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The text rAvi.o^ SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 2 vols. THE PROVOST AND THE lAsT OP THE I-AIRDS. 2vol». ™^ THE ENTAIL. 2 vols. ROBERTS BROTHERS. Boston. of J T 11 1 Walter signed tlic died. ■-S '/• ,T(>hn Gall. Edited hrP-^iorrar Meldruvi TiIE EjS THE LAIRDS O F (>-t£ii WlXn IN TRODrCTION By S. U. CROCKETT ILLVSTRATlOyS BY JOHN \7ALLACE VOLUME I BOSTON ROBERTS BROTHERS 1 896 TVorks of Jc THE /O Works of John Gait. Edited bt/ ^Storrar Meldrum -M THE EN^ OR THE LAIRDS OF "WITH INTRODUCTION By S. R. CROCKETT ILLUSTRATIONS BT JOHN WALLACE VOLUME I BOSTON ROBERTS BROTHERS 1896 ILLUJ " Walter " Falling HANE ILLUSTRATIONS TO VOLUME I " Walter signed the deed " . . Frontispiece "Falling on his knees, clasped his HANDS together" . . toface page 21S u INTRODUCTION IN The most my acquaini neither does there is a coi subjects. "V that concern disputation, argument's s I do not ho ing because prove to h( herself on b And I dc For on the partake of i other she ci current wor Gait as blu blonde expc INTRODUCTION JLHE most entirely charming young lady of my acquaintance does not like cream. But neither does she appreciate John Gait. Hence there is a controversy between us on both these subjects. We are, indeed, both well aware that concerning tastes there can be no serious disputation. But for all that we dispute for argument's sake, and for the love of speech. I do not hold my friend one whit less charm- ing because of her mislikings. But I try to prove to her how much delight she denies herself on both counts. And I do not despair of ultimate victory. For on the one hand she can now endure to partake of the milk of commerce, and on the other she can read with appreciation certain current works of fiction, which are to John Gait as blue skimmed milk is to the intact blonde expanse which spreads from side to X INTRODUCTION side of the milk bvne after a niirht on the cool dairy floor. Which thing is more than a parable. For, as all men know, there be those who vaunt their inability to i*ead John Gait as if it were a moral virtue — or perhaps, more exactly, as if it were a peculiarly atti active and picturesque crime, like Mr Bret Harte's highway robbery, or barratry as described by Mr Stevenson. But I would plead with such to be humble. They may not be able to help their infirmity. They may be unable to appreciate " Sweet William with his homely cottage smell,*" but after ail it is somewhat short-sighted to pique oneself upon the failing. It is, indeed, permissible to say — "This is no my ain lassie, Fair though the lassie be," but even so much should be said regretfully and not aggressively. For whoever may like or mislike, praise or dispraise, there is really no more question concerning the charm of John Gait, than there is as to the reality of the pleasure which generations of humble folk have derived from the wallflower, the stocks, ! -I the Londod cottage gai honestly t more than and spottej After all, which ther< envy Judal Ephraim. But why when my ti in some re works of J that in Grippyr t his peculis parent thj Scottish b excuse of i done, the chronicle, roads whi ance. I colour of change — (( >n the f I INTRODUCTION xi the I^ondon pride, the Sweet AVilliam of their cottage gardens. Nor is it really criniiiial honestly to protest one's love for these, more than for all the strange wizard shapes and sj)otted mimicries of the orchid house. After all, the earth is a wide glad place, in which there is no need that Ephraini should envy Judah, nor yet that Judah should vex Ephraim. But why (it is queried) have I begun thus, when my task is to introduce the longest, and in some respects the most important, of the works of John Gait ? Perhaps because I feel that in " The Entail, or The Lairds of Grippy,"" the faults of Gait, his limitations, his peculiarities, are more insistent and ap- parent than in any of his other important Scottish books. Yet this is by no means the excuse of accusation. For when all is said and done, the " Lairds of Grippy '" is a delightful chronicle, as wayward and wimplesome as the roads which led towards that kindly inherit- * ance. I love to journey to Grippy when "the colour of the trees and hedges is beginning to change — while here and there a tuft of yellow xu INTRODUCTION leaves, and occasionally the hemes of the mountain - ash hke clusters of fiery eiiihers with the sheaves of corn and reapers in the neighhouring fields, show that sunnner is en- tirely past and the liarvest time hefnin " That is just how it is with "The Lairds of Grippy/' It is the note-book of a man who has begun to descend the autunmal slope of life. The lovemaking is that of one who dons no more the "coortin' coat/' whose own wooing days are already far behind him, but yet one who, for all that, looks not unkindly nor wholly without sympathy upon the wooing of others. In " The Entail '' it is plain that the author^s point of view as to matrimony, in spite of sundry flourishes which mislead nobody, is bounded by the accomplishment of a snu down-sitting and the attainment of a shrewd competence. A crisp and nippy air blows blusterously through the book. But in spite of this, the kindly Scottish heart of Gait, warm like Ayrshire sunshine, keeps his reader content to do without very much sentiment of the ordinary type. I wish, however, Gait had kept to his first rr ! thoughc and tions simply of trying to a string whei sketches. H the fine " An l)y the nan Teinds.^^ Bi and " Destinii tricities,'' lea formations " with which tl the mistaken and overlaid . For the t really and c( is not a nove both a good to keep trac marriages of Grippy and 1 of Gait th. continually their unnum (on which, ii of the libbers, ill the is en- J'cls of lo has f life, ns no ooincr t one hoUj thers. thor's te of }'» is snuir rewcl •lows >pite rait, icier lent irst ■I i I INTRODUCTION xiii thoughc and called t!:is history of three genera- tions simply " The Lairds of Grippy,"" instead of trying to find, in the idea of the " Entail,'*'' a string whereon to hang the whole series of sketches. He might as well have denominated the fine "Annals of the Parish of Dalmailing'*'* by the name of "The Glebe" or "The Teinds.'''' But it was a time of " Marriages " and " Destinies," of " Precautions " and " Eccen- tricities," leading in due time to the "Trans- formations'" and other hideous intitulations, with which the perverted taste of the public or the mistaken zeal of publishers have deformed and overlaid the genius of story-tellers. For the title "The Lairds of Grippy" is really and completely descriptive. The book is not a novel of the unities, though it requires both a good memory and a genealogical mind' to keep track of all the branches and inter- marriages of the members of the families of Grippy and Kittlestonheugh. But to the lover of Gait their plots and counterplots, their continually recurring " guid-gangin'' pleas,'" their unnumbered quarrels and reconciliations (on which, it is curious to recall, Gait specially XIV INTRODUCTION prided himself as showing the "giant reach of his imagination''), do not really matter to the comfortably minded reader so much as or" single kailrunt out of the gardens of Grippy. The story, such as it is, concerns the liti- gious annals of a hard-gi*ained generation. Ilieir wars and stratagems bring out in all of them a ce^'tain family mother-wit and close- fisted shrewdness. But with a single exception they are all led by the nose by the gi'eed of possession and by the hunger for wider march- dykes. The most real pleasure in the reading of the " Entail *" consists (at least for me) in watch- ing the development of the character of the admirable Leddy Grippy, and the gradual gathering of the interest about her, as the story drifts on from the misfortunes of one generation to those of another. Perhaps, as in reading the "Faery Queen,*" the wisest plan is wholly to abandon oneself to the sensations of the moment, and thus to enjoy the acquaint- ance of the many delightful characters who enter every minute, as op a stage, make their bow, and retire. In this way we are not too much concerned with the mazy ploli and schemes, the which too nj cumbered, in the " Faer What, for Cornelius Lu) the elders in| his wife hers( tence, indeed, ceming mine woman, who keep her huj and sobriety. Mr Cornel reputable a I tant day whe be seen "ch sound o' the headed beast come o' evei This wort shaw, the fi spiritual agi home "grea of Mr Wa VOL. I. it reach atter to 1 as OP" 'ippy. he liti- eration. : in all rl close- ception reed of march- ding of watch- of the radual as the )f one , as in ; plan ations laint- who their too and INTRODUCTION X7 schemes, the legal quirks and Si^ratagcms, with which too many pages of the " Entail '' are cuiiihered. As Ilazlitt said of the allegory ill the " Faery Queen," the })lot won't hite us. What, for instance, can he finer than iVIr Cornelius Luke, tailor in Glasgow, and one of the elders in the Tron Kirk ? — iniless it be his wife herself, who csily speaks a single sen- tence, indeed, but who lives for ever in the dis- cerning mind as a clear-headed clip-tongued woman, who has doubtless done nuich to keep her husband in the paths of wisdom and sobriety. Mr Cornelius, as becomes an elder of so reputable a kirk, has a vision of the not dis- tant day when the ministers of Glasgow will he seen "chambering and wantoning to the sound o"* the kist o"* whistles, wi** the seven- headed beast routing its choruses to the ower- come o' every spring.'" This worthy elder finds that Mr Walkin- shaw, the fii*st Laird of Gnppy, is in strict spiritual agreement with him. So he returns home " greatly edified by the godly salutations of Mr Walkinshaw's spirit — wherein," as he I VOL. I. b xvi INTRODUCTION says, "there is a kythiiiijj of fruit meet for repentance ; a foretaste of thin*:^ that })er- tain not to this Hfe ; a receiviii pictures of <\ and for its dialogue. I am not to grief or much from he will expe tent with t\ when he coi and the enc woman the the too prac a yird taid latter xj)l()its nakinn- "draw jT the ndcod, luietly h the lod^'- Idren, I and i lier- hae this ands oard, ;eous la I -nor ends irds the len) INTRODUCTION xix (lechire that he was (]uite sure that tlie name of the Ix'ddy (Jrippy must be on his visiting list somewhere, if lie could only find it. I do not say that "The Lairds of (iri})py" is, in sti'ucture and sequence, one of Oalfs very best books. Nevertheless it is rich throughout in all the elements of character-sketching, done so featly and delicately that the achievement seems the most easy and natural thing in the world. The book is throughout one of his most characteristic and copious, and certiiinly well deserves to be carefully read, both for its pictures of citizen life during the last century, and for its abounding garniture of humorous dialogue. I am not afraid that any one will come to grief or disappointment by expecting too much from this book of John Galfs, if only he will expect the right qualities, and be con- tent with them when he finds them. So that, when he comes to the end of the last volume, and the end too of tlmt worthy and capable woman the Leddy Grippy, he will not, with the too practical Beenie, stand '■'simpering like a yird taid "" for a silver teapot whji^b cannot XX INTRODUCTION be his, but rather very sympathetically drop a tear for a friend departed not unworthily to her rest — as the well-conducted papers of the period with some originality remarked, "to the great regret of all surviving friends." S. R. Crockett. ly drop •thiJj to 5 of the ^d, "to s. KETT. THE ENTAIL TE Claud w viving male stonheugh. the line, del allured so ma: their fortune his only son, ships fitted c adventure in the whole val our intention very circumsi hiird's family dient brevity childhood. I his father sa broken hearl with many o disease and VOL. I. THE ENTAIL CHAPTEK I Claud WALKINSHAW was the sole sur- viving male heir of the Walkinshaws of Kittle- stonheugh. His grandfather, the last laird of the line, deluded by the golden virions that allured so many of the Scottish ;^rentry to embark their fortunes in the Darien Expedition, sent his only son, the father of Claud, in one of the ships fitted out at Cartsdyke, and with him an adventure in which he had staked more than the whole value of his estate. But, as it is not our intention to fatigue the reader with any very circumstantial account of the state of the laird's family, we shall pass over with all expe- dient brevity the domestic history of (laud's childhood. He was scarcely a year old when his father sailed ; and his mother died (;f a broken heart, on heann:>- that her liusband, with many of his companions, had perished of disease and famine among the swamps of the VOL. I. A 2 THE ENTAIL Mosquito shore. The Kittlestonheugh estate was soon after sold, and the hiird, with Claud, retired into Glasgow, where he rented the upper part of a back house in Aird's Close, in the Dry gate. The only servant whom, in this altered state, he could afford to retain, or rather the only one that he could not get rid of, owing to her age and infirmities, was Maudge Dobbie, who in her youth was bairnswoman to his son. She had been upwards of forty years in the servitude of his house ; and the situation she had filled to the father of Claud did not tend to diminish the kindliness with which she re- garded the child, especially when, by the ruin of her master, there was none but herself to attend him. The charms of Maudge, even in her vernal years, had been confined to her warm and affec- tionate feelings ; and at this period she was twisted east and west, and hither and yont, and Time, in the shape of old age, hung so embrac- ingly round her neck that his weight had bent her into a hoop. Yet, thus deformed and aged, she was not without qualities that might have endeared her to a more generous boy. Her father had been schoolmaster in the village of Kittleston ; and under his tuition, before she was sent, as the phrase then was, to seek her bread in the world, she had acquired a few of the elements of learning beyond those which, in that period, fell to the common lot of female n domestics ; a to teach the| even to sup .irithmetic, p cation table. (Toblin lore a which had g for adventure ill-fated expe so congenial of the son, \ Whittington Sir William you ever seen sensible than ; ditty, the Flo) ■ the Babes in wearisome tht ^ The solitar settled in hii I retreat when \ his appearanc ; been bustling t. I from the first . the ruin of 1 I sedentary, am \ and retired fr s \ times he sat and without e 1 of his jrrandsc I the child, ai THE ENTAIL 3 'I domestics ; and she was thus enabled, not only to teach the orphan reading and writing, but even to supply him with some knowledge of arithmetic, particularly addition and the multipli- cation table. She also possessed a rich stock of iroblin lore and romantic stories, the recital of which had given the father of Claud the taste for adventure that induced him to embark in the ill-fated expedition. These, however, were not so congenial to the less sanguine temperament of the son, who early preferred the history of Whittington and his Cat to the achievements of Sir William Wallace : Tak your auld cloak about you ever seemed to him a thousand times more sensible than Chevy Chase. As for that doleful ditty, the Flowers of the Forest, it was worse than the Babes in the Wood, and Gil Morrice more wearisome than Death and the Lady. The solitary old laird had not been long settled in his sequestered and humble town- retreat when a change becamf visible in both his appearance and manners. Formerly he had been bustling, vigorous, hearty, and social ; but from the first account of the death of his son and the ruin of his fortune, he grew thoughtful and sedentary, and shunned the approach of strangers and retired from the visits of hts friends. Some- times he sat for whole days without speaking, and without even noticing tlie kitten-like gambols of his grandson ; at others he would fondle over the child, and caress him wiLli more than a THE ENTAIL grandfather's affection ; ai;ain, he would peevishly brush the boy away as he clasped his knees, and hurry out of the house with short and agitated steps. His respectable portliness disap- peared, his clothes began to hang loosely upon him, his colour fled, his face withered, and his legs wasted into meagre shanks. Before the end of the first twelve months he was either unwilling or unable to move unassisted from the old arm-chair, in which he sat from morning to night, with his grey head drooping over his breast ; and one evening, when Maudge went to assist him to undress, she found he had been for some time dead. After the funeral Maudge removed with the penniless orphan to a garret-room in the Salt- market, where she endeavoured to earn for him and herself the humble aliment of meal and salt by working stockings, her infirmities and figure I having disqualified her from the more profitable 1 industry of the spinning-wheel. In this condi- tion she remained for some time, pinched with poverty, but still patient with her lot, and pre- serving a neat and decent exterior. It was only in the calm of the summer Sabbath evenings that she indulged in the luxury of a view of the country ; and her usual walk on those occasions, with Claud in her hand, was along the brow of Whitehill, which perhaps she preferred because it afforded her a distant view of the scenes of her happier days ; and while she pointed out to Claud she exhortej (Icavour to new possess( tion with soi grandeur of One after| Provost Gorl ance. The circumstance lady to choo they had Ion stately, corp terial conseq Mrs Gorb yellow broca flowers, the exuberance richness of dress of cat, blue satin w in the gorj; ladies of tii abler limnei The appe his dignity; garniture o even had h dignity, tb determining with at lei peevishly is knees, liort and 3SS disap- ely upon red, and Before he was nassibted »at from irooping Maudge he had i^ith the le Salt- for him ind salt i figure •ofitable 3 condi- id with id pre- •abbath ' a view I those ng the ^ferred yf the ointed THE ENTAIL 5 out to Claud tne hills and lands of his forefathers, she exhorted him to make it his constant en- deavour to redeem them, if possible, from their new possessors, regularly concluding her admoni- tion with some sketch or portrait of the hereditary grandeur of his ancestors. One afternoon, while she was thus engaged. Provost Gorbals and his wife made their appear- ance. The provost was a man in flourishing circumstances, and he was then walking with his lady to choose a site for a country-house which they had long talked of building. They were a stately, corpulent couple, well befitting the magis- terial consequence of the husband. Mrs Gorbals was arrayed in a stiff and costly yellow brocade, magnificently embroidered with flowers, the least of which was peony ; but the exuberance of her ruflle cufls and flounces, the richness of her lace apron, with the vast head- dress of catgut and millinery, together with her blue satin mantle, trimmed with ermine, are items in the gorgeous paraphernalia of the Glasgow ladies of tiiat time to which the pencil of some abler limner can alone do justice. The appearance of the provost himself became his dignity, and corresponded with the affluent garniture of his lady : it was indeed such that, even had he not worn the golden chains of his dignity, there would have been no difficulty in determining him to be some personage dressed with at least a little brief authority. Over the 6 THE ENTAIL magisterial vestmento of black velvet lie wore a new scarlet cloak, although tlie day had been one of the sultriest in July ; and, with a lofty, conse- quential air and an ample dis])lay of the cor- poreal atMjuisition whch he had made at his own and other well-furnished tables, he moved along, swinging at every step his tall golden-headed cane with the solemnity of a mandarin. Claud was filled with wonder and awe at the sight of such splendid examples of Glasgow pomp and prosperity ; but Maudge speedily rebuked his juvenile admiration. " They're no worth the looking at," said she ; " had ye but seen the last Leddy Kittlestonheugh, your ain muckle-respeckit grandmother, and her twa sisters, in their hench-hoops, with their fans in their ban's (the three in a row would hae soopit the whole breadth o' the Trongate), ye would hae seen something. They were nane o' your new-made leddies, but come o' a pedigree. Foul would hae been the gait and drooking^ the shower that would hae gart them jook their heads ^ intil the door o' ony sic thing as a Glasgow bailie. Na, Claudie, my lamb : thou maun lift thy een aboon the trash o' the town, and aye keep mind that the hills are standing yet that might hae been thy ain ; and so may they yet be, an thou can but master the pride o' back and ^ Drooking. Drenching. " Gart tucnijnok their heads. Caused them to jook or bend their heads. Scotch lintels were low. belly, and s| the bravery I yon Provost' ■ pride's yon' cj y tlie morn t( : n' gane to ]| the divors ^ ruptcy." :A THE ENTAIL 7 belly, and seek for something mair solid than the bravery o' sic a Solomon in all his glory as von Provost Gorbals. Hech, sirs, what a kyteful o' pride's yon'er ! And yet I would be nane surprised the morn to hear that the Nebuchadnezzar was a' gane to pigs and whistles, and driven out w^i' the divors ^ bill to the barren pastures of bank- ruptcy." 1 Divors. Bankrupt. CHAPTER II -tLFTER taking a stroll round the brow of the hill, Provost Gorbals and his lady approached the spot where Maudge and Claud were sitting. As they drew near, the old woman rose, for she re- cognised in Mrs Gorbals one of the former visitors at Kittlestonheugh. The figure of Maudge her- self was so remarkable that, seen once, it was seldom forgotten, and the worthy lady, almost at the same instant, said to the provost — " Eh ! Megsty, gudeman, if I dinna think yon's auld Kittlestonheugh's crookit bairnswoman. I won'er what's come o' the laird, poor bodie, sin' he was rookit by the Darien. Eh ! What an alteration it was to Mrs Walkinshaw, his gude- dochter. She was a bonnie bodie ; but frae the time o' the sore news she croynt awa,^ and her life gaed out like the snuff o' a can'le. Hey, Magdalene Dobbie, come hither to me ; I'm wanting to speak to thee ! " Maudge, at this shrill, obstreperous summons, leading Claud by the hand, went forward to the lady, who immediately said — ^ Croynt awa. Crynit in : shrivelled up. <' 1st t'ou what's come Maudge r^ in her eye, i| '< Dead ! " extraordinarj end. ^Vhar "We werj comforted n lady, " to c( a decay o' nl that was alul died in a si this helpless! The provi still looking] tended man and putting " An' is tl it's a vera p passion on a saxpence. " Saxpen lady ; " ye to the lik bound in his lairdsh Ye ken 1 1 Boupit. being ruokit. a Oe. Gr; THE ENTAIL 9 V of the lied the ig. As she re- visitors ?e ]ier- it was almost ^ yon's an. I e, sin' at an gude- le the d her Hey, I'm tions, ' the I " 1st t'oii aye in Kittlcstonhcu^li's service, and ^vllat's come o' him sin' his Ian' was loupit ^ ? " Maud^e rej)lied respectfully, and with the tear in her eye, that the laird was dead. " Dead ! " exclaimed Mrs (jorl)als ; "that's very extraordinare. I doubt he was ill off at his latter end. Whar did he die, poor man ? " " We were obligated," said Maudt^c, somewhat comforted by the compassionate accent of the lady, "to come intil Cllas^ow, where he fell into a decay o' nature." And she added, with a si<;h that was almost a sob, "'Deed it's vera true, he died in a sair straitened circumstance, and left this helpless laddie upon my hands." The provost, who had in the meantime been still looking about in quest of a site for his in- tended mansion, on hearing this, turned round, and putting his hand in his pocket, said — " An' is this Kittlestonheugh's oe ^ } I'm sure it's a vera pitiful thing o' you, lucky, to tak com- passion on the orphan. Hae, my laddie, there's a saxpence." " Saxpence, gudeman ! " exclaimed the provost's lady ; " ye'll ne'er even your han' wi* a saxpence to the like of Kittlestonheugh, for sae we're bound in nature to call him, landless though his lairdship now be. Poor bairn, I'm wae for't ! Ye ken his mother was sib to mine by the 1 Roupit. Exposed for auction (when he was sold up after being ruokit, or cleared out, by the Darien). 2 Oe. Grandson. 10 THE ENTAIL fatlier's side, and l)lood's thicker tlian water ony day." Generosity is in some decree one of tlie necessary qualifications of a (ilas^row nia;;istrate, and Provost Gorbals, being as well endowed with it as any of liis successors have been since, was not displeased with the benevolent warmth of his wife, especially when he understood that Claud was of their own kin. On the contrary^ lie said affectionately — " Really it was vera thoughtless o' me, Liezy, my dear ; but ye ken I havena an instinct to make me acquaint wi' the particulars of folk before hearing about them. I'm sure no living soul can have a greater compassion than mysel' for gentle blood come to needcessity." Mrs Gorbals, however, instead of replying to this remark — indeed, what could she say ? for experience had taught her that it was perfectly just — addressed herself again to Maudge. " And whar dost t'ou live ? and what hast t'ou to live upon } " " I hae but the mercy oi Providence," was the humble answer of honest Maudge, "and a garret- room in John Sinclair's Ian'. I ettle ^ as weel as I can for a morsel by working stockings ; but Claud's a rumbling ^ laddie, and needs mair than I hae to gie him : a young appetite's a growing evil in the poor's aught." ^ 1 Ettlc. Strive. ^ Rumbling. Used here in reference to a "growing" appetite. * Aught. Eyes. The pro\| each other, " Gudem.) It'll no fare And Maul bring Claud I house in th Gorbals, " t do for him we'll no k think of ma « No," re] that. I wo I I would \y< how could I help that t gie I'll ace almous is w to seek, anc weitrht and able belyve Both the her spirit ; of Maudge constant k lived, he ^ ness, but, c discovered had imagii strained to THE ENTAIL 11 lecessary I J*rovost IS any of spk'ased ■ij)ecially leir own cly— !, Liczy, tinct to of folk 3 living mysel' King to ly? for Jrfectly ist t'ou ^as the a^arret- veel as i ; but r than owing )petite. fs The provost and his ^\•\fc looked kindly at each other, and the latter added — "CMidenian, ye maun do sonuthing for them. It'll no fare the Avaur wi' our basket and our store." And Maudge was in eonsecjuenee recjuested to bring Claud with her that evening to the provost's house in the Bridgegate. " I think," added Mrs (iorbals, " that our Hughoc's auld elaes will just do for him ; and, Maudge, keep a good heart : we'll no let thee want. I won'er t'ou didna think of making an application to us afore." " No," replied the old woman, '' I could ne'er do that. I would hae been in an unco strait before I would liae begget on my own account ; and how could I think o' disgracing the family ? Any help that the Lord may dispose your hearts to gie I'll accept wi' great thankfulness; but an almous is what I hope He'll ne'er put it upon lae to seek, and though Claud be for the present a weight and burden, yet, an he's sparet, he'll be able belyve ^ to do something for himsel'." Both the provost and Mrs Gorbals commended her spirit ; and, from this interview, the situation of Maudge was considerably improved by their constant kindness. Doubtless, had Mr Gorbals lived, he would have assisted Claud into busi- ness, but, dying suddenly, his circumstances were discovered to be less flourishing than the world had imagined, and his widow found herself con- strained to abridge her wonted liberality. 1 Belyve. By times. 12 THE ENTAIL Maudge, however, wrestled witn poverty as well as sJie could till (laud had attained his eleventh year, when she thou<^ht he was of a sufficient capacity to do sometliin*^ for himself. Accordingly, she intimated to Mrs Gorbals that she hoped it would be in her power to help her with the loan of a guinea to set him out in the world with a pack. This the lady readily pro- mised, but advised her to make ajiplication first to his relation. Miss Christiana Heritage. " She's in a bien circumstance," ^ said Mrs Gorbals, "for her father, auld Windy wa's, left her weel on to five hundred pounds, and her cousin. Lord Killycrankie, ane of the fi^teen,^ that aye stayed in our house when he rode the circuit, being heir of entail to her father, allocs her the use of the house, so that she's in a way to do muckle for the laddie, if her heart were so in- clined." Maudge, agreeably to this suggestion, went next day to Windywalls ; but we must reserve our account of the mansion and its mistress to enrich our next chapter, for Miss Christiana was, even in our day and generation, a personage of no small consequence in her own eyes : indeed, for that matter, she was no less in ours, if we may judge by the niche which she occupies in the gallery of our recollection, after the lapse of more than fifty years. 1 Bien circumstance. Well-to-do condition. 2 Ane of the fifteen. Lords of Session. In the coi commenced that in aft brated, out Havers, ca chariot to \ Heritage, contemplat ancient raii fanc'^ of £ with a tall dwarfish ar carved in s at each si hood ascri tors who the High On en cended a and lofty in a dec with lo/< more tn •verty as iiied his •IS of a himself, •lis tJiat help her t in tlie ily pro- ion first id Mrs i% left nd her 1.2 that circuit, ler the to do so in- went eserve 3SS to I Mas, ge of Jeed, if we es in 56 of CHAPTER III IN the course of the same sumVner in which we commenced those grammar-school acquirements that in after-hfe have been so deservedly cele- brated, our revered relative, the late old Lady Havers, carried us in her infinn dowagerian chariot to pay her annual visit to Miss Christiana Heritage. In the admiration with which we contemplated the venerable mansion and its ancient mistress, an indistinct vision rises in our fancy of a large irregular whitewashed house, with a tall turnj)ike staircase, over the low and dwarfish arched door of which a huge cable was carved in stone, and dropped in a knotted testoon at each side. The traditions of the neighbour- hood ascribed this carving to the Pictish sculp- tors who executed the principal ornaments of the High Kirk of Glasgow. On entering under this feudal arch we as- cended a spiral stair, and were shown into a large and lofty room, on three sides of which, each far in a deep recess, was a narrow -.vindow glazed with lozens of yellow glass, that seemed scarcely more transparent than horn. The walls were 13 14 THE ENTAIL hung with tapestry, from which tremendous forms, in warhke attitudes and with grim as- pects, frowned in apparitional obscurity. But of all the circumstances of a visit which we must ever consider as a glimpse into the presence-chamber of the olden time, none made so deep and so vivid an impression upon our young remembrance as the appearance and de- portment of Miss Christiana herself. She had been apprised of Lady Havers' coming, and was seated in state to receive her, on a large settee adorned with ancestral needlework. She rose as our venerable relation entered the room. Alas ! we have lived to know that we shall never again behold the ceremonial of a reception half so solemnly performed. Miss Christiana was dressed in a courtly suit of purple Genoese velvet. Her petticoat, spread by her hoop, extended almost to arm's-length at each side. The ruffle cuffs which hung at her elbows, loaded with lead, were coeval with the Union, having been worn by her mother when she attended her husband to that assembly of the States of Scotland which put an end to the in- dependence and poverty of the kingdom. But who, at this dtstance of time, shall presume to estimate the altitude of the Babylonian tower of toupees and lappets which adorned Miss Chris- tiana's brow ? It is probable that the reception which she gave to poor Maudge and Claud was not quite so ceremonious of the visit on hearing tion against juul setting lected amonj cient to ena\ for Claud, had worked i\ strap to sll with a judicij tracts, curtai| a compendic thimbles, staj ballads and shaw espousd His excui neighbouring : gabby,2 he jTOodwill of of time few better likec he was the His succt tations of 1 might have did, the ki tionate old 1 2 3 THE ENTAIL 15 nendous rn'm as- t wJiicIi ^to the e made on our nd de- le had id was settee 5 rose room, never I half ceremonious as ours ; for the substantial benison of the visit was but half-a-crown. Mrs Gorbals, on hearing this, exclaimed with a just indigna- tion against the near-be-gaun ^ Miss Christiana, and setting herself actively to work, soon col- lected among her acquaintance a small sum suffi- cient to enable Maudge to buy and furnish a pack for Claud. James Bridle, the saddlemaker, who had worked for his father, gave him a present of a strap to sling it over his shoulder ; and thus, with a judicious selection of godly and humorous tracts, curtain-rings, sleeve-buttons, together with a compendious assortment of needles and pins, thimbles, stay-laces and garters, with a bunch of ballads and excellent new songs, Claud Walkin- shaw espoused his fortune. His excursions at first were confined to the neighbouring villages, and as he was sly and gabby,^ he soon contrived to get in about the goodwill of the farmers' wives, and in process of time few pedlars in all the west country were better liked, though every one complained that he was the dearest and the gairest.^ His success equalled the most sanguine expec- tations of Maudge ; but Mrs Gorbals thought he might have recollected, somewhat better than he did, the kindness and care with which the affec- tionate old creature had struggled to support him 1 Ncar-he-gaiin. Narrow, greedy. 2 Gabby. Here, subtle in the tongue. * Gaircst. Greediest. 16 THE ENTAIL in his helplessness. As often, however, as that "warm-h carted lady inquired if he gave her any of his winnings, Maudge was obliged to say, " I hope, poor lad, he has more sense than to think o' the like o' me. Isna he striving to make a conquest of the lands of his forefathers ? Ye ken he's come o' gentle blood, and I am nae better than his servan'." But although Maudge spoke thus generously, still, sometimes, when she had afterwards become bedrid, and was left to languish and linger out the remnant of age in her solitary garret, comforted only by the occasional visits and charitable atten- tions of Mrs Gorbals, the wish would now and then rise that Claud, when he was prospering in the traffic of the Borders, would whiles think of her forlorn condition. But it was the lambent play of affection, in which anxiety to see him again before she died was stronger than any other feeling ; and as often as she felt it moving her to repine at his inattention, she would turn herself to the wall and implore the Father of Mercies to prosper his honest endeavours, and that he might ne'er be troubled in his industry with any thought about such a burden as it had pleased Heaven to make her to the world. After having been bedria for about the space of two years, Maudge died. Claud, in the mean- time, was thriving as well as the prigging ^ wives and higgling girls in his beat between the Nith ^ Pi'iggimj. Like hvjyling, beating down in a bargain. and the Ty] pedlar wh( the Bordeii sions such thought b>j country for was actuate! the former I faithful his the reader dulge hime absolute fa parts of th most profits hospitable < metical phi VOL. I. THE ENTAIL 17 ', as that her any ) say, "I to think make a •s ? Ye am nae lerously, become out the mforted 9 atten- ow and spering 5 think imbent Je him Y other her to herself cies to might lought ^en to space nean- wives Nith I and the Tyne would permit. Nor was there any pedlar who was better known at the fairs of the Border towns, or displayed on those occa- sions such a rich assortment of goods. It was thought by some that, in choosing that remote country for the scene of his itinerant trade, he was actuated by some sentiment of reverence for the former consequence of his family. But, as faithful historians, we are compelled to remind the reader that he was too worldly wise to in- dulge himself with anything so romantic : the absolute fact being that, after tryiii^ many other parts of the country, he found the Borders the most profitable, ■ the inhabitants also the most hospitable custo.iiers — no small item in the arith» metical philosophy of a pedlar. xn. VOL. I. B ch_4:pter IV -/jLBOUT twenty years after the death of Maudge, Claud returned to Glasgow with five hundred pounds alcove the world, and settled himself as a cloth-merchant in a shop under the piazza of a house which occupied part of the ground where the Exchange now stands. The resolution, which he had early formed, to redeem the inheritance of his ancestors, and his old affectionate benefac- tress had perhaps inspired as well as cherished, was grown into a habit. His carefulness, his assiduity, his parsimony, his very honesty, had no other object nor motive ; it was the actuating principle of his life. Some years after he had settled in Glasgow, his savings and gatherings enabled him to purchase the farm of Grippy, a part of the patrimony of his fiimily. The feelings of the mariner returning home, when he again beholds the rising hills of his native land, and the joys and fears of the father's bosom, when, after a long absence, he approaches the abode of his children, are tame and calm compared to the deep and greedy satisfaction with which the persevering pedlar received the 18 I etirth and st(| cdUl and stei In the sam( worthy of til iiient which,! almost partal solved to md the property,! ever have it prudence wlj a morsel, and the same nij| prospects of scope of his tions should Hypel, the o laird of Pleal; They were been led to ' occurred on father was a circuit ; for, city, be bad tenant that heard of w Claud to CO much of his " 1 bear,' and profferi ye hae gol It's true so THE ENTAIL 19 faudge, undred iself as ;za of a where which I'itance ;nefac- •ished, his had latiiifr had 'rings py. a, lome, f his her's tches calm ition the enrlh and stone that gave him infeftment of tliat cold and sterile portion of his forefathers' estate. Ill the same moment he formed a rcsolntion worthy of the sentiment he then felt — a senti- ment which, in a less sordid breast, might have almost partaken of the pride of virtne. He re- solved to marry, and beget children, and entail the property, that none of his descendants might ever have it in their power to commit the im- prudence which had brouglit his grandfather to a morsel, and thrown himself on the world. And the same night, after maturely considering the prospects of all the heiresses within the probable scope of his ambition, he resolved that his affec- tions should be directed towards Miss Girzy Hypel, the only daughter of Malachi Hypel, the laird of Plealands. They were in some degree related, and he had been led to think of her from an incident which occurred on the day he made the purchase. Her father was at the time in Glasgow attending the circuit ; for, as often as the judges visited the city, he had some dispute with a neighbour or a tenant that required their interposition. Having heard of what had taken place, he called on Claud to congratulate him on the recovery of so much of his family inheritance. " I hear," said the laird, on entering the shop, and proffering his hand across the counter, " that ye hae gotten a sappy bargain o' the Gri{)py. It's true some o' the lands are but cauld ; hows- 20 THE ENTAIL ever, cousin, ne'er fnsh your thumb : Glasgow's on the tlirive, .and ye hae as many een in your head for an advantage as onybody I ken. But now that ye hae gotten a house, wha's to be the leddy? I'm sure ye might do waur than casta sheep's e'e in at our door ; my dochter Girzy's o' your ain flesh and blood ; I dinna see ony moral impossibility in her becoming, as the psalmist says, 'bone of thy bone.' " Claud replied in his wonted couthy manner — " Nane o' your jokes, laird — me even mysel' to your dochter ! Na, na, Plealands, that canna be thought o' nowadays. But, no to make a ridi- cule of sic a solemn concern, it's vera true that, hadna my grandfather, when he was grown doited,^ sent out a' the Kittlestonheugh in a cargo o' playocks to the Darien, I might hae been in a state and condition to look at Miss Girzy ; but, ye ken, I hae a lang clue to wind before I maun think o' playing the ba' wi' For- tune, in ettling so far aboun my reach." " SnuiFs o' tobacco ! " exclaimed the laird. " Are nae ye sib to oursel's } And, if ye dinna fail by your ain blateness,^ our Girzy's no surely past speaking to. Just lay your leg, my man, ouer a side o' horse-flesh, and come your ways, some Saturday, to speer^ her price." It was upon this delicate hint that Grippy was 1 Doited. Addle-patcd. ^ Blatcncss. Shyness, awkwardness. 3 Spccr. Ask. ^induced to tl| incr that he \j might get hi visit until h^ neighbouring! to say, a richj with repulsivj answers to hi] as we have si took legal po to visit Plealj might not b< next day by of his intent receive him f return of Johi following, he he was indue tailor, a douc the elders of " Come yoi lover; "I w doing about i "Doing, ? our bairns' I: rank and ca Kirk o' Sco1 be after the Lon'on, and papistical na Mr Walkins THE ENTAIL 21 Glasgow's 11 in your ien. But to be the lan cast a Girzy's o' 3ny moral psalmist inner — mysel' to canna be :e a ridi- true that, s grown igh in a ight hae at Miss to wind wi' For- "Are fail by sly past m, ouer '^s, some 3py was induced to think of Miss Girzy Hypel ; but, find- inic that he was deemed a fit match for her, and might get her when he would, he deferred the visit until he had cast about among the other neighbouring lairds' families for a better (that is to say, a richer) match. In this, whether he met with repulsive receptions, or found no satisfactory answers to his inquiries, is not quite certain ; but, as we have said, in the same night on which he took legal possession of his purchase, he resolved to visit Plealands ; and, in order that the family might not be taken unawares, he sent a letter next day by the Ayr carrier to apprise the laird of his intention, provided it was convenient to receive him for a night. To this letter, by the return of Johnny Drizen, the carrier, on the week following, he received such a cordial reply that he was induced to send for Cornelius Luke, the tailor, a douce and respectable man, and one of the elders of the Tron Kirk. " Come your ways, Cornie," said the intending lover ; " I want to speak to you anent what's doing about the new kirk on the Green Knowe." " Doing, Mr Walkinshaw ! It's a doing that onr bairns' bairns will ne'er hear the end o' — a rank and carnal innovation on the spirit o' the Kirk o' Scotland," replied the elder. " It's to be after the fashion o' some prelatic Babel in Lon'on, and they hae christened it already by the papistical name o' St Andrew — a sore thing that, Mr Walkinshaw ; but the Lord has set His face 2 '2 THE ENTAIL against it, and tlic builders thereof are smitten as wi' a confusion o' tonijfues, in the lack o' siller to fulfil their idolatrous intents — Blessed be Mis name for evermore ! But wasna Mr Kilfuddy, wha preached for Mr Anderson last Sabbath, most sweet and delectable on the vanities of this life, in his forenoon lecture ? And didna ye think, when he spoke o' that seventh wonder o' the world, the temple of Diana, and enlarged wi' sic pith and marrow on the idolaters in Ephesus, that he was looking ouer his shouther at Lowrie Dinwiddie and Provost Aiton, who are no wrang't in being wyted wi' i the sin o' this inordinate superstructure ? Mr Walkinshaw, I'm nae pro- phet, as ye weel ken ; but I can see that the day's no far aff when ministers of the gospel in Glasgow will be seen chambering and wantoning to the sound o' the kist fu' o' whistles, wi' the seven-headed beast routing its choruses at every ouercome o' the spring." Which prediction was in our own day and generation to a great degree fulfilled. At the time, however, it only served to move the pawkie cloth-merchant to say — " Nae doubt, Comie, the world's like the tod's - whelp, aye the anlder the waur ; but I trust we'll hear news in the land before the like o' that comes to pass. Howsever, in the words of truth and holiness, * sufficient for the day is the evil thereof;' and let us hope that a regenerating 1 Wytcd wC. Accused of. 2 Tod's. Fox s. ' spirit may J tliat all thi up, root aiuj " No : be| '' Even of tl a remnant '^ That's replied ClaJ a bit blue ol and the mo won'er if yc The rem; ter, and Co declared th of darning, very well." to him, with Friday; anc complete a ^ as he told Mr Walkins "there was ance ; a foi this life ; a : and peace, endureth fc " I'm blit answer, (( fc penure pig 2 FMes. THE ENTAir. OS smitten as k o' siller lhI he His Kilfuddv, Sabbath, es of this didiia }t wonder o' larged w i' Ephesus, =it Lowrie o wrang't nordinate nae pro- that the gospel in '^aiitoniiii: wi' the at every day and At the 5 pawkie le tod's 2 I \ ust we'll I o' that t of truth I the evil I lerating s})irit may go forth to the ends o' tlie earth, and that all the sons of men will not be utterly cut up, root and branch." '^ No : be thankit," said Cornelius the tailor. " Even of those that shall live in the latter days, a remnant will be saved." ''That's a great comfort, Mr Luke, to us a','' replied Claud. " But, talking o' remnants, I hae a bit blue o' superfine ; it has been lang on hand, and the moths are beginning to meddle wi't. I won'er if ye could mak me a coat o't ?" The remnant was then produced on the coun- ter, and Cornelius, after inspecting it carefully, declared that, " with the help of a steek or twa of darning, that wouldna be percep, it would do very well." The cloth was accordingly delivered to him, with strict injunctions to have it ready by Friday ; and with all the requisite et cceteras to complete a coat, he left the shop greatly edified, as he told his wife, by the godly salutations of Mr Walkinshaw's spirit; "wherein," as he said, "there was a kithing^ of fruit meet for repent- ance ; a foretaste o' things that pertain not to this life ; a receiving o' the erle - ^ of righteousness and peace, which passeth all understanding, and endureth for evermore." " I'm blithe to heart," was the worthy woman's answer, " for he's an even-down Nabal — a perfect penure pig — that I ne'er could abide since he 2 Erles. Earnests. Bee N Kithinr). Manifestation. B, Sir Andrew Wi/lie. 24 THE ENTAIL wouldna lend poor old Mrs Gorbals, the provost's widow, that, they say, set him up in the world, the sma' soom o' five pounds, to help her wi' the outfit o' her oe when he was gaun to Virginia, u clerk to Bailie Cross." provost's ic world, 3r wi' the irginia, a M CHAPTER V }} HEN Claud was duly equipped by Cornelius Luke in the best fashion of that period for a bien cloth-merchant of the discreet age of forty-seven, a message was sent by his shop-lad, Jock Gleg, to Rob Wallace, the horse-couper ^ in the Gallow- gate, to have his beast in readiness next morning by seven o'clock, the intended lover having, seve- ral days before, bespoke it for the occasion. Accordingly, at seven o'clock on Saturday morning, Rob was with the horse himself at the entry to Cochran's Land, in the Candleriggs, where Claud then lodged ; and the wooer, in the sprucest cut of his tailor, with a long silver-headed whip in his hand, borrowed from his friend and customer, Bailie Murdoch, attended by Jock Gleg, carrying a stool, came to the close-mouth. " I'm thinking, Mr Walkinshaw," said Rob the horse-couper, " that ye wouldna be the waur of a spur, an' it were only on the ae heel." ^ Horse-couper, Horse-dealer ; not necessarily applied io one who makes up valueless horses for the market to cheat the unwary-. " Cow couper" also is in U50 ; and in Kutherford^a Letters " soul-coupers " occurs. 25 26 THE ENTAIL "Wc maun do our ])est without that com- modity, Rob/' replied Clautl, trying to crack his whip in a gallant style, but unfortunately cutting; his own leg through the dark blue rig-and-fiir gamashins ^ ; — for he judiciously considered that, for so short a journey, and that too on specula- tion, it was not worth his while to get a pair of boots. Rob drew up the horse, and Jock having placed the stool, Claud put his right foot in the stirrup, at which Rob and some of the students of the college, who happened to be attracted to the spot, with divers others then and there present, set up a loud shout of laughter, much to his molestation. But surely no man is ex- pected to know by instinct the proper way of mounting a horse, and this was the first time that Claud had ever ascended the back of any quadruped. When he had clambered into the saddle, Rob led tlie horse into the middle of tlie street, and thi I'cast, of its own accord, walked soberly across the Trongate towards the Stockwell. The conduct of the horse for some time was, indeed, most considerate, and, in consequence, although Claud hung heavily over his neck and held him as fast as possible with his knees, he passed the bridge, and cleared the buildings beyond, without attracting in any particular degree the admiration ^ Rig-and-far gamaskins. Lcjj- protectors, worked ia a rinbed fiishion. of the pul unguarded thought it and the hor| to a trot, exclaimed through in I time they r| ing to see and, notwit nobly he p that village manner, ca doors, and bark and I for't but 1 The noise horseback, every door caps, and and cluste the gener on seeing his vaulti no less a Glasgow. Among perceivinj was accu!" to encouv THE ENTAIL 27 iiat com- cmck Jiis y ciittinjr L,MincI-fnr red that, specula- t a pair Iiou^li d ] iini m a of the public towards his rider. But, in an unguarded moment, the infatuated Claud rashly tliought it necessary to employ the bailie's whip, and the horse, so admonished, quickened his pace to a trot. "Heavens, ca' they this riding!" exclaimed Claud, and almost bit his tongue tiirough in the utterance. However, by the time they reached Cathcart it was quite surpris- ing to see how well he worked in the saddle, and, notwithstanding the continued jolting, how nobly he preserved his balance ; but on entering that village, all the dogs, in the most terrifying manner, came rushing out from the cottage- doors, and pursued the trotting horse with such bark and bay that the })oor animal saw no other for't but to trot from them faster and faster. The noise of the dogs, and of a passenger on horseback, drew forth the inhabitants, and at every door might be seen beldams with flannel caps, and mothers with babies in their arms, and clusters of children around them. It was the general opinion among all the spectators, on seeing the spruce new clothes of Claud, and his vaulting liorsemanshij), that he could be no less a personage than the Lord Provost of Glasgow. Among them were a few country lads, who, perceiving how little the rider's seat of honour was accustomed to a saddle, had the wickedness to encourage and e'fi;ir i on the dogs to attack the ' n i/9' U rgo. 28 THE ENTAIL horse still more furiously ; but, notwithstandinf^ their malice, Claud still kept his seat, until all the dogs but one devil of a terrier had retired from the pursuit. Nothing could equal the spirit and pertinacity with which that implacable cur hung upon the rear and snapped at the heels of the horse. Claud, who durst not venture to look behind lest he should lose his balance, several times damned the dog with great sin- cerity, and tried to lash him away with Bailie Murdoch's silver-headed whip ; but the terrier would not desist. How long the attack might have continued there is certainly no telling, as it was quickly determined by one of those lucky hits of fortune which are so desirable in life. The long lash of the bailie's whip, in one of Claud's blind attempts, happily knotted itself round the neck of the dog. The horse, at the same moment, started forward into that pleasant speed at which the pilgrims of yore were wont to pass from London to the shrine of St Thomas k Becket at Canterbury (which, for brevity, is in vulgar parlance called in consequence a ''canter"); and Claud dragged the terrier at his whip-string end, like an angler who has hooked a salmon that he cannot raise out of the water, until he met with Johnny Drizen, th** Ayr carrier, coming on his weekly journey to Glasgow. " Lordsake, Mr Walkinshaw ! " exclaimed the t irrier as he drew his horse aside : " in the name of the LorJ ve're haulini <' For the] distressed sion and pe| of heaven si The torn which this effect on tl carrier that of a philant bridle-rings down the > lash, and mi saddle, fell the lustre aj he soon re' and tremble bent forwar utterly una other posit St Sebastia suffered. His first Johnny, tl created. hae done i e'er be abl This CO end to b\ which thr THE ENTAIL 29 istandinf' until all d retired the spirit able cur he heels venture balance, ■eat sin- h Bailie terrier fitinued quickly fortune lash of empts, le dog. orward ilgrims to the srbury called agged mgler raise •hnny eekly I the lame of the Lord wliar are ye gaun, and what's that vc're hauling ahint you ?" " For the love of heaven, Johnny," replied the distressed cloth-merchant, pale with apprehen- sion and perspiring at every pore — " for the love of heaven stop this desperate beast ! " The tone of terror and accent of anguish in which this invocation was uttered had such an effect on the humanity and feelings of the Ayr carrier that he ran towards Claud with the ardour of a philanthropist, and seized the horse by the bridle-rings. Claud, in the same moment, threw down the whip, with the strangled dog at the lash, and making an endeavour to vault out of the saddle, fell into the mire, and materially damaged the lustre and beauty of his new coat. However, he soon regained his legs, but they so shook and trembled that he could scarcely stand, as he bent forward with his feet widely asunder, being utterly unable for some time to endure in any other position the pain of that experience of St Sebastian's martyrdom Avhich he had locally suffered. His first words to the carrier were, '*^Man, Johnny, this is the roughest brute that ever was created. Twa dyers wi' their beetles couldna hae done me mair detriment. I dinna think I'll e'er be able to sit down again ! " This colloquy, however, was speedily put an end to by the appearance of a covered cart, in which three ministers were returning from the so THE ENTAIL Synod to tlicir respective parishes in Ayrshire, — for at tliat time neither post-chaise nor stage- coach was numbered amoiiiij the hixuries of Glasgow. One of them hapj)ened to be the identical Mr Kilfiiddv of Braehill who had lee- tured so learnedly about the temple of Diana on the preceding Sunday in the Tron Church, and he, being accjuainted with Claud, said, as he looked out and bade the dr.' er to stop, — "Dear me, Mr Walkinshaw, but ye hae gotten an unco coup ^ ! I hope nae banes are broken ? " " No," re{)lied Claud a little pawkily, '^ no. Thanks be and praise — the banes, I believe, are a' to tlie fore — ; but it's no to be expressed what I hae suffer't in the flesh." Some further conversation then ensued, and the result was most satisfactory ; for Claud was invited to take a seat in the cart with the ministers, and induced to send his horse back to Rob Wallace by Johnny Di izen the carrier. Thus, without any material augmentation of his cala- mity, was he conveyed to the gate which led to Plealands. The laird, who had all the morning been anxiously looking out for him, on seeing the cart approaching, left the house, and was stand- ing ready at the yett - to give him welcome. Coup. Fall. 2 Yctt. Gate. Plealan of a hill. It been raised b; pied the site of which were no great skill change the o ornaments, it than properly About as 1 altered from too had bee degree he m dined from he still inhei sity of their of national being distin books of se( and of the C to his consta rights and ii In his pe Tshire,— 3r stage- juries of be the had lec- f Diana Churchy h as he ■ gotten iken ? " y, ''no. eve, are id what ^d, and id was h the )ack to Thus, 5 cala- led to orning ig the stand- 1 CHAPTER Yl PlEALANDS house stood on the bleak brow of a hill. It was not of great antiquity, having been raised by the father of Malachi ; but it occu- pied the site of an ancient fortalice, the materials of which were employed in its construction, and as no great skill of the sculptor had been exerted to change the oriijinal form of the lintels and their ornaments, it had an air of antiquity much greater than properly belonged to its years. About as much as the habitation had been altered from its primitive character, the master too had been modernised. But, in whatever degree he may have been supposed to have de- clined from the heroic bearing of his ancestors, he still inherited, in unabated vigour, the animo- sity of their spirit ; and if the coercive influence of national improvement prevented him from ; being distinguished in the feud and foray, the books of sederunt, both of the Glasgow circuit and of the Court of Session, bore ample testimony to his constancy before them in asserting supposed rights and in vindicating supposed wrongs. In his personal appearance Malachi Hypel had 39. THE ENTAIL but few pretensions to the gallant air and grace of the gentlemen of that time. He was a coarse hard-favoured, fresh-coloured carle, with a few white hairs thinly scattered over a round bald head. His eyes were small and grey, quick in the glance and sharp in the expression. He spoke thickly and hurriedly, and, although his words were all very cogently strung together there was still an unaccountable obscurity in the precise meaning of what he said. In his usual style of dress he was rude and careless, and he commonly wore a large flat-brimmed blue bonnet but on the occasion when he came to the gate to receive Claud he had on his Sunday suit and hat, After the first salutations were over he said to Claud, on seeing him walking lamely and uneasily, "What's the matter, Grippy, that ye seem sae stiff and sair .f*" "I met wi' a bit accident," was Claud's reply; " Rob Wallace, the horse-couper, gied me sic a deevil to ride as, I believe, never man before mounted. I wouldna wish my sworn enemy a greater ill than a day's journey on that beast's back, especially an' he was as little used to riding as me." The latter clause of the sentence was muttered inwardly, for the laird did not hear it ; otherwise he would probably have indulged his humour a little at the expense of his guest, as he had a sort of taste for caustic jocularity, which the hirpling^ ^ Hirpling. Limping. uKinncr of Cl| latcd to prove On reachii] where the ho| was emphatic cottars, with (luced to the] pale, pensive, by the laird not thoroughl a polite and certainly was business, and any virgin pa the contrary, freedom of an It might h should descril ; and the grac degree she p( to reach the ( ; in unsolicited \ of all the pre \ around her, s I impression oi he himself c I we expatiat i manners an( \ themselves, ensued. THE ENTAIL and grace s a coarse th a fev 3und bald quick in sion. H lough his together, •ity in the his usual s, and he B bonnet ; G gate to and hat, le said to uneasily, seem sae 33 's reply; ne sic a I 1 before Jnemy a '■ beast's o riding luttered herwise mour a d a sort rpHng ^ ■•? manner of Claud was at the moment well calcu- lated to provoke. On reaching the brow of the rising ground wliere the house stood,, the leddy, as Mrs Hypel was emphatically called by the neighbouring cottars, with Miss Girzy, came out to be intro- duced to their relative. Whether the leddy — a pale, pensive, delicate woman — had been informed by the laird of the object of Claud's visit we do not thoroughly know ; but she received him with a polite and friendly respectfulness. Miss Girzy certainly was in total ignorance of the whole business, and was, therefore, not embarrassed with any virgin palpitations or blushing anxieties. On tlie contrary, she met him with the ease and freedom of an old acquaintance. It might here be naturally expected that we should describe the charms of Miss Girzy 's person and the graces of her mind ; but, in whatever degree she possessed either, she had been allowed to reach the discreet years of a Dumbarton youth in unsolicited maidenhood. Indeed, with the aid of all the prospective interest of the inheritance around her, she did not make quite so tender an impression on the heart of her resolved lover as he himself could have wished. But why should we expatiate on such particulars ? Let the manners and virtues of the family speak for tliemselves, while we proceed to relate what ensued. VOL. I. C CHAPTER VII vTIRZY," said the laird to his daughter as thoy entered the dining-room, '^ gae to thy bed and bring a cod ^ for Mr Walkinshaw, for he'll no can thole ^ to sit down on our hard chairs." Miss Girzy laughed as she retired to execute the order, while her mother continued, as she had done from the first introduction, to inspect Claud from head to foot, with a curious and something of a suspicious eye ; there was even an occasional flush that gleamed through the habitual pale- ness of her thoughtful countenance, redder and warmer than the hectic glow of mere corporeal indisposition. Her attention, however, was soon drawn to the spacious round table in the middle of the room, by one of the maids entering with a large pewter tureen, John Drappie, the man- servant, having been that morning sent on some caption and horning ^ business of the laird's to Gabriel Beagle, the Kilmarnock lawyer. But, as the critics hold it indelicate to describe the details of any refectionary supply, however 1 Cod . . . thole. Pillow . . . endure. * Ca'ption and horning. See Note A. Sir Andrew WvUc J4 tk'j^ant, we series and suc| crowned the as ])late. Oi aid of their o^ various forms] of the sheep occasion werej savoury, sapp] hen, the floa punch-bowl, j supplied the puddings. By the til Girzy had re herself placec and patting it "Come rou ye'U fin' this what it is to when I gaed hanged at A just as if I ha When the had retired, 1 in«r his arm and shaking "Weel, G see you hei 1(4 THE ENTAIL ',ir> r as they bed and 'U no can ) execute s she had set Claud 3methind Claud; "and now that the hairn's born, and a laddie tdo, we may make ae work o't." " VVi' a' my heart," rej)licd the laird ; "nothin; can be more a«]freeable to me ; but as I wisli to preserve the name of my family, than whilk there's no a more respectit in Scotland, I'll onlv covenant that, when Charlie succeeds me, he'li take the name o' Hypel." " Ye surely, laird, would ne'er be so unreason- able," replied Grippy, a little hastily; "ye car ne'er be sae unreasonable as to expect that the lad would gie up his father's name, the name o Walkinshaw, and take only that of Hypel." "'Deed would I," said the laird; "for nn haeing a son o* my own to come after me, it's surely very natural that I would like the Hypels to kittle again in my oe ^ through my only dochter." "The Walkinshaws, I doubt," replied Claud emphatically, "will ne'er consent to sic an eclipse as that." "The lands of Plealands," retorted the laird, "are worth something." " So it was thought, or I doubt the heir o't wouldna hae been a Walkinshaw," replied Claude still more pertinaciously. " Weel, weel," said the laird, "dinna let us 1 Kittle . . . ue. Generate . . . grandson. 1'llE ENTAIL 39 itailiii'r then arj^ol-bar^ol about it. Entail your own propiTty H'd Claud: laddie l(„ ; "nothiiij J as I Mi si; ;is han wliii:, d, I'll only i me, he'Ii unreason- ; ''ye car. t that the e name o el." "for no r me, it's le Hypels my onlv ed Claud an eclipse the laird,' ; heir o'trl 3d Claud, la let us on. ye ■\vi 11, ni ine shall he on the second son vc can ne'er object to that." "Second son, and the first scarce sax days auld ! I tell you what it is, an' ye'U no make the entail or the first, that is, on Charlie W'alkin- shaw, — to be Walkinshaw, mind that, — I'll no say what may happen in the way o' second sons." "The Plealands' mv ain, and thou£rh I canna weel will it awa', and ne'er will sell't, yet, get it wha will, he maun tak the name o' Hypel. The thing's sae settled, CJrippy, and it's no for you and me to cast out about it." Claud made seyeral attem})ts to reyive the subject, and to persuade the laird to change his mind ; but he was inflexible. Still, however, being resolved, as far as in him lay, to anticipate the indiscretion of his heirs, he executed a deed of entail on Charles ; and for a considerable time after, the laird was not a little confirmed in his determination not to execute any deed in favour of Charles, but to reserve his lands for the second son, by the very reason that might have led an- other sort of person to act differently — namely, that he understood there was no jjrospect of any such appearing. Towards the end, however, of the third year after the birth of Charles, Claud communicated to the laird that, by some unaccountable disj)ensa- tion, Mrs Walkinshaw was again in the way to be 40 THE ENTAIL a mother, adding, '^Noo, laird, yc'll hae your ain way o't ; " and accordinirly, as soon as Walter, the second son, was born and baptized, tlic lands of Plealands were entailed on him, on condition, as his grandfather intended, that he should assume the name of Hypel. CHAPTER VIII 1^ OR several years after the birth of Walter no event of any consequence happened in the affairs (f Claud. He continued to persevere in the j)ar- sinionious system which had so far advanced his fortune. His vi^ife was no less industrious on her part ; for, in the meantime, she presented him witli a daughter and another son, and had reared calves and grumphies innumerable, the profit of which, as she often said, was as good as the meal and malt o' the family. By their united care and endeavours, Grippy thus became one of the wealthiest men of that age in Glasgow ; but although different desirable opportunities pre- sented themselves for investing his money in other and more valuable land, he kept it ever ready to redeem any portion of his ancestral estate that might be offered for sale. The satisfaction which he enjoyed from his accumulative prospects was not, liowever, without a mixture of that anxiety with wiiich the cup of human prosperity, whether really full or only foaming, is always embittered. The laird, his father-in-law, in the deed of entail which he 41 42 THE ENTAIL executed of the Plealands, had reserved to liiin- self a power of revocation, in the event of his wife dying before him in the first instance, and of Walter and George, the two younger sons of Grippy, either dying under age or refusing to take the name of Hypel, in the second. This power, both under the circumstances and in itself, was perfectly reasonable ; and perhaps it was the more vexatious to the meditations of Claud that it happened to be so. For he often said to his wife, as they sat of an evening by the fireside in the dark — for, as the leddy was no seamstress and he had as little taste for litera- ture, of course, they burned no candles when by themselves, and that was almost every night, — " I marvel, Girzy, what could gar your father put that most unsafe claw in his entail. I wouldna be surprised if out o' it were to come a mean of taking the property entirely frae us. For ye see, if your mither was dead — and, poor woman, she has lang been in a feckless ^ way — there's no doubt but your father would marry again ; and, married again, there can be as little doubt that he ■•yould hae childer ; so what then would be- come o' ours ? " To this the worthy leddy of Grippy would as feelingly reply — " I'm thinking, gudeman, that ye needna tak the anxieties sae muckle to heart ; for, although my mither has been, past the memory o' man, in 1 Feckless. Frail. a complain this many it makes h^ mair confid than in m; ourselves o' the deatl ''But tlj other claw I noo, that t when we like nature the hands < hardest th for Charlie of a cabbii quest ? Bi spare Watt a braw pr creature t 1 he lives t ; l^iil to tak( i '< I won the leddy I'm sure ither bail lilting lik to night, farm, riv THE ENTAIL 43 ed to liimJ i^ent of his I stance, and , ^er sons of •efusing to 5nd. Tliis s and in perhaps it itations of [• he often ng by the y was no for litera- when by ight,— "I ther put wouldna mean of >r ye see, man, she ere's no in ; and, ubt that 3uld be- a complaining condition, I ken nae odds o' her this many a year. Her ail's like water to leather : it makes her life the tougher ; and I would put niair confidence in the durability of her com})laint than in my father's health. So we needna fash ourselves wi' controverting anent what may come o' the death o' either the tane or the tither." " But then," replied Claud, '^ ye forget the other claw about Watty and Geordie. Supposing, noo, that they were baith dead and gone, which, when we think o' the frush green-kail custock- like nature ■ of bairns, is no an impossibility in the hands of their Maker — will it no be the most hardest thing that ever was seen in the world for Charlie no to inherit the breadth o* the blade of a cabbage o' a' his father's matrimonial con- (juest ? But even should it please the Lord to spare Watty, is't no an afflicting thing to see sic a braw property as the Plealands destined to a creature that I am sure his brother Geordie, if he lives to come to years o' discretion, will no fail to take the law o' for a haverel ? " " I won'er to hear you, gudeman," exclaimed the leddy, "aye mislikening Watty at that gait. I'm sure he's as muckle your ain as ony o' the ither bairns ; and he's a weel-tempered laddie, lilting like a linty at the door-cheek frae morning to night, when Charlie's rampauging - about tlie farm, riving his claes on bush and brier a' the 1 As fresh (brittle) as the pith of colewort. ^ llampauijiiiij. Konipmg. 44 THE ENTAIL summer, tormenting the birds and mawkins out o' their vera Hfe." "Singing, Girzy ! I'm really distressed to hear you/' replied the father, " to ca' yon singing ; it's nothing but lal, ial, lal, lal, \vi' a bow and a bend, backwards and forwards, as if the creature hadna the gumshion ^ o' the cuckoo, the whilk has a note mair in its sang, although it has but twa." " It's an innocent sang for a' that ; and I wish his brothers may ne'er do waur than sing the like o't. But ye just hae a spite at the bairn, gude- man, 'cause my father has made him the heir to the Plealands. That's the gospel truth o' your being so fain to gar folk trow ^ that my Watty's daft." " Ye're daft, gudewife ; arena we speaking here in a rational manner anent the concerns o' our family ? It would be a sair heart to me to think that Watty, or any o' my bairns, werena like the lave o' ^ the warld ; but, ye ken, there are degrees o* capacity, Girzy, and Watty's, poor callan, we maun alloo between oursels, has been meted by a sma' measure." " Weel, if ever I heard the like o' that ! If the Lord has dealt the brains o' our family in mutch- kins and chapins,^ it's my opinion that Watty got his in the biggest stoup ; for he's further on in ^ Gumshion. Sense. (kir folk trow. Cause people believe. 3 The lave o'. The rest of. ■* Lic^uid measures, Scots. I every sort (1 his questioJ ■ What is fo| And I ne'( beyond ' ^^ no deny, h( but that a'l being so v^ *' That's me," replie onything b a book, for him, and ht But it's sor : father wouj make awayj punished in "Gude ^ bairn?" exc the man's f '^ to speak o' than a stirl wrang my body; so, " Girzy, " Guder "Weel, the benef Claud; "i one anoth 1 Frii. ^ THE ENTAIL 45 ^k ms out (I to Iiear ,nnir; it's 1 a bend, re liadna Ik has a twa." J I wisli the like n, gude- ■ heir to o' your Watty's ng here o' our 5 think ike the legrees an, we ted by If the lutch- tygot « every sort of education than Ciiarlie, and can say his questions without missing a word, as far as • What is forbidden in the tentli commandment ? ' And I ne'er hae been able to get his brother beyond ' What is effectual calling ? ' Though, I'll no deny, he's better at the Mother's Carritches ; but that a' comes o' the questions and answers being so vera short." *' That's the vera thing, Girzy, that disturbs me," replied the father ; '' for the callan can get onything by heart, but, after all, he's just like a book, for everything he ^uirns is dead within him, and he's ne'er a prin's worth the wiser o't. But it's some satisfaction to me that, since your father would be so unreasonably obstinate as to make away the Plealands past Charlie, he'll be punished in the gouk he's chosen for heir." " Gude guide us ! Isna that gouk your ain bairn?" exclaimed the indignant mother. " Surely the man's fey ^ about his entails and his properties, to speak o' the illess laddie, as if it were no better than a stirk or a stot. Ye'll no hae the power to wrang my wean while the breath o' life's in my body ; so, I redde ye, tak tent to what ye try." "Girzy, t'ou has a head, and so has a nail." Gudeman, ye hae a tongue, and so has a bell." Weel, weel, but what I was saying a' concerns the benefit and advantage o' our family," said Claud ; " and ye ken, as it is our duty to live for one another, and to draw a' thegither, it behr)ves ^ Frii. Mild, with a madness prophetic of an early deatli. (( I (C 4() THE ENTAIL us twa, as parents, to see that ilk is properly yokit ; ^ sin' it would surely l)e a «>reat misfortunt if, after a' our frugality and gathering, the cart were cowpit in the dirt at last by ony neglect on our part." "That's aye what ye say," replied the lady, — "a's for the family, and nothing for the 'dividual bairns. Noo, that's what I can never understand, for isna our family Charlie, Watty, Geordie, and Meg— } " " My family," said Claud emphatically, "was the Walkinshaws of Kittlestonheugh ; and let me tell you, Girzy Hypel, if it hadna been on their account, there would ne'er hae been a Charlie nor a Watty either between you and me to plea about." " I'm no denying your parentage — I ne'er said a light word about it ; but I canna comprehend how it is that ye would mak step-bairns o' your ain blithesome childer on account o* a wheen auld dead patriarchs that hae been rotten, for aught I ken to the contrary, since before Abraham begat Isaac." " Haud thy tongue, woman, baud thy tongue ! It's a thrashing o' the water and a raising o' bells to speak to ane o* thy capacity on things so far aboon thy understanding. Gae but the house,2 and see gin the supper's ready." In this Grippy an^^l their naturj rupture tha cominarid, mission, du| bickering 1 Ynkit. Yoked. 2 lint the house. The kitchen. In cottages in Scotland as a rule there wore two rooms only : the " but" (the outer) and the " ben " (the inner). THK ENTAIL 47 5 properlv "nisfortuiK , the cart leglect on e lady,— 'dividual derstand^ rdie, and In this manner the conversations between Grippy and his leddy were usually conducted to their natural issue, a quarrel, which ended in a • rupture that was only healed by a j)eremptory command, which sent her uu some household mission, during the performance of which the bickering was forgotten. e( was the t me tell account, a Watty e'er said preliend o' your ;en auld aught I n begat ongue ! sing o' things •ut the tland as ter) and "^^P" '^.- ':;*»'«<■ CHAPTER IX JLN the meantime as much friendhness and intercourse "was maintained between the famihes ( " Grippy and Plealands as could reasonably be expe^cted from the characters and dispositions of the respective inmates. Shortly, however, after the conversation related in the preceding chapter had taken place, it happened that, as Malachi was returning on horseback from Glasgow, when he had lost a lawsuit, long prosecuted with tlic most relentless pertinacity against one of his tenants, he was overtaken on the Mearns Moor by one of those sudden squalls and showers which the genius of the j)lace so often raises, no doubt purposely to conceal from the weary traveller the dreariness of the view around ; and being wetted into the skin, the cold which he caught in consequence, and the irritation of his mind, brought on a fever that terminated fatally on the fifth day. His funeral was conducted according to the fashion f f the age ; ^ but the day appointed was raw, windy, and sleety, — not, however, so much ^ See Note A, Annals of the Fairish. 48 |so as to pi from flocking bl;i,i;e that a| be iniagined| attendance jrentry were every room aiul deals fori the tenantr^i clanjamphry —assembled The laird and free ho acquaintance nor want at services of i niiests was i and tobacco- adulterated b were distribii _ tliose in the 1 ; Mr Kill lid j to the gent elders, in lik in the other venture to ; company out l)odleton, h; • he did hims produced ai VOL. I. less and 2 families nably be sitions of 'er, after ^ chapter Malacln Wj where ivith tile : of his ns Moor rs whieli doubt raveller 1 bein^ caught mind, ally on to the ed was > niueli THE ENTAIL 49 so ns to prevent the friends of the deceased from flocking in from every quarter. The assem- jbl.ige that arrived far transcended all that can be imagined, in these economical days, of the attendance requisite on any such occasion. The •rcntry were shown into the dining-room, and into 1 every room that could be fitted up with planks and deals for their reception. The barn received tlie tenantry, and a vast nudtitude — the whole (•lMiijam})hry ^ from all the neighbouring parishes — assembled on the green in front of the house. The laird in his lifetime maintained a r .igh and free hospitality ; and, as his kindred ai i acquaintance expected, there was neither ncnnt nor want at his burial. The profusion of the services of seedcake and Avine to th(^ indoor fit by their own mistakes, one mi men, he beij joiner). It Mrs Kilfudc in consequei the Plealan proper to ] symy)athy ai she had sust I him in al of PIcalaiuM property i\ ;e of Kittle- V I was (It- Ltrimony 1)\| las pleasct by joiiiiii(r ', to reneM iment Mitli methodica )se devices :1 practice, lly attain, THE ENTAIL 57 I Itvincj them up with a striiiij, walked away from tlic olfice and returned to Cirippy, where he was not a little surprised to see Mr Allen Dre inclined, iy of such would re- dd be an ng off Ills : he could ig a jjre- y remark moment, i ; but he lier, and, CHAPTER XI J- HE Reverend Mr Kilfiiddy was a little, short, erect, shai'p-l()okin;n the embraces of each other, in a large black satin muff of her own makin<;, adorned with a bunch of flowers in needlework, which she had embroidered some thirty years before as the last and most perfect specimen of all her accomplishments. But although they were not so like the blooming progeny of Flor.i as a Linwood might, perhaps, have worked, they 58 roQS^'ssed a to the floW' insomuch tl| niistaking cannot refn| tlic limner bleniatic pi^ the drawinj \vhich the fl so great a vj KiU'uddy in the matron 1 The mini degree of s the mournt » nothing is "This disp(J vouchsafed, is an came in this work down by tl for the son erles given fore, and I , sore shock, find a i)leas father, wh< better ctrc considering 1 Sir I 2 Li]?p i THE ENTAIL 59 ttle, sliort, persona;r(. , deiiiijiv, gestures, of eiijov i wife ill a of that vision iti cold, slie en satin, r hands, oopholos 1 conse- li other, niakinn-^ Uework, ^ y years :iiTien of ^h they )f Flora id, they -('js^'ssed n very competent detrree of resemblance to the riowers tiiey were intendi d to r*. prcspiit, insomuch that there was really no frrcat risk of mistaking the roses for lilies. And here we cannot refrain from ingeniously suspecting that tlie limner who designed those celebrated em- blematic pictures of the months which adorned the drawing-room of the Craiglands,i and on vhich the far-famed Miss Mizy Cunningaam set so great a value, must have had the image of Mrs Kilfuddy in his mind's eye when he deliiieated tl)e matronly representative of November. Tlie minister, after inquiring with a proper degree of sympathetic pathos into the slate of the mourner's health, j)iously observed that '' nothing is so uncertain as the things of '•jme." "This dispensation," said he, "which has been vouchsafed, Mrs Walkinshaw, to you and yours is an earnest of what we have all to look for ill this world. But we should not be overly cast down by the like o't, but lippen ^ to eternity; for the sorrows of perishable human nature are erles given to us of joys hereafter. I trust, there- fore, and hope, that you will soon recover this sore shoek, and in the cares of your young family Hnd a pleasant jiastime for the loss of your worthy fatiier, who, I am blithe to hear, has died in better ctrcumstanct s than eould be expected, considering the trouble he has had wi' his 1 Sir Andreio Wijltc, chap. Ixxxix., vul, ii. p. 269. ^ Lippcn. Look with confidonce. 60 THE EXTATL laM"inf]r, leaving, as they say, the estate clear o; del)t and a heavy soom of lvinj»: siller," *S\Iy father, Mr Kilfuddy, ' replied the la(l\ "was, as you well know, a most worthy character, and I'll no say hasna left a nest-e<>g, the Lord be thankit ; and we maun comjwse oursel's td tLole wi' what He has been pleased, in Iliv gracious ordinances, to send upon us for th( advantage of our poor sinful souls. But tin burial has cost the gudeman a j)ower o' money; for my father being the head o' a family, ue hae been obligated to put a' the servants, baith here, at the Gri])py, and at the Plealands, in full deep mourning, and to hing the front o' the laft in the kirk, as ye'll see next Sabbath, j wi' very handsome black cloth, the whilk cost twentypence the ell, first cost, out o' the gude- man's ain shop. But, considering wha my father was, we could do no less in a' decency." *' And I &c«i," interfered the minister's wife, " that ye hae gotten a bombazeen o' the first quality. Nae doubt ye had it likewise frae Mr Walkinshaw's own shop, which is a great thing, Mrs VValkinshaw, for you to get.'* "Na, mem," replied the mourner; "ye dinna know what a m"*sfortune I hae met wi'. I was, as ye ken, at the Plealands when my father took his departal to a better world, and sent for my mournings frae Glasgow, antl frae the gudeman, as ye would naturally expeck, and I had Mally Trimmings in the house ready to mak them when the box wo ,l;iy o' delu^ i;;il(ly Slowg tliroiii?!^^ '"1 were rendei WIS, indeedl (v.ited me tcl the things clean total wilderness i (fiuleman hn sets o' mouT (ret frae my w-eli content " What y< minister, " i'J the funeral hae left muc of lying mor "No, Mr I Imt I'll no i sand." I " \ brav I spiritual co \ customary s i ensued is i I I this junctu came rumb. j '-Mither, * a bit of ai it' THE ENTAIL 61 ite clear u: 1 the ]a(l\ Y cliarac'ter , the Lord oursel's to id, in IIi\ is for th. But th, o' money: ^amilv, Me 'lilts, baith alands^ in J fi-ont o' j ; Sabbath, vhilk cost lie giulo- my father er's wife, the first frae Mr at thing, ithc l)ox would come ; ])iit it happened to be a (l;iy <)' (lelii«^e, so that my whole conmiodity, on Ij.iUIv Slow<^aup.'s cart, was drookit throuijh and through, and baith the crape and bonibazeen were rendered as soople as pudding-skins. It was, indeed, a sight ])ast expression, and obli- jrated me to send an express to Kilmarnock for the things I hae on, the outlay of whilk was a clean total loss, besides being at the dear rate. l)iit, Mr Kilfuddy, everything in this howling wilderness is ordered for the best ; and if the 'riideman has been needcessitated to i)av for twa sets o' mournings, yet, when he gets what he'll i^ret frae my father's gear, he ought to be very well c(mtent that it's nae Maur." " What ye say, Mrs Walkinshaw," replied the minister, "is very judicious ; for it was spoken at the funeral that your father, Plealands, couldna hae left muckle less than three thousand pounds of lying money." " No, Mr Kilfuddy, it's no just so muckle ; hut I'll no say it's ony waur than twa thou- sand." " A braw soom, a braw soom I " said the spiritual comforter; — but what further of the customary sj)irituality of this occasion might have ensued is matter of speculative opinion ; for at this juncture Watty, the heir to the decey^ed, came rund)ling into the room, crying — " Mither, mither ! Meg Draiks v nina gie me a hit of auld daddy's burial bread, though ye 62 THE ENTAIL brought oner three f;irls ^ \vi' the sweeties oii't, and twa wliaii«;s as big as peats o' the fine su^jjar seedcake." The eomposity of tlie minister and liis Mjfe was greatly tried, as Mrs Kilfuddy herself often afterwards said, by this " outstrapolous intrusion ; ' but quiet was soon restored by Mrs W'alkinshaw ordering in the bread and wine, of which Walter was allowed to partake. The visitors then looked significantly at each other ; and Mrs Kilfuddy, replacing her hands in her satin nuiff, which, during the refectionary treat from the funeral relics, had been laid on her knees, rose and said — " Noo, 1 hope, Mrs Walkinshaw, when ye conic to see the leddy, your mither, at the Plealands that ye'll no negleek to gie us a ca' at the manse, and ye'll be sure to bring the young laird wi' you, for h(;'s a fine spirity bairn — everybody maun alloo that." " He's as he came frae the hand o' his Maker," replied Mrs Walkinshaw, looking j)iousiy towards the minister ; " and it's a great consolation to me to think he's so weei provided for by my father." "Then it's true," said Mr Kilfuddy, "that lie gets a' the Plealands proj)( rty ? " " 'Deed is't, sir ; and a braw patrimony I trow it will be by the time he arrives at the years o' discretion." "That's H i little slyly, I more obvioul (lid not perc| c.ism, her at to the entrai ill thought, h.md as he| desk. 1 Farh. Original!}' ouo part of a cake cut in four jxirt: before giving ; now used, as here, for cakes genenilly. ;etie.s out, fine su«^ar i his wife rself often itrusion ; ' alkinsliaw ch Walter en looked Kilfuddy, tt\ M-hk'h, funeral nd said — 1 ye come l*lcalan(ls, le manse, 1 wi' you, dy inaun Xfaker/' towards lation to by my that he I trow L years o' THE ENTAIL C)3 " That's a lan^ look," rejoined the minister a little slyly, for Walter's defect of capacity was more obvious than his mother ima«^ined. But she (lid not perceive the point of Mr Kilfuddy's sar- casm, her attention at the moment bein^ drawn to the entrance of her Inisband, evidently troubled ill thou<^ht, and still holdin«r the pajiers in his hand as he took them away from Mr Omit's desk. Mir parte CHAPTER XII EXPERIFA'CK had t.ui-ht Mrs WalkinsliaM, as it does most married ladies, that when a husband is in one of his moody fits, the best way of r( - concilin '^^ wk\ % V 66 THE ENTAIL would hae to innk a reservalioii for behoof of your son Walter^ as heir to his grandfather. It would be putting adders in the creel wi' tlie eggs if ye didna." '^TJiat's tlie very fasherie o' the business, Mr Kilfuddy, for it would be nae satisfaction to me to leave a divided inheritance ; and the warst o't is, that Watty, haverel though it's like to be^ is no sae ill as to be cognos t ; and what maks the case the mair kittle, even though he were sae, liis younger brother Geordie, by course o' law and nature, would still come in for the J'lealands afore Charlie. In short, I see naethinir for't, Mr Kilfuddy, but to join the Grii)py in ae settlement wi' the Plealands; and I would do sae outright, only I dinna like on j.oor Charlie's account. Do ye think there is ony sin in a man setting aside his first-born ? Ye ken Jacob was alloo't to get the blessing and the birthright o' his eldest brother Esau." Mr Kilfuddy, notwithstanding a spice of worldly - mindedness in his constitution, was, nevertheless, an honest and j)ious Presbyterian pa "^ tor ; and the quickness of his temper at the moinent stirred him to rebuke the cold-hearted speculations of this sordid father. '^ Mr Walkinshaw," said he severely, " I can see no point o' comparison between the case o' your twa sons and that o' Jacob and Esau ; and what's mair : the very iealousinjj: that there may be sin in what ye wish to do is a clear demon- stration th intent ind| But to set hae nae aj tiic unnati born, out estate, I sh of our holl porridge, a] that which He does, a standing o' would brin< fest course c He taketh I l)ut has H( commit mu shaw ! ye n: ye maun wt on the hip he has ta'e: Hech, man '. Avhat a bor end, when ] upon your I and marrov gimlets o' a Claud sill reproving n lielp the wi dinna ken ^ l)choof (if athcr. It i\ wi' tlif siness, Mr ion to me 3 warst o't ke to be, I'liat maks I he were course o' 1 for the u naethini:^ ip})y in ae iild do sae ' Charlie's in a man Jacob was th right o' spice of ion, was, sbyterian er at the d-hearted \, " I can le case o' Lsau ; and llicre may demon- THE ENTAIL 67 stration that it is vera sinful, for, oh, man ! it's a bad intent indeed that we canna excuse to oursel's. But to set you right in ae point, and that ye may iiae nae apology drawn from Scrij^tural acts for tiie unnatural in- lination to disinherit your first- born, out o' the prideful fantasy of leaving a large estate, I should tell you that there was a mystery of our holy religion hidden in Jacob's mess o' porridge, and it's a profane thing to meddle with that which appertaineth to the Lord ; for what He does, and what He i)ermits, is past the under- standing o' man, and woe awaits on all those that : would bring aught to pass contrary to the mani- I fest course of His ordained method. For example, I He taketh the breath of life away at His pleasure ; I but has He not commanded that no mrn shall I commit murder ? Mr Walkinshaw, Mr Walkin- * shaw ! ye maun strive against this sin of the flesh ; I ve maun warsle wi' the devil, and hit him weel I on the hip till ye gar him loosen the grip that I lie has ta'en to draw you on to sic an awful sin. Hech, man ! an' ye're deluded on to do this thing, what a bonny sight it will be to see your latter end, when Belzebub, wi' his horns, will be sitting upon your bosom, boring through the very joints and marrow o' your poor soul wi' the red-het ,u;ini]ets o' a guilty conscience ! " Claud shuddered at the picture, and taking the reproving minister by the hand, said, '' We canna lielp the wicked thoughts that sometimes rise, we jdinna ken whar frae, within us." 68 THE ENTAIL ''Ye dinna ken whar f:'ae ? I'll tell vou whar frae — frae hell : sic thoughts are the cormorants that sit on the apple-trees in the devil's kail-yard, and the souls o' the damned are the carcasses they mak their meat o'." " For Heaven's sake, Mr Kilfuddy ! " exclaimed Claud, trembling in every limb, ''be patient, an no speak that gait ; ye gar my hair stand on end." " Hair ! Oh, man ! it would be weel for you if your precious soul would stand on end, and no only on end, but humlet to the dust, and that ye would retire into a corner and scrape the leprosy of sic festering sins wi' a potsherd o' the gospel, till ye had cleansed yourself for a repentance unto life." These ghostly animadversions may, perhaps, sound harsh to the polite ears of latter days, but denunciation was at that time an instrument of reasoning much more effectual than persuasion; and the spiritual guides of the people, in warn- ing them of the danger of evil courses, made no scruple, on any occasion, to strengthen their admonitions with the liveliest imagery that reli- gion and enthusiasm supplied. Yet, with all the powerful aid of such eloquence, their efforts were often unavailing ; and the energy of Mr Kilfuddy, in this instance, had perhaps no other effect than to make Claud for a time hesitate, although, before they parted, he expressed great contrition for having, as he said, yielded to the temptation of thinking that he was at liberty to settle his estate on whom he pleased. At the Grippy fai sisted of tlie eldest Kilfuddy, faced boy much affe< own boso] but Mrs unaccountt occasional! her first-b< uncouth 1 earliest da indubitable endowed herself period, t( character ; ance of a ( calculatinfi strated ho and mind 1 you whar cormorants s kail-yard, e carcasses ' exclaimed patient, an id on end." I for you if ind no only it ye would )rosy of sic 5pel, till ye unto life." ', perhaps, r days, but Tument of )ersuasion ; !, in warn- •ses, made then their that reli- th all the brts were Kilfuddy. ffect than although, contrition emptatioii settle his CHAPTER XIII At the death of the Laird of Plealands, the (Irij)py family, as we have already stated, con- sisted of three sons and a daughter. Charles, the eldest, was, as his father intimated to Mr Kilfuddy, a fine, generous, open-hearted, blithe- faced boy. Towards him Claud cherished as much affection as the sterile sensibilities of his own bosom could entertain for any object ; but Mrs Walkinshaw, from some of those unaccountable antipathies with which nature occasionally perplexes philosophy, almost hai:ed her first-born, and poured the full flow of her uncouth kindness on ♦ . alter, who, from the earliest dawmngs of observation, gave the most indubitable and conclusive indications of being endowed with as little delicacy and sense as herself The third son, George, was, at this period, too young ^o evince any peculiar character ; but, in after-lif j, under the appear- ance of a dull and inapt spirit, his indefatigable, calculating, and persevering disposition demon- strated how much he had inherited of the heart and mind of his lather. The daughter was 69 70 THE ENTAIL baptized Mar^raret, Avhicli lier mother elegantly abbreviated into Meg ; and, as the course of our narrative requires that we should lose sight of her for some time, we may here give a brief epitome of her character. To beauty she had no particular pretensions, ncr were her accom- plishments of the most refined degree ; indeed, her chief merit consisted in an innate predilection for thrift and household management. What few elements of education she had acquired were chiefly derived from Jenny Hirple, a lameter woman, who went round c mon"; the houses of the heritors of the parish with a stilt, the sound of which, and of her feet on the floors, plainly pronounced the words '' One pound ten." Jenny gave lessons in reading, knitting, and needlework, and something that resembled writ- ing; and under her tuition Miss Meg continued till she had reached the blooming period of sixteen, when her father's heart was so far opened that, in consideration of the fortune he found he could then bestow with her hand, he was induced to send her for three months to Edinburgh — there, and in that time, to learn manners, ^^and be perfited," as her mother said, '^wi' a boarding-school education." But, to return to Charles, the first-born, to whose history it is requisite our attention should at present be directed, nothing could seem more auspicious than the spring of his youth, notv/ith standing t!ie lurking inclination of his father were coi THE ENTAIL 1 ir elegantly )ur.se of our se sight of ive a brief ty she had her aecom- !e ; indeed. Dredilection nt. What I acquired Hirple, a mong the vith a stilt, I the floors, ound ten." tting, and ibled writ- continued period of 'as so far brtune he hand, lie months to to learn •ther said, -born, to on should eem more , notv/itii lis father to set him aside in the order of succession. This was principally owing to his grandmother, who had, during the life of the laird, her husband, l;m,ii,uished, almost from her wedding-day, in a state of uninterested resignation of spirit, so quiet, and yet so melancholy, that it partook far more of the nature of dejection than content- ment. Immediately after his death her health and her spirits began to acquire new energy ; and before he was six months in the earth she strangely appeared as a cheerful old lady who delighted in society, and could herself administer to its })leasures. In the summer following she removed into Glasgow, and Charles, being then about ten years old, was sent to reside with her for the advantages of attending the schools. Consider- inij the illiterate education of his father and the rough-spun humours and character of his mother, this was singularly fortunate ; for the old lady had, in her youth, been deemed destined for a more refined sphere than the householdry of the Laird of Plealands. Her father was by profession an advocate in Edinburgh, and had sat in the last assembly of the States of Scotland. Having, however, to the last opposed the Union with all the vehe- mence in his power, he was rejected b}^ the government party of the day ; and in conse- quence, although his talents and acquirements were considered of a superior order, he was 7!2 THE ENTAIL allowed to hang on about the Parliament House with the empty celebrity of abilities that, wit!i more prudence, might have secured both riches and honours. Tlie leisure which he was thus obliged to possess was devoted to the cultivation of his daughter's mind, and the affection ot no father was ever more tender, till about the period when she attained her twentieth year. Her charms were then in full blossom, and she was | seen only to be followed and admired. But, in proportion as every manly heart was delighted with the graces and intelligence of the unfor- tunate girl, the solicitude of her father to see her married grew more and more earnest, till it actually became his exclusive and predominant passion, and worked upon him to such a degree that it could no longer be regarded but as tinc- tured with some insane malady ; insomuch that his continual questions respecting the addresses of the gentlemen, and who or whether any of them sincerely spoke of love, embittered her life, and deprived her of all the innocent delight which the feminine heart, in the gaiety and triumph of youth, naturally enjoys from the homage of the men. At this jurcture Malachi Hypel was in Edin- burgh, drinking the rounds of an advocate's studies, — for he had no intention to practise, and with students of that kind the bottle then sup- plied the place of reviews and magazines. He was a stu^ fellow, cn| almost to manners a^ joyously, and the \j and one ij and brand! her a tend] it with an heart of tl idea of be rugged, si I space of lit to her fate The cor quite inexj died, unab THE ENTAIL 7li ment House | s that, witli both riches obliged to Ltion of Im 't no father the period year. Her nd she Mas g ired. But, I LS delighted the unfor- :her to see earnest, till redominant h a degree Lit as tine- much that addresses ler any of tered her nt delight aiety and from the in Edin- idvocate's ctise^ and hen suj)- |ies. He was a sturdy, rough, hard-riding, and free-living pt fellow, entitled by his fortune and connections .ilniost to the best society, but (qualified by his manners and inclinatio., to relish the lowest more joyously. Unluckily he was among the loudest and the warmest admirers of the ill-fated girl ; and one night after supper, flushed with claret and brandy, he openly, before her father, made her a tender of his hand. The old man grasped it with an avaricious satisfaction, and though the heart of the poor girl was ready to burst at the ide-i of becoming the wife of jne so coarse and ruiiired, she was nevertheless induced., in the space of little more than a month after, to submit to her fate. The conduct of her father was at that time quite inexplicable ; but when he soon afterwards died, unable to witness the misery to which he had consigned his beloved child, the secret came out. His circumstances were in the most ruinous condition : his little patrimony was entirely con- sumed ; and he acknowledged on his deathbed, while lie implored with anguish the pardon of his daughter, that the thought of leaving her in poverty had so overset his reason that he could think of nothing but of securing her against the horrors of want. A disclosure so painful should have softened the harsh nature of her husband towards her; but it had quite a contrary effect. He considered himself as having been in some degree overreached ; and although he had certainly 74 THE ENTAIL not marricHi her witli any view to fortune, he yet reviled her as a l)arty to her father's sordid machination. This confirmed the sadness witl. wliicli she had yielded to become his bri(]( and darkened the whole course of her wedded life with one continued and unvaried shade of melancholy. The death of her husband was in consequence felt as a deliverance from thraldom. The even' happened late in the day, but still in time enoiiiili to allow the original brightness of her mind to shine out in the evening with a serene aiui pleasing lustre, sufficient to show what, in happier circumstances, she might have been. The beams fell on Charles with the cherishing influence of the summer twilight on the young plant; and if the tears of memory were sometimes mingled with her instructions, they were like the gracious dews that improve the delicacy of the flower and add freshness to its fragrance. Beneath her care, his natural sensibility was exalted and refined; and if it could not be said that he was endowed with genius, he soon appeared to feel with all tlie tenderness and intelligence of a poet. In this respect his ingenuous affections served to recall the long- vanished happiness of her juvenile hopes, and yielding to the sentiments which such re- flections were calculated to inspire, she devoted, perhaps, too many of her exhortations in teaching him to value love as the first of earthly blessing and of human enjoyments. ^^Love," she often said to 111 stood tlu'l it comes kindled il and stronJ and point] ^vhcnce il ill calculaj in the woj to master come the ^vhich his to medita opportunit s ' :| ym THE ENTAIL / •> fortune, he ther's sordid ladness wit!. ■i his bri(|( her wedded ed shade oi consequence The event time enouol) lier mind to serene aiul t, in hapj)ier The beams influence of lant; and if es mingled the gracious flower and ^ h her care, nd refined; IS endowed ^ith all the In this i to recall nile hopes, such re- e devoted, n teaching Y blessings she often said to the wondering boy, who scarcely under- stood tlie term, " Love is like its end)lem fire : it conies down from hejiven, and when once kindled in two faithful bosoms, grows brighter and stronger as it mingles its flames, ever rising and pointing towards the holy fountain-head from whence it came." These romarwtic lessons were ill calculated to fit him to perform that wary part in the world which could alone have enabled him to master the malice of his fortune and to over- come the consequences of that disinheritance which liis father had never for a moment ceased to meditate, but only waited for an appropriate op])ortunity to carry into effect. CHAPTER XIV LyHARLES, in clue time, was sent to collcfre, and while attending the classes formed an inti- mate friendship with a youth of his own age, of tlic name of Colin Fatherlans, the only son of Fatherlans of that Ilk. He was at this time about eighteen, and being invited by his com- panion to spend a few weeks at Fatherlans House, in Ayrshire, he had soon occasion to feel the influence of his grandmother's lectures on affection and fidelity. Colin liad an only sister, and Charles, from the first moment that he saw her, felt the fascinations of her extraordinary beauty and of the charms of a mind still more lovely in its intelligence than tlu bloom and graces of her form. Isabella Father- lans was tall and elegant, but withal so gentle that she seemed, as it were, ever in need of protection ; and the feeling which this diffidence of nature universally inspired converted the homage of her admirers into a sentiment of tenderness which, in the impassioned bosom of Charles Walkinshaw, was speedily warmed into love. 76 For sev cat ion t)f iof Isabe^li between mutual paj tiie sunshil mises in thing, on I lineage aij to her pan as a Hiatcl Time alon their affec leaj^ue, an runs smoot The fatl ^ tunate lair I project of 1 which, at I the lovers blossoms ii like a nip] for ever. was a suffi I to comma] that fond I sidered as 'I ho})e to o '" bella onlj . to her lo\ * felt as a ] THE ENTAIL / I to eolleire. tied an iiiti- own age, of only son of t this time yy his com- Fatherlans sion to feel lectures on s, from tlie fascinations charms of a e than tlie lla Father- so gentle n need of diffidence erted the timent of bosom of rmed into For several successive years he had the gratifi- cation of spend'ng some weeks in the company of Isabella ; and the free intercourse ])ermitted between them soon led to the disclosure of a mutual passion. No doubt at that time clouded the sunshine that shone along the hopes and pro- mises in the vista of their future years. Every- thing, on the contrary, was propitious. His lineage and prospects rendered him acceptable to her parents, and she was viewed by his father as n match almost beyond expectation desirable. Time alone seemed to be the only adversary to tiicir affection ; but with him Fortune was in league, and the course of true love never long runs smooth. The father of Isabella was one of those unfor- tunate lairds who embarked in the Mississippian project of the Ayr Bank, the inevitable fate of which, at the very moment when the hopes of the lovers were as gay as the apple-boughs with blossoms in the first fine mornings of spring, came like a nipping frost and blighted their happiness for ever. Fatherlans was ruined, and his ruin was a sufficient reason, with the inflexible Claud, to command Charles to renounce all thoughts of that fond connection which he had himself con- sidered as the most enviable which his son could hoj)e to obtain. But the altered fortunes of Isa- bella only served to endear her more and more to her lover ; and the interdict of his father was felt as a profane interference with that hallowed 78 THE ENTAIL entliusiasni of mingled love and sorrow with which his breast was at the moment filled. " It is impossible/' said he ; " and even were It in my power to submit to the sacrifice you require, honour, and every sentiment that makes life worthy, would forbid me. No, sir ; I feel that Isabella and I are one. Heaven has made us so, and no human interposition can separate minds which God and nature have so truly united. The very reason that you m'ge against the continuance of my attachment is the strongest argument to make me cherish it with greater devotion than ever. You tell me she is poor, and must be penniless. Is not that, sir, telling me that she has claims upon my compassion as well as on my love ? You say her father must be driven to the door Gracious Heaven ! and in such a time shall I shun Isabella ? A common stranger, one that I had never before known, would, in such adversity and distress, be entitled to any asylum I could offer; but Isabella — in the storm that has unroofed her father's house, shall she not claim that shelter which, by so many vows, I have sworn to extend over her through ] e.''" "Weel, weel, Charlie," replied the old man, " rant awa, and tak thy tocherless bargain to thee, and see what thou'U mak o't. But mind my words : When poverty comes in at the door, love jumps out at the window." '' It is true/' said the lover, a little more calmly, "that we cannot hope to live in such (■irciimstan| ibiit still, p;irtnershii| father, youl ^^We'llll father. "^ young, cle^ iiccdlVil md Charlie, I'll ye'U just \i (onnection. ()' my coun| foot may neither yoj luit ye can This was I and sedate versation, ( tliat time iiumediatel; understand at the end so inclined, culated wi^ that the : cumstancei vcar, have lover ; and own self-d of Futherl twelve m< THE ENTAIL 79 V with which jven were it you require, makes life I feel that made us so, arate minds nited. The continuance rgument to votion tlian d must be le that she i as on my iven to the ch a time •anger, one 1, in such iny asylum II that has not claim r I have • old man, argain to But mind he door, tie more hi sucli oircnmstances as I had so often reason to expect ; :l)iit still, you will not refuse to take me into partnership, which, in the better days of her father, you so often promised ? " '^ We'll hae twa words about that," replied the father. " It's ae thing to take in a partner, young, clever, and sharp, and another to take a iieeclfid man with the prospect o' a family. But, Charlie, I'll no draw back in my word to you, if ye'll just put off for a year or twa this calf-love connection. Maybe, by-and-by ye'll think better ()' my counsel ; at ony rate, something for a sair ^fbot may be gathered in the meantime, and neither you nor Bell Fatherlans are sae auld jhut ye can afford to bide a while." This was said in the old man's most reflective ,iand sedate manner ; and after some further con- Iversation, Charles did consent to postpone for |tliat time his marriage, on condition of being fiinmediately admitted into partnership, with an understanding that he should be free to marry iat the end of twelve months, if he still continued so inclined. Both parties in this arrangement cal- culated without their host. The father thought |that the necessary change in the exterior cir- icumstances of Isabella would, in the course of the lyear, have a tendency to abate the ardour of her lover; and the son gave too much credit to his own self-denial, supposing that, although the ruin |of Fatherlans was declared, yet, as in similar cases, itwelve months would probably elapse before the 80 THE ENTAIL sequestration and sale of his estate would finally reduce the condition of his family. From the moment, however, that the aff)iirs of the banking' R| company were found irretrievable, Mr Fatherlans zealously bestirred himself to place his daughter above the hazards of want, even while he enter- tained the hope that it might not be necessary. He carried her with him to Glasgow, and, before calling at Claud's shop, secured for her an asylum in the house of Miss Mally Trimmings, a cele- brated mantua-maker of that time. When he afterwards waited on the inexorable pedhir, and communicated the circumstance, the latter with unfeigned pleasure commendeci the prudence uf the measure ; for he anticipated that the pride of ni::^ son would recoil at the idea of connecting himself with Isabella in her altered state. What the lover himself felt on hearing the news we shall not attempt to describe, nor shall we so far intrude beyond the veil which should ever be drawn over the anxieties and the sorrows of young affection, under darkened prospects, as to relate what passed between the lovers when they next met. The resolution, however, with which they both separated was worthy of the purity of their mutual affections, and they agreed to pass the probationary year in a cheerful submission to their lot. When turned th( situated o foot of tht the bridge fflen, wher commandii gated pros The yea sun setting which, in £ season ter distant mo A thin mi; of a haze t I from the ■ the view ; in the goh outlines o with a b as if illu: the trees s and here VOL. I. v^ould finally From the llie banking' r Fatherlaiis lis daughter le he enter- 3 necessary. and, before r an asylum ngs, a cele- When he pedhir, and Litter Mitli prudence of t the pride connecting ate. What news we hall we so hould ever sorrows of )ects, as to when thev ith which purity of d to pass ubmission '■i CHAPTER XV \V HEN Charles parted from Isabella he re- turned thoughtfully towards Grippy, which was situated on the south side of the Clyde, at the foot of the Cathkin hills. His road, after passing the bridge, lay across the fields as far as Ruther- glen, where it diverged towards the higher ground, commanding at every winding a rich and varie- gated prospect. The year was waning into autumn, and the sun setting in all that effulgence of glory with which, in a serene evening, he commonly at that season terminates his daily course behind the distant mountains of Dumbartonshire and Argyle. A thin mist, partaking more of the lacy character of a haze than the texture of a vapour, spreading from the river, softened the nearer features of the view ; while the distant hills were glowing in the golden blaze of the western skies, and the outlines of the city on the left appeared gilded with a brighter light, every window sparkling as if illuminated from within. 7'he colour of the trees and hedges was beginning to change ; and here and there a tuft of yellow leaves, and VOL. I. 81 82 THE ENTAIL occasionally the berries of the mountain ash, like clusters of fiery embers, -with sheaves of corn and reapers in a few of the neighbouring fields, showed that the summer was entirely past aiul the harvest-time begun. The calm diffused over the face of the land- scape, and the numerous images of maturity and repose everywhere around, were calculated to soothe the spirit, to inspire gentle thoughts, and to awaken pleasing recollections ; and there was something in the feelings with which the lovers had separated, if not altogether in unison with the graciousness of the hour, still so much in harmony with the general benignity of nature that Charle felt his resolution and self-denial elevated with a sentiment of devotion, mingled with the fond enthusiasm of his passion. '^ It is but a short time — a few months — and we shall be happy ! " he exclaimed to himself; "and our happiness will be the dearer that we shall have earned it by this sacrifice to prudence and to duty." But Charles and Isabella had estimated their fortitude too highly. They were both inexperi- enced in what the world really is ; and her tender and sensitive spirit was soon found incapable of withstanding the trials and the humiliation to which she found herself subjected. It was part of her business to carry home the dresses made up for Miss Mally's customers ; and althougli the Glasgow ladies of that time were perhaps style or than those were less tion for th our fair cc been. Th often obli^ which, the attention painfully Still, how< circumstan sensibilitie her beaut began to : Charles her in the formed hei of the bur how much past, and c misfortune more. It being late — the foo Mally's d\ he arrivec wife of t Matty wh Tolbooth THE ENTAIL 83 in asli, like es of corn iring fields, y past and ' the land- iturity and iulated to ughts, and there Avas the lovers [lison witli ) much ill of nature self-denial 1, mingled n. t( It is I we shall "and our shall have e and to ited their inexperi- ler tender apable of liation to lome the lers ; and me were perhaps not more difficult to please with the style or fashion of their gowns and millinery than those of our own day, yet some of them were less actuated by a compassionate considera- tion for the altered fortunes of Isabella than all our fair contemporaries would undoubtedly have been. The unfortunate girl was, in consequence, often obliged to suffer taunts and animadversions, which, though levelled against the taste or in- attention of her mistress, entered not the less painfully into her young and delicate bosom. Still, however, she struggled against the harsh circumstances to which she was exposed ; but her sensibilities were stronger than her courage, and her beauty betrayed what she felt, and soon began to fade. Charles was in the practice of accompanying her in the evenings when she commonly per- formed her disagreeable errands, and relieved her of the burden of her band-box, joyfully counting how much of the probationary year was already past, and cheering her with the assurance that her misfortunes had only endeared her to him the more. It happened, however, that one Saturday, being late of reaching the place of rendezvous — the foot of the staircase which led to Miss Mally's dwelling — Isabella had gone away before he arrived, with a new dress to Mrs Jarvie, the wife of the far-famed Bailie Nicol, the same Matty who lighted the worthy magistrate to the Tolbooth on that memorable night when he, the 84 THE ENTAIL son of the deacon, found liis kinsman Rob Roy there. Matty at this time was a full-blown iady— the simple, modest, barefooted lassie having developed into a crimson, gorgeous, high-heeled madam — well aware of the augmented width and weight of the bailie's purse, and jealous a little too niuch of her own consequence, perhaps by recollecting; the condition from which she had been exaltc'J. The dress made up for her was a costly neglige ; i" not only contained several yards of the richest brocade more than any other Miss Mally Trim- mings had ever made, but was adorned with cuffs and flounces in a style of such affluent magnifi- cence that we question if any grander has since been seen in Glasgow. Nor was it ordered for any common occasion, but to giace a formal dinner- party which Provost Anderson and his lady in- tenc'ed to give the magistrates and their wives at the conclusion of his eighth provostry. It was, therefore, not extraordinary that Mrs Jarvie should take particular interest in this dress ; but the moment she began to try it on, poor Isabella discovered that it would not fit, and stood trem- bling from head to heel, while the bailie's wife, in great glee and good-humour with the splendour of the dress, was loud in her praises of the cut of the ruffle-cuffs and the folds of the flounces. Having contemplated the flow of the neglige on bcth sides, and taken two or three stately steps across the room, to see ho^y it would sweep lur hanas| they woul( Isabella] hand, apj] niii;ht expj stood a ml Lot's wife I the charm] "Oh, cl: the ci-dcvi chrystal ! mistress, to be skel goun's ruii near-begai o' the gait me. This As I'm a li me to say- the lords, twenty gu God and satisfactio] me off wi' \vi' you ; 1 presence, grace to 1 Craiphl ] tumely : it Coughing. THE ENTAIL 85 i Rob R «y lady— tlie developed madam— nd weight ! too much -collectiiur n exaltrd. neglige lie richest illy Trim- with cuffs t magnifi- has since ed for any il dinner- lady iu- eir wives 3stry. It [rs Jarvie ress ; but r Isabella >od treni- s wife, in plendour ' the cut flounces. -glige on ely steps I sweep behind, Airs Jarvie took the wings of tlie body in her lianas, and drawing them together, found ihey would not nearly meet. Isabella, Vvith a beating heart and a diffident hand, approached to smooth the silk, that it niii;ht expand ; but all would not do. Mrs Jarvie stood a monument of consternation, as silent as Lot s wife when she looked back and thought of the charming dresses she had left behind. " Oh, chrystal ! " were the first words to which the ci-deva?it Matty could give utterance. " Oh, chrystal ! My God, isna this moving .'' Your mistress, doited devil, as I maun ca' her, ought to be skelpit wi' nettles for this calamity. The goun's ruin't. My gude silk to be clippit in this near-begaun way, past a' redemption. Gang out o' the gait, ye cuLty, and no finger and meddle wi' me. This usage is enough to provoke the elect ! As I'm a living soul — and that's a muckle word for me to say- -I'll hae the old craighling scoot ^ afore the lords. The first cost was mair than five-and- twenty guineas. If there's law and justice atween God and man, she shall pay for't, or I'll hae my satisfaction on her flesh. Hither, maiden, and help me off wi' it. Siccan a beauty as it was ! Tak it wi' you ; tak it to you ; out o' the house and my presence. How durst ye dare to bring sic a dis- grace to me .'' But let me look at it. Is't no 1 Craiqhling scoot. Scoot is a term of the greatest con- tumely : it is used so in Sir Andrew Wylie. Craighling is Coughing. 86 THE ENTAIL poj ?ible to put in a gushet or a gore, and to make an eik ? " ^ *^ril take it home and try," said Isabella, timidly folding up the gown, which she h;id removed from Mrs Jarvie. "Try!" said the bailie's wife, relapsing; "a pretty-like story that sic a goun should stand in the jeopardy o' a try. But how could Miss Mally presume to send a silly thing like t'ee on this occasion ? Lay down the goun this precious moment, and gae hame and order her to come to me direkilty : it's no to seek what I hae to say." The trembling and terrified girl let the unfor- tunate neglige fall, and hastily, in tears, quitted the room, and, flying from the house, met in the street her lover, who, having learned where she was, had followed her to the house. A rapid and agitated disclosure of her feelings and situation followed. Charles, on the spot, resolved, at all hazards, rather to make her his wife at once, aiid to face the worst that might in consequence happen from his father's displeasure, than allow her to remain exposed to such contumelious treatment. Accordingly, it was agreed that they should be married ; and on the Monday followimi; the ceremony was performed, when he conducted her to a lodging which he had provided in the interval. 1 Mk, Additioi^. On the anxious, d tention w what he sible, to ness, mig and moti thought, Liiough tl had some view it e5 which thi first, and He ha grandmo towards effect it i was iull; after so] peculiar! her inte: going t( when h( >re, and to 1 Isabella, p 1 she had ipsm^; "a d stand in Miss Mally ee on this s precious ;o come to e to say." the unfor- rs, quitted net in the where she rapid and I situation ^ed, at all once, aiid nsequence hari allow tumelious that they followinij conducted id in the CHAPTEK XVI yjS the morning after his marriage Charles was anxious, doubtful, and diffident. His original in tention was to go at once to his father, to state what he had done, and to persuade him, if pos- sible, to overlook a stej) that, from its sudden- ness, might be deemed rash, but, from the source and motives from which it proceeded, could, he thought, be regarded only as {)raiseworthy. Still, ciiough this was his own opinion, he nevertheless had some idea that the old gentleman would not view it exactly in the same light ; and the feeling which this doubt awakened made him hesitate at first, and finally to seek a mediator. He had long remarked that "the leddy," his grandmother, sustained a part of great dignity towards his father ; and he concluded, from the effect it appeared to produce, that her superiority was iully acknowledged. Under this delusion, after some consideration of the bearings and peculiarities of his case, he determined to t.y her interference, and for that purpose, instead of going to Grippy, as he had originally intended when he left Isabella, he proceeded to the house 87 88 THE ENTAIL of the .)1(1 lady, wlicrr; he foiiiul her at home aiul ahme. Tlie moment lie entered her sitting-room she perceived that his mint.' was laden with some- thing which j)resscd heavily on his feehngs ; and she said — " What has vext you, Charhe ? Has your father been severe upon you for ony misde- meanour, or hae ye done anything that ye're afeared to tell ? " In the exj)ression of these sentiments she had touched the sensitive cord that, at the moment, was fastened to his heart. "I'm sure," was his reply, "thai \ hae done no ill, and dinna ken why I should be frightened in thinking on what everybody that can feel and reflect will approve." "What is't .^ " said the leddy thoughtfully. " What is't } If it's aught good, let me partake the solace wi' you ; and if it's bad, speak it out, that a remedy may be, as soon as possible, applied." " Bell Fatherlans," was his answer ; but he could only articulate her name. " Poor lassie ! " said the venerable gentle- woman, "her lot's hard; and I'm wae for both your sake and hers, Charlie, that your father's so dure as to stand against your marriage in the way he does. But he was aye a bargainer. Alack ! the world is made up o' bargainers ; and a heart wi' a right affection is no an article o' muckle repute in til I'oor genty to hae swe^ >,he's oner tl ami prius ol and, what's! pridefu' cusl " She coia let her," rej these expre: his imprude Mrs Hyi ansvvcr, but we might ir "Ye shou help you, m to your fat do what ye trust to Pre it should be "I fear," I hae done married ye snooled - a p fat-pursed a new gow: " Marrie accent of i ;! ried ! W( I trodden, £ iJ ^ Tawpy. ' THE ENTAIL 89 home and -room she itii somc- "ig«; and FI.'is your y misde- liat ye 're > she had moment, done no itened in feel and fhtfuljy. partake it out, 30ssible, but he gentle- )r botli ler's so le way Mack I I heart ciuckle repute in the common market o' man and woman. I'oor ^enty Bell ! I wisli it had been in my power to hue sweetened her lot ; for I doubt and fear ^he's oucr tnin-skinned to thole long the needles ,111(1 prins o' Miss Mally Trimmings' short temper, .111(1, what's far waur, the tawpy ^ taunts of her pridt'fu' customers." " She could suffer them no longer, nor would I let her," replied the bridegroom, encouraged by these expressions to disclose the whole extent of his imprudence. Mrs Hypel did not immediately return any answer, but sat for a few moments thoughtful, we might indeed say sorrowful ; she then said — "Ye shouldna, Charlie, speak to me. I canna help you, my dear, though I hae the will. Gang to your father and tell him a', and if he winna do what ye wish, then, my poor bairn, bravely trust to Providence, that gars the heart beat as it should beat, in spite o' a' the devices o' man/* "I fear," replied Charles with simplicity, "that I hae done that already, for Bell and me were married yesterday. I couldna suffer to see her snooled - and cast down any longer by every fat-pursed wife that would triumph and glory in a new gown." " Married, Charlie ! " said the old lady with an accent of surprise, mingled with sf^rrow. "Mar- ried ! Weel, that's a step that canna be un- trodden, and your tribulation is proof enough ^ Tawpy. Ill-conditioned. 2 Snooled. Broken in vspirit. 90 THE ENTAir. to me that you are awakened to the eoiisetjuencT. But what's to be done ? " " Nothing, mem, but only to speak a kind word for us to my father," was the still simple answer of the simple younjij husband. ''I'll spejik for you, <"harlie: I can do tiiat, and I'll be haj)py and i)routl to ^ie you a' tlu- countenance in my power ; but your father, Charlie — the ^ude foririe me because he is your father — I'm darkened and dubious when I think o him. "I hae a notion," replied Charles, "that Me need be no cess ^ on him. We're content to live in a sma' way, only I would like my wife to be countenanced as becomes her ain family, and mair especially because she is mine ; so that, if my father will be pleased to tak her, and regard her as his gude-dochter, I'll ask nothing for the present, but do my part, as an honest and honourable man, to the very uttermost «' my ability." The kind and venerable old woman was ])r(>- foundly moved by the earnest and frank spirit in which this was said ; and she assured him that so wise and so discreet a resolution could not fail to make his father look with a compassionate eye on his generous imprudence. " So gae your ways home to Bell," said she, " and counsel and comfort her ; the day's raw, but I'll even now away to the Grippy to intercede for you, and by 1 Cess. Tax. THE ENTAIL 91 'onse(jucncc. eak .'I kind still simple ;m do tlmt, you a' tlie our father, ; he is your len I think (( , that we content to ie my wife ain family, le ; so that, k lier, and sk nothinjr an honest ;termost o' the <:jloaming be you here wi* your bonny l)ri(le, and I trust, as I wish, to hae glad tidings for vou baith." Charles, with great ardour and eneri^y, expressed I the sense which he felt of the old lady's kindness and partiality, but still he doubted the successful result of the mission she had undertaken. Never- theless, lier words inspired hope, and hope was the charm that spread over the prospects of Isabella and of himself the hght, the verdure, and the colours which enriched and filled the distant and future scenes of their expectations with fairer and brighter promises than they were ever destined to enjoy. 1 was ])!'()- ik spirit in him that dd not fail ipassionate 3 gae your ounsel and even now ou, and by i CHAPTER XYII OLAUD was sitting at the window when he dis- covered his mother-in-law coming slowly towards the house, and he said to his wife — " In the name o' gude, Girzy, what can hae brought your mother frae the town on sic a day as this ? " " I hope," replied the leddy of Grippy, "that nothing's the matter wi' Charlie, for he promised to be out on Sabbath to his dinner, and never came." In saying these words, she went hastily to the door to meet her mother, the appearance of whose countenance at the moment was not calculated to allay her maternal fears. Indeed, the old lady scarcely spoke to her daughter, but walkini^ straight into the dining-room where Grippy him- self was sitting, took a seat on a chair, and then threw off her cloak on the back of it, before she uttered a word. " What's wrang, grannie } " said Claud, rising from his seat at the window and coming towards her. " What's wrang ; ye seem fashed } " ^ ^ Fashed, Vexed and troubled, 92 THE ENTAIL 93 hen he dis- vly towards it can hae n sic a day 3py, "that e promised and never tily to the of whose calculated the old it walkiiio't Charlie c it's a sad and gentle flyte 1 and hat Claud [ remained •ke — aid, for ye 3 affection. hink what i^s had my settled." 1 the twa dryly to alkinshaw atherlans re was a 5 parties. ire made d faculty s o' what THE ENTAIL f).5 is ordained to be. Charlie Walkinshaw and Bell Fatherlans were a couple marrowed ^ by their Maker, and it's no right to stand in the way of their happiness." " I'm sure," said Claud, now breaking silence, ''it can ne'er be said that I'm ony bar till't. I would only fain try a year's probation in case it's but calf-love." Mrs Hypel shook her head as she said — "It's vera prudent o' you, but ye canna put auld heads on young shouthers. In a word, Mr Walkinshaw, it's no reasonable to expeck that young folk, so encouraged in their mutual affec- tion as they were, can thole so lang as ye would wish. The days o' sic courtships as Jacob's and Rachel's are lang past." " I but bade them bide a year," replied Claud. " A year's an unco time to love ; but, to make a lang tale short, what might hae been foreseen has come to pass, — the fond young things hae gotten themselves married." "No possible ! " exclaimed Claud, starting from his chair, which he instantly resumed. "Weel," said Mrs Walkinshaw, '^if e'er I heard the like o' that ! Our Charlie a married man ! the head o' a family ! " The old lady took no notice of these and other interjections of the same meaning which her daughter continued to vent ; but looking askance ^ Marrowed. Partnered. 96 THE ENTAIL at Claud, who seemed for p minute deeply and moodily agitated, she said — "Ye say nothing, Mr Walkinshaw." " What can I say ? " was his answer. " I had a better hope for Charlie — I thought the year would hae cooled him — ; and I'm sure Miss Betty Bodle would hae been a better bargain." " Miss Betty Bodle ! " exclaimed the grand- mother ; " she's a perfect tawpy." "Weel, weel," said Grippy, "it mak's no odds noo what she is : Charlie has ravelled the skein 1 o' his own fortune, and maun wind it as he can." "That will no be ill to do, Mr Walkinshaw, wi' your helping hand. He's your first-born, and a better-hearted lad never lived." "Nae doubt I maun heln him — there can be A. nae doubt o' that ; but he canna expeck, and the world can ne'er expeck, that I'll do for him what I might hae done had he no been so rash and disobedient." " Very true, Mr W^alkinshaw," said the gratified old lady, happy to find that the reconciliation was so easily effected ; and, proud to be the messenger of such glad tidings to the young couple, she soon after returned to Glasgow. But scarcely had she left the house when Claud appeared strangely disturbed : at one moment he ran hastily towards his scrutoire and opened it, and greedily seized the title-deeds of his pro- ^ Ravdlcd the skein. Twisted the thread. perty; til retreatinj " Wha] werena said his \| '^'lldl was the " Eh, into thel Charlie's lather." "Out Claud in Walter tl " It's c glide to a low, it walked t( "Nae thing to his rashn " It is, a ane fc f cut then " Tha I " Didna \ the leg the Enj I Betty B I " Anc THE ENTAIL 97 perty ; the next he closed it thoughtfully, and, retreating to his seat, sat down in silence. " What's the matter \vi' you, gudeman ? Ye werena sae fashed when my mother was here," said his wife. " I'll do nothing rashly — I'll do nothing rashly," was the mysterious reply. " Eh, mither, mither ! " cried Walter, bolting into the room. " Wliat would you think : our Charlie's grown a wife's gudeman, like my father." " Out o' my sight, ye ranting cuif ! " ^ exclaimed Claud in a rapture of rage, w^hich so intimidated Walter that he fled in terror. "It's dreadfu' to be sae temjited — and a' the glide to gang to sic a haverel," added Claud, in a low, troubled accent, as he turned away and walked towards the window. "Nae doubt," said his wife, "it's an awfu' thing to hear o' sic disobedience as Charlie, in his rashness, has been guilty o'." ''It is, it is," replied her husbfnd; *'and many a ane for far less hae disinherited their sons — cut them ofFwi' a shilling." " That's true," rejoined the leddy of Grippy. " Didna Kilmarkeckle gie his only daughter but the legacy o' his curse for running away wi* the Englisher captain, and leave a' to hi'^ niece Pretty Bodle .> " "And a' she has might hae been in our ^ Cuif. Simpleton. VOL. I. 98 THE ENTAIL family but for this misfortune. When I think o' the loss, and how pleased her father was when I proposed Charlie for her, it's enough to gar me tak some desperate step to punish the contuma- cious reprobate. He'll break my heart." "Dear keep me, gudeman, but ye're mair fashed than I could hae thought it was in the power o' nature for you to be," said Mrs. Walkinshaw, surprised at his agitation. '^ The scoundrel ! the scoundrel ! " said Claud, walking quickly across the room. '' To cause sic a loss ! To tak' nae advice ! To run sic a ram-race ! I ought, I will, gar him fin' the weight o' my displeasure. Betty Bodle's tocher would hae been better than the Grippy. But he shall suffer for't — I seena why a father mayna tak' his own course as weel as a son. I'll no be set at nought in this gait. I'll gang in to Mr Keelevin the morn." '^Dinna be ouer headstrong, my dear, but compose yoursel'," said the lady, perplexed, and in some degree alarmed, at the mention of the lawyer's name. "Compose thysel', Girzy, and no meddle wi' me," was the answer, in a less confident tone than the declaration he had just made ; adding — " I never thought he would hae used me in this way. I'm sure I was aye indulgent to im. "Overly sae," interrupted Mrs Walkinshaw, "and often I told you that he would gie you a THE 7 .TAIL 99 hct heart for't, and noo ye see my words hae come to pass." Claud scowled a*, her with a look of the fiercest aversion, for at that moment tlie better feelings of his nature yearned towards Charles, and almost overcame the sordid avidity with which he had resolved to cut him off from his birthright, and to entail the estate of Grippy with the Plealands on Walter — an intention which, as we have before mentioned, he early formed, and had never aban- doned, being merely deterred from carrying it into effect by a sense of shame, mingled with affec- tion, and a slight reverence for natural justice : all which, however, were loosened from their hold in his conscience by the warranty which the im- prudence of the marriage seemed to give him in the eyes of the world, for doing what he had so long desired to do. Instead, however, of making her any reply, he walked out into the open air, and continued for about half-an-hour to traverse the green in front of the house, sometimes with quick, short steps, at others with a slow and heavy pace. Gradually, however, his motion became more regular, nd ultimately ended in a sedate and firm tread, which indicated that his mind was made up on the question which he had been debating with hinijself. CHAPTEK XVIII JL HAT abysm of legal dubieties, the office of Mr Keelevin, the writer, consisted of two obscure apartments on the ground floor of McGregor's Land, in M'^Whinnie's Close, in the Gallowgate. The outer room was appropriated to the clerks, and the inner for the darker mysteries of con- sultation. To this place Claud repaired on the day following the interesting communication of which we have recorded the first impressions in the foregoing chapter. He had ordered breakfast to be ready an hour earlier than usual ; and as soon as he had finished it he went to his scrutoire, and taking out his title-deeds, put them in his pocket, and, without saying anything to his wife of what he intended to do, lifted his hat and stick from their accustomed place of repose in the corner of the dining-room, and proceeded, as we have said, to consult Mr Keelevin. It is not the universal opinion of mankind that the profession of the law is favourable to the preservation of simplicity of character or of bene- volence of disposition ; but this, no doubt, arises from the malice of disappointed clients, who, to 100 THE ENTAIL 101 i office of ro obscure l^Gregor's allowgate. ;he clerks, is of con- 2d on the lication of •essions in breakfast il ; and as scrutoire, em in his I his wife hat and repose in ceeded, as ikind that le to the r of bene- ubt, arises s, who, to shield themselves from the consequences of their own unfair courses, pretend that the wrongs and injustice of which they either are found guilty or are frustrated in the attempt to effect are owing to the faults and roguery of their own or of their adversaries' lawyers. But why need we advocate any revision of the sentence pronounced upon the hnibs of the law ? For, grasping as they do the whole concerns and interests of the rest of the community, we think they are sufficiently armed with claws and talons to defend themselves. All, in fact, that we meant by this apologetic insinua- tion was to prepare the reader for the introduction of Mr Keelevin, on whom the corrosive sublimate of a long and thorough professional insight of all kinds of equivocation and chicanery had in no degree deteriorated from the purity of his own unsuspicious and benevolent nature. Indeed, at the very time that Claud called, he was rebuking his young men on account of the cruelty of a con- trivance they had made to catch a thief that was in the nocturnal practice of opening the window of their office, to take away what small change they were so negligent as to leave on or in their desks ; and they were not only defending them- selves, but remonstrating with him for having rendered their contrivance abortive. For, after they had ingeniously constructed a trap within the window, namely, a footless table, over which the thief must necessarily pass to reach their desks, he had secretly placed a pillow under it, in 102 THE ENTAIL order that, when it fell down, the robber miglit not hurt himself in the fall. " Gude-morning, gude-mornin^, Mr Keelevin. How're ye the day ? " said Claud as he entered. " Gaily, gaily, Grippy. How're ye yoursel', and how's a' at hame ? Come awa ben to my room," was the writer's answer, turning round and open- ing the door ; for experience had taught him that visits from acquaintances at that hour were not out of mere civility. Claud stepped in, and seated himself in an old armed chair which stood on the inner side of the table where Mr Keelevin himself usually wrote ; and the lawyer followed him, after saying to the clerks, " I redde ye, lads, tak tent to what I hae been telling you, and no encourage yourselves to the practice of evil that good may come o't. To devise snares and stratagems is most abominable : all that ye should or ought to do is to take such precautions that the thief may not enter ; but to wile him into the trap, by leaving the window unfastened, was nothing less than to be the cause of his sin. So I admonish you no to do the like o't again." In saying this he came in, and, shutting the door, took his own seat at the opposite side of the table, addressing himself to Claud — " And so ye hae gotten your auld son married ? I hope it's to your satisfaction." " An he has brewed good yill, ^ Mr Keelevin, 1 YilL Ale. he'll dru hae com that I w( "That for, sin' was mad( stand, a' both heri " And troubled about it Mr Keel (k)^' to th Omit, thj lings and ne'er cou the pith I and over his back maun pu in the I mak som "We'l Hae ye i would w "No; property them, we'll nc 1 Wir 2 Sice THE ENTAIL 1 0.'i )ber mifrht Keelevin. entered, ursel', and my room," and open- t him tliat were not in an old ide of the lly wrote ; ng to tlie hat I hue rselves to ! o't. To )minable : ;ake such r ; but to ; window the cause the like ;ting the i side of ■'And so I hope keelevin, he'll drink the better," was the reply; "but I bae come to consult you anent a bit alteration that I would fain make in my testament." " That's no a matter of great difficulty, laird ; for, sin' we found out that the deed of tiitail that was made after your old son was born can never stand, a' ye have is free to be destined as ye will, both heritable and movable." " And a lucky discovery that was ! Many a troubled thought I hae had in my own breast about it ; and now I'm come to confer wi' you, Mr Keelevin, for I wouldna trust the hair o' a (lo<; to the judgment o' that tavert bodie, Gibby Omit, that gart me pay nine pounds seven shil- lings and saxpence, too, for the parchment — for it ne'er could be called an instrument, as it hadna the pith o' a windlestrae ^ to bind the property — ; and over and aboon that, the bodie has lang had his back to the wa' wi* the 'poplexy : so that I maun put my trusj in this affair into your hands, in the hope and confidence that ye're able to mak something mair siccar." ^ "We'll do our endeavour, Mr Walkinshaw. Hae ye made ony sort o' scantling ^ o' what you would wish done ? " " No ; but I hae brought the teetles o' the property in my pouch, and yeTl just conform to them. As for the bit saving of lying money, we'll no fash wi' it for the present ; I'm only ^ Windlestrae. The crested dog's-tail grass. ^ Siccar. Secure. 3 Scantling. Roiigh draft. 104 THE ENTAIL l()()kiii«r to f»et a solid and riur authority state to be greement as meddled wi', n the world, like to Jiear ye yourself^ other body r, prove, to Edinburifh, reditable in- ssted by his ye should b I did but 're bent on ection, but ght entail, ;ing that I J been but 1 again, be- 3nsequence le head of mily. It's " Weel, weel, Mr Keelevin, as I was saying, (linna ye fash your thumb, but mak out the papers in a siccar manner ; and maybe, though ye think sae ill o' me, it winna be the waur for Charlie after a's come and gane." " It's in the Lord's power, certainly," replied the worthy lawyer piously, *'to make it all up to him." •' And maybe it's in my power too ; for "when this is done, I'll liae to take another cast ^ o' your sleiuht o' hand in the way of a bit will for the movables and lying siller. But I would just like this to be weel done first." " Man, laird, I'm blithe to hear that ; but ye ken that ye told me last year, when you were clearing the wadset ^ that was left on the Gripjiy, that ye hadna muckle mair left. But I'm blithe to hear ye're in a condition to act the part of a true father to a' your bairns ; though I maun say that I canna approve, as a man and a frien', of tliis crotchet of entailing your estate on a haverel, to the prejudice of a braw and gallant lad like ( harlie. Howsever, sin' it is sae, we'll say nae mair about it. The papers will be ready for you by Wednesday come eight days, and I'll tak care to see they are to your wish." " Na, an ye dinna do that, the cost shall be on your own risk ; for the dcil a plack or bawbee will I pay for them till I hae a satisf^iction that they are as they ought to be. Howsever, gude- 1 Cast. Aid by the way. - Wadset. Reversion. no THE ENTAIL day, Mr Keelevin, and we'll be wi' you on Wed- nesday by ten o'clock." In saying this, Claud, who had in the mean- time risen from his seat, left the office without turning his head towards the desk where the clerks, as he walked through the outer room, were sitting, winking at one another, as he plodded past them, carrying his staff in his left hand behind him, a habit which he had acquired with his ellwand when he travelled the Borders as a pedlar. On the had been entail Gri his wife, < in mind, s ] ^'Vm t\ reason to \ ; made for noo, we m; To this I the most i ] made in h( ^ lated grun and natur continued- "But, p I would fc 1 hae to try neuk o' y< miss t. " I hae t I he, somew] I on Wed- the mean- ce without where the iter room, er, as he in his left d acquired tie Borders CHAPTER XIX UN the Saturday evening after the instruction'^ had been given to prepare the new deed of entail Grippy was thoughtful and silent ; and his wife, observing how much he was troubled I in mind, said — ''I'm thinking, gu le > m, though ye hae no reason to be pleased with this match Charlie has j! made for hinisel', ye ken, as it canna be helpit noo, we maun just put up wi' 't," To this observation, which was about one of the most sensible that ever the leddy o' Grippy made in her life, Claud replied with an ill-articu- lated grumph that partook more of the sound and nature of a groan than a growl ; and she continued — " But, poor laddie, bare legs need happing ! I would fain hope ye'll no be ouer dure ; ye'll hae to try an there be any moolly ^ pennies in the neuk o' your coffer that can be spared and no miss t. " I hae thought o' that, Girzy, my dawty," said he, somewhat more cordially than he was in the 1 Moolly, for want of using. Ill 112 THE ENTAIL practice of doing to his wife; "and we'll giuvr ouer the morn and speer for Charlie. I wish lit hadna been so Iieadstron sense, Mr Keclevin. But I'm sorry we cannu gae back wi' you, for we're just sae far on the road to see Charlie and Iiis lady landless." " 'Deed are we," added Mrs Walkinshaw ; '' and ye'U no guess what the gudeman has in his pouch to gie them for h;vasel ^ to their matrimony : the whole tot of a hundred pound, Mr Keelevin — what think you o' that ? " The lawyer looked first at the leddy, and then at tbe laird, and said, ^' Mr Walkinshaw, I hae done you wrong in my thought." "Say nae mair about it, but hae the papers ready by Wednesday, as I directed," replied Claud. '' I hope and trust, Mr Keelevin," said Mrs Walkinshaw, " that he's no about his will and tesf-amcnt. I redde ye, an he be, see that I'm no negleckil; and dinna let him do an injustice to the i.?.ve ^ for the behoof of Charlie, wha is, as I say, his darling chevalier." Mr Keelevin was as much perplexed as ever any member of the profession was in his life ; but he answered cheerfully — *^ Ye needna be fear't, Mrs W^alkinshaw : I'll no "wrang either you or any one of the family;" * Hansel. First gift : implying that it is an earnest of more to follow. 2 The lave. The remainder. THE ENTAIL liil saruGst of and he added, lookiiifif towards her husband, "if I can help it." " Na, thanks be an' praise, as I understand the l.'iw, that's no in your i)ower ; for I'm secured wi' a jointure on the Cirippy by my marriage articles ; and my father, in his testament, ordained me to hae a hundred a year out of the harming ^ o' his lying money, — the whilk, as I have myself counted, brings in to the gudeman, frae the >vadset - that he has on the Kilmarkeckle estate, full mair than a hundred and twenty -seven pounds. So I would wish both you and him to ken that I'm no in your reverence;"^ and like- wise, too, Mr Keelevin, that I'll no faik^ a farthing o' my right." Mr Keelevin was still more perplexed at the information contained in this speech ; for he knew nothing of the mortgage, or, as the leddy called it, the wadset, which Claud had on his neighbour Kilmarkeckle's property, Mr Omit having been employed by him in that business. Indeed, it was a regular part of Grippy's pawkie policy not to let his affairs be too well known, even to his most confidential legal adviser ; but, in common transactions, to employ any one who could be safely trusted in matters of ordinary professional routine. Thus the fallacious impression which Claud had in some degree made on the day in which he instructed the honest lawyer respecting 1 liarmiriih Interest. ^ Reverence. Power. 2 Wadset. Rovorsiori. * Faik, Almto. 122 THE ENTAIL the entail was, in a great measure, confirmed ; so that Mr Keelevin, instead of pressing the re- monstrance which he had qome on purpose from Glasgow that morning to urge, marvelled exceed- ingly within himself at the untold wealth of his client. In the meantime Grippy and his leddy con- tinued walking towards the city ; but the lawyer remounted his horse, pondering on what he had heard, and almost persuaded that Claud, whom he knew to be so close and wary in worldly matters, was acting a very prudent part. He conceived that he must surely be much richer than the world supposed ; and that, seeing the natural defects of his second son, Walter, — how little he was superior to an idiot, — and judging he could make no good use of ready money, but might, on the contrary, become the prey of knavery, he had perhaps determined, very wisely, to secure to him his future fortune by the entail proposed, meaning to indemnify Charles from his lying money. The only doubt that he could not clear off entirely to his satisfaction was the cir- cumstance of George, the youngest son, being preferred in the limitations of the entail to his eldest brother. But even this admitted of some- thing like a reasonable explanation ; for, by the will of the grandfather, in the event of Walter dying without male issue, George was entitled to succeed to the Plealands, as heir of entail ; the effect of all which, in the benevolent mind of THE ENTAIL li:3 Iionest Mr Keelevin, contributed not a little to rebuild the good opinion of his client, which had suffered such a shock from the harshness of his instructions as to induce him to pay the visit which led to the rencounter described ; and in consequence he walked his horse beside the laird and leddy, as they continued to pick their steps along the shady side of the road. Mrs Walkin- shaw, with her petticoats lifted half-leg high, still kept the van, and her husband followed, stooping forward in his gait, with his staff in his left hand behind him — the characteristic and usual position in which, as we have already men- tioned, he was wont to carry his ellwand when a pedlar. CHAPTER XXI JL HE young couple were a g od deal surprised at the unexpected visit of their father and mother ; for, although they had been led to hope, from tlie success of the old lady's mission, that their pardon would be conceded, they had still, by hearinfif nothing further on the subject, passed the interval in so much anxiety that it had materially impaired their iiappiness. Charles, who was well aware of the natural obduracy of his father's disposition, had almost entirely given up all expectation of ever being restored to his favour ; and the despon- dency of the apprehensions connected with this feeling underwent but little alleviation when he observed the clouded aspect, the averted eye, and the momentary glances, with which his wife was regarded, and the troubled looks from time to time thrown towards himself. Nevertheless, the visit, which was at first so embarrassing to all parties, began to assume a more cordial character ; and the generosity of Charles's nature, which led him to give a benevolent interpretation to the actions and motives of every man, soon mastered his anxieties : he found himself, after the ice was 124 THE ENTAIL 125 ice was broken, enabled to take a part in the raillery of his mother, who, in high glee and good-humour, joked with her blooming and blushing daughter- in-law with all the dexterity and delicacy of which she was so admirable a mistress. *'Eh!" said she, '^but this was a galloping wedding o' yours, Charlie. It was an unco-like thing. Bell — na, ye needna look down, for ye maunna expeck me to ca' you by your lang- nebbit ^ baptismal name, now that ye're my gude- dochter — for ceremony's a cauldrife commodity amang near freens. But surely. Bell, it would hae been mair wiselike had ye been cried in the kirk 2 three distinck Sabbaths, as me and your gudefather was, instead o' gallanting awa under the scog and cloud o' night, as if ye had been fain and fey. Howsever, it's done noo ; and the gudeman means to be vastly genteel. I'm sure the post should get a hag when we hear o' him coming wi' hundreds o' pounds in his pouch, to gie awa for deil-be-licket but a gratus gift o' gudewill, in handsel to your matrimonial. But Charlie, your gudeman, Bell, was aye his pet, and so I'm nane surprised at his unnatural partiality ; only I ken they'll hae clear een and bent brows that 'ill see him gieing ony sic almous to Watty." When the parental visitors had sat about an hour, during the great part of which the leddy o' ^ Lang-nchhit. Literally, having a long nose. - See Note A, Annals of the Parish. 125 THE ENTAIL Grippy continued in this strain of clishmaclaver,^ the laird said to her it was time to take the road homeward. Charles pressed them to stay dinner. This, however, was decidedly refused by his father, but not in quite so gruff a manner as he commonly gave his refusals ; for he added, giving Charles the bank-bill, as he moved across the room to- wards the door, — " Hae, there's something to help to keep the banes green ; but be careful, Charlie, for I doubt ye'U hae need, noo that ye're the head o' a family, to look at baith sides o' the bawbee before ye part wi't." " It's for a whole hundred pound," exclaimed Lady Grippy in an exulting whisper to her daughter-in-law ; while the old man, after part- ing with the paper, turned briskly round to his son, as if to interrupt his thankfulness, and said — " Charlie, ye maun come wi' Watty and me on Wednesday. I hae a bit alteration to make in my papers ; and, as we needna cry sic things at the cross, I'm mindit to hae you and him for the witnesses." Charles readily promised attendance ; and the old people then made their congees and de- parted. In the walk homeward Claud was still more taciturn than in the morning : he was even sullen, and occasionally peevish ; but his wife was in ^ Clishmaclaver. Wordy nonsense. THE ENTAIL 127 laclaver,! the road y dinner, lis father, ommonly ^ Charles room to- keep the ■ I douht a family, jefore ye xclaimed ' to her 'ter part- fid to his less, and id me on make in hings at n for the and the and de- ill more in sullen, was ii) full pipe and glee^ and, as soon as they were 1)( yond hearing, said — " Everybody maun alloo that she's a weel-far't ^ lassie yon ; and if she's as good as she's bonny, Charlie's no to mean ^ wi' his match, j^ut, dear me, gudeman, ye were unco scrimpit^ Ir. your talk to her — I think ye might hae been a thought mair complaisant and jocose, considering it was a inaiTiage occasion — ; and I wonder what came oner mysel' that I forgot to bid them come to the Grippy and tak their dinner the morn, for ye ken we hae a side o' mutton in the house. For, since ye hae made a conciliation free gratus wi' them, we needna be standing on stapping-stanes, — no that I think the less of the het heart that Charlie has gi'en to us baith ; but it was his fortun', and we maun put up wi't. Howsever, gudeman, ye'U alloo me to make an observe to you anent the hundred pound. I think it would hae been more prudent to hae gi'en them but the half o't, or ony^ smaller sum, for Charlie's no a very gude guide, — siller wi' him gangs like snaw afF a dyke — ; and as for his lilywhite-handit madam, a' the jingling o' her spinnet will ne'er make up for the winsome tinkle o' Betty Bodle's tocher purse."* But I hae been thinking, gude- man, noo that Charlie's by hand and awa, as the ballad o' Wool and Married and a' sings, couldna 1 Weel-farH. Well-favoured. 2 I'o mean. To be oondolod with. ^ Scrimpit. Sparing. ■* Tocher purse. Portion. 128 THE ENTAIL ye persuade our Watty to mak up to Betty, and sae get her gear saved to us yet ? " This suggestion was the only wise thing, in tke opinion of Claud, that ever he had heard his wife utter : it was, indeed, in harmonious accord- ance with the tenor of his own reflections, not only at the moment, but from the hour in which he was first informed of the marriage. For ho knew, from the character of Miss Betty Bodle's father, that the entail of the Grippy in favour of Walter would be deemed by him a satisfactory equivalent for any intellectual defect. The dis- inheritance of Charles was thus, in some degree, palliated to his conscience as an act of family policy rather than of resentment. In truth, re- sentment had perhaps very little to say in the feeling by which it was dictated ; for, as all he did and thought of in life was with a view to the restoration of tlfe Walkinshaws of Kittlestonheugh, we might be justified, for the honour of human nature, to believe that he actually contemplated the sacrifico which he was making of his first-born to the Moloch of ancestral pride with reluctance — nay, with sorrow even. In the meantime, as he returned towards Grippy with his wife, thus discoursing on the subject of Miss Betty Bodle and Walter, Charles and Isabella were mutually felicitating themselves on the earnest which they had so unexpectedly re- ceived of what they deemed a thorough recon- ciliation. There had, however, been something THE ENTAIL 129 so heartless in tlie behaviour of the old man during the visit that, notwithstanding? the hopes which liis gift encouraged, it left a chill and comfortless sensation in the bosom of the young lady, and her s})irit felt it as the foretaste of misfortune. Averse, however, to occasion any diminution of the joy which the visit of his parents had afforded to her husband, she endeavoured to suppress the bode- ment, and to partake of the gladdening anticipa- tions in which he indulged. The effort to please others never fails to reward ourselves. In the afternoon, when the old dowager called, she was delighted to find them both satisfied with the prospect wdiich had so suddenly opened, and so far, too, beyond her most sanguine expectations that she also shared in their pleasure, and with her grandson inferred, from the liberal earnest he had received, that, in the papers and deeds he was invited to witness, his father intended to make some provision to enable him to support the rank in society to which Is.'.bella had been bom, and in which his own taste prompted him to move. The evening, in consequence, was spent by them with all the happiness which the children of men so often enjoy with the freest confidence, while the snares of adversity are planted around them and the demons of sorrow and evil are hovering unseen, awaiting the signal from destiny to descend on their blind and unsuspicious victims. VOL, I. CHAPTER XXII (jrRIPPY pnsrsed the interval between the visit and tlie day apj)ointed for the execution of the deeds of entail with as much comfort of mind as Heaven commonly bestows on a man conscious of an unjust intention, and unable to excuse it to himself. Charles, who, in the meantime, naturally felt some anxiety to learn the precise nature of the intended settlement, was early afoot on the morning of Wednesday, and walked from the lodgings where he resided with his wife in Glasgow to meet his father and brother, on their way to the town. Being rather before the time appointed, he went forward to the house, on the green j)l<)t in front of which the old man was standing, witli his hands behind and his head thoughtfully bent downwards. The approach of his son roused Claud from his reverie ; and he went briskly forward to meet him, shaking him heartily by the hand, and in- quiring, with more kindness than the occasion required, for the health of his young wife. Sucli unusual cordiality tended to confirm the delusion which the gift of the bank bill on Sunday had 13U THE ENTAIL l.'U inspired ; l)iit the ]mr()xysni of .'id'cction, produci'd 1)V the eflort to disi- munion with his son ; but now and then he re- buked him for hallooing at birds in the hedges or chasing butterflies — a sport so unbecoming his years. In their way they had occasion to pass the end of the path which led to Kilmarkeckle, where Miss Bodle, the heiress, resided with her father. Watty," said Grippy to his son, ^'gae thy ft THE ENTAIL 141 ways hame by thysel', and tell thy mither that I'm gaun up to the Kihnarkeckle to hae some discourse wi' Mr Bodle, so that she needna weary if I dinna come hame to my dinner." '' Ye had better come hame/' said Watty, " for there's a sheep's-head in the pat, wi' a cuff o' the neck like ony Glasgow bailie's. Ye'll no get the like o't at Kilmarkeckle, where the kail's sae thin that every pile o' barley runs roun' the dish, bobbing and bidding gude-day to its neighbour." Claud had turned into the footpath from the main road ; but there was something in this speech which did more than provoke his displeasure, and he said aloud, and with an accent of profound dread, " I hope the Lord can forgie me for what I hae done to this fool ! " Walter was not so void of sense as to be in- capable of comprehending the substance of this contrite exclamation ; and instantly recollecting his mother's admonition, and having some idea, imperfect as it was, of the peril of parchments with seals on them, he began, with obstreperous sobs and wails, to weep and cry, because, as he said, " My father and our Charlie had fastened on me the black bargain o' a law-plea to wrang me o' auld daddy's mailing." Grippy was petrified ; it seemed to him that his son was that day smitten, in anger to him by the hand of Heaven, with a more disgusting idiocy than he had ever before exhibited ; and, instigated 142 THE ENTAIL by the aversion of llie moment, he rushed tow ards him, and struck liim so fiu'iously with liis stick that he sent him yell in <; Iiomeward as fast as he could run. 'J'he injustice and the rashness of the action were felt at once ; and, overpowered for a few seconds by shame, remorse, and grief, the old man sat down on a low dry-stone wall that bounded the road on one side, and clasj)ing his hands ferventb,- together, confessed with bitter tears tbuf lie doubted he had committed a great sin. It ' .s, ii. 'wever, but a transitory contrition, for, hearing soii: one approaching, he rose abruptly, and lifting his stick, which he had dropped in his agitation, walked up the footpath towards Kilmar- keckle. He had not advanced many paces when a hand was laid on his shoulder. He looked round, and it was Walter, with his hat folded together in his hand. " Father," said the fool, " I hae catched a muckle bumbee ; will ye help to baud it till 1 take out the honey blob .'' " " I'll go hame, Watty — I'll go hame," was the only answer he made, in an accent of extreme sorrow ; " I'll go hame ; I daur do nae mair this day;" and he returned back with Walter to the main road, where, having again recovered his self-possession, he said, "I'm dafter than thee to gang on in this fool gait ; go, as I bade thee, hame and tell thy mother no to look for me to dinner, for I'll aiblins bide wi' Kilmarkeckle." In saying which, he turned briskly round, and. THE ENTAIL 143 without ever lookinf^ behind, walked with an alert step, swini^ing his staff courageously, and never halted till he reached Kilmarkeckle House, where he was met at the door by Mr Bodle himself, who, seeing him approaching up the avenue, came out to meet him. CHAPTER XXIV J>ODLE of Kilinarkeckle, like all the l.iirds of that time, was come of an ancient family, in sonic decree related to the universal stock of Adam, but how much more ancient no historian has yet undertaken to show. Like his contemporaries of the same station, he was, of course, proud of his lineage ; but he valued himself more on his own accomj)lishments than even on the superior purity of his blood. We are, however, in doubt whether he ought to be described as an artist or a })hilo- sopher, for he had equal claims to the honour of being both ; and certainly without question, in the art of delineating hieroglyphical resemblances of birds and beasts on the walls of his parlonr with snuff', he had evinced, if not talent or genius, at least considerable industry. In the course of more than twenty years he had not only covered the walls with many a curious and grotesque form, but invented — and therein lay the principle of his philosophy — a particular classification, as original and descriptive as that of Linnaeus. At an early age he had acquired the habit of taking snuff", and in process of time became, as 144 TIIK ENTAIL 145 Jill regular snufT-takers are, acute in discriminating the shades and inflections of flavour in tiic kind to wiiicli lie was addicted. This was at once the cause and the j)rincij)le of his science, for the nature of each of the birds and beasts which he niodrlled resembled, as he averred, some peculi- arity in the tobacco of which the snuff that they severally represented had been made ; and really, to do him justice, it was (piite wonderful to hear with what in^jfcnuity he could explain the dis- criminative qualities in which the resend)lance of attributes and character consisted. Hut it must be confessed that he sometimes fell into that bad custom, remarkable amon*:^ j)hilosophers, of talking a great deal too nnich to everybody, and on every occasion, of his favourite study. Saving this, however, the laird of Kilmarkeckle was a harmless, easy-tempered man, of a nature so kind and indulgent that he allowed all about him to grow to rankness. 'i'he number of cats of every size and age which frisked in his parlour or basked at the sunny side of the house exceeded all reasonable credibility, and vet it was a common saying among the neighboui*s that Kilmarkeckle's mice kittled ^ twice as often as his cats. In nothing was his easy and indulgent nature more shown than in his daughter. Miss Betty, whom, she having, at an early age, lost her mother, he had permitted to run unbridled among ^ To kittle. Originally, to bring forth kittens ; then, us here, used in the general sense of "to litter." VOL. I. K 146 THE ENTAIL the servants, till the habits which slie had ac- quired in conse((ucnce rendered every subsecjuciiL attempt to reduce her into the re(|uisite subjec- tion of the sex totally unavailing. She had turned her twentieth year, and was not without beauty, but of such a sturdy and athletic kind as, with her o})en ruddy countenance, lau^hin^ eyes, white well-set teeth, and free and joyous step and air, justly entitled her to the nickname of '' Fun," bestowed by Charles Walkin- shaw. She was fond of do«Ts and horses, and was a better shot than the Duke of Douglas's game- keeper. Bold, boisterous, and frank, she made no scruple of employing her whip when rudely treated either by master or man ; for she fre- quently laid herself open to freedoms from both, and she neither felt nor pretended to any of her sex's gentleness nor delicacy. Still, she was not without a conciliatory portion of feminine virtues, and perhaps, had she been fated to become the wife of a sportsman or a soldier, she might pos- sibly have appeared on the turf or in the tent to considerable advantage. Such a woman, it may be supposed, could not but look with the most thorough contempt on Walter Walkinshaw ; and yet, from the accidental circumstance of being often his playmate in child- hood, and making him, in the frolic of their juvenile amusements, her butt and toy, she had contracted something like an habitual afFectiou ibr the creature, insomuch that, when her father, after CI i)and, si On the with th( wliiinsic (lings a.' Kveryth and hap and Or sanguint hixw the with a c the resu his min( and evei to make " Com I him at th your neM at hame, ^'Trot] thing th year, at Donald Cross of the ' lint • pleasant sniffling knowe ir whin-bus ^ Beltane THE ENTAIL u: liad ac- ;)sc(|iient ; subjec- and was irdy and itenaiice, free and r to the s Walkin- and was s's game- he made ;n rudely she fre- rom both, ny of her 2 was not e virtues, ome the |ight pos- e tent to }ould not tempt on Accidental in child- of their she had affecti(»u jr father, after Claud's visit, proposed Walte. for her hus- hand, she made no serious objection to tiie match. On tile contrary, slie laughed, and amused iierself with the idea of making him fetch and carry as whimsically as of old, and do her bests and bid- (Ungs as implicitly as when they were children. liVerything thus seemed auspicious to a speeily and happy union of the properties of Kilmarkeckle and Grij)py — indeed, so far beyond the most sanguine expectations of Claud that, when he t;aw the philosoj)hical laird coming next morning, with a canister of snuff in his hand, to tell him the result of the comnuniication to Miss Ik'tty, his mind was prepared to hear a most decided, and even a menacing, refusal for having ventured to make the proposal. "Come away, Kilmarkeckle," said he, meeting him at the door ; " come in by. What's the best o' your news this morning ? I hope nothing's wrang at hame, to gar you look sae as ye were fash't ! " " Troth," replied Kilmarkeckle, " I liae got a thing this morning that's very vexatious. Last year, at Beltane,^ ye should ken, I coft- frae Donald M'Sneeshen, the tobacconist aboon the Cross of Glasgow, a canister of a kind that I ca'd the Minty.' It was sae brisk in the smeddum, sae pleasant to the smell, garring ye trow in the sniffling ti at ye were sitting on a b(mny green knowe in hay-time, by the side of a blooming whin-bush, hearkening to the blithe wee birdies ^ Beltane. The May-day Fair. ^ Cqft. Bought. 148 THE ENTAIL sinfyin^ san^s, as it were, to pleasure the summer's sun ; and what would ye think, Mr Walkinshaw r* here is another eanister of a sort that I'll defy ony ordinary nose to tell the difference, and yet, for the life o' me, I eanna gie't in conscience anither name than the ^ hijipopotamus.' " " But liae ye spoken to your dochter ? " said Grippy, interrupting him, and apprehensive of a dissertation. '^Ou ay ; atweel I hae done that." " And what did Miss Betty say ? " "Na, an' ye liad but seen and heard her, ye would just liae dee't, Mr Walkinshaw. I'm sure I wonder wha the lassie taks her light-hearted merriment frae, for her mother was a sober and sedate, sensible woman. I never heard her jocose but anee in a' the time we were thegither, and that was when I expounded to her how maccaha is like a nightingale, the whilk, as I hae seen and read in print, is a fcather't fowl that has a great notion o' roses." " I was fear't for that," rejoined Claud, suspect- ing that Miss Betty had ridiculed the })ropos;d. " But to gae back to tlie linty and the hi})po- potanuis," resumed Kilmarkeckle. ^'^The snuti" that I hae here in this canister — tak a pree o't, Mr Walkinshaw ~ was sent n.e in a present frae Mr Glassford, made out of the j)rimest hogget in his last cargo. What think ye o't } Noo, I would just speer gin ye could tell wherein it \\\i\\ Yx likened to a hipp()|)otanuis, tiie which is a creature living ii teeth, h the bla( Claiul rejected subject, saying t snuff coi '^ Tha chucklin the most as like a sac like })lainer ; I thi.ik 1 iug in sc its muck i)lack he water, w round it.« giving an '' But ] Mr Bodle '^That' surely th( tliat briu! as yet I'll in a hipf tiiink o' past a' dii ^ Louti, thp: entail lif) iummer s ciiish.'iw ? I'll defy and yet, jnscieiice r ? " said sive of a i her, ve I'm sure it-hearted >ober and lier joeose ther, and ' maccal);i seen and IS a great () suspect- jK)s;d. K" hi})]H>- lie snutr pree o't, sent IVac lon-n-et in ), I would t niav It' i creature living in the rivers of Afrikaw, and has twa ivory teeth, his the reply, w hile he looked up knowingly in her face. " What are ye fear't for ? I ken what ye're come about," said she ; "my father has telt me." At these encouraging words, he leaped from his chair with an alacrity unusual to his ehar- jicter, and attempted to take her in liis arms ; but she nimbly escaj)ed from his elasji, giving him, at tlie same time, a smart slap on the cheek, " That's no fair, Betty Hodle," cried the lover, rubbing his elieek, and looking somewliat offended and afraid. ''Tlien what gart you meddle wi' me?" re- plied the bouncing girl, with a laughing bravery that soon reinvigorated his love. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) V / O < % Q.- /. i/.A 1.0 I.I u IL25 i 1.4 2.0 1= 1.6 ^ <^ A Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. M580 (716) 872-4503 s. ^^ ,\ V N> ^9) .V ^\ ?C^ 6^ ^ <^ > '^^ t^ 1()0 THE ENTAIL " I'm sure I wasna ^aiin to do you ony harm," was the reply — "no, as sure's death, Betty, i would rather cut my finger than do you ony scaith, for I like you so weel — I canna tell you how weel. But, if ye'll tak me, I'll mak you the leddy o' the Plealands in a jiffy, and my mother says that my father will gie me a hundred pound to buy you parapharnauls and new plenishing." The young lady was probably conciliated by the manner in which this was said ; for she ap- proached towards him, and, while she still affected to laugh, it was manifest even to Walter himself that she was not displeased by the alacrity with which he had come to the point. Emboldened by her freedom, he took her by the hand, look- ing, however, away nom her, as if he was not aware of what he had done ; and in this situation they stood for the space of two or three minutes without speaking. Miss Betty was the first to break silence. "Weel, Watty," said she, "what are ye goin creased by recent u})land rains, grumbled with the hoarseness of his wintry voice. The solemnity of external nature awakened a sympathetic melan- choly in the minds of the young couple as they walked towards their father's, and Charles once or twice said that he felt a degree of depression which he had never experienced before. "I wish, Isabella," said he, "that this business of ours were well settled ; for I begin, on your account, to grow anxious. I am not superstitious ; but I kenna what's in't — every now and then a thought comes over me that I am no to be a long liver. I feel, as it were, that I havena a firm grij) of the world — a sma' shock, I doubt, would easily shake me off." '^ I must own," replied his wife with softness, " that we have both some reason to regret our rashness. I ought not to have been so weak as to feel the little hardships of my condition so acutely ; but, since it is done, we must do our best to beai up against the anxiety that I really think you indulge too much. My advice is that we should give up speaking about your father's intents, and strive, as well as we can, to make your income, whatever it is, serve us." " That's kindly said, my dear Bell ; but you know that my father's no a man that can be persuaded to feel as we feel ; and I would not be surprised were he to break up his partner- ship with me, — and wdiat sl.ould we then do ? " In this sort of nnxious and domestic conversation 1()() THE ENTxVIL they approached towards Grippy House, where they were met on tlie green in front l)y Mar<^aret and George, who had not seen them since their marriage : Miss Meg, as she was commonly called, being at the time on a visit in Argyleshire with a family to whom their mother was related, the Campbells of Glengrowlmaghallochan, and George also absent, on a shooting excursion with some of his acquaintances at the Plealands, the mansion- house of which happened to be then untenanted. Their reception by their brother and sister, especially by Miss Meg, was kind and sisterly ; for although in many points she resembled her mother, she yet possessed much more warmth of heart. The gratulations and welcomings being over, she gave a description of the preparations which had already commenced for Walter's wedding. Na, what would ye think," said she, laugh- my father gied him ten pounds to gang intil Glasgow the day to buy a present for the bride, and ye'U hardly guess what he has sent her — a cradle — a mahogany cradle, shod wi' roynes,! that it mayna waken the baby when it's rocking." " But that wouldna tak all the ten pounds," said Charles, diverted by the circurastance . ''What has he done wi' the rest.^" " He couldna see any oilier thing to please him, so he tied it in the corner of his napkin ; ^ Roynes. Rinds. (( mg , where largaret ce their ^ called, ire with ted, the George some of nansion- ^nanted. I sister, sisterly ; bled her irmth of ig over, IS which ding. , IdUgh- to gang for the las sent lod wi' )y when ;)ounds," ostance . o please napkin ; THE ENTAIT. 1G7 but as he was coming home flourishing it round his head, it haj:)pened to strike the crookit tree at the water-side, and the whole tot o' the siller, eight guineas, three half-crowns, and eighieen- pence, })layed whirr ^o the very middle o' the Clyde. He hasna got the grief o' the loss grettin-out yet." Before there was time for any observation to be made on this misfortune, the bridegroom came out to the door, seemingly in high glee, crying, "See what I hae gotten," showing another note for ten pounds, which his father had given to pacify him befoie Kilmarkeckle and tiie bride arrived, they being also expected to dinner. It happened that Isabella, dressed in her gayest apparel for this occasion, liad brought in her hand, wrapped in paper, a pair of red morocco shoes, which at that period were much worn among lairds' daughters; for, the roads being deep and sloughy, she had, according to the fasliion of the age, walked in others of a coarser kind ; and \^ alter' s eye accidentally light- ing on the shoes, he M-ent up, without preface, to his sister-in-law, and taking the parcel gently oul of her hand, opened it, and contemplating the shoes, holdi ig one in each hand at arm's- length, said, *' Bell Fatherlans, what will ye tak to sell thir bonny red-cheekit shoon ? I would fain buy them for Betty Bodle." Several minutes elapsed before it was possible to return any answer; but when composure was H)8 THE ENTAIL in some (Icgrcc iv'^aincd, Mrs Charles Walkin- shaw said — " Ye surely would never buy old shoes for your bride ? I have worn ihem often. It would be an ill omen to give her a second - hand present, Mr Walter ; besides, I don't think they would fit." This little incident had the effect of tuning the spirits of Charles and his wife into some degree of unison with the main business of the day ; and the whole party entered the house ban- tering and laughing with Walter. But scarcely had they been seated when their father said — '^ Charlie, has t'ou brought the balance-sheet, as I bade thee ?" This at once silenced both his mirth and Isabella's, and the old man expressed his satis- faction on receiving it, and also that the profits were not less than he expected. Having read it over carefully, he then folded it slowly up and put it into his pocket, and rising from his seat, walked three or four times across the room, followed by the eyes of his beating - hearted son and daughter-in-law. At last he halted. " Weel, Charlie," said he, " I'll no be waur than my word to thee — t'ou sail hae a' the profit made between us since we came thegither in the shop : that will help to get some bits o' plenishing for a house — and I'll mak, for time coming, an eke to thy share. But Charlie and THE ENTAIL 1 ()<) Bell, ca' canny ; buiivf ; will rise amon^ you, and ve maun bear in mind that I hae baith (it'ordie and Me*; to provide for yet." This was said in a fatherly manner, and the intelligence was in so many respects airreeable that it atlorded the .anxious young couple great pleasure. Walter was not, however, satisfied at jiearing no allusion to him, and he said — '' And are ye no gaun to do anything for me, father } " These words, like the cut of a scourge, tingled to the very soul of the old man, and he looked with a fierce and devouring eye at the idiot, but said nothing. Walter was not, however, to be daunted ; setting up a cry, something between a wail and a howl, lie brought his mother flying from the kitchen, where she was busy assisting the maids in preparing dinner, to incjuire what had befallen the bridegroom. " My father's making a step-bairn o' me, mother, and has gi'en Charlie a' the outcome frae the till, and says he's gaun to hain but for Geordie and Meg." " Surely, gudeman," said the leddy o' Grippy, addressing her husband, who for a moment stood confounded at this obstreperous accusa- tion, ^*^ surely ye'U hae mair naturality than no to gie Watty a bairn's part o' gear } Hasna he a riijht to share and share alike wi' the rest, over and aboon what he got by my father } If there's law, justice, or gospel in the land, ye'll be obli- 170 THE ENTAIL jnratod to let him hae liis rir and scjiicaks and the thuddini^ of bouniUniif feet, made every pulse in our young hlood circle as briskly as the dancers in their reeling. When we reached the door, the moment that the venerable minister made his appearance the music stopped and the dancing was suspended, — by which we were enabled to survey the assembly for «a few minutes in its most composed and cere- monious form. At the upper end of the barn stood two arm-chairs, one of which, appro})riated to the bridegroom, was empty; in the other sat the bride, j)anting from the vigorous etlorts she had made in the reel that was interrupteil by our entrance. The bridegroom himself was standing near a table close to the musicians, stirring a large })unch-bowl and filling from time to time the glasses. His father sat in a corner by himself, with his hands leaning on his staff and his lips firmly drawn together, contemplating the scene before him with a sharp but thoughtful eye. Old Kilmarkeckle, witli an ivory snufl'-box, mounted with gold, in his hand, was sitting with Mr Keelevin on the left hand of Claud, evidently explaining some remarkable property in the flavour of the snuff, to which the honest lawyer was paying the utmost attention, looking at the })liilosophical laird, however, every now and then, with a countenance at once expressive of jidmira- 18(j THE ENTAIL tioi; curiosity, and laughter. Leddy Grippy sat on tne left of the bride, apparelled in a crimson satin gown made for the occasion, with a stupen- dous fabric of gauze and catgut, adorned with vast convolutions of broad red ribands for a head- dress, and a costly French shawl, primly pinned open, to show her embroidered stomacher. At her side sat the meek and beautiful Isabella, like a primrose within the shadow of a peony ; and on Isabella's left the aged Lady Plealands, neatly dressed in white silk, with a close cap of black lace, black silk mittens, and a rich black apron. But we must not attempt thus to describe all the guests, who, to the number of nearly a hundred, young and old, were seated in various groups around the sides of the barn ; for our attention was drawn to Milrookit, the laird of Dirdum- whamle, a hearty widower for the second time, about forty-five — he might be older — who, cozily in a corner, was engaged in serious courtship with Miss Meg. When the formalities of respect with which Doctor Denholm was so properly received had been duly performed, the bridegroom bade the fiddlers again play up, and going towards the minister, said, " Do ye smell onything gude, sir r " No doubt, bridegroom," replied the doctor, " I canna be insensible to the pleasant savour of the supper." "Come here, then," rejoined Watty, ''and I'll THE ENTAir. is: show you a sight would do a hungry body good — Mccl I wat my mother hasna spared her skill and spice." In saying whieli, he lifted aside a carjjet that had been drawn across tiie barn like a curtain, behind the seats at the up})er end of the ball- room, and showed him the sup})er-table, on whicli about a dozen men and maid servants were in the act of piling joints and pies that would have done credit to the Michaelmas dinner of the Glasgow magistrates. *' Isna that a gallant banquet ? " said Watty. ^'Look at yon braw pastry pie wi' the king's crown on't." The reverend pastor declared that it was a very edificial structure, and he had no doubt it was as good as it looked. " Would ye like to pree't, doctor } I'll just nip off'ane o' the pearlies on the crown to let you taste how good it is. It'll never be missed." The bride, who overheard part of this dia- logue, started up at these words ; and as Walter was in the act of stretching forth his hand to plunder the crown, she pulled him by the coat-tail and drew him into the chair ap- propriated for him, sitting down, at the same time, in her own on his left, saying, in an angry whisper, — ^'Are ye fou already, Watty Walkin- shaw } If ye mudge ^ out o' that seat again this night, I'll mak you as sick o' pies and puddings as ever a dog was o' het kail." 1 Mudge. Stir. 188 THE ENTAIL Nothing more particular happened before supper ; and everything went off* at the banquet as mirthfully as on any similar occasion. The dancing was then resumed, and during the bustle and whirl of the reels the bride and bride- groom were conducted quietly to the house to be bedded. When they were undressed, but before the stocking was thrown, we got a hint from Charles to look at the bridal chamber, and accordingly ran with him to the house, and bolting into the room, beheld the happy pair sitting up in bed, with white napkins drawn over their heads like two shrouds, and each holding one of their hands so as to conceal entirely their modest and down- cast faces. But, before we had time to say a word, the minister, followed by the two pipers and the best men and bridesmaids, bringing posset and cake, came in ; and while the distribu- tion, with the customary benedictions, was going forward, dancing was recommenced in the bed- room. How it happened, or what was the cause, wo know not ; but the dancing continued so long, and was kept up with so much glee, that some- how, by the crowded state of the apartment, the young pair in bed were altogether forgotten, till the bridegroom, tired with sitting so long like a mummy, lost all patience, and, in a voice of rage and thunder, ordered every man and mother's son instantly to quit the room — a command which he was going 1 the bed- THE ENTAIL 189 as vehemently i^peated with a menace of imme- diate punishment, {)utting, at the same time, one of his legs out of bed and clenching his fist in the act of rising. The bride cowered in giggling beneath the coverlet, and all the other ladies, followed by the men and the pipers, fled pell-mell and hurly-burly, glad to make their escape. CHAPTEE XXXI i: W HEN Claud first proposed the marriage to Kilmarkeckle, it was intended that the youn