'
else is worthy o't!" An expression of
soul-lacerating lamentation sprung simul-
taneously from all around; whilst the
women wrung their hands, and the piper
played a Highland lament, which the clans-
'men accompanied vocally.
Hanging back in the crowd, grave, hum-
ble, and pensive, anxious, yet fearful, peni-
tent, yet too proud to bend, stood George,
the then laird, and the first who bore such
DIG
, DET
adogo
mex
ck
thedi
hin."
Te B1
chat
M 4


248
THE HIGHLAND OUTLAW.
a Christian name in the family. He dared
not to meet the fiery eye and shaggy over-
hung grey eyebrows of the Colonel ; yet
he dared not for his life, and for his ho.
nour, be absent from the family proces-
sion and ceremony. He hoped to pass un-
observed by his enemy, and to mingle his
salt tears in silence; for the drop of High-
land blood was too strong for all the rest
of his composition, and he felt keenly on
the occasion.
The body was about to move forward-
the trembling hands of his kinsinen were
about to raise him—when the Colonel's
eye caught the retiring form of him,
against whom he had so long harboured
vengeance. - The monient was dreadful.
The spirit of George sunk within hin.
In the conflict of his breast, he wept-he
turned aside---at length, he cried in a fal-
tering tone, “ Kinsman, I ken that I am
an intruder-I'm no welcome, I dinna de-
serve to be so--but I could na let the ho-


THE HIGHLAND OUTLAW.
249
-
a
nest man gang to's last hame without this
last tribute.” –“George,” replied the
”
Colonel, in an angry attitude, but in a
subdued tone,
I did na expec to hae seen
you here; I was na prepared for't; but
death maun unite us a' at last; this is nae
place for resentments; they gang na ayont
the grave;-look upon yon brave chield;
he was as fierce as the lion, yet as tender-
hearted's the lamb; we bury a' resent-
ment wi' him, for I carena a snuff for mye
sel; and when men shed tears for the
same object, their hearts canna be verra far
apart; you're heartily welcome to the
land, man; and since I hae nae heir's o'
my ain, it's no worth the speaking about,
I wish there were mair o't;—but thae in-
cendiary deevils,"--here he checked the
rising remembrance. " Thae emblems o'
mortality,” resumed he, “sud mak's for-
,
get a' that; shake hands, lad, o'er poor
Rorie's coffin ; and I only wish that he
could look up and see't."
>
C
M 5


250
THE HIGHLAND OUTLAW,
Drowned in a torrent of tears, the whole
procession moved forward ; and the family
;
feud was buried with the faithful and
gallant Roderick.
THE HERMIT IN THE COUNTRY.


Nº LXX.
HIGHLAND FRIENDSHIP.
M 6


And wild and high the “ Cameron's gathering" rose
The war-note of Lochiel, which Abyn's hills
Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes:-
How in the noon of night that pibrock thrills,
Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills
Their mountain pipe, so fill the mountaineers
With the fierce native daring which instils
The stirring memory of a thousand years,
And Evan’s, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears!
LORD BYRON,
1
I
1
1
1


HIGHLAND FRIENDSHIP.
The war, which often thins the popula-
tion of the mountains, called M‘Alpin and
M'Yver into the Highland ranks. The lat-
ter was more advanced in years than the
former, but they were both neighbouring
mountaineers.
M'Yver had at a very early age enlisted
in a national corps, from the pure spirit of
martial enterprize. Whenever he heard
the clan-gathering strike up, his heart
burned in his bosom. The undulating and
swelling notes of the ar-pipe carried
with them his very soul and affections,
As the wild harmony of this martial in-


254
HIGHLAND FRIENDSHIP.
strument ascended to its highest pitch, bis
courage and his enterprize accompanied
it; and when it reached to what may be
called the phrenzy of daring, the flame of
patriotism and of glory was uncontrollable
within him. In its plaintive and descend-
ing notes, in its modulations of sofitness, or
rather of wild mountain melancholy, the
tear of sensibility would cheat his hardi-
hood, and burst from his iron frame. In
short, M'Yver was an enthusiast in his
country's cause, so that the first recruit-
ing party which displayed the nodding
plumage and the Gaelic costume, with
all the pomp and circumstance of war,
took his brave heart and hand with
them.
Returned in laurelled pride, and well
deserving of his country, weather-beaten,
and bearing honourable scars, he was sent
on the recruiting service to his native glen,
where MʻAlpin, in the flower of youth
and comelin ess, enlisted under the na-
tional banner. There was a great diffe-


HIGHLAND FRIENDSHIP.
255
rence between these two brothers in
arms; but there was sympathy in their
hearts. Leurs cours étaient d'intelligence.
Although a very opposite exterior and
manner belonged to each, honour and pa-
triotism, firmness and friendship, were en-
graven indelibly in both their bosoms.
M'Yver took a pride in being a father
to M‘Alpin, who in return looked up to
him as his pattern and his support. A
fraternal mutuality of services—a reci-
procal share in dangers and in comforts,
existed betwixt them. They had but one
heart, one mind, one purse. But their
motives for enlisting were very different;
the one was induced by domestic unhap-
piness, the other by the thirst for glory.
Their deportment was figurative of their
minds. M'Yver's was stern and hardy;
M‘Alpin's was brave, mild, and melan-
choly. There was a secret sorrow in
his heart, which preyed upon him in
his lone hours, and which alone, of all
the transactions of his life, he had not


256
HIGHLAND FRIENDSHIP.
1
confided to his comrade and brother in
arms. M'Yver often marvelled at the de-
jected air of his companion, when the
occupations and dangers of the service did
not occupy his whole mind and attention.
He tried to probe the wound: but finding
the operation as fruitless as painful, he
desisted.
At length M-Alpin was wounded at the
affair of — by his faithful friend's side.
He was borne to the rear; and when the
fight was done, his comrade assisted the
bleeding soldier. The ball could not be
extracted, and every moment increased
his danger. M'Yver was furious; he ut-
tered execrations on the hand which had
bereft him of a son and brother of adop-
tion; he struck his broadsword on the
ground, and wished it had been himself!
He smothered, however, the tide of nature
swelling in his bosom, for life was ebbing
fast in that of his dear companion.
MʻAlpin beckoned him to him, and
laying his hand upon his heart, said,


HIGHLAND FRIENDSHIP.
257
66
9
VIL
66
<C
comrade, a's no right there.” MʻYver
looked rage, tenderness, wildness and
despair; he bent over his beloved brother
in arms, and listened with reverential
awe.--" MʻYver," resumed the youth
with a sigh, whilst respiration got thicker
every moment, “there's a puir Jassie !"
Here tears interrupted him, M'Yver's
answered them." Puir Maggie !"- ” -
Speak,” cried M'Yver, terrified and
interested at the same time." I wis I
had made her mine.”—He grew fainter.
66 I ought to ha' married the lassie.”
--The struggle was overpowering.--" I
fear that the world will look down upon
her.”
M'Yver was distracted, but laying his
brawny hand upon M‘Alpin's heart, as if
to arrest vitality by force, he said, in a
subdued tone, but with a decision which
marked every line of his character, “I'll
marry her mysel !"-" They'll look down
upon her"-repeated the youth faintly.--
“ I should like to see the man!” cried the
ed to
por ti
12 %
h hat
acope
the
sel
ature
ubing
and
salt


258
HIGHLAND FRIENDSHIP,
in his ear,
weather-beaten warrior with an air of
defiance,“ wha'd dare to look down upon
M‘Alpin's widow, and M'Yver's wife!”
The youth now looked up; speech was
gone; but that look spoke more than vo-
lumes.
Will
you,
brother ?” was the last look ;
whilst M'Yver, now on his knees, his hand
upon his comrade's heart, and his bosom
supporting his reclining head, murmured
“ dear Alpin, I'll marry her
mysel.”
The ensuing day M'Yver tasted not of
food; an engagement followed the next,
when he dealt his blows like one infuriated.
Love, country, and revenge rang in each
stroke, He survived to perform the pro-
mise made to his expiring companion.
Honorably has he acted towards the part-
ner whom he has espoused; and the peace
of the neighbourhood and of his roof have
been undisturbed ever since.
There are shades of irregularity in this
faithful picture, which we neither wish to


HIGHLAND FRIENDSHIP.
259
defend nor to explain; but the general out-
line bears the impression of wild honour,
of matchless friendship, and of true Cale-
donian sensibility, the value of which is
well known to
THE HERMIT IN THE COUNTRY.


.
1


N° LXXI.
A HIGHLAND REGIMENT'S
RETURN.


When wild war's deadly blast was blown
And gentle peace returning,
And eyes wi' pleasure 'gan to beam
Which had been blear'd wi' mourning.
BURNS.
---


A HIGHLAND REGIMENT'S
RETURN.
AMONGST the few genuine pleasures of
the heart which I have enjoyed, I reckon
that of having witnessed the return of a
regiment to its native land at the last
peace. The scene lay in the North, and
Highland Donald was again the hero of
the piece.
Early in the morning a great propor-
tion of the population of the place left
their homes to meet the battalion coming
into town. The characters of parents,
brothers and sisters, wives and children,
were easily discernible, by an observing
eye. You might read in the lines of some


264 A HIGHLAND REGIMENT'S RETURN.
countenances exulting certainty of em-
bracing the object of their affection; they
had received letters to announce the happy
tidings, which the learned had perused
themselves, and the unlearned had got
communicated to them by their reading
proxy, the minister and schuil-maister. In
other faces sat the changeful evidence of
hopes and fears, the colour forsaking the
cheek; and the downcast eye bespoke, in
some, deep anxiety and fearful foreboding,
where
1
“ Hope feebly glinimer'd on the heart's despair.”
$
i
The tender wife or aged parent had not
heard from their best beloved for years,
and the chances were sadly against them;
the sickle of Time, the ensanguined blade
of war, and the cannon's jaws of flame,
were severe trials to encounter.
The distant drum now raised every pulse,
and quickened every step ; and now the
merry pipe gave deeper interest : the
colours at last met the inquiring eye, and
!


A HIGHLAND REGIMENT'S RETURN.
265
caused the patriot's heart to leap in its
expanding bosom. The broken veteran,
the neglected pensioner, now erected their
fallen crests, and marched in unison with
the advancing band. They had a Donald,
or an Alister to look out for in the ranks,
and, may be, he might have advanced to
the halberd. Then again the proud glance
of a faithful wife, cast on her bairns on
either side, informed you that they had
grown and thriven in their father's ab-
sence. The receding and returning crim-
son of the cheek also told the story of the
heart; the mind was at its utmost extent
of expectation on account of Jemmie's
return, and each might say, in the sweet
simplicity of nature,
“ I'm aʼmaist dizzy with the thought,
" And troth I'm like to greet.”
What anticipation of pleasure to some !
what realized misery awaited others ! The
word of command -" Halt"-electrified
myself, for I foresaw that tears and smiles
VOL. III.
.
N


266
A HIGHLAND REGIMENT'S RETURN.
were both preparing. Nor was I wrong-
many a blank was found in life's brief
page; many an altered look marked the
returning wretched one! But let us not
dwell on this; many a kind regret, too,
might be observed, accompanied by a
shake of the head, when a wife, or a pa-
rent had to say, “ Eigh! eigh! man,
you're sadly changed: that sad wound, or
that cruel fever, has pulled ye doon sairly.”
Now were the men dismissed, and some
paired off with happy relatives, others
sought their billets and lost connexions,
when two circumstances attracted my at-
tention forcibly : the one was a war-worn
subaltern embracing an old man who ap-
peared like a peasant, or a shepherd, and
who looked a world of admiration on the
former, who in return held the old man's
hand clenched in his, and on seeing the
field officer commanding direct his eye to-
wards him, observed with a mixt expres-
sion of humility and love, “Colonel, this
is my worth-y parent,” thus dividing the


A HIGHLAND REGIMENT'S RETURN.
267
word and dwelling on a father's worth. I
do not know that ever so short a phrase
took so strong a hold of my affection and
approbation before. The thing was clear :
bravery had elevated the officer from the
ranks, and truth and honour forbade him
to blush on the lowliness of the author of
his existence.
The other instance was the answer of a
sober-looking subaltern,. of about forty,
who, upon being bantered by a young
captain for not wearing a gayer counte-
nance on his return home, replied, in a
very broad Scotch dialect, “Faith, it's an
anxious and fearful thing to return home
after twenty years' absence: one knows
not what changes have taken place since.
Many a bonnie lassie must be grown old
since then, and many a good fellow must
be no more. I am almost afraid to knock
at any of my old acquaintances' doors;
and as for family (here he looked dejected),
I have scarcely a blood relation in the
world; my father died of a broken consti-
N 2


268 A HIGHLAND REGIMENT'S RETURN.
tution, brought on by the climate of the
West-Indies, my three brothers were kill-
ed in different engagements, and that
broke mother's heart.”-Here the young
captain changed the expression of his
countenance, and shook the hand of his
brother in arms, with—“ hang it, Chairlie,
,
don't be down-hearted, but come and take
an extra bottle at the mess.". Here Chair-
lie gave a whistle, “That may do for you,
laddie, weel enugh, but I bid to inquire
after some folk first;" so saying he paced
off
1
,
“ Solo e pensoso."
I now quitted the ground on which the
battalion had stood ; full of a sense of the
high deserts of men who like these devote
their lives to the service of their King and
country, and who not only are foremost
in danger in the battle's heat, but have to
sacrifice their dearest and tenderest in-
terests and feelings on so many occasions ;
to sever themselves from ties which wind


A HIGHLAND REGIMENT'S RETURN. 269
closely round the heart, and to bear up
against soul-rending sympathies; and who,
full often, alas ! must silence the call of
nature, in order to obey that of stern, im.
perious honour. It grieves me, therefore,
most exquisitely, when I see the image of
patience and long-suffering in the person
of a hoary-headed warrior, and learn, on
asking his name, that he is Lieutenant So-
and-so of his Majesty's Regiment, a cadet
de famille-unable to purchase, but the
eagle of a brave nest, soaring above in-
glorious safety, and unwilling to be inva-
lided, and to retire thus from the service.
But all life is a lottery, nor are the blanks
reserved for the disappointed soldier only-
they have even fallen to, and have been
borne in tranquillity, by
THE HERMIT IN THE COUNTRY.
THE END.


LONDON:
FRINTED EY cox AND BAYLIS, GREAT QUEEN STREET.
English











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