THE PILGRIMAGE OP
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 alt
 
 THE 
 PILGRIMAGE OF STRONGSOUL
 
 New issue of a collection of prose writings 
 BY 
 
 JOHN DAVIDSON 
 
 In four volumes, crown octavo, in uniform binding, at 3*. f>d. each. 
 
 The first volume is entitled 
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 and contains 
 
 1 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 2 The Glasgow Ghosts 
 
 3 The Schoolboy's Tragedy 
 
 4 Eagle's Shadow 
 
 5 The Salvation of Nature 
 
 The second volume will be entitled 
 
 Baptist Lake 
 
 To be published on September 14th 
 
 The third volume will be entitled 
 
 The Wonderful Mission of 
 Earl Lavender 
 
 To be published October 19th 
 
 The fourth volume will be entitled 
 
 Ninian Jamieson 
 
 and will contain 
 
 1 The Campaign of Ninian Jamieson 
 
 2 A Practical Novelist 
 
 To be published November 16th 
 
 WARD & DOWNEY, LTD., 12 YORK BUILDINGS, ADELPHI, W.C.
 
 THE PILGRIMAGE 
 
 OF 
 
 STRONGSOUL 
 
 AND OTHER STORIES 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN DAVIDSON 
 
 LONDON: WARD AND 
 DOWNEY LIMITED 
 XII. YORK BUILDINGS 
 ADELPHI W.C. 1896
 
 ADVERTISEMENT 
 
 THE present volume is the first of a proposed series 
 of four, constituting a collected edition of Mr JOHN 
 DAVIDSON'S stories and fantastic tales. 
 
 All the material of this series has been published 
 before, but, by excision of some of the shorter pieces 
 previously published, and by a new and more homo- 
 geneous arrangement, it is hoped that a better pre- 
 sentation of the author's writings will be made, and 
 one in a form likely to find acceptance. 
 
 G9G77G
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGR 
 
 THE PILGRIMAGE OF STRONGSOUL, . . I 
 
 THE GLASGOW GHOSTS, . . . -133 
 
 THE SCHOOLBOY'S TRAGEDY, . . . 155 
 
 EAGLE'S SHADOW, . . . .215 
 
 THE SALVATION OF NATURE, . . . 245
 
 THE PILGRIMAGE OF 
 STRONGSOUL 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 ON one of the paths that wind about Dun- 
 myatt, at four o'clock on a June morning, a 
 little boy walked slowly, bearing a heavy 
 burden on his back^ Larks were shout- 
 ing in the sky, and in and out of the 
 clefts in the rocks grey-cowled jackdaws 
 flew croaking and screaming. The little 
 boy trudged wearily along, seeing and 
 hearing nothing, his head bent forward 
 like an old man's. With one hand he 
 supported his burden, for the rope that 
 tied it round his waist and shoulders had 
 slackened. In his other hand he carried 
 a stick of oak, which he used at every 
 A
 
 2 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 step to help him on. It was no wonder 
 he was tired, for he had been on the road 
 since two o'clock that morning. Still he 
 would not give in, and he tottered along 
 the winding sheep-path, gasping for breath, 
 and with the sweat running down his face. 
 He was a strong little boy; his legs were 
 like little oak-trees. He would have gone 
 on until he dropped had he not met an- 
 other boy on the sheep-path. The other 
 boy was much taller, and carried, rolled 
 up under his arm, a white apron. He 
 was a shepherd's son, apprenticed to a 
 grocer, on his way to open his master's 
 shop in Tullibody, a village about two 
 miles from Dunmyatt. 
 
 The grocer's boy said, 'Whaur are ye 
 gaun ? ' 
 
 The little boy looked at him very closely 
 and said, ' Who are you ? ' 
 
 ' Never you mind. Tell me whaur ye're 
 gaun.' 
 
 ' I'm going away to the west,' said the 
 little boy. 
 
 ' I see that. But whaur tae ? '
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 3 
 
 ' I don't like to tell you. If I knew 
 who you were I might. Are you Ob- 
 stinate ? ' 
 
 ' Eh ? ' said the grocer's boy angrily. 
 ' What dae ye mean ? ' 
 
 'You can't be Pliable,' said the little 
 boy, 'because you're too gruff; but then 
 you seem to be coming the wrong way. 
 You're not Evangelist, are you ? ' 
 
 ' Look here, my mannie, nane o' your 
 impidence, or I'll heave ye owre the hill. 
 It strikes me ye've been daein' what ye 
 shouldna. What hae ye in that bag?' 
 
 ' I wish I knew who you were/ said 
 the little boy. 
 
 1 I'm Saunders Elshander, the son o' Rab 
 Tamson's shepherd. Wha are you ? ' 
 
 ' I'm not very sure,' said the little boy. 
 
 ' No ! ' said Saunders, bursting into a loud 
 laugh ; ' mebbe the polis would mak' ye 
 surer than ye' re carin' tae be. What hae 
 ye in that bag ? ' 
 
 The little boy looked at the ground, and 
 then, raising his head, said with much 
 gravity, ' My sins.'
 
 4 The Pilgrimage of Strong soul 
 
 ' I'm thinkin' sae,' said Saunders. ' Whaur 
 did ye steal them?' 
 
 The little boy's eyes blazed and he 
 grasped his stick tightly ; but he answered 
 quietly, ' I didn't steal them. They are my 
 sins. I am a pilgrim, and this is my 
 burden.' 
 
 ' Ye're a strange ane,' said Saunders ; 
 ' come, let's see what ye've got/ 
 
 Saunders laid hold of the rope and un- 
 tied the burden. * Losh bless me, it's a 
 pillowslip ! ' he cried. 
 
 The little boy was inclined to resist, but 
 he seemed to be in a difficulty ; so he 
 allowed his burden to be examined. The 
 first thing Saunders pulled out was a bundle 
 of shavings. These he threw up in the air, 
 and the wind caught them and blew them 
 down the hillside. Then he pulled out 
 a broken poker, which he pitched away. 
 Several pieces of firewood came next. ' I've 
 nae time tae waste,' he said, taking up 
 the pillowslip and shaking out its contents. 
 With a piece of the firewood he raked 
 among them, but finding nothing of much
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 5 
 
 value he kicked and tossed everything 
 down the hillside. 
 
 'Man/ he said, ' thae's no worth stealinV 
 
 But the little boy had taken a book from 
 his pocket, and was turning over its pages 
 very eagerly. 
 
 ' Ma certie ! ' said Saunders, ' ye're the 
 strangest laddie I ever met in wi'. ' What's 
 this ye've gotten noo ? ' 
 
 He snatched the book, and, turning to 
 the first page, read the title, The Pilgrims 
 Progress. 
 
 'Ay, man,' he added with a sneer, 'an' 
 sae ye read The Pilgrim's Progress ', dae ye ? 
 My granny reads it. What's it aboot?' 
 
 He turned over its pages carelessly, and 
 then threw it away after the contents of 
 the pillowslip, saying, 'Ye can ging after 
 your bookie, if ye like.' 
 
 Immediately the little boy dealt him a 
 thundering blow on the head with his 
 oaken stick, and shouted at the same time, 
 ' I know you now. You are Apollyon dis- 
 guised as a grocer's boy. Come on, for 
 I fear you not.'
 
 6 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 He hit Saunders another rap on the head, 
 and followed it up with a third. Then 
 Saunders, who, although he delighted in 
 mischief, was not a coward, turned with 
 a roar and wrenched the stick from the 
 little boy's hand, but it slipped from his 
 grasp and rolled down the hill a little 
 way. The two stood facing each other 
 for several seconds, the little boy quite 
 undaunted, and the other wondering how 
 much damage he would have to sustain 
 before conquering his opponent. Deter- 
 mined to have the fight over at once, he 
 put in two rapid and heavy blows on the 
 little boy's face. The little boy lowered 
 his head, and butting Saunders in the 
 stomach, upset him ; but, being unable to 
 stop his rush, he fell upon him, and both 
 rolled down the hill. The little boy was 
 being severely mauled when his hand touched 
 the stick. He seized it, and with a great 
 effort wriggled himself free. Springing to 
 his feet he whirled the stick round his 
 head and brought it down with all his 
 might on Saunders's nose, shouting at the
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 7 
 
 same time, ' Have at you, fiend ! ' He 
 raised the stick for another blow, but his 
 enemy lay stunned, so fiercely had the 
 little fellow struck him. With a look of 
 satisfaction the conquerer kicked the fallen 
 Saunders in the ribs, and then crawled 
 down the hillside after his book. He 
 had no difficulty in finding it, and he 
 also succeeded in recovering a pair of 
 shoes, two pairs of stockings, and a jacket. 
 With these he climbed up the hill again, 
 and found Saunders leaning on his elbow 
 and wiping his bloody swollen face with 
 his grocer's apron. 
 
 'Ye wee teegerl'he groaned. ' If I get 
 a haud o' ye I'll murder ye.' 
 
 The little boy was very much disappointed, 
 for he thought he had killed him ; but he 
 took his stick and shouted, ' Come on, 
 then.' 
 
 1 Lay doon that rung an' come an' help 
 me. Is there ony water aboot ? ' 
 
 The little boy laid down his stick, put his 
 hands in his pockets, and stared at Saunders 
 with unaffected amazement, and so solemnly
 
 8 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 that Saunders, in spite of his wounds and 
 bruises, burst out laughing. 
 
 'Man,' he said, 'ye mind me o' a thing 
 ma granny says 
 
 ' " The gravest fish's an oyster, 
 
 The gravest bird's an owl ; 
 The gravest beast's an ass, 
 The gravest man's a fool." ' 
 
 Here the little boy tottered and fell down 
 as white as a ghost. The sudden excitement 
 of the meeting with Saunders had made him 
 forget his fatigue; but now his long walk, 
 his exertions in the fight, and his empty 
 stomach for he had eaten nothing since the 
 previous night overcame him utterly. He 
 did not faint, but he was very sick and weak. 
 
 ' Hech, man ! ' cried Saunders ; ' what's 
 this noo? Hae ye seen green cheese that 
 your een reel that gait ? ' 
 
 ' I'm not well,' said the little boy. He 
 put out his hand for his book, but he was 
 unable to reach it. Saunders handed it to 
 him, and the little boy read in it for a minute. 
 Saunders looked on in astonishment.
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoid 9 
 
 When he had done reading he closed his 
 book and said, ' I have made a mistake ; you 
 are not Apollyon.' 
 
 ' I dinna ken/ said Saunders ; ' wha was 
 he?' 
 
 ' Apollyon is one of the names of the devil,' 
 answered the little boy. 
 
 ' Weel, it's the first time I've been mista'en 
 for the de'il, though it's no the first time I've 
 been called one.' 
 
 ' Saunders Elshander,' said the little boy, 
 rising up with the help of his stick, ' I humbly 
 beg your pardon.' 
 
 He held out his hand, and Saunders, rising, 
 took it and said, ' It's a' richt.' 
 
 Then they looked at each other for a 
 minute. Then Saunders said, ' I think 
 there's water at the foot o' the brae.' 
 
 With that he took his apron and the little 
 boy's jacket and shoes and stockings and put 
 them into the pillowslip. The little boy got 
 hold of his stick and his book, and Saunders 
 gave him his arm, and they went down the 
 hill in a zig-zig way till they came to a little 
 stream. There they washed themselves and
 
 io The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 drank, and Saunders took out of his pocket 
 some bread and cheese and gave half of it 
 to the little boy ; and when the little boy 
 had eaten it he fell fast asleep. 
 
 Now Saunders was in a difficulty. Should 
 he go to the shop at once, or should he 
 wait until his late enemy waked ? If he were 
 to run all the way he could not now be in 
 time to open the shop. He felt certain also 
 that his master would not allow him to serve 
 customers, or even to go errands, with his 
 swollen head and nose, for he had seen his 
 face in a pool and had been quite scared by 
 it. His nose seemed to have spread over 
 his face, and his head looked like a lumpy 
 potato. Still he felt that he ought to go and 
 let his master know what had befallen him 
 as soon as possible. His master would cuff 
 him soundly ; but Saunders was no coward. 
 He shrugged his shoulders with a rueful look, 
 however, when he thought of his father and 
 a certain stick which stood in the chimney- 
 corner, and of his grandmother, whose tongue 
 was even more terrible to him than his father's 
 stick. He looked at his companion, and was
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 1 1 
 
 quite ashamed to see what a pair of black 
 eyes he had given him a little fellow, only 
 two-thirds of his size. He felt his arms 
 and legs, and then felt his own, and was not 
 quite so much ashamed. The little boy's 
 shoulders, too, were so broad, and he had 
 such a look of strength and determination, 
 even in his sleep, that Saunders came to the 
 conclusion that by the time they were both 
 men the little boy would be much more than 
 a match for him. Then his eyes wandered 
 over the hillside, and he saw some of the 
 wood and things that he had tumbled out of 
 the pillowslip, and he at once set to work to 
 gather as many of them as he could. He 
 got together almost everything except the 
 shavings, and filled the pillowslip again. He 
 felt quite happy when he had done this, and 
 sat down beside the little boy, who still slept. 
 He wondered very much who this little boy 
 could be, and what he meant by his burden 
 and his being on a pilgrimage ; he lay won- 
 dering and wondering until the little boy 
 wakened, after sleeping two hours. 
 
 The little boy looked graver than ever,
 
 1 2 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 and observing that his pillowslip was packed 
 again he held out his hand to Saunders once 
 more, who took it and pressed it hard. 
 Then, because the sun was strong, they went 
 up the stream to a place where an old thorn- 
 tree grew, and laid themselves down in the 
 shadow of it. 
 
 ' Now,' said the little boy, ' I shall tell you 
 who I am. I am the pilgrim Strongsoul.' 
 
 ' Strongsoul ! ' said Saunders ; ' I never 
 heard the name afore.' 
 
 c I never heard it till I said it just now,' 
 said the little boy, { except in my dream.' 
 
 ' In your dream ! ' echoed Saunders. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Strongsoul, ' I had a dream 
 just now. You must know, Saunders 
 Elshander, that The Pilgrim's Progress 
 is the greatest book in the world. Once 
 you have read it you don't need, and you 
 don't want, to read any other. All that 
 you want to do is to become a pilgrim. I 
 began my pilgrimage this morning, but I 
 made a great mistake. I expected that 
 everything would happen to me just as it 
 happened to Christian ; but when I had
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 1 3 
 
 walked for six hours, and got on to the 
 shoulder of Dunmyatt without Pliable or 
 Obstinate coming after me, and without 
 meeting Evangelist or Worldly Wiseman, 
 I began to doubt that something was 
 wrong. Then I met you, and I couldn't 
 make out who you were, for there is no- 
 body like you, Saunders Elshander, in the 
 whole of The Pilgrims Progress from 
 beginning to end. And because things 
 were happening so differently from what 
 I expected, I doubted that I was wrong 
 in thinking myself another Christian, so I 
 told you that I wasn't very sure who I 
 was. Then when you emptied my burden 
 at the very beginning of my pilgrimage, 
 I thought that you were the devil, 
 although at first I wasn't sure that you 
 mightn't be an angel. Then I attacked 
 you, and when I had overcome you, and 
 you asked me to help you, I wondered 
 very much, and thought it was a new 
 temptation of yours to get me into your 
 clutches ; but when I fell down beside 
 you and you did nothing to me, I saw
 
 14 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 that you weren't the devil ; so I begged 
 your pardon. And now about my dream. 
 Methought I saw one in shining raiment 
 who came to me and said, " Thy name is 
 Strongsoul, and thy fame and glory shall 
 equal Greatheart's. Arise and follow me." 
 And I arose and followed. And the shin- 
 ing one took me to the top of Dunmyatt, 
 and showed me afar off the smoke of a 
 great city, and said, " There lies the City 
 of Destruction." And the shining one 
 vanished, and I awoke. Now the mean- 
 ing and interpretation of the dream is 
 this : I am henceforth to be called Strong- 
 soul, and we are to journey first of all 
 to the City of Destruction, and thence 
 start for the Celestial City. Thus we 
 cannot expect to meet with any of the 
 adventures which Christian met with until 
 we arrive at the City of Destruction. 
 Wherefore, arise and let us go thither.' 
 
 Saunders understood only a little of 
 what Strongsoul told him, but he was 
 very much impressed with the earnest 
 way in which he spoke, so he thought
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 1 5 
 
 he would take his advice about the diffi- 
 culty regarding the shop. When Strong- 
 soul heard what Saunders had to say he 
 advised him not to return either to his 
 master or his father, but to become a 
 pilgrim like him. This proposal staggered 
 Saunders, and he had objections to urge 
 against it. First of all he asked if it 
 wouldn't be wrong. 
 
 Strongsoul answered him out of his 
 book, and showed him a picture in which 
 Evangelist gave Christian a parchment- 
 roll, wherein was written, ' Flee from the 
 wrath to come.' 
 
 ' Ay,' said Saunders, ' my granny's wrath's 
 gey ill tae bear. But we would be sure 
 tae be ta'en up on the road and sent 
 hame.' 
 
 ' We might,' said Strongsoul. ' There 
 is no adventure of that kind in the book ; 
 but it might happen to us.' 
 
 ' What would ye dae then ? ' asked 
 Saunders. 
 
 'We might escape from the enemy 
 before they brought us back. If we
 
 1 6 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 didn't, we would just have to start again 
 when we were free.' 
 
 Saunders began to be overpowered by 
 Strongsoul's inability to conceive of any 
 other course than the undertaking of this 
 pilgrimage at every hazard. Still he had 
 an argument left, and he thought it a 
 strong one. 
 
 ' Hoo are we tae live on the road ? ' 
 he asked. 
 
 Strongsoul again answered him out of 
 his book. He showed him a picture of 
 the Palace Beautiful, and read him the 
 passage where the porter says that it 
 was built ' for the relief and security of 
 the pilgrims.' He added, ' You may be 
 sure, Saunders, that if it takes more than 
 a day to get to the City of Destruction, 
 some lodging or arbour will be provided 
 for us.' 
 
 Saunders liked the idea of a roving life, 
 and had more than once thought of run- 
 ning away to sea, so he agreed to accom- 
 pany Strongsoul on his pilgrimage. They 
 found a sheep-path which led south-east,
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 17 
 
 the direction, Strongsoul said, of the City 
 of Destruction, and they followed it for 
 a while, talking about their pilgrimage, 
 and of other pilgrims who had had adven- 
 tures with giants, and in the Enchanted 
 Ground, and in the Land of Beulah. 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 AFTER an hour's journey they found that 
 the sheep-path ceased to go in the direc- 
 tion of the City of Destruction, so they 
 went down to the stream again to rest 
 and to determine how they should pro- 
 ceed. They would have come to a decision 
 about the way much more easily if they 
 had climbed a hill instead of going down 
 into a valley, but they were both thirsty 
 and hungry, and Strongsoul expected to 
 find an arbour beside the water where 
 they could refresh themselves with fruit, 
 and receive some miraculous indication of 
 B
 
 1 8 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 the way they should take. Saunders, 
 who did not understand pilgrimages so 
 well as Strongsoul, took out of his pocket 
 as they came near the stream a loop of 
 twisted horse-hair, which he told Strong- 
 soul was a girn. He, too, was concerned 
 about his hunger, but he had an idea of 
 his own as to the likeliest way of satisfy- 
 ing it. 
 
 Strongsoul did not know what a girn 
 was, because he had not mingled much 
 with other boys, and so Saunders told 
 him it was for catching trout. Strongsoul 
 wondered how fish could be caught with 
 a little running-noose of horse -hair, and 
 was inclined to think his companion was 
 making fun of him. Saunders was glad 
 to find that he knew about something 
 better than Strongsoul, and he became 
 very important indeed, and had a great 
 rubbing and sorting of his girn, and 
 quoted a saying of his grandmother's that 
 ' Fools an' bairns shouldna see things 
 half done.' 
 
 Strongsoul paid no heed to him, but
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul \ 9 
 
 began to look about for an arbour. Now 
 it chanced that there was a little den by 
 the bank of the stream just where they 
 descended. It was enclosed by hazels 
 and thorns, and there was a mossy stone 
 in the centre of it like a table, and the 
 turf about it was thick and green and 
 sprinkled with daisies. The stream paused 
 for a little at this place in a broad and 
 deep pool ; then it dived over some 
 rocks, and hurried away as if to make 
 up for the time it had spent beside the 
 den ; and it sang as it went. There were 
 no fruit trees in the den, but Strongsoul 
 was mightily pleased with it, and pointed 
 out all its beauties to Saunders with much 
 pride. Saunders admired everything, especi- 
 ally the pool, and he laughed with delight 
 when he saw that there were trout in it. 
 He cut a hazel wand, and tied his girn 
 to the slim end of it with horse-hair, and 
 was just beginning to fish when the 
 humble attention which Strongsoul paid 
 him suggested the idea of exhibiting more 
 of his superiority. He laid his hazel
 
 2O The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 wand on the turf, and sitting down on 
 the mossy stone put one leg over the 
 other and began to nurse his knee. He 
 did not know how to start the subject 
 which he wanted to talk about ; besides, 
 it was necessary to find out whether he 
 had more acquaintance with it than Strong- 
 soul. He puckered his brows, and was 
 afraid he would have to give it up for 
 the time being, when he suddenly saw 
 how to work up to his point. 
 
 ' Hoo heavy are ye ? ' he asked. 
 
 ' I don't know/ said Strongsoul. 
 
 ' Man, dae ye no ken that ! I'm eight 
 stane.' 
 
 Strongsoul was not interested, but Saun- 
 ders went on. 
 
 ' An' eight stane's a hunner an' twal* 
 pun'.' 
 
 Strongsoul took out his book and began 
 to read. This Saunders regarded as a 
 sign that he knew nothing about Weights 
 and Measures; therefore, without more 
 delay, he launched into Avoirdupois Weight, 
 going straight through it at a breathless
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongs oul 21 
 
 rate. Then he rushed through Measure 
 of Capacity, ending- up with the irregular 
 measures, which he enunciated slowly and 
 with much emphasis. He knew this to 
 be a feat, as there had been only two 
 other boys besides himself in school with 
 him able to do so correctly at a moment's 
 notice. 
 
 Strongsoul continued to read his book 
 as if there had been nobody present but 
 himself. Saunders perceived now, clearly, 
 that he was master here, for he could not 
 imagine any boy who knew Weights and 
 Measures remaining for one second under 
 the supposition of ignorance of such a 
 subject a subject which had been to him 
 the most difficult he had mastered. 
 
 1 Dae ye ken Lineal Measure ? ' he asked, 
 his eyes blazing with triumph. 
 
 Strongsoul said nothing. 
 
 ' Man, it's quite easy. I learned it in 
 a week, an' I never got mair nor sax palmies 
 for mistakes in't ; an' Geordie Simpson, him 
 that got the prize for coontin', aince got 
 twelve for't in one day.'
 
 2 2 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 Then Saunders went through Lineal 
 Measure gloriously. 
 
 1 1 say,' he cried breathlessly, ' dae ye 
 ken the Multiplication Table ? Dae ye 
 ken thirteen times ? ' 
 
 At last Strongsoul laid down his book, 
 and, coming up to him, stood with his 
 hands behind his back and gazed at him 
 sternly. 
 
 1 Saunders Elshander,' he said, ' it seems 
 to me that you would be better employed 
 at one of the booths in Vanity Fair, or 
 in the school of Mr Gripeman, in Love- 
 gain, which is a market-town in the county 
 of Coveting, in the north, than in going 
 on pilgrimage. This is carnal knowledge, 
 and you must never speak of Weights 
 and Measures to me again. Such talk 
 might do in the company of Mr Byends, 
 Mr Hold-the- World, Mr Moneylove, and 
 Mr Saveall, but it is not becoming in true 
 pilgrims. I never knew much of this carnal 
 knowledge, and I have forgotten all I knew. 
 You must do the same, or there is no use 
 your going on pilgrimage.'
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strong soul 23 
 
 1 But hoo can I forget what was thrashed 
 intae me ? ' 
 
 ' Well, Saunders, I don't know, but if 
 you go on with your fishing I'll think 
 about it.' 
 
 ' A' richt,' said Saunders. 
 
 He was a little crestfallen, but he felt 
 confident that his fishing would create a 
 sensation, so he applied himself to it with 
 all the skill he had. Strongsoul lay down 
 on the bank and watched him, thinking 
 how he was to make Saunders forget his 
 Weights and Measures ; but he soon 
 ceased to do so in the excitement of the 
 fishing. 
 
 Saunders knew perfectly well what he 
 was about. The first thing he did was 
 to look up and down the pool to see if 
 there were any trout basking in the sun. 
 At length he caught sight of one snoozing 
 on a flat brown stone. He measured with 
 his eye the distance of the trout from the 
 bank, and laid the girn upon the water 
 about three feet in front of the trout's head. 
 Very gently he lowered the point of his
 
 24 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 wand into the water, sloping it towards 
 the trout, until the girn was exactly op- 
 posite the trout's nose. The trout moved 
 its fins and shifted its position about an 
 inch. Saunders followed the motion with 
 his girn. 
 
 I don't know whether he or Strongsoul 
 was more excited. If he failed to catch 
 this trout at once it would be a terrible 
 downcome, no matter how many more he 
 might catch afterwards. His heart beat, 
 and his eye glared as if his life depended 
 on what he was about. Strongsoul was 
 excited because he perceived now how 
 the girn was to be used. When it oc- 
 curred to him he rejected the idea as 
 absurd. How could anybody pass a 
 running-noose over a trout's head, and 
 pulling it back behind the gills, whip the 
 trout out of the water! 
 
 Saunders moved the girn up and down 
 slowly until it was only two inches from 
 the trout. Now was the critical moment ! 
 He was on his knees. He clenched his 
 teeth, and clutched the turf with his left
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 25 
 
 hand. With a .backward motion of the 
 right the noose was over the trout's head, 
 as cleanly as if the trout had sailed into 
 it. A pause, an upward jerk, and a 
 sweep to the left landed the trout on the 
 turf, wriggling at the end of the hazel 
 wand. 
 
 ' Hurrah ! ' cried Strongsoul, laughing with 
 delight. 
 
 Saunders undid the noose, and putting 
 his thumb into the trout's mouth broke its 
 neck. 
 
 ' How heavy do you think it is ? ' asked 
 Strongsoul. 
 
 'Near quarter a pun',' said Saunders, 
 stepping back to the pool. 
 
 Another trout had come out from its 
 hole to see what had disturbed the water. 
 It was about as big as the one just caught, 
 and lay very finely ; but as Saunders dropped 
 his girn on the water it slipped off the 
 stone and moved slowly in below another 
 one. With the butt-end of his wand 
 Saunders poked it out, when it rushed in 
 below the opposite bank. Saunders quickly
 
 26 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 took off his boots and stockings and stepped 
 into the pool. He was afraid to thrust 
 his wand into the bank lest he should 
 make the water muddy, so he went round 
 to the trout's hole and waited. In a minute 
 it popped out its nose and snuffed the 
 water. It seemed to be of opinion that 
 the coast was clear, for it moved away to 
 the middle of the pool and lay down on 
 the gravel to think. It was trying to 
 account for the absence of its friend, the 
 trout which Saunders had caught. Its 
 cold brain had even got the length of 
 connecting the knock in the ribs it had 
 itself received with the disappearance of 
 the other trout when it saw a black circle 
 in the water about three inches from it. 
 It was a harmless-looking circle, so the 
 trout thought it had better swim through 
 it. One motion of his fins and the circle 
 was behind it, and it felt quite safe. 
 
 But it was not quite safe. The whole 
 of its tail and an inch of its body were 
 still within the girn. Saunders was in a 
 terrible state. The perspiration ran down
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 27 
 
 his face, and it was only by a great effort 
 that he kept his wand steady. He had 
 never seen it done before, he had never 
 even heard of its being attempted, but it 
 seemed to him quite possible now to girn 
 a trout by the tail. It was a big trout, 
 and the tail looked strong enough to hold 
 the noose. He hesitated, until he saw 
 how stupid he was, with a trout in his 
 girn, not to try to land him, no matter 
 by which end. Just as he jerked the girn 
 the trout rose to a fly. This was the very 
 best thing that could have happened, for 
 the noose was so tightened by the double 
 motion of the jerk and of the rising of the 
 trout that Saunders landed him with the 
 greatest ease. 
 
 Now this was exceedingly good girn- 
 ing, two trout in ten minutes, as Saunders 
 very well knew. Still, he took his success 
 as a matter of course ; and when Strong- 
 soul exclaimed about his having caught 
 the second fish by the tail he simply said, 
 'Ay, oh ay!' as if it were quite an 
 ordinary thing to do. But he did not
 
 28 The Pilgrimage of Strong soul 
 
 girn any more at that time, as he had no 
 wish to risk his reputation. 
 
 'Help me tae mak' a fire,' he said, 'an' 
 we'll cook thae troot.' 
 
 Strongsoul wished to distinguish him- 
 self in practical matters too, so he undid 
 the pillowslip and arranged some of the 
 sticks for the fire. He then went to the 
 wire-fence that crossed the stream at a 
 little distance from the den. One of the 
 lower wires was quite slack, and from it 
 he twisted a piece about two yards long. 
 While he was doing this he looked out 
 of the corner of his eye to see what im- 
 pression he was making on Saunders, and 
 he was greatly delighted to find that 
 Saunders watched him twisting the wire 
 as closely as he had watched Saunders 
 girning the trout. 
 
 One thing annoyed Strongsoul very much. 
 He had no matches. Saunders evidently 
 had some, or he would not have been so 
 ready to make a fire. Everybody knows 
 the extraordinary satisfaction there is in 
 making a blaze, especially in the open
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 29 
 
 air, and this glory was to be added to 
 that already won by Saunders with the 
 girn. But Strongsoul, good pilgrim though 
 he was, tried to dim the lustre of it. 
 
 ' Why don't you light the fire ? ' he asked. 
 
 ' I thocht ye were gaun' tae dae't wi' that 
 wire,' said Saunders. 
 
 ' Oh no ! ' said Strongsoul. ' This is for 
 a very much more important thing.' 
 
 'What is't for?' 
 
 ' Light the fire and you'll see.' 
 
 Saunders felt that the deference due to 
 him as the possessor of matches had been 
 withheld, and he thought that Strongsoul 
 took a mean advantage in pretending for 
 he knew it was a pretence such indifference. 
 However, he lit the fire quietly, saying, as 
 he applied the match, ' They're gey big fish, 
 thae twa.' 
 
 Strongsoul said nothing, but began to 
 shape the wire into something. 
 
 ' It's no everybody that can girn,' said 
 Saunders. 
 
 Still Strongsoul made no reply, and went 
 on shaping the wire. It took him some time,
 
 30 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 for the wire was not easily bent, but with the 
 help of his feet and a stone he succeeded in 
 making it look something like a gridiron. 
 He didn't look at Saunders when he was 
 done, but placed his gridiron on the fire and 
 was about to lay the fish on it. 
 
 ' Hold on, man ! ' cried Saunders. ' They're 
 no guttit.' 
 
 Each boy pulled out a knife and seized a 
 fish. Then each waited for the other to 
 begin. Now Saunders knew how to clean a 
 fish and Strongsoul did not. Strongsoul 
 was quite prepared to clean a fish with any- 
 one who knew no more about it than he, but 
 he had no intention of competing with an 
 expert. He saw in Saunders's face that 
 this was a thing he could do, so he shut up 
 his knife and laid down the fish. The fire 
 was needing some attention, and while 
 Saunders took charge of the fish he built 
 and blew it up until it glowed clear and 
 strong. 
 
 The fish were soon cooked. Saunders 
 produced the remainder of the bread and 
 cheese, and as they were both hungry, in a
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 3 1 
 
 short time there was nothing left except 
 the white bones of the trout. 
 
 After they had washed their hands and 
 faces Strongsoul took out his book and 
 began to read to Saunders. He read him 
 the great fight with Apollyon in the Valley 
 of Humiliation, which Saunders liked very 
 much. But when Strongsoul came to the 
 Valley of the Shadow of Death he bade 
 him stop because he was frightened. Strong- 
 soul told him it was very stupid of him to 
 be frightened, and that he would come to 
 like it in time. Although he said this he 
 was secretly glad to think that he was 
 braver than Saunders, and to make Saunders 
 sensible of the fact he read the whole of the 
 Valley of the Shadow of Death over to him- 
 self very slowly. He read aloud again 
 when he came to the meeting of Christian 
 and Faithful, and then he laid down his 
 book and said, * I know now how to make 
 you forget your Weights and Measures, 
 Saunders.' 
 
 'Dae ye? Man, I'll be obleeged tae 
 ye.'
 
 32 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 Saunders was in earnest. He was 
 anxious to forget even that which had 
 been his chief glory, because the hillside 
 and the wind and the blue sky began to 
 fill him with the spirit of the pilgrim. 
 Weights and Measures reminded him of 
 the school and of the shop, and now he 
 was to be the companion of the lark and 
 of the flowers, and of Strongsoul, there- 
 fore he wanted to have his Weights and 
 Measures driven out of him. 
 
 'Yes,' said Strongsoul. 'You must 
 change your name. Since the shining 
 one changed my name everything that 
 happened before is like a bad dream. 
 How would you like to be called Faith- 
 ful ?' 
 
 ' Him that met Christian ? ' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 1 I dinna ken. Tell me mair aboot 
 him.' 
 
 ' I think he was the greatest of the 
 pilgrims, because he suffered the most.' 
 
 'What did he suffer?' 
 
 ' I'll read you about it.'
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strong soul 33 
 
 Then Strongsoul read from his book how 
 they scourged Faithful, and buffeted him, and 
 lanced his flesh with knives, and stoned him 
 with stones, and pricked him with swords, 
 and burned him to ashes at the stake. 
 
 ' Dae folk dae thae things tae pilgrims 
 noo ? ' asked Saunders. 
 
 'Well,' said Strongsoul, ' when Christiana, 
 Christian's wife, with Greatheart and her 
 family came to Vanity Fair some years 
 after Faithful was burned, they found the 
 people much more moderate. But then 
 it's a very long time since that. I shouldn't 
 wonder if they turn out to be worse than 
 ever ; we'll see when we get there.' 
 
 'An' if I was calling myself Faithfu' 
 would they burn me, think ye ? ' 
 
 'Well they might.' 
 
 ' Ay, man.' 
 
 Saunders thought for a little, and Strong- 
 soul watched him over the top of his book. 
 At last he said, ' I think ye're richt aboot 
 changin' my name. It would help tae 
 change my inside. But there's nae use 
 garrin' things that'll grow. Noo ye
 
 34 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 tell't me some ghaist or ither changed 
 your name in a dream, an' I'm thinkin' 
 that's the richt way for pilgrims tae get 
 their names changed. Sae I'll wait till a 
 ghaist comes tae me, an' I'll gie ye my 
 word that I'll no think o' Weights an' 
 Measures ony mair than I can help, an' 
 I'll ne'er speak o' them ava'. Wull that 
 dae ye?' 
 
 ' That'll do,' said Strongsoul. ' Now we 
 must go on. We have spent too much 
 time here already.' 
 
 Saunders shouldered the pillowslip, and 
 they began to climb the hill to see which 
 way they should go. When they got to 
 the top of the hill all that they saw was 
 a valley with a higher hill on the other 
 side, and Saunders began to be dis- 
 couraged. But Strongsoul said, ' Let us 
 go down into the valley and walk along 
 it, for I think it leads south-east, where 
 lies the City of Destruction.' 
 
 It was a little after noon and the sun 
 was strong. There had been several 
 weeks of dry weather, and as the hill-
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strong soul 35 
 
 side on which they were lay much ex- 
 posed, the grass was burned up and very 
 slippery. Strongsoul began to think of 
 the way down to the Valley of Humili- 
 ation, and of the slip or two which 
 Christian caught there. He was there- 
 fore very wary, and taking a zigzag 
 course moved down sideways. But 
 Saunders, who was accustomed to slip- 
 pery hills, dug his heels firmly into the 
 ground, took the pillowship in both hands, 
 and swinging it round his head sent it 
 flying almost to the foot of the hill. 
 Strongsoul stood still in amazement. Then 
 Saunders sat down on his hunkers, 
 clasped his knees, and with a shout slid 
 smoothly and quickly after the pillow- 
 slip. When he reached it he flung it 
 to the bottom, and slid the rest of the 
 way as he had done before. 
 
 Strongsoul considered for a second or 
 two, and remembering that, as they had 
 not started from the City of Destruction, 
 their adventures and methods of going 
 down hills did not need to be the same
 
 36 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 as those of Christian, he -also got down 
 on his hunkers. But he had no experi- 
 ence in the art of sliding on sunburnt 
 hills, so he tumbled head over heels once 
 or twice, and rolled and stumbled and 
 ran and jumped down to the bottom, 
 shaking all his bones and getting several 
 bad bruises. Saunders was sorry for him ; 
 but Strongsoul laughed and said he liked 
 it, and Saunders respected him very much. 
 By this time they were hungry again, 
 and they had no food of any kind. 
 Saunders looked wistfully at Strongsoul 
 once or twice, and then he asked him if 
 there was any chance of their coming 
 to a place provided for the refreshment 
 of pilgrims. Strongsoul said he couldn't 
 answer for the way in the meantime, as 
 there was no account in his book of any 
 journey except that from the City of De- 
 struction. Just as he said this he spied 
 a house at the top of the valley. He 
 pointed it out to Saunders and told him, 
 because he believed it, that that was a 
 place where they could rest and refresh
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strong soul 37 
 
 themselves. So they dusted with their 
 bonnets each other's jackets and marched 
 boldly up to the house. 
 
 The house at the top of the valley 
 was inhabited by a small sheep-farmer. 
 There was nobody at home when the 
 pilgrims called except the sheep-farmer's 
 wife. She had been married only three 
 months, and did not know very much 
 about life in the hills. Strongsoul knocked 
 at the door, and the goodwife, who was 
 a very pleasant - looking young woman, 
 came running to open it. She was rather 
 astonished to find at that time two boys 
 who were strangers to her. Sometimes 
 beggars passed through the valley in the 
 afternoon, but she had never before had 
 unexpected visitors so early in the day. 
 
 ' Weel, laddies/ she said, ' what can I dae 
 for ye ? ' 
 
 She spoke sweetly and seemed glad to see 
 them, although she looked curiously at 
 Strongsoul's blackened eyes and Saunders's 
 swollen head. 
 
 Strongsoul answered her very courageously.
 
 38 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 ' We are pilgrims, ma'am, and we are going 
 by the direction of an angel to the City of 
 Destruction. We have need of rest and 
 refreshment.' 
 
 The sheep-farmer's wife took a step back 
 and looked from one to the other. 'An' 
 what kin' o' refreshment would ye be 
 wantin' ? ' she asked slowly. 
 
 'Scones and milk,' Saunders whispered to 
 Strongsoul. But the goodwife heard him 
 and burst out laughing. ' Come in, laddies/ 
 she said. ' Come in.' 
 
 She took them into a parlour fragrant with 
 wood-roof, and made them sit down on an 
 old-fashioned sofa at one end of it, while 
 she sat down in an old-fashioned armchair 
 at the other. 
 
 ' Ah-hey ! ' she said. ' An' sae ye're 
 pilgrims, are ye? Ye'll hae heard o' 
 Christian an' Hopefu' an' Mr Ready-tae- 
 halt ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, ma'am,' said Strongsoul, with his 
 heart in his mouth. 
 
 ' An' hoo lang hae ye been on the road ? ' 
 
 ' Since daybreak.'
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 39 
 
 ' An' hae ye had naethin' tae eat sin' ye 
 startit ? ' 
 
 ' Oh yes, ma'am ! We've had some bread 
 and cheese and trout,' said Strongsoul. ' But 
 we're hungry again.' 
 
 ' Weel,' said the goodwife, ' bide a wee, and 
 I'll gie ye your denner.' 
 
 Before she left the room she took from 
 a book-shelf which hung above a chest of 
 drawers a thick volume bound in half-calf, 
 
 ' Hae ye ever seen this ? ' she asked, 
 handing the book to Strongsoul. 
 
 ' No/ said Strongsoul, trembling with de- 
 light as he turned over the pages. 
 
 ' Ye can tak' a look at it then,' said the 
 goodwife, ' till denner's ready/ And she left 
 the room. 
 
 Saunders sat up close to Strongsoul and 
 they laid the book between their knees. It 
 was a large edition of The Pilgrims Progress, 
 with a picture on every third page. They 
 looked through it all, and Strongsoul ex- 
 plained the pictures to Saunders. When 
 they had finished it they were both filled 
 with a burning desire to get to the City of
 
 4O The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 Destruction at once, in order to begin their 
 journey properly, so that they were very glad 
 when the goodwife came and told them that 
 dinner was ready. 
 
 She took them to the kitchen and gave 
 them some broth and meat and potatoes, and 
 a biscuit with jam on it and a cup of milk. 
 Strongsoul thanked her, and Saunders said 
 his ' denner mindit him o' a thing his granny 
 used to say, "It's guid tae hae oor cog oot 
 when it rains kail." ' 
 
 1 An' wha may your granny be ? ' said the 
 goodwife. 
 
 But Saunders was just as pawky as she, 
 for he said, ' She's a gey droll auld body, 
 an* awfu' for mindin' her ain biznis an' 
 ither folk's tae,' he added under his 
 breath. 
 
 The goodwife heard him and laughed, and 
 said, ' A'tweel, laddies, it's no me that'll spoil 
 your bit splore. I wish the gudeman had 
 been here, for he was a gey through' ther lad 
 himsel'.' 
 
 ' But, ma'am, we are not through' ther,' 
 said Strongsoul eagerly. 'We are pilgrims,
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 41 
 
 and we would sooner cut off our right hands 
 than do anything wrong.' 
 
 ' Weel, weel, laddies, I believe ye,' said the 
 goodwife kindly. ; I ken what it is to want 
 a bit freedom. I once stayed oot a' nicht 
 mysel' when I was a lassie, an' a gey sair 
 skelpin' I got for't.' 
 
 ' Come with us,' said Strongsoul, who liked 
 the appearance of the goodwife, and felt 
 himself very much drawn to her. ' Come 
 with us. I will lead you to the City of 
 Destruction.' 
 
 At this the goodwife laughed louder than 
 she had yet done, but Strongsoul was not 
 abashed. 
 
 ' Saunders and I will help you through 
 the Slough of Despond,' he said, 'and past 
 the lions and the giants, and across the 
 dark river to the Celestial City.' 
 
 The goodwife stopped laughing, and the 
 tears came into her eyes. She took Strong- 
 soul to her bosom and kissed him tenderly, 
 and said something which Strongsoul could 
 not perfectly understand about having a little 
 pilgrim of her own soon to help her to heaven.
 
 42 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 Saunders turned his back on them and blushed 
 to the wall, but the goodwife clapped him on 
 the head and said he was a fine laddie. Then 
 she put some scones and oat-cakes and cheese 
 into the pillowslip. Besides that she gave 
 Strongsoul a sixpence, and bade them both 
 'Gae hame afore it was owre late,' having 
 told them how to get out of the hills to the 
 highway. 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 WHEN they came to the highway they 
 began to be very downcast. The road was 
 straight with hedges on either side, and 
 they could see very far before them. That 
 was the cause of their dolefulness. They 
 had been wandering about among the hills 
 for hours with the pleasant din of the 
 stream, and the grasshoppers, and the bees, 
 and the larks resounding in their ears ; with
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 43 
 
 the soft turf under their feet, and paths 
 that wound in and out and up and down, 
 now at the water's edge, now on the brow 
 of the hill, now among heather, now among 
 fern. It was no wonder that the hard- 
 beaten highway made them miserable. It 
 stretched away for a mile in front of them 
 thick with white dust that little puffs of 
 wind blew in their eyes. They could see 
 nothing on the right hand or on the left 
 except high thorn hedges whose once glossy 
 leaves were dry and powdered. They still 
 heard the larks singing, and sometimes a 
 bee twanged across the road, but these 
 sounds made them only regret the more 
 the delightful paths among the hills. 
 
 At length Saunders, who was carrying 
 the pillowslip, could endure it no longer. 
 He threw down his burden on the road and 
 said, 'There's your sins, and here's the 
 last o' me,' and turned his back on Strong- 
 soul and began to walk away. Strongsoul 
 ran after him and caught him by the arm 
 and stopped him, and said, ' Come back, 
 Saunders, come back.'
 
 44 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 There was something so sweet and gentle 
 in Strongsoul's face as he said this that 
 Saunders made no resistance, and went 
 back to where the pillowslip lay. 
 
 ' These aren't my sins, Saunders/ said 
 Strongsoul, picking up the pillowslip and 
 slinging it over his shoulder. 'We will 
 get our burdens when we come to the 
 City of Destruction.' 
 
 ' What way did you call them your sins, 
 ihen?' asked Saunders. 
 
 ' Because I thought I ought to have sins 
 just as Christian had, and I had nothing 
 else to make up a burden with except these 
 things. I thought it didn't matter very 
 much what they were as long as the bur- 
 den was heavy enough.' 
 
 ' Then what for dae ye lug it alang wi' 
 ye noo ? ' 
 
 ' Because it'll teach us how to carry bur- 
 dens, and we will be better able to bear 
 our sins when they are given to us.' 
 
 'Weel, as I said whan I first saw ye, 
 ye're a strange ane. Mebbe ye'll tell me 
 what for ye keep trailin' through a' this
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 45 
 
 stour whan we micht be trampin' the 
 hills.' 
 
 ' Because I think this must be like the 
 narrow way, which Goodwill will show us 
 when we have arrived at the little wicket- 
 gate ; and so we'd better get accustomed 
 to it. Come on.' 
 
 Saunders made no answer, but started 
 again with Strongsoul. They walked on 
 for half-an-hour, neither saying anything. 
 Then Saunders took the pillowslip from 
 Strongsoul, and Strongsoul slipped his arm 
 into Saunders's, and they walked along 
 very happily in spite of the dusty road. 
 
 They had not gone far in this friendly 
 way when they saw someone coming to- 
 ward them in very ragged attire. He 
 had a thick stick in his hand and a wallet 
 on his back. His face was unwashed, and 
 his beard was long and matted, and so 
 was his hair. At the sight of this man 
 Strongsoul began to quake, not with fear, 
 but with the hope of an adventure. He 
 whispered to Saunders that this looked 
 like a giant, and bade him be of good
 
 46 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 cheer, for he would fight the giant and 
 overcome him. 
 
 Now this was an ill-enough-looking man ; 
 and when he came near the pilgrims he 
 wondered a little who they could be and 
 what they were about, but he had no in- 
 tention of doing them any harm. He was 
 walking very fast, like one who had some 
 important business awaiting him ; and he 
 would certainly have passed the pilgrims 
 had Strongsoul not stepped in front of 
 him and said, ' I know thee. Thou art 
 giant Grislybeard, and thou hast slain many 
 pilgrims whom thou hast dragged out of 
 the king's highway ; but now I will avenge 
 their blood upon thee. Wherefore, come 
 on.' 
 
 With that Strongsoul lifted his stick and 
 prepared himself to fight, expecting the 
 giant to do the same. But the giant had 
 no intention of fighting. 
 
 ' Ha, ha ! ' he sneered. ' Get out of the 
 way.' And he kicked Strongsoul so that 
 he fell and bruised his head. 
 
 When Saunders saw Strongsoul down,
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 47 
 
 although he had little stomach for the 
 fight and could not understand why his 
 companion should be so rash, yet he 
 plucked up courage, and swinging the 
 pillowslip in the air made it twist round 
 the neck of the giant. With a pull he 
 brought him down on his back, saying, 
 
 * Here's a new kin' o' girnin'.' Strongsoul 
 was on his legs again and, seeing the 
 giant down, was about to strike him on 
 the head when he remembered that Great- 
 heart had never taken any advantages of 
 the giants he had killed ; so he paused 
 until Grislybeard should rise. 
 
 The giant got up, roaring, and straight- 
 way seized on Saunders and began to be- 
 labour him with his stick in such a savage 
 manner that Saunders danced and shrieked 
 with pain. But Strongsoul smote the 
 giant a blow on the back of the head 
 with his oaken staff. ' Coward ! ' he cried, 
 
 * fight with one who is armed, and leave 
 the helpless alone.' Then the giant turned 
 on Strongsoul with an oath and aimed a 
 blow at his face. Strongsoul slipped out
 
 48 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 of the way, and put in another blow on 
 the giant's head which made him leap with 
 rage and pain. He rushed at Strongsoul 
 and would have felled him had not 
 Saunders, who saw the peril of his friend 
 and who was now heart and soul in the 
 fight, caught hold of the giant's leg and 
 tripped him up. He rose at once, with 
 tears of rage in his voice and eyes at 
 being molested and foiled by two boys. 
 He was no sooner on his feet, however, 
 than Saunders, who had got behind him, 
 swung the pillowslip round his neck and 
 brought him to the ground again. In this 
 fall the giant's head was cut. 
 
 Afraid that he might receive some more 
 hurt by being taken unawares, Grislybeard 
 crawled to the hedge before getting up, in 
 order to be protected from attacks with the 
 pillowslip and to have a position of some 
 security from which to treat with his 
 enemies. The moment he was on his feet 
 he addressed the two pilgrims by exceed- 
 ingly foul names, and said, ' What is it you 
 want at all?'
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 49 
 
 ' Nothing but your life will satisfy us/ 
 said Strongsoul. 
 
 At this the giant grew pale, thinking that 
 the boys were mad, and knowing how strong 
 and resolute madness can make even the 
 weakest. 
 
 ' Come,' said Strongsoul, ' let us fall to it 
 again.' 
 
 The giant put up his stick to defend him- 
 self, but did not leave the hedge. Strong- 
 soul dealt a blow at him which he caught on 
 his stick ; but the blow was very fierce, and 
 Strongsoul's stick slipped up the giant's and 
 struck his knuckles, bringing the blood. 
 
 Here the fight was brought to a sudden 
 end ; for at the very moment that Strong- 
 soul was launching another blow at Grisly- 
 beard, he himself received a stroke behind 
 the ear and fell in a dead faint. The giant's 
 wife, unnoticed by any of the combatants, 
 had arrived on the scene, and she it was 
 who had knocked Strongsoul down. There 
 was no love lost between the giant and his 
 wife, and they often mauled each other, but 
 neither would allow the interference of a
 
 50 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 third party. They were so little in love that 
 when they were on a journey they always 
 kept about a quarter of a mile apart, in order 
 that they might not be annoyed by the sight 
 of each other ; and that is how Mrs Grisly- 
 beard arrived in time to save her husband. 
 
 Seeing Strongsoul no longer able to fight, 
 the giant struck Saunders across the knees 
 and brought him down to the ground too. 
 Then his wife helped him to bind the wound 
 on his head, while they consulted what they 
 should do with the defeated pilgrims. 
 
 The giantess said, ' We can't leave them 
 here. They could describe us, and then 
 where would we be ? ' 
 
 'That's true,' said the giant. 
 
 ' Well, what are you going to do ? ' said 
 his wife testily. ' Somebody may come 
 along at any moment.' 
 
 ' We must take them with us.' 
 
 ' Must we ! How ? ' 
 
 1 Drive them before us.' 
 
 ' It'll be a stiff job. We can't go along 
 the road.' 
 
 ' No ; we must get off it at once. There's
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 5 1 
 
 a break in the hedge. You go through, and 
 I'll shove the boy after you.' 
 
 The giant's wife pushed through the hedge, 
 and the giant lifted Strongsoul and handed 
 him to her Then he poked Saunders in the 
 ribs with his stick and said, ' Get up/ 
 
 Saunders got up as well as he could 
 with many a groan, for his knees were 
 very sore. 
 
 'Take your bolster,' said the giant, 'and 
 get through there.' 
 
 The opening in the hedge was pretty wide, 
 and Saunders got through well enough. 
 Then the giant followed, and, taking Strong- 
 soul from his wife, started for the hills. Mrs 
 Grislybeard told Saunders to follow her hus- 
 band, and she brought up the rear. It was 
 a field of turnips in which they were walking, 
 and Saunders stumbled once or twice, but 
 each time the giantess rapped him over the 
 head with her stick. This made him more 
 careful, and he managed to walk, in spite of 
 his sore knees, without falling. He was cry- 
 ing to himself, however, and wished he had 
 never seen Strongsoul.
 
 52 l^he Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 There was a belt of trees between the 
 turnip-field and the hills, and in it they 
 halted. The giant forced some spirits down 
 Strongsoul's throat, which revived him, and 
 he opened his eyes, and sat up on the 
 blaeberry bush where the giant had laid 
 him. The giant and giantess also took 
 some spirits. Then they put the pilgrims 
 between them and resumed their journey. 
 It was very difficult for Saunders and Strong- 
 soul to keep up with their captors, but if 
 either of them halted or stumbled the 
 giantess rapped him over the head with 
 her stick ; and as Strongsoul was too weak 
 to fight, and had, moreover, lost his weapon, 
 he followed the example of Saunders, and 
 did what he could by taking heed of his 
 steps to avoid the knocks on the head. 
 
 After they had journeyed for an hour 
 and a half up a steep glen, they rested 
 again at a place where two streams met. 
 The giant and giantess took some more of 
 their cordial, and then the giantess said, 
 'What made you quarrel with these two 
 boys?'
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 53 
 
 Grislybeard told his wife how the fight 
 had begun, and that nothing had ever as- 
 tonished him more in his life. Mrs Grisly- 
 beard was astonished too, and looked at the 
 boys, especially Strongsoul, very savagely. 
 Strongsoul stared back. Although he 
 managed to look at her as long as she 
 looked at him, he shuddered to the marrow 
 of his bones at the expression of her eyes. 
 She had once been a handsome woman, 
 but her hair was of a dirty grey now ; 
 her brow was rough ; and her face looked 
 as if it would crumble away on the slightest 
 touch like soft sandstone that has long 
 been exposed to the weather. Her eyes 
 were very ugly, and were capable of ex- 
 pressing only two things greed and 
 malignity. As a rule they had no ex- 
 pression at all. The malicious gleam in 
 them as they turned from Strongsoul to 
 the giant set Strongsoul thinking. He 
 remembered Giant Slaygood, who was of 
 the nature of flesh-eaters, and a cold chill 
 ran down his back. Grislybeard and his 
 wife might well be eaters of human flesh ;
 
 54 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 the worst of cannibals could not appear 
 more repulsive than they did. Strongsoul 
 was puzzling his brains how Saunders and 
 he might escape from their clutches when 
 their captors rose, and, placing the pilgrims 
 between them, started up the steeper and 
 rockier of the two glens in the gusset of 
 which they had been resting. The difficulty 
 of the way took up all the attention of 
 the pilgrims. Their heads were aching 
 from the raps of the giantess's stick, and 
 their feet were sore with stumbling along 
 the rocky bed of the half-dry stream. A 
 quarter of an hour more of this rough 
 walking completely exhausted Strongsoul, 
 and he fell down among the rocks un- 
 able to move a step farther. He pressed 
 both hands on his head to save it as 
 much as possible from the giantess's stick, 
 and shut his eyes and clenched his teeth 
 that he might bear the pain without cry- 
 ing out. But this time the giantess did 
 not rap him on the head. Opening his 
 eyes he saw that they were at the foot 
 of a precipitous rock of about fifty feet
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 55 
 
 high. Saunders was standing close beside 
 him, and the giantess sat on a stone keep- 
 ing guard. At first he failed to see Grisly- 
 beard, but looking about him more at- 
 tentively, he perceived that the rock was 
 cleft from top to bottom, and that the 
 giant was standing at the foot of this 
 opening. 
 
 Grislybeard put his little finger in his 
 mouth and whistled shrilly ; then he nodded 
 his head ten times as if he were counting, and 
 whistled again ; then he counted twenty in 
 the same way, and whistled a third time. A 
 few seconds after three whistles in rapid suc- 
 cession echoed down the cleft, and the giant 
 stepped into it. In a little he reappeared 
 and beckoned them. Strongsoul struggled 
 to his feet and took the arm of Saunders, who 
 was crying bitterly. The giantess pushed 
 them on to her husband, and he lifted 
 Saunders into a cage that was hanging in- 
 side the cleft. Viewed from the glen this 
 cleft was only three feet across, but it opened 
 out to six feet within the rock, and 
 stretched away back, sometimes narrower,
 
 56 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 sometimes wider, until it was lost in 
 darkness. 
 
 The giant stepped into the cage after 
 Saunders, whistled once more, and they 
 began to ascend. Strongsoul looked up and 
 saw about the middle of the left wall the 
 heads of two men vanishing and appearing 
 as they worked the windlass by which the 
 cage was being hoisted. Here, then, the 
 giant had his cave. Once up there it 
 would be impossible to get away. Unless 
 he managed to escape before the cage 
 came down, he would never have another 
 chance. 
 
 The giantess was sitting in the cleft. Be- 
 hind her the rock was level for about two 
 feet, then it sloped steeply, how far Strong- 
 soul could not see ; but this was enough for 
 him he knew how to make one effort for 
 liberty. 
 
 Slowly the cage mounted, followed by the 
 eyes of Mrs Grislybeard and Strongsoul. 
 Creak, crack went the chain on the windlass, 
 while the men who were working it could be 
 heard puffing and grunting. The giant with
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 57 
 
 his stick kept the cage from bumping on the 
 rock, and shouted to the men to hurry up. 
 Once Saunders looked over, but he became 
 so sick and dizzy that he had to withdraw his 
 head. At last the cage stopped. Gathering 
 together all his strength, Strongsoul seized 
 the feet of the giantess, and rising up turned 
 her, screaming, head over heels down the 
 ravine. Strongsoul looked up, but he 
 could see nothing save the empty cage. 
 He heard, however, angry voices, which 
 were so loud that they had prevented the 
 speakers from noticing the giantess's screams. 
 Looking over the edge of the rock on which 
 the giantess had been sitting, Strongsoul 
 saw her at the bottom of a steep slope of 
 nearly twenty feet, lying on her face and 
 huddled in a heap as if dead. Then he 
 turned and ran up the glen. 
 
 There were steep rocks on either side for 
 about fifty yards. Strongsoul could, there- 
 fore, take no other way than between these. 
 He chose to go up the glen, thinking that 
 the giant would imagine he had tried to 
 return to the highway as he had come, and
 
 5& The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 would in consequence search for him down 
 the glen. When the precipices ended the 
 glen was still very steep on both sides, and 
 Strongsoul had to keep to the course of the 
 stream. Suddenly the way was stopped by 
 a high wall of rock which filled up the way 
 from side to side all but a narrow passage 
 for the water. Strongsoul sat down, and 
 for the first time began to despair. He felt 
 like a beast caught in a trap. But he took out 
 his book, and he turned to the Valley of the 
 Shadow of Death. He soon found the place 
 where Christian thought of going back, be- 
 cause of the company of fiends that were 
 coming towards him, but changed his mind, 
 and crying with a loud voice, ' I will walk in 
 the strength of the Lord God,' went on 
 triumphantly. This Strongsoul said aloud, 
 and putting the book in his pocket stepped 
 into the stream. He looked through the 
 narrow way that pierced the wall of rock, and 
 saw that it was long. Although the stream 
 was very low, in this channel the water ran 
 deep and black and still. Strongsoul 
 shuddered, for there was no other way
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 59 
 
 of escape ; but he said again, not so loud 
 as before, and indeed his voice trembled a 
 little, ' I will walk in the strength of the 
 Lord God,' and stepped into the passage. 
 The water took him up to the chin at once. 
 When he had recovered his breath his first 
 idea was to struggle out, but he heard the 
 sound of voices behind him. Then he 
 muttered under his breath, ' I will walk in 
 the strength of the Lord God,' and took a 
 step forward. This time the water reached 
 his nostrils, and he had to throw back his 
 head in order to breathe. He was very 
 white, and yet his face was dark, and the 
 expression of it it would be hard to say 
 whether that was terror-stricken or terrible. 
 He could make out distinctly now the voice 
 of the giant in the glen ; so he prepared 
 himself for another step. He pushed his 
 hands forward on either side of the passage, 
 and was just lifting his foot when he drew 
 back. The darkness went out of his face, 
 for his left hand had touched a ledge under 
 the water. In a moment he was on it ; it 
 was nearly as broad as the length of his foot.
 
 60 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 With his back to the left wall and his hands 
 on the right one he moved along, but he had 
 taken only four steps when he almost fell 
 his left hand had missed the wall. Looking 
 up to see the cause of his, for he had been 
 watching the water, he saw opposite him a 
 hole. Without a moment's hesitation he 
 sprang into it and found himself in a large 
 cave. The first thing he did was to take 
 the book from his pocket and lay it down 
 to dry ; then he crouched down at the 
 entrance of the cave to listen. 
 
 Voices approached, and he heard the giant 
 say, ' He hasn't come this way. The others 
 must have found him by this time.' Immedi- 
 ately Strongsoul heard their steps receding, 
 and soon they died away. 
 
 He was very wet, and very hungry, and 
 very tired. If he didn't get something to 
 eat at once he felt as if he would die. He 
 thought very hard for ten minutes. Then 
 he rose and stepped on to the ledge, and 
 walked back to the entrance of the passage. 
 He found that the ledge went all the way, 
 but that it was deeper at the beginning,
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 6 1 
 
 and this was how he had missed it at 
 first. 
 
 He ran back to the giant's cave as fast 
 as he could, and there at the foot of the 
 cleft, as he had hoped, lay his pillowslip. 
 It had been overlooked in the excitement 
 caused by his escape. He knew what a risk 
 he ran, but he could not help taking time 
 to glance into the ravine ; and he saw that 
 the giantess had been removed. Then he 
 hurried back to his cave, and managed to 
 keep his pillowslip from getting wet by 
 fastening it round his neck. Five minutes 
 after he got back the giant and three of his 
 men returned to the cave, having given up 
 the search for Strongsoul. 
 
 The pillowslip contained a suit of clothes, 
 which Strongsoul put on, after spreading 
 the wet ones out on the floor of the cave 
 to dry. He ate some of the scones and 
 cakes and cheese which the goodwife had 
 given him, and then he lay down to think 
 out a plan for delivering Saunders, and fell 
 asleep. 
 It was night when he awoke, and looking
 
 62 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 out of his cave he saw some stars shining 
 deep down in the water ; but there was no 
 moon. He buckled his trousers up to his 
 thighs, and was stepping on to the ledge 
 to go out and explore the glen when he 
 heard voices at the entrance of the passage. 
 He held his breath and listened. 
 
 'This is a likely place,' came from a 
 gruff voice doing its best to whisper. 
 
 ' Who'll go first ? ' said another. 
 
 'I will,' said the owner of the gruff voice, 
 and Strongsoul heard him splash into the 
 water. 
 
 Now it was pitch dark between the walls 
 of rock, the only visible thing being the 
 reflection of the stars. Strongsoul thought 
 it possible that the cave might be found 
 by these servants of the giant for such 
 he judged them to be but he perceived a 
 chance of escaping. He put his book in his 
 pocket, pushed his pillowslip and his clothes 
 to the back of the cave, and stepped noise- 
 lessly on to the ledge. He went up the 
 passage a little way and waited. 
 
 ' It's pretty deep,' said the gruff voice.
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 63 
 
 * So I find,' said another. 
 
 ' Are ye all in ? ' said the gruff voice. 
 
 ' Yes,' came from other two. 
 
 'Quietly, then, and cautiously.' 
 
 The speakers advanced slowly up the 
 channel. 
 
 'It's getting deeper,' said the gruff voice. 
 
 The owner of it had passed the cave 
 and stood exactly under Strongsoul, who 
 thought he would be sure to hear his 
 heart thumping against his ribs. He did 
 not, however, and stepped from under 
 Strongsoul. 
 
 'Hillo!' he cried, 'I'm up to the chin 
 and it grows deeper and deeper,' he added, 
 having pushed his stick forward to test the 
 bottom. 
 
 ' What's to be done ? ' 
 
 'We must go back. One step more 
 and I would be over the head.' 
 
 Here Strongsoul was unable to smother 
 completely a laugh of exultation. 
 
 'What's that?' said one. 
 
 ' A kelpie, most likely,' said the gruff voice. 
 4 The sooner we're out of here the better.'
 
 64 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 Grumbling at such a wetting for nothing, 
 they all turned and left the passage. Strong- 
 soul followed them along the ledge and into 
 the open glen, when they had gone away 
 a piece. He had no boots on, and there- 
 fore made no noise. He was not accus- 
 tomed to go about with bare feet, so he 
 had to be very careful not to hurt them on 
 the stones. 
 
 The four men were met by four others 
 at the cleft where the giant's cave was, 
 and the eight sat down on the stones 
 and began to talk in whispers. Strongsoul 
 crept quietly up until he was able to hear 
 what they were saying. He was overjoyed 
 to learn from their talk that they were 
 searching for the giant to take him and 
 his into custody. So he spoke up boldly 
 and said, ' Ye search for the giant Grisly- 
 beard.' 
 
 ' The devil,' said the owner of the gruff 
 voice. 
 
 ' No ; I am the pilgrim Strongsoul, bound 
 for the City of Destruction. Who are 
 ye?'
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 65 
 
 1 It's the kelpie/ said the gruff- voiced man 
 in alarm, and the whole eight crowded 
 together against the rock. 
 
 ' What do ye fear ? ' said Strongsoul. 
 'Are ye not also pilgrims?' 
 
 ' Speak to it, somebody,' said the gruff- 
 voiced man. 
 
 'We're no meanin' any harm tae ye, 
 Maister Kelpie, or mebbe I should say 
 Miss I dinna ken what sex ye' re o',' some- 
 one said. ' But we'll be muckle obleeged tae 
 ye if ye'll tell us whaur this cave is. We've 
 searched the hills hereaboots for weeks 
 but we canna find it.' 
 
 ' The cave is right above us,' said Strong- 
 soul. 
 
 Nobody replied to this. 
 
 ' It is,' said Strongsoul, understanding 
 their silence to mean doubt. ' Inside this 
 crack on the left about half-way up is 
 the entrance. It's very difficult to get 
 at.' 
 
 ' We'll have to risk a light,' said the gruff- 
 voiced man. 
 
 One of the others took a small lantern 
 E
 
 66 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 from his pocket, and lighting it, turned it 
 on Strongsoul. 
 
 ' I declare it's a laddie ! ' said two or three 
 in a breath. 
 
 The gruff-voiced man who seemed to 
 be the leader seized him by the collar. 
 
 1 Hands off! ' said Strongsoul. 
 
 The man looked at him closely and shook 
 him a little ; but Strongsoul, who had picked 
 up a broken branch, struck him on the head 
 with it, and the man let go his hold, more 
 amazed than hurt. 
 
 ' I believe it is a kelpie/ he said. ' They 
 can look like what they please.' 
 
 ' If he can show us the cave,' said the 
 man with the light, ' it doesn't matter what 
 he is.' 
 
 'That's true,' said the leader. 'Where is 
 it?' 
 
 Strongsoul pointed them the place as 
 well as he could by the light of the lantern. 
 
 'How do they get up to it?' asked the 
 leader. 
 
 Strongsoul explained about the windlass, 
 and told them, seeing that they were friendly,
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 67 
 
 of the capture by Grislybeard, and how 
 Saunders had been carried off, and how he 
 himself had escaped. They all wondered 
 at the story, but nobody made any remark. 
 They looked up the rock, straining their 
 eyes, for the lantern gave a feeble light. 
 Then they stared at Strongsoul and then 
 at each other. 
 
 At length the leader said, 'We can't do 
 any more to-night. We'll come with a 
 ladder to-morrow and see how much of 
 this is true.' 
 
 Strongsoul remembered stumbling over 
 a fallen larch-tree on the road up with the 
 giant. It struck him that they might use 
 it as' a ladder, and he made the proposal. 
 The leader looked at him admiringly, and 
 whispered to the man with the lantern, 
 ' I'm sure it's a kelpie.' 
 
 Strongsoul led them down the glen, 
 and they were not long in coming to 
 the fallen larch. Six of them hoisted it 
 on their shoulders and carried it up to 
 the cleft. They broke off all the longer 
 branches, leaving a bit of each to climb
 
 68 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 by, and then they wedged the tree in 
 the entrance, placing the top against the 
 left side and the trunk against the right, 
 so that it stood pretty steadily. To make 
 it surer three of them held it. 
 
 'Now,' said the leader, 'will you go up 
 first?' 
 
 He looked to the place where he had 
 last seen Strongsoul, but he was not there. 
 
 ' 1 told ye,' he said with some complacence. 
 ' It's just a kelpie. It'll not be me that'll 
 go up that tree.' 
 
 ' Nor me,' said one, and then another, 
 and then all of them, finding that nobody 
 pretended to bravery in the matter. 
 
 'Kelpies,' said one, 'are kittle cattle. 
 I've heard o' gey mishanters happenin' 
 folk that lippen't tae them. I had a gude- 
 brither wha gaed oot ae nicht an' for- 
 gaither't wi' ane at a well. He was a 
 bauld eneuch falla', for he merrit my sister, 
 bein' my gudebrither, ye see. An' my sister 
 had a temper like a nor'-east wun', an' hands 
 like hammers, an' likit a dram tae. She took 
 after her mither, an' her faither forbye.
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 69 
 
 Geordie, ye min' my faither ? Ay, an' 
 d'ye min' yon time you an' me frichten't 
 my auntie? Man ' 
 
 ' Well, here I am,' said Strongsoul, appear- 
 ing suddenly, and cutting short the story of 
 the gudebrither and the kelpie and the man's 
 sister, etc. ' I've been putting on stockings 
 and boots to climb the tree.' 
 
 No one said a word and Strongsoul began 
 to mount. As he went up the leader 
 noticed that his boots were dripping wet. 
 He pointed it out to the man with the 
 lantern and whispered, 'Ye may be sure 
 it's a kelpie now. Who but a kelpie would 
 keep his boots in the water!' 
 
 Strongsoul climbed about half-way up 
 the tree and then told them that he couldn't 
 get any further without more light. 
 
 'Well,' said the leader to the others, 
 ' shall we risk it ? ' 
 
 ' It's no use,' said the man with the 
 lantern, ' attempting concealment now. If 
 there were people up there they must have 
 heard us long ago, and be miles away by 
 this time.'
 
 7o The Pilgrimage of Strong soul 
 
 ' But if this is the only entrance ? ' said the 
 leader. 
 
 'There's no likelihood of that,' replied the 
 other. 'It's a poor mouse that has only one 
 way to its hole.' 
 
 'Well, then, light the torches,' cried the 
 leader, letting out the full volume of his gruff 
 voice. 
 
 Six torches were soon ablaze, lighting up a 
 space of the night, which thronged so thick 
 and dark where the radiance died that it 
 crowded out all the stars. Strongsoul 
 looked down and was glad to see the faces 
 of the men. He looked up and was equally 
 glad to see that the mouth of the cave was 
 just above him. In a minute he stood in it, 
 and bending over, said, 'I'm up now, but 
 the windlass is away.' 
 
 1 Who goes next ? ' said the leader. 
 
 After some talking it was decided that the 
 four men who had been in the water, and 
 who were shivering with cold, should climb 
 the tree for the sake of the exercise, and that 
 the other four should hold it at the bottom. 
 When the exploring party were all up, two of
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 7 1 
 
 them who had extinguished their torches and 
 brought them in their pockets re-lit them. 
 Strongsoul led the way into the cave with a 
 beating heart. 
 
 The passage was about twenty feet long, 
 and sloped so much and so irregularly that 
 they had to walk warily. They were all 
 more or less tremulous, but they heard no- 
 thing except the echoes of their own steps. 
 When they came to the cave they stood and 
 peered into it. The two torches were quite 
 sufficient to light up its walls and floor, but 
 the roof, besides being high, was concealed 
 by a cloud of smoke. Seeing nobody 
 much to Strongsoul's astonishment, who 
 had expected to find the giant and his 
 men in order of battle they ventured in 
 and looked about them. 
 
 * Here's the still, and a big one too,' said 
 the leader, laying his hand on a large copper 
 kettle with a long bent horn of the same 
 metal rising out of it, the like of which 
 Strongsoul had- never seen before. 'And 
 I declare it's hot ! ' he cried excitedly. Look- 
 ing down, he saw a fire of peat smouldering
 
 72 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 between the two stones on which the still 
 sat. 
 
 Strongsoul, with horror in his eyes, exam- 
 ined this, to him, strange utensil. He saw 
 that the horn was joined to a pipe which 
 twisted round about the inside of a small 
 barrel of water, and that the water was kept 
 cool from a supply in another and larger 
 barrel standing on the top of a box. 
 
 'Oh me ! ' he cried, falling on his knees 
 and bursting into tears, for he felt certain 
 that Saunders had been boiled in this huge 
 kettle, and in some diabolical manner pulled 
 like a ribbon through the twisting pipe. 
 
 ' What ails ye ? ' said one of the men. 
 
 ' Open it, please,' said Strongsoul, sobbing. 
 
 Two of the men unscrewed the horn 
 from the pipe and the kettle and then 
 lifted it off. Shaking in every limb Strong- 
 soul looked in, and was almost knocked 
 down by a strong smell. But it was not 
 the smell of boiled Saunders. 
 
 ' What is this ? ' said Strongsoul. 
 
 ' A still,' said the leader, ' for making 
 whisky.'
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 73 
 
 Then Strongsoul perceived how Grisly- 
 beard was steeped in iniquity. Not only 
 did he waylay and carry off pilgrims, 
 but he was a maker and diffuser of 
 that deadly enemy of pilgrims strong 
 drink. 
 
 Strongsoul's concern for Saunders was 
 little diminished by the knowledge that he 
 had not been despatched in the horrible 
 way he had imagined. He went over the 
 whole cave, sounding the walls and the floors, 
 and looking into some bags and barrels that 
 lay about, but he could find no trace of his 
 comrade. Nor could he see any way out of 
 the cave except that by which they had en- 
 tered. This forced him to the conclusion 
 that Grislybeard and his men must have 
 left the cave with Saunders and Mrs 
 Grislybeard some time before the arrival 
 of the search-party. 
 
 In the meantime the men were discussing 
 what they should do. They were not excise 
 officers merely ploughmen and railway 
 porters belonging to the countryside who 
 thought to make money by capturing an
 
 74 The Pilgrimage of Strong-soul 
 
 illicit still, a service for which Government 
 pays a large sum. 
 
 ' I think the gaugers break the still/ 
 said the leader. 
 
 'Ay, but how are we to do it?' said 
 another. 
 
 'I tell ye what,' put in a third. 'We 
 can easily take away the worm and the 
 horn. That'll be proof positive that we 
 found a still here.' 
 
 ' I believe that's the right way,' said 
 the leader ; ' it's not likely that the still '11 
 be removed before morning, and we can 
 come back early and break it.' 
 
 ' Suppose you pitch the still out of the 
 cave,' said Strongsoul. ' It would be 
 smashed against the rocks.' 
 
 4 The kelpie for ever ! ' cried the leader. 
 
 It took three of them to carry the still 
 up the steep incline, while the fourth 
 went before and told those below what 
 was about to be done. The natural plat- 
 form at the mouth of the cave extended 
 a little way up the ravine, so that they 
 were able to keep clear of the tree in
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 7 5 
 
 pitching over the still. They threw it, 
 clanging, against the opposite wall. It 
 bounced back, and struck the side from 
 which it was sent some yards down. 
 Once again before reaching the bottom 
 it crossed the space between the rocks, 
 ringing out a hollow sound that echoed 
 away up into the sky and seemed to fill 
 the whole night. It fell with a dull crash 
 right on the spot where the giantess had 
 lain ; and they knew that no more whisky 
 would come from that still. 
 
 Having thrown the horn and the worm 
 out into the glen, they descended one by 
 one. When they were all down the leader 
 cried, ' Three cheers for the kelpie ! ' But 
 Strongsoul was nowhere to be seen. Never- 
 theless he insisted on the three cheers. How 
 the shout rolled among the rocks and up 
 and down the glen, cheering Strongsoul 
 as he ran back to his cave ! 
 
 One of the men twisted the worm round 
 his body ; another blew a blast on the 
 crooked horn ; and with torches ablaze, 
 and in the best of spirits, the gallant eight
 
 76 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 went down the glen, laughing and singing, 
 and speculating as to the amount of 
 money to be divided among them. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 IT was impossible for Strongsoul to sleep. 
 He wanted to, because his brain was in 
 a whirl, but just on that account sleep kept 
 away from him. Where had Grislybeard 
 taken Saunders, and what had he done 
 with him? By what vent did the smoke 
 of the fire get out of the cave ? What had 
 been done with the windlass and cage ? In 
 spite of himself these questions kept con- 
 stantly in his mind. He lay for an hour 
 with his eyes shut, but at the end of it 
 sleep was as far away as ever. He sat 
 up in despair, and opening his eyes per- 
 ceived that day was dawning, for he was 
 able to distinguish the entrance to his cave.
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 77 
 
 It was very faintly marked so faintly that, 
 to make certain, he walked towards the ob- 
 long patch of darkness, less dark than that 
 which surrounded it, and nearly fell into 
 the water ; there could, therefore, be no 
 doubt that it was the door. He stood in 
 it, and was soon able to see the opposite 
 rock, then the water, and, looking out, the 
 entrance to the passage. Beyond in the 
 open glen there was more light. 
 
 He ate some of his scones and cheese, 
 and slinging his boots and stockings round 
 his neck, went into the glen. He had a 
 pair of dry stockings, but his boots were 
 so damp that he found it impossible to get 
 them on. He placed his boots where he 
 thought they would catch the sun, and then 
 in his stocking-feet went to the giant's cleft. 
 He crept down to the cracked still, and 
 walked along as far as he could, but there 
 was no appearance of any second opening 
 into the cave. Hardly had he turned to go 
 back when he heard voices, and then a 
 crash. He was too far from the mouth 
 of the cleft to see who were the speakers,
 
 78 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 but he noticed that the tree had fallen. 
 Very glad he was now that he hadn't his 
 boots on, for he was able to walk without 
 making any noise. The path was littered 
 with stones and rocks, which made it 
 necessary for him to watch his steps. 
 About half-way back to the mouth of 
 the cleft he looked up. There, on the 
 platform, stood Grislybeard and two 
 men planting the windlass. Strongsoul 
 crouched down behind a large rock and 
 watched. 
 
 As soon as the windlass was adjusted 
 Grislybeard and one of the men went back 
 into the cave, and returned shortly, carry- 
 ing Mrs Grislybeard. Strongsoul heard 
 her groan, so he knew, much to his regret, 
 that he hadn't killed her. Grislybeard 
 placed her in the cage, and putting one 
 foot on either side and holding on by the 
 chain bade the men lower away. From 
 where Strongsoul lay it was impossible 
 to see the cage reach the ground. Soon, 
 however, the men began to wind it up 
 Two others had appeared by this time,
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 79 
 
 each with a little barrel in his arms. 
 These two entered the cage the moment 
 it reached the platform and were rapidly 
 lowered. ^/Vhen the cage had been wound 
 up again the men undid the windlass and 
 took everything back to the cave. Strong- 
 soul began to creep along the ravine with 
 the intention of following Grislybeard when 
 he saw the tree erected again, and in a 
 little while the other men reappeared and 
 descended by it. 
 
 Where was Saunders ? In the cave, 
 alive or dead Strongsoul felt certain of 
 that. It must be a double cave, he 
 thought, and they had failed to find the 
 way into the second one in their search 
 during the night. Why had Grislybeard 
 left the tree standing ? To this question 
 also he found an answer which satisfied 
 himself: to have left the tree on the 
 ground would have been a sign that the 
 smugglers had been at the cave since 
 the search-party visited it. 
 
 Strongsoul took out his book and read 
 the account of the siege of Doubting
 
 8o The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 Castle, and of the deaths of Giant Despair 
 and his wife Diffidence. Then he ad- 
 vanced boldly to the mouth of the cleft 
 and climbed the tree. He walked straight 
 into the cave and searched it up and down. 
 Nothing was changed since he saw it in 
 the night, except that the smoke was 
 gone. Looking up he saw a shaft of 
 light piercing the gloom near the roof. 
 It came through the wall in which the 
 entrance was, and the crevice which ad- 
 mitted it he took to be the vent through 
 which the smoke escaped. He sat down 
 on a box and considered. An idea struck 
 him like a flash. He followed with his 
 eye the shaft of light, and saw that it was 
 not stopped by the side of the cave op- 
 posite that through which it entered. It 
 was perfectly clear, then, that the inner 
 side did not reach the roof. He piled 
 boxes and barrels on the top of each 
 other, and in that way got so far up. 
 Then, by means of holes in the rock, 
 not without some scratches, he succeeded 
 in reaching the top of the wall, which
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 81 
 
 was about three feet from the roof. Find- 
 ing that he could walk down on the other 
 side, he waited until his eyes were accus- 
 tomed to the greater darkness. He then 
 began to explore this second cave. 
 
 He found numerous barrels, a rope- 
 ladder attached to the wall and ready 
 to fling over, the windlass and the cage, 
 and, in a corner, Saunders. He knelt 
 beside him and found that he was alive, 
 but tied up with ropes and gagged. 
 Strongsoul soon set him at liberty. 
 
 ' It's me,' he said. 
 
 'Wha? You! Tak' me tae my granny/ 
 
 1 Come, come,' said Strongsoul ; 'I'll 
 give you some whisky.' 
 
 Strongsoul knocked the bung into 
 one of the barrels and made Saunders 
 drink. The whisky revived him at once, 
 and he began to collect his scattered 
 senses. 
 
 'Man,' he said, ' I'm real gled tae see 
 ye, but my banes are awfu* sair.' 
 
 He tried to stretch himself, but gave 
 it up with a groan.
 
 82 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 ' We must get out of here/ said Strongsoul. 
 
 'Man, I'm real gled tae see ye/ said 
 Saunders again. 'They tell't me that I 
 would lie here till I dee't.' 
 
 'You'll tell me all about it when we 
 get out/ said Strongsoul, flinging the rope- 
 ladder over the wall. Saunders went 
 down very shakily, Strongsoul keeping 
 only two steps below him lest he should 
 stumble. The next difficulty was the 
 tree. Strongsoul went down and held 
 it at the bottom, and Saunders followed 
 with many twinges and qualms, but he 
 landed all right, and was much the better 
 of the exercise. Difficulty number three 
 was the getting into Strongsoul's cave. 
 At first Saunders flatly refused to attempt 
 it. However, the sight of the ease and 
 agility with which Strongsoul moved 
 along the ledge gave him courage, and 
 he found that it was as easy as it 
 seemed. He was soon munching away 
 at oatcake and cheese, while Strongsoul 
 gave him a history of his adventures 
 since they parted.
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 83 
 
 Saunders had not so much to tell. The 
 giantess's left leg and some of her ribs 
 were broken. They had paid no atten- 
 tion to him until the still was set agoing, 
 and then the giant cross-questioned him, 
 slapping him in the face, and pinching 
 his arms and pulling his ears when he 
 wouldn't answer. Finally they flung him 
 in a corner with a crust of bread, while 
 they supped on cold meat and whisky. 
 They talked low, but Saunders heard 
 enough to understand that they were dis- 
 cussing how to procure surgical assistance 
 for the giantess, and the prospects of 
 their illicit trade. While they were still 
 at supper he fell into an uneasy sleep, 
 from which he was awakened by the 
 giant pulling his arm violently. They 
 made him ascend the ladder into the 
 second cave, and there they gagged him. 
 He heard everything that was said and 
 done by the search-party, and tried till 
 his heart was like to burst to cry out 
 to Strongsoul. It was after the search- 
 party had left the cave that they tied
 
 84 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 him up and told him to lie there and 
 die. He heard confusedly the noise of 
 the departure of the smugglers, but re- 
 membered nothing with distinctness from 
 the time they bound him until Strongsoul 
 untied him. His story ended, Saunders 
 said, ' An' noo I think we should ging 
 hame.' 
 
 Strongsoul stared at him in blank 
 amazement. Were they not having ad- 
 ventures of a much more extraordinary 
 kind than they had dared to hope for 
 at least until they came to the City of 
 Destruction? And had not he, Saunders, 
 already earned a high rank among pilgrims 
 by his cruel sufferings? Saunders had 
 forgotten that point of view and was stag- 
 gered a little. 
 
 'But what's it a' tae end in?' he 
 asked. 
 
 ' End in ! ' cried Strongsoul ; ' the 
 Celestial City. But before that the Land 
 of Beulah. We shall get there while we 
 are still boys, and there we shall fall in 
 love with beautiful girls and marry them,
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 85 
 
 and, like Christiana's children, live there 
 for a long time before crossing the river. 
 Listen,' cried Strongsoul, and he opened 
 his book and read : 
 
 ' After this I beheld until they were come 
 into the Land of Beulah, where the sun 
 shineth night and day. Here because they 
 were weary they took themselves a while to 
 rest. And because the country was common 
 to pilgrims, and because the orchards and 
 vineyards that were here belonged to the 
 king of the Celestial country, therefore they 
 were licensed to make bold with any of his 
 things. But a little while soon refreshed 
 them here ; for the bells did so ring and the 
 trumpets continually sound so melodiously 
 that they could not sleep, and yet they re- 
 ceived as much refreshing as if they had 
 slept their sleep ever so soundly. Here also 
 the noise of them that walked the streets 
 was, More pilgrims have come to town ! 
 And another would answer, saying, And so 
 many went over the water and were let in 
 at the golden gates to-day ! They would 
 cry again, There is now a legion of shining
 
 86 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 ones just come to town, by which we know 
 that there are more pilgrims upon the road ; 
 for here they come to wait for them, and to 
 comfort them after their sorrow ! Then the 
 pilgrims got np and walked to and fro. But 
 how were their ears now filled with heavenly 
 voices, and their eyes delighted with celestial 
 visions! In this land they heard nothing, 
 saw nothing, felt nothing, smelt nothing, 
 tasted nothing that was offensive to their 
 stomach or mind ; only when they tasted 
 of the water of the river over which they 
 were to go they thought that it tasted a 
 little bitterish to the palate, but it proved 
 sweet when it was down. 
 
 ' In this place the children of the town 
 would go into the king's gardens, and 
 gather nosegays for the pilgrims, and bring 
 them to them with much affection. Here also 
 grew camphire with spikenard and saffron, 
 calamus and cinnamon, with all the trees 
 of frankincense, myrrh and aloes with all 
 chief spices. With these the pilgrims' 
 chambers were perfumed while they stayed 
 here; and with these were their bodies
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strong soul 87 
 
 anointed to prepare them to go over the 
 river when the time appointed was 
 come.' 
 
 Strongsoul's voice thrilled through Saunders 
 in this reading. His face shone, and his 
 eyes burned so brightly that Saunders was 
 ashamed to look at him. 
 
 1 Will you come ? ' he said. 
 
 ' I will,' replied Saunders. 
 
 Then they both lay down and slept, and 
 dreamt of the Land of Beulah, and of beauti- 
 ful" little girls with golden hair and earnest 
 blue eyes who brought them bunches of 
 grapes and peaches, and sweet-smelling 
 flowers ; and when they awoke it was 
 almost noon. They bathed themselves in 
 the stream, ate the remainder of the pro- 
 visions the goodwife had given them, and 
 set out on their travels once more. They 
 left the glen as soon as possible, and climbed 
 to the shoulder of the hill. Looking south- 
 east in the direction of the City of Destruc- 
 tion, they spied in the distance a large and 
 fair building, which reminded Strongsoul of 
 the Palace Beautiful.
 
 88 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 ' It is certainly a palace,' he said. ' We 
 will journey towards it.' 
 
 Straight across hill and dale they 
 took their way, and as they went they 
 talked. 
 
 ' Saunders,' said Strongsoul, ' have you 
 been thinking lately of Weights and 
 Measures ? ' 
 
 4 1 gie ye my word,' said Saunders, 
 'they havena' crossed my mind sin' we 
 met the giant. Twa mair days like 
 yesterday an' I wouldna' ken the 
 differ atween Troy Weight an' Square 
 Measure' 
 
 'We shall have many days like yester- 
 day,' said Strongsoul ; but seeing Saunders's 
 face fall, he added, ' I mean as full of ad- 
 ventures not that you'll ever suffer so 
 much again.' 
 
 ' Man, I canna' see what's the gude o' 
 this sufferinV 
 
 'It's to make us strong and hardy, and 
 enjoy the Land of Beulah and the Celestial 
 City all the more when we come to them. 
 All the good that's in people is brought
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 89 
 
 out by their having to suffer anyway it 
 ought to be.' 
 
 ' Eh, man ! ' cried Saunders. ' I've heard 
 my granny say somethin' like that, but 
 she'd little hope o' me. She used tae say 
 I mindit her o' a proverb, " Mash snaw 
 an' mask it, ye'll hae but water." She was 
 aye hard on me, my granny.' 
 
 ' I never had a granny,' said Strong- 
 soul. 
 
 ' Weel, ye needna' compleen. My granny 
 has a rhyme that she's aye comin' owre 
 
 ' " Gin ye're an anvil, baud ye still ; 
 Gin ye're a hammer, smite yer fill." 
 
 And she's been a hammer sin' I kenned 
 her, an' a'body else is anvils.' 
 
 Strongsoul laughed at this, and told 
 Saunders that he ought to be glad, because 
 many pilgrims had to forsake people whom 
 they liked a great deal better than he did 
 his granny. 
 
 ' Oh, but she's no a bad body, mind 
 ye,' said Saunders. ' She kens a thing or
 
 9O The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 twa, an' she's crouse eneuch tae, if she 
 wouldna' be juist sae camstairie.' 
 
 ' By-the-bye,' said Strongsoul, 'have you 
 had any dreams?' 
 
 1 Aboot a new name ? ' 
 
 1 Yes.' 
 
 1 Na ; it's no likely, noo, that my name 
 will be changed till we come to the City 
 o' Destruction,' said Saunders. ' But 
 dae ye think there's muckle truth in 
 dreams ? ' 
 
 'All the dreams of pilgrims come true/ 
 said Strongsoul. 
 
 ' Dae they, man ? ' 
 
 'Oh yes!' 
 
 They were silent for a little. Then 
 Saunders said, 'An' thae wee lassies in 
 the Land o' Beuley.' 
 
 'What about them?' 
 
 ' Man,' said Saunders with some hesita- 
 tion, coming close up to Strongsoul, ' I 
 dreamt aboot them.' 
 
 Now Strongsoul had dreamt about them 
 too, but he only said, 'And what did you 
 dream ? '
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 9 1 
 
 4 Oh, no muckle ; juist what you read. 
 A lassie wi' gowden hair an' blue een cam* 
 tae me cannily, an' gied me a flo'or an' a 
 bunch o' grapes, an' smiled couthily, an' 
 syne gaed awa' lookin' owre her shouther. 
 An', man, she was bonny, an' I likit her, 
 an' I never could be fashed wi' lassies afore. 
 What dae ye think is the meanin' o' my 
 dream ? ' 
 
 ' I think it means that you will some day 
 like girls.' 
 
 'Dae ye?' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 ' Man, I'll be gled o' that ; for they're 
 bonny bit things thae in the Land o' 
 Beuley. 
 
 Then Strongsoul told his dream, which 
 was pretty much like Saunders's ; and they 
 walked along arm-in-arm saying nothing, 
 but with flushed faces thinking about the 
 little blue-eyed girls in the Land of Beulah. 
 
 Hunger put an end to their day-dream. 
 The palace was still a long way off, 
 and Strongsoul's feet were tired and sore, 
 for his boots had been dried in the sun
 
 92 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 till they were as hard as horn. He sank 
 down, saying, ' I must have a rest.' 
 
 ' An' I maun hae somethin' tae eat,' cried 
 Saunders. 
 
 He climbed up a little higher than they 
 were, but there was no house in sight 
 except the palace. He saw that the way 
 to it would be much shortened if they were 
 to return to the road. So he hailed Strong- 
 soul, who clambered up beside him, and 
 agreed with him that they ought to get 
 back to the highway. They both took off 
 their boots and stockings, and found it 
 very pleasant scampering down the hillside, 
 the very idea of the change from the hill 
 to the once-despised highway giving them 
 new strength. Strongsoul felt particularly 
 -delighted at his own delight in getting 
 back to the narrow way. 
 
 They found it much more agreeable than 
 it had been the day before, because there 
 were trees on both sides fine old chest- 
 nuts whose branches met and made a roof 
 as far as they could see. The sun came 
 through in showers and spots and splashes.
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 93 
 
 There was no wind, and the dust lay on 
 the road like a thick Brussels carpet. They 
 amused themselves by walking now in the 
 sunshine, now in the shadow, the difference 
 in the heat of the dust being always wonder- 
 ful to them. A mile of this road, which did 
 not tire them in the least, brought them to 
 the porter's lodge. They washed their feet 
 in a stream by the wayside and put on their 
 boots, and tried to make themselves look as 
 decent as possible. But Strongsoul's clothes 
 were torn, and poor Saunders's, besides being 
 torn, were very threadbare. Then their 
 faces were black and blue and yellow and 
 green with the blows they had given each 
 other in their first encounter, and the knocks 
 they had received in their fight with Grisly- 
 beard. It was no wonder that the woman 
 who came out of the porter's lodge as they 
 entered the gate looked at them suspiciously. 
 Strongsoul approached her quite unconscious 
 of anything odd in his conduct or appear- 
 ance for pilgrims must become travel- 
 stained and wayworn and asked what was 
 the name of the palace.
 
 94 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 'What'n a palace?' said the woman. 
 
 ' Are you not the porteress ? ' asked 
 Strongsoul. 
 
 The woman looked at them stupidly. 
 Strongsoul then asked her if the porter 
 was in. Again the woman made no reply, 
 and Strongsoul, being at the end of his 
 questions, turned from her and started up 
 the avenue with Saunders. The woman 
 gazed at them for a minute, and then 
 ran after them, and seized Strongsoul 
 by the collar and said, ' Ye canna go 
 up.' 
 
 'How? We are pilgrims/ said Strong- 
 soul. 
 
 ' It doesna' matter. Ye canna go 
 up.' 
 
 The woman looked very determined, but 
 Strongsoul gave her the sixpence which 
 the goodwife had given him. Amazed at 
 receiving money from one whom she sup- 
 posed a beggar, she let them go. 
 
 The avenue was long and uphill, and 
 they were out of breath when they ar- 
 rived at the courtyard. On entering it
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 95 
 
 they found a great bustle ; so busy was 
 everybody that they were unnoticed for a 
 time. 
 
 The palace was in two divisions, one 
 old and one new ; and there was a very 
 magnificent terraced garden in front of 
 it, which Strongsoul and Saunders couldn't 
 enough admire. In it there was being 
 erected a great white tent. Arches were 
 going up in the courtyard and in the gate- 
 way, and garlands of flowers were being 
 hung over doors and in windows. They 
 saw a man going about very authorita- 
 tively, and they thought of addressing 
 him, when a tall and dignified gentleman 
 entered the courtyard from the modern 
 building and talked to the authoritative 
 individual, who listened with great humility. 
 The dignified gentleman having given his 
 instructions was about to retire when Strong- 
 soul, with Saunders at his heels, stepped in 
 his way. 
 
 ' Sir/ said Strongsoul, ' are you the keeper 
 of this palace ? ' 
 
 The dignified gentleman looked at the
 
 96 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 pilgrims impassively, and turned round as 
 if to summon the authoritative individual, 
 but he thought better of it and said 
 coldly, ' I am, if you call it a palace.' 
 
 1 Is it not a palace, then ? ' asked Strong- 
 soul. 
 
 The dignified gentleman again turned to- 
 wards the authoritative individual, who was 
 watching the interview some yards off, evi- 
 dently anticipating a summons to remove 
 Strongsoul and Saunders ; but again the 
 gentleman changed his mind. Something in 
 Strongsoul's face something of earnestness, 
 bordering on passion, for we know what a 
 devoted pilgrim Strongsoul was attracted 
 him, so he said less coldly, ' This is More- 
 dun Castle.' 
 
 ' And are pilgrims entertained here ? ' 
 
 ' What do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' This is the pilgrim Saunders Elshander, 
 and I am the pilgrim Strongsoul. We 
 are on our way to the City of Destruction ;, 
 and, sir, we have had nothing to eat 
 except some bread and cheese since last 
 night. We thought that this was a place
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 97 
 
 for the refreshment of pilgrims, so we came 
 here.' 
 
 During this little speech Saunders was 
 doing his best to hide behind Strongsoul, 
 but, being fully a foot taller, had no very 
 great success. He watched the expression 
 of the keeper's face, and was in the act of 
 twitching Strongsoul's sleeve and running 
 off when the keeper said, ' How long have 
 you been pilgrims?' 
 
 ' Since yesterday morning, sir.' 
 
 ' And where do you come from ? ' 
 
 ' From Dunmyatt.' 
 
 ' But that's not so very far away. You 
 can't have been all this time coming from 
 Dunmyatt.' 
 
 * No, sir. We were taken captive by 
 Giant Grislybeard, and Saunders was kept 
 a prisoner all night.' 
 
 'Who is Giant Grislybeard? But come 
 in.' 
 
 The keeper of the palace or castle pre- 
 ceded them, and led them through a 
 great hall into a room full of books and 
 pictures.
 
 98 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 ' You are hungry, I think,' he said. 
 
 c Yes, sir,' said Strongsoul. 
 
 'You will have something to eat im- 
 mediately.' 
 
 He was about to leave the room when 
 a little girl entered. She stood stock- 
 still with amazement on seeing the pil- 
 grims, and they returned her gaze with 
 intense interest. The little lady was not 
 quite so tall as Strongsoul ; she had 
 beautiful golden hair and blue eyes, and 
 in a basket which she carried were some 
 lovely flowers. 
 
 ' These are two pilgrims, Pansy,' said 
 the keeper of the castle. ' They are on 
 their way to the City of Destruction, and 
 they are hungry, and we must give them 
 something to eat.' 
 
 1 Oh, papa ! ' cried Pansy. ' Pilgrims ! 
 Just like The Pilgrims Progress ? ' 
 
 1 It seems so,' said the keeper, with a 
 smile. 
 
 ' But it can't be,' said Pansy. ' Are 
 you real and true pilgrims ? ' she said to 
 Strongsoul.
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 99 
 
 ' Yes ; we are pilgrims on our way 
 through the City of Destruction to the 
 Land of Beulah and the Celestial City/ 
 said Strongsoul eagerly, and Pansy was 
 convinced. 
 
 ' How delightful ! ' she. said. ' Oh, papa, 
 let me look after them.' 
 
 4 Very well. I hope you will excuse me,' 
 said the keeper, turning to the pilgrims ; 
 ' I am very busy. My daughter will see 
 that you are attended to.' 
 
 When the keeper had left the room, 
 Pansy said, ' Now, what would you like 
 to eat.' 
 
 ' Just what you are in the habit of giv- 
 ing pilgrims,' said Strongsoul. 
 
 1 But we have never had pilgrims before,' 
 said Pansy. 'What would you like?' ad- 
 dressing Saunders. 
 
 ' Weel, mem,' said Saunders with con- 
 siderable diffidence, ' a cog o' parritch an' 
 a bit ham an' egg would dae me.' 
 
 This was the height of luxury in eating 
 hitherto attained by Saunders, and that on 
 two occasions when he had breakfasted with
 
 ioo The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 his master, the grocer. He referred to 
 it now because he wished to let the little 
 lady know that he had some acquaintance 
 with good living. Pansy lifted and laid 
 one foot after the other like a little restive 
 pony, and winked and flashed her eyes at 
 the broad Scotch. 
 
 ' I think I'll have to give you what there 
 is to get. That'll be the best way,' she 
 said. 
 
 ' Verra weel, mem,' said Saunders. ' We're 
 no ill tae please.' 
 
 ' Do you always speak like that ? ' asked 
 Pansy, for in her ears Saunders's speech 
 was coarse and vulgar. 
 
 Saunders blushed and looked sheepish, 
 and Pansy was sorry. She was about to 
 speak when she noticed her flowers, and 
 lifting a lily in her rosy hand, she gave 
 it to Saunders, looking a sweet apology. 
 Saunders couldn't speak, but he made a 
 very low bow, unlike anything Pansy had 
 ever seen, but not at all awkward, quite 
 simple and expressive. She gave Strong- 
 soul a red rose, beside which her rosy
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 101 
 
 hand looked a lily ; and Strongsoul did 
 as Saunders had done, feeling that it 
 was more beautiful to do so than to 
 speak. 
 
 As Pansy left the room she looked over 
 her shoulder and smiled. The moment 
 she had gone Saunders and Strongsoul, 
 sighing together a great long-pent sigh, 
 turned and saw in one another's eyes that 
 each had beheld his dream. 
 
 Pansy was some time in returning, be- 
 cause she found it difficult to get anybody 
 to attend to her orders, so busy were they 
 with their festive preparations ; and then, 
 when she had secured the services of a 
 boy who knew more about the stable than 
 the dining-room, her nurse laid hold of 
 her and dressed her for riding. She 
 rebelled at first, but nurse told her, know- 
 ing how much she loved her father, that 
 he had been very particular in arranging 
 that she should have her ride in spite of 
 the turmoil in which the castle was : Pansy 
 was a delicate girl, and was also the Lady 
 Violet Moredun, daughter of the Duke of
 
 102 The Pilgrimage of Strong soul 
 
 Moredun his only child and the doctor 
 had ordered her to ride every day for her 
 health. Her mother had been dead for 
 several years, and the relations between 
 father and daughter were most intimate 
 and affectionate. 
 
 When Pansy got back to the pilgrims 
 she burst out laughing. The table was 
 spread, and the pilgrims sat at it, but 
 neither of them had dared to touch any- 
 thing. The boy who waited on them 
 stood behind Saunders's chair with a 
 cover in his hand and a napkin in his 
 mouth to cork back the laughter. Pansy's 
 laughter made him laugh out too the pil- 
 grims looked so ridiculous sitting there as 
 stiff as pokers with their hands on their 
 knees and faces of great solemnity, blushing 
 at the beautiful plates and the silver knives 
 and forks. 
 
 ' You may go,' Pansy said to the 
 servant, and he left the room. 
 
 ' Eat, eat,' she said. ' I'm sure you're 
 hungry. Eat a great lot eat everything. 
 Nobody will come here until I return
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 103 
 
 from my ride.' She swept out of the 
 room in her riding-habit like the little 
 lady she was. 
 
 Saunders and Strongsoul tried to follow 
 the instructions of Pansy, but failed to 
 do anything more than diminish slightly 
 the good things provided for them. Hav- 
 ing eaten as much as they could, and 
 more than was good for them, they looked 
 out of the window and watched the 
 bustle in the garden. An hour passed, 
 and they were beginning to be restless 
 when they noticed a commotion. All the 
 servants and workmen rushed up the 
 terrace, evidently making for the court- 
 yard. The pilgrims, fearing that something 
 had happened to Pansy, ran out of the 
 castle to learn what was the matter. 
 
 The groom who had ridden with Pansy 
 stood, frightened and breathless, in the 
 centre of a crowd telling the duke some- 
 thing. The pilgrims pushed forward with- 
 in hearing, and the duke said, as the 
 groom finished his story, ' I don't under- 
 stand you.'
 
 IO4 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 He was very white, and he would 
 have fallen had not a gentleman who 
 stood beside him caught him in his arms. 
 The gentleman was Lord Francis Lear- 
 mont, the duke's brother. 
 
 ' What is it ? ' said the duke to the 
 groom. 'Tell me again.' 
 
 Then the groom told how the Lady 
 Violet had ridden along a favourite road 
 of hers which led out of the policies into 
 a great wood ; how, shortly after they 
 had entered the wo'od, his horse shrieked 
 and fell, and he himself was clutched by 
 two men and his eyes bandaged, but 
 not before he had seen the Lady Violet's 
 horse fall also, and two other men lay 
 hold of her ; how he had been held 
 there for some time and then dragged 
 away into the wood and left lying in a 
 thicket with his hands tied; how he 
 managed to slip his hands out of the 
 rope, and after some searching had found 
 his way back to the road, where both 
 horses lay hamstrung ; and how he had then 
 run straight to the castle without a halt.
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 105 
 
 ' It can't be,' said the duke. ' It's im- 
 possible. Such things aren't done nowa- 
 days.' 
 
 The groom called God to witness that 
 it was true : the horses were there in 
 the road to prove it. 
 
 Strongsoul waited to hear no more. 
 He pulled Saunders by the sleeve, and 
 they moved out of the crowd. 
 
 ' Get the pillowslip,' said Strongsoul. 
 
 Saunders ran into the house and brought 
 it. 
 
 The lowest room in the old tower 
 was an armoury, and the door of it stood 
 open. Strongsoul went in and took two 
 naked swords. These he wrapped in the 
 pillowslip, and, followed by the wondering 
 Saunders, set off running to the highway. 
 At first they ran so quickly that Saunders 
 for lack of breath could put no question, 
 but when they had to slacken their pace 
 he inquired where they were going. 
 
 'To the cave,' said Strongsoul. 'This 
 is Grislybeard's work.' 
 
 ' Hoo dae ye ken?' said Saunders.
 
 io6 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 ' I don't know how I know, but I 
 know.' 
 
 Saunders felt that there was nothing 
 more to be said, so he took the pillow-^ 
 slip from Strongsoul to give him a rest, 
 and they marched along together with 
 white, resolute faces. As soon as they 
 were out of the highway Strongsoul took 
 the pillowslip and threw it away, and they 
 went up the glen sword in hand. To 
 Saunders's surprise they had not the 
 least difficulty in finding the road; but 
 Strongsoul was not at all astonished, for 
 he knew that the steps of pilgrims, when 
 they are on an enterprise such as they 
 had undertaken, are specially directed. 
 
 Strongsoul made Saunders keep at some 
 distance behind him as they drew near 
 the cave, so that if one were taken the 
 other might escape ; but they arrived at 
 the cleft without meeting anyone. The 
 tree was down, and on going up the glen 
 a little way they saw that the windlass 
 had been placed on the platform. By 
 this they knew that Grislybeard and his
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 107 
 
 men were in the cave with Pansy, 
 Strongsoul was certain. 
 
 'What'll we dae noo?' asked Saunders. 
 
 'Go down the glen and hide behind 
 a tree. If Grislybeard hasn't found out 
 your escape by this time he will soon, 
 and then he will know that the inner 
 cave has been discovered.' 
 
 ' An' what then ? ' 
 
 'Then they'll leave the cave. Don't 
 you see ? ' 
 
 ' An' what'll we dae ? ' 
 
 ' Attack them as they pass.' 
 
 'A' richt,' said Saunders, flourishing his 
 sword. 
 
 Just then sounds came from the plat- 
 form, so they hurried down the glen and 
 got in behind some alder bushes. In a 
 few minutes they heard the footsteps of 
 a man approaching. 
 
 ' You jump out behind him. I'll jump 
 in front of him,' said Strongsoul. ' Stop ! 
 One two three ! ' and the man was be- 
 tween the points of their swords. 
 
 'Stand!' cried Strongsoul; but there
 
 io8 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 was no need, for the man stood still 
 enough in the utmost amazement. 
 
 ' Have they discovered the escape of 
 Saunders ? ' 
 
 No answer. 
 
 ' Have they discovered the escape of 
 Saunders ? ' 
 
 Still no answer. 
 
 'Speak, or I'll run you through.' 
 
 At this moment Saunders in his ex- 
 citement pricked the man in the back. 
 He writhed and was in the act of cry- 
 ing out, but Strongsoul touched him on 
 the breast, saying, 'And if you shout I'll 
 run you through.' 
 
 * What do you want ? ' said the man angrily. 
 
 ' Speak quietly, or I'll run you through,' 
 said Strongsoul. 
 
 Again Saunders unintentionally pricked 
 him, and the man wheeled about. 
 
 ' What do you mean ? ' he cried. 
 
 ' I'll rin ye through,' said Saunders. 
 
 Then Strongsoul in his turn pricked 
 him in the back, and he span round with 
 a curse.
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 109 
 
 'You're to talk to me,' said Strong- 
 soul. ' Have they discovered the escape 
 of Saunders ? ' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 ' Where are you going ? ' 
 
 'To my house.' 
 
 'What for?' 
 
 ' My supper.' 
 
 'That's not true.' 
 
 Saunders raised his eyebrows ; Strong- 
 soul nodded, and the man got another 
 prick in he back. If it had been planned 
 and rehearsed it couldn't have been more 
 prompt. 
 
 ' Every time you tell a lie you'll be 
 jagged in the back,' said Strongsoul. 
 ' What are you going home for ? ' 
 
 ' For a pick and spade,' said the man 
 surlily. 
 
 ' What are you going to do with 
 them ? ' 
 
 ' I'm going to dig.' 
 
 ' Dig what ? ' 
 
 ' Potatoes.' 
 
 ' With a pick ! ' said Strongsoul, nod-
 
 1 10 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 ding to Saunders, who at once stuck the 
 point of his sword into the man for the 
 fourth time. He was in the act of turn- 
 ing round when Strongsoul pricked him 
 in the right arm. 
 
 ' Every time you turn round I'll jag 
 you/ said Strongsoul. 
 
 The man sank down on the ground 
 swearing terribly. Had he been cour- 
 ageous, at the expense of a cut or two 
 he could have overcome both boys ; but 
 he recognised Saunders, and he guessed 
 who Strongsoul was, and feared him, 
 knowing how he had attacked Grisly- 
 beard and foiled the giantess. 
 
 ' What are you going to do with the pick 
 and spade ? ' asked Strongsoul. 
 
 ' Dig a grave.' 
 
 ' Whose grave ? ' 
 
 The man was silent for a second or two ; 
 then he said, 'Jenny's.' 
 
 'Who's Jenny?' 
 
 'The boss's wife.' 
 
 'Oh, Mrs Grislybeard!' 
 
 Strongsoul nodded, and Saunders quickly
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 1 1 1 
 
 performed his part. The man sprang to 
 his feet, but in doing so he received the 
 points of both swords and sank to the 
 ground again. 
 
 ' Whose grave ? ' 
 
 'The Lady Violet Moredun's.' 
 
 ' Is she 'dead ? ' 
 
 ' No ; she's to be killed when I come 
 back.' 
 
 ' Why is she to be killed ? Come, tell 
 the whole story or we'll kill you.' 
 
 ' Lord Francis Learmont,' said the man, 
 squeezing the words out, ' will be the duke's 
 sole heir when the Lady Violet's out of 
 the way. He's given five hundred pounds 
 to us to do the job. Her throat's to be 
 cut, and she's to be buried up there, and 
 we're all to cut to America that is, us 
 four. There's other two that don't know 
 anything about it, and if the body's found 
 they'll get the blame. It's the safest thing 
 ever done if it weren't for you/ The man 
 cursed them again and again. 
 
 1 How many men are there in the cave 
 just now ? '
 
 1 1 2 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 ( Three.' 
 
 ' That makes four with you ; but there 
 were five last night.' 
 
 ' Ay, but he's not in the secret. We had 
 to set the still a-going last night on his 
 account, curse him. Even with that he 
 suspected something.' 
 
 ' Get up and take off your coat and hat/ 
 
 The man did so, and Strongsoul slipped 
 them on without putting his arms into the 
 sleeves of the coat. Having ordered 
 Saunders to his side he said to the man, 
 ' If you speak or move without my orders 
 we'll both plunge our swords into you. 
 Forward.' 
 
 A yard from the cleft Strongsoul halted 
 them. He went into the entrance and 
 made the man stand behind him with the 
 point of Saunders's sword touching the back 
 of his neck. 
 
 ' You're to whistle/ said Strongsoul, ' and 
 when they answer cry out, " Take me up 
 at once ; there are people in the glen." But 
 if you let the tip of your nose be seen, 
 Saunders will run you through/
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 1 1 3 
 
 The prisoner whistled thrice and the 
 answer came. When the men appeared 
 above Strongsoul looked up, having the 
 hat pulled down over his brows and 
 shading his face with his hand. The 
 prisoner shouted as he had been instructed, 
 and the cage came down at once. Strong- 
 soul jumped in and they drew him up. 
 The moment he reached the platform he 
 threw off the coat and hat, and springing 
 out of the cage stabbed one of the men in 
 the side. He fell shrieking. The other 
 turned and ran, but Strongsoul followed 
 him, and making up on him drove his 
 sword through his right thigh so that he 
 also fell with a prolonged shriek, for Strong- 
 soul had some difficulty in withdrawing 
 the blade. When his sword was free he 
 ran forward and met Grislybeard at the 
 entrance of the cave. The giant was 
 armed with a heavy iron bar. 
 
 'You? Ha, ha! I've got ye now!' he 
 cried, heaving up his weapon. 
 
 Strongsoul rushed in under the blow and 
 received the bar on his left shoulder, but 
 H
 
 1 1 4 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 so near the giant's hand that he hardly 
 felt it ; at the same time he cut the giant's 
 left leg and got past him into the cave. 
 He looked about, but he could not see the 
 duke's daughter. She had crept behind the 
 water-barrel. 
 
 ' Pansy ! ' he cried. 
 
 She looked out, and recognising Strong- 
 soul, ran towards him. 
 
 'Oh, dear pilgrim/ she said, 'take me 
 home ! ' 
 
 ' I will,' said Strongsoul. ' Stand back 
 and watch the fight.' 
 
 She ran to a corner and falling on her 
 knees clasped her hands and prayed. 
 
 Grislybeard bore down on Strongsoul, 
 swinging the bar with great rapidity from 
 side to side. Strongsoul could see no way 
 of getting at him, and retreated slowly. The 
 giant's intention was to force him against 
 a wall, and press the breath out of him. 
 This Strongsoul perceived, and keeping his 
 eyes fixed on the giant's, sprang up into 
 the air about half his own height. This 
 action had just the effect he intended. The
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 1 1 5 
 
 giant, surprised for a second, ceased swing- 
 ing his bar, and Strongsoul, darting in, 
 wounded him so severely in the right hand 
 that he let his weapon drop. It was now 
 the giant's turn to retreat. He ran in 
 behind the water-barrel and Strongsoul 
 after him. They went round the barrel 
 and the fireplace several times until the 
 giant, who was fleeter than Strongsoul, had 
 put such a distance between them that he 
 had time to stoop and pick up one of the 
 stones of the fireplace. With this he ran 
 to one side of the cave and stood at 
 bay. 
 
 ' Come on ! ' he cried, holding the stone 
 above his head with both hands. 
 
 Strongsoul moved towards him warily, but 
 without flinching. The blood was streaming 
 from the wound in the giant's hand, and he 
 felt his strength giving way. He determined, 
 therefore, to strike while he had still the 
 power to direct his huge missile. Strongsoul 
 paused in his advance, measuring the distance 
 between the giant and himself. His plan 
 was to run at Grislybeard as soon as he dis-
 
 1 1 6 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 charged the stone, avoiding it as he had 
 avoided the stroke of the bar. Suddenly 
 the giant, with a shout, took two steps for- 
 ward and hurled the piece of rock with all 
 his force ; and Strongsoul fell. But the 
 giant's aim had been unsteady. The stone 
 barely grazed the back of Strongsoul's head, 
 and although his shoulders caught it a little 
 more heavily he was unhurt. The giant 
 stumbled down on him before he could rise 
 and seized his throat not with any great 
 force, for he thought Strongsoul had re- 
 ceived the full weight of the stone and would 
 give him little more trouble. He grinned 
 hideously as he said, ' You'll catch it now, 
 my man, if there's any life in you/ Just as 
 he said that Strongsoul passed his sword 
 through the giant's body, and with a long- 
 drawn howl, ending in a groan, Grislybeard 
 rolled over dead. Then Strongsoul rose, 
 and seizing him by the hair of the head 
 raised his sword to strike ; but Pansy, run- 
 ning from her corner, caught his arm. 
 
 ' What are you going to do ? ' she said. 
 
 'Cut off his head.'
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 1 1 7 
 
 'Oh, don't do that!' 
 
 ' Why not ? Greatheart always did it 
 when he killed a giant, and an angel told me 
 in a dream that I was to be equal to Great- 
 heart. There are two more in the passage,' 
 said Strongsoul, his eyes blazing with 
 triumph. ' I'll cut off their heads too.' 
 
 ' But they're not dead,' said Pansy, 
 pointing to the door of the cave. 
 
 Strongsoul looked, and saw where the 
 two wounded men stood bleeding against 
 the wall with ghastly faces. 
 
 'Then I must kill them,' he said. 
 
 ' For God's sake don't ! ' both men cried 
 feebly. 
 
 ' Oh, pilgrim, you must be merciful ! ' said 
 Pansy. 
 
 'Well,' said Strongsoul magnanimously, 
 not altogether liking the idea of an attack 
 on two wounded and defenceless men, ' I'll 
 not kill them ; but I mean to cut off the 
 giant's head,' and he twisted Grislybeard's 
 hair round his wrist. 
 
 ' I'll never speak to you if you do,' said 
 Pansy.
 
 1 1 8 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 Strongsoul gazed at Pansy, and Pansy 
 gazed at him. Slowly he let go the giant's 
 hair, and wiped the blood from his sword 
 on the giant's clothes. 
 
 'Take me home,' said Pansy, turning 
 away. 
 
 With a sigh and a lingering look at the 
 giant's head, Strongsoul took Pansy's hand 
 and led her to the entrance. 
 
 'Go in,' he said to the wounded men. 
 
 Supporting each other they limped with 
 many groans to the box on which the water- 
 barrel stood, and leaning against it sat down 
 on the ground. They then tried to attend 
 to each other's wounds. 
 
 ' They are suffering,' said Strongsoul 
 compassionately. 'Would it not be better 
 to kill them and put them out of their 
 pain ? ' 
 
 ' No/ said Pansy. ' Let us be quick and 
 send them a doctor.' 
 
 With some reluctance Strongsoul assented 
 to this. He remembered how the giant had 
 taken down Mrs Grislybeard, but he was at 
 a loss how to regulate the speed of the de-
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 1 19 
 
 scent. Not for long, however. He found a 
 rope in a corner, and made a loop on each 
 end of it. These he put over the handles of 
 the windlass, and holding the rope tightly, 
 was able to control in a measure the revolu- 
 tion of the cylinder. The last few feet they 
 came down with a run, for the rope gave out, 
 but neither were hurt. 
 
 ' Hoo mony hae ye kill't?' were the first 
 words Saunders said. 
 
 'Only one.' 
 
 ' That'll be twa then, for I think I've 
 kill't this one. He thocht he could win 
 owre me, an' I had tae run him through.' 
 
 But the man said he was not dead. 
 
 'We'll send you a doctor, then,' said 
 Strongsoul. 
 
 ' I hope yer leddyship's nane the waur ? ' 
 said Saunders to Pansy. 
 
 ' I'm afraid I am,' she said. 'Shall we be 
 long in getting home ? ' 
 
 ' Not long,' said Strongsoul cheerfully. 
 ' Come, we'll help you.' 
 
 With some diffidence Pansy slipped her 
 arms into the pilgrims'. The rough road
 
 1 20 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 soon made her hold tight and lean hard, and 
 by the time they got to the highway she was 
 laughing and chattering as if they had been 
 returning from a holiday. 
 
 Whom should they meet almost as soon as 
 they got to the road but some of the search- 
 party of the night before, including the gruff- 
 voiced leader. 
 
 ' Here she is ! ' he cried. 
 
 Besides the search-party there were other 
 people in the road, and a crowd was immedi- 
 ately formed round Pansy and the pilgrims. 
 
 1 Stand aside ! ' said Strongsoul, raising his 
 sword, but Pansy touched his arm and told 
 him that these were friends. 
 
 ' That we are/ said the gruff- voiced man ; 
 * all of us. Everybody round about is search- 
 ing for you, my lady.' 
 
 ' It's very kind of them,' said Pansy. 
 4 How can we get to Moredun Castle ? ' 
 
 ' I've a spring-cart,' said the man eagerly, 
 'if your ladyship '11 condescend to use 
 it.' 
 
 1 Oh, thank you ! ' cried Pansy. ' I'll only 
 be too glad.'
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 1 2 1 
 
 ' It's this way,' said the man, pointing to a 
 stile. 
 
 Pansy and the pilgrims crossed the 
 road. 
 
 * Are these little rascals coming too ? ' said 
 the man. 
 
 Before Pansy could answer, Strongsoul 
 struck him over the shoulders with the flat 
 of his sword. 
 
 ' Don't call people rascals without knowing 
 them/ he said. 
 
 ' I declare,' said the man, rubbing his 
 shoulder, ' it's the kelpie ! And is this 
 another?' he asked, pointing to Saunders. 
 
 ' These are the young gentlemen that 
 saved my life,' said Pansy. 'They are 
 pilgrims, and they are going back with me 
 to Moredun. There are three wounded men 
 at the cave in the glen,' she added, ad- 
 dressing some of those who stood about. 
 ' You must get a doctor and go to them 
 and a policeman too, I think.' 
 
 Headed by three of the members of the 
 old search-party, a crowd set off up the 
 glen in obedience to Pansy, while one or
 
 1 2 2 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 two went to the village of Moredun for 
 the doctor. 
 
 The gruff-voiced man's house not being 
 very far off, he soon had his cart yoked, 
 and they got into it without delay. They 
 took a back road, and saw no one until 
 they arrived at the castle. 
 
 Strongsoul helped Pansy down, and she 
 took his arm and Saunders's and walked 
 into the hall. There was only one foot- 
 man to be seen, because all the other 
 servants were either engaged searching for 
 Pansy, or in the kitchen or in attendance 
 in other rooms. The footman gazed in 
 amazement, especially at the swaggering 
 gait of the gruff-voiced man, who had 
 followed the others into the castle. Pansy 
 heard him behind her, and, turning, said, 
 1 1 thank you very much. Papa will see 
 you afterwards. Jones, will you take him 
 to the servants' room ? ' 
 
 The gruff-voiced man, rather crestfallen, 
 had to go away with the footman, while 
 Pansy led Strongsoul and Saunders to the 
 drawing-room. When they entered it the
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 123 
 
 pilgrims drew in their breath and turned 
 giddy with astonishment. It was a long, 
 broad, high-ceiled room, and the splendour 
 of it such as neither of them had ever 
 imagined. A number of ladies and gentle- 
 men stood in it, and one lady dressed in 
 black sat near a window. To her the 
 duke, who could hardly stand, he was so 
 shaken with grief, had just finished telling 
 of the abduction of his daughter when 
 Pansy and the pilgrims entered. 
 
 'My lord duke,' said the lady, rising, 
 'you are a brave man. You have stayed 
 to welcome me when your heart was 
 wrung with this great anguish. I shall 
 never forget it, and I thank you from my 
 heart. Go now : I shall not expect to see 
 you again until you have found my sweet 
 little Pansy.' 
 
 As the lady said this she saw Pansy 
 and the pilgrims at the end of the room. 
 She took a step forward and, touching the 
 shoulder of the duke, whose eyes were 
 bent on the ground as he bowed pro- 
 foundly, pointed to the three children.
 
 1 24 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 The duke turned, and, forgetting in whose 
 presence he was, ran to Pansy and clasped 
 her in his arms with a great sobbing cry. 
 He kissed her over and over, and led her 
 to the lady. 
 
 Pansy kissed the lady's hand and the lady 
 kissed her on the cheek. Then Pansy, 
 moving backwards, took the pilgrims by the 
 hands and led them to the lady. 
 
 'This is the pilgrim Strongsoul,' said 
 Pansy. 
 
 Strongsoul knelt down, and the lady 
 gave him her hand. 
 
 ' This is the pilgrim Saunders Elshander,' 
 said Pansy. 
 
 Saunders knelt beside Strongsoul, and 
 the lady gave him her hand also. 
 
 ' Rise, good pilgrims,' said the lady, 
 very much amused and interested. 
 
 Strongsoul and Saunders rose, and pick- 
 ing up their swords, which they had laid 
 on the floor when they knelt, stood on 
 either side of Pansy. All the ladies and 
 gentlemen gathered round, excited and 
 curious.
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 1 2 5 
 
 The lady looked at the duke, and the 
 duke looked at Pansy, and Pansy said, 
 ' If you please, your majesty, it is a long 
 story. May I tell it?' 
 
 And the lady said, ' Yes.' 
 
 Then Pansy told everything that had 
 happened to herself, and everything that 
 Saunders and Strongsoul had done for 
 her ; and when she came to the death of 
 Grislybeard everybody started. 
 
 The lady said to Strongsoul, ' Do you 
 think it was right to kill this man?' 
 
 'Yes,' said Strongsoul. 
 
 'Why?' 
 
 ' Because if I hadn't killed him he would 
 have killed me, and because he was 
 bad.' 
 
 'Would you kill everybody who is 
 bad?' 
 
 4 No,' said Strongsoul. ' Only those who 
 will not let others be good, and who are 
 the enemies of pilgrims.' 
 
 ' But what if you have committed 
 murder?' said the lady. 
 
 'Murder?' said Strongsoul dubiously.
 
 126 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 ' If Greatheart was a murderer, so 
 am I.' 
 
 ' I acquit you,' said the lady, smil- 
 ing. 
 
 Then Pansy finished her story, and the 
 lady looked at both pilgrims with great 
 admiration. 
 
 ' Give me your sword,' she said to 
 Strongsoul. 'You are a brave and noble 
 boy,' said the lady when she had the 
 sword. ' I wish you to be a brave and 
 noble man. What is your name ? ' 
 
 1 Strongsoul.' 
 
 ' And what is your first name ? ' 
 
 'That is all my name.' 
 
 ' Surely not.' 
 
 Strongsoul told the lady the dream he 
 had dreamt on the side of Dunmyatt, and 
 the lady was charmed with him. 
 
 She talked in whispers for a minute or 
 two with the duke, then she handed back 
 the sword to Strongsoul, and taking a ring 
 from her finger put it on his hand, saying, 
 ' Since you have no first name you shall 
 be my Lord Strongsoul of Dunmyatt, and
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 127 
 
 when you are a man you may perhaps sit 
 in the House of Lords and help to govern 
 my people.' 
 
 Strongsoul bent low, and Pansy, with 
 her eyes dancing, came and kissed him. 
 
 ' And what is your name ? ' said the 
 lady to Saunders. 
 
 ' Saunders Elshander, mem.' 
 
 ' Give me your sword, Saunders, and 
 kneel down.' 
 
 Then the lady struck him on the 
 shoulders with his sword, and said, ' Rise, 
 Sir Saunders Elshander ; ' and Sir Saunders 
 jumped up, and the lady gave him his 
 sword again. Pansy did not kiss Saunders, 
 but she pressed his hand very warmly. 
 
 ' And now, my lord/ said the lady to 
 the duke, 'do you know who has done or 
 instigated this thing ? ' 
 
 The duke did not know ; but Lord 
 Strongsoul told the lady what he had 
 heard about Lord Francis Learmont 
 
 ' Where is Lord Francis ? ' said the 
 lady. 
 
 'He is leading the search,' said the
 
 128 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 duke, who seemed even more distressed 
 at the news of his brother than he had 
 been at the abduction of Pansy. 
 
 ' Let Lord Francis Learmont come to 
 me as soon as he returns/ said the 
 lady. 
 
 Then they all went to dinner. The 
 lady made Lord Strongsoul of Dunmyatt 
 and Sir Saunders Elshander sit on her 
 right hand and on her left, and she talked 
 to them during the dinner about their 
 pilgrimage. Now the lady knew The 
 Pilgrims Progress quite well, and so she 
 said to them, 'My Lord Strongsoul of 
 Dunmyatt and Sir Saunders Elshander, as 
 you know, I am the queen of these 
 countries, and I also am a pilgrim. I 
 have, therefore, a great interest in the 
 welfare of all pilgrims, and I wish very 
 much that your pilgrimage should be 
 successful. If you remember, in The 
 Pilgrims Progress there are no boys who 
 travel alone; they are either in the com- 
 pany of their parents, or of a guardian 
 like Greatheart. Now there are erected
 
 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 129 
 
 in most of the towns in my dominions 
 Interpreters' Houses, called schools and 
 colleges, where young people, whether they 
 have parents or not, are prepared for 
 pilgrimage, and I have been thinking 
 that, if you are willing, it would be wise 
 of you to have the instructions of one of 
 these Interpreters before going farther.' 
 
 Strongsoul bowed, and Saunders, who 
 took the cue from him, did likewise. 
 Saunders expected Strongsoul to say some- 
 thing, but as his leader kept silence he 
 ventured a remark of his own. 
 
 ' Mem,' he said, ' my faither's a shepherd, 
 an' forbye that, as my granny says, ye 
 micht as weel try tae shave an egg as get 
 a bawbee oot o' him if he can keep it at 
 all.' 
 
 The lady smiled graciously on Saunders, 
 and he was about to follow up what he 
 deemed a brilliant beginning with some 
 more family matters and quotations from 
 his granny for he was anxious to go to 
 college, and wished to explain that he 
 would require help when the lady en-
 
 1 30 The Pilgrimage of Strongsoul 
 
 gaged the duke in conversation, and 
 Saunders did not find another oppor- 
 tunity of stating his mind. 
 
 ' Saunders,' whispered Strongsoul, as they 
 passed along a corridor after dinner, ' follow 
 me.' 
 
 With some difficulty Strongsoul found 
 the way to the courtyard. There he ad- 
 dressed Saunders very severely. 
 
 1 1 am ashamed of you,' he began ; but 
 he got no further, for at that moment the 
 fathers of the pilgrims appeared and led 
 them home.
 
 THE GLASGOW GHOSTS
 
 The Glasgow Ghosts 
 
 PHILIP MARQUIS arrived in Glasgow one 
 autumn night some years ago, having 
 walked a distance of thirty miles without 
 tasting food. He was in evening dress, 
 but wore a soft hat. He had no money. 
 He lounged about the streets till midnight, 
 hunger gnawing his vitals like a rat. About 
 a minute from twelve he sat down with 
 his back against the hotel in the passage 
 between St Enoch Square and Dunlop 
 Street. He pulled up his knees to his 
 chin, clasped his hands round them, pressed 
 himself tightly together, and groaned. 
 Eighteen hours without food ! His six 
 feet, his broad shoulders, his curly beard, 
 mattered nothing; he groaned, and would, 
 I believe, have sobbed, but twelve o'clock 
 133
 
 134 The Glasgow Ghosts 
 
 struck. His hunger vanished, his pain 
 ceased. His mind seemed to grow pre- 
 ternaturally clear. A pleasing sensation 
 spread through his body. He saw a radi- 
 ance approach, and a slight fog which 
 filled the air whistled past as the light 
 came on. The light became a figure, 
 and stopped before him. He knew it was 
 a ghost, yet he felt no fear. He had 
 never, even as a boy, believed in ghosts ; 
 but he knew that this was one. 
 
 He rose, helping himself up with his 
 hands, for he felt very weak, and made 
 a polite bow. The ghost took a step 
 back, and went through a most graceful 
 and elaborate salute, and then said, with 
 much surprise and in a voice like that 
 with which the ventriloquist represents some- 
 one talking in the chimney, 'It is most 
 unaccountable, sir, that you should be able 
 to see me.' 
 
 'Oh, I am not blind,' said Philip. 
 
 ' Nay, if you had been blind, I would 
 not have wondered. Pray, sir, pardon me, 
 but have you been drinking ? '
 
 The Glasgow Ghosts 135 
 
 This was a ghost, and might be allowed 
 liberties. So Philip replied civilly that he 
 had not. 
 
 ' Then, sir it is very material, or I 
 would not ask are you in delirium 
 tremens ? ' 
 
 'I am not, and never was,' said Philip. 
 ' But what have these questions got to do 
 with my seeing you ? ' 
 
 ' This, sir, that in all my experience as 
 a ghost, which extends over a period of 
 more than a hundred years, I have not 
 met a man of your sanguine-bilious com- 
 plexion who has been able to see one of 
 us, except in his cups, or in the horrors, 
 or in bad health. I perceive that none of 
 these causes give you the second sight; 
 and I protest, sir, that I am hugely in- 
 terested to know whence you have the 
 gift.' 
 
 The ghost took a pinch of snuff out of a 
 large gold snuff-box, and meditated for a 
 minute. Philip, whose attention had been 
 directed exclusively to the face of the ap- 
 parition now examined it from top to toe.
 
 136 The Glasgow Ghosts 
 
 It wore its own hair powdered, and carried 
 its little three-cornered laced hat under its left 
 arm. Its eyes were blue and phosphorescent, 
 but not at all repulsive. Its nose was 
 hooked, but a large good-humoured mouth 
 took from the hawkish expression of that 
 feature. There was a pale pink tinge on 
 its cheeks and on its lips ; but the rest of 
 its face, and its neck and hands, were of a 
 waxy, semi-transparent whiteness. It wore a 
 green silk coat with gold facings, and its knee- 
 breeches were of the same material and hue. 
 Its stockings were of white silk, and fitted 
 exquisitely as tight a leg as ever stepped up 
 the gallows ladder. The shoes had gold 
 buckles and red reels. It wore no waist- 
 coat, and its ruffled shirt of the finest cambric 
 was open at the neck. Two gold-mounted 
 pistols were stuck in a belt worn sailor- 
 wise ; and a long rapier with a gold hilt, 
 but without a scabbard, hung at its side. 
 These arms and articles of dress appeared 
 to have undergone a change like that of 
 their wearer. They were perfectly visible 
 to Philip ; but the whole apparition had an
 
 The Glasgow Ghosts 137 
 
 aloof, impalpable air about it, not by any 
 means ghostly, however, as that word is 
 commonly understood. 
 
 At the end of about two minutes, having 
 quickened his wits with snuff, six times ad- 
 ministered in a manner so graceful, delicate 
 and noiseless, as to be not only an apology, 
 but almost a reason for that method of 
 taking tobacco, the ghost, with an elegant 
 bow, presented his box to Philip, saying 
 at the same time, ' I am, sir, exceedingly 
 loath to incur your resentment ; but, if 
 you will pledge me your honour not to be 
 offended, I shall hazard a guess as to 
 the reason of your being able to see me, 
 which, I think, will pretty nearly hit the 
 mark. 
 
 Philip, whose interest and amusement 
 had overcome every other feeling, re- 
 plied graciously, ' I imagine such a refined 
 gentleman as you most undoubtedly are, 
 could not, without doing a greater out- 
 rage to himself than to me, utter a 
 single word that could be construed as 
 insolent.'
 
 138 The Glasgow Ghosts 
 
 The ghost bowed and simpered a little 
 in a manly way, while Philip helped him- 
 self to a pinch of snuff from the box, which 
 was received back by its owner with 
 another engaging bow. 
 
 ' I protest,' said the ghost, taking a 
 seventh and prodigious pinch, * I protest, 
 sir, that I do not design it as a reflection 
 upon your character as a gentleman, or 
 your position in the world ; but from certain 
 shrewd signs that I remember to have 
 observed in myself during the first period 
 of my life, and which I now notice in you, I 
 conclude that it is some time since you broke 
 your fast ; indeed, sir, if you will permit 
 me to say it, I fancy you are starving.' 
 
 Philip wondered why the ghost should 
 be so delicate in the matter of hunger, and 
 so frank in that of drunkenness ; but, as- 
 cribing the difference to the custom of the 
 age in which the ghost had worn flesh, or 
 to some rule of spiritual etiquette, he was 
 about to acknowledge his wretched condi- 
 tion, when a fit of sneezing seized him. 
 The snuff, of which he had taken a good
 
 The Glasgow Ghosts 139 
 
 pinch, was of peculiar pungency, and, when 
 thoroughly moistened, stung his nose like 
 a nettle. He sneezed for two minutes, 
 each paroxysm pealing so loudly that the 
 very stars seemed to wink. When the fit 
 left him he said, * It is true ; I am dying 
 of hunger. I haven't eaten for eighteen 
 hours.' 
 
 ' Good heavens ! ' cried the ghost, in the 
 greatest consternation. 
 
 Without another word he grasped Philip's 
 right hand, and led him away towards the 
 west end of the city at a pace of extra- 
 ordinary rapidity, which caused him not the 
 least uneasiness, for contact with the ghost 
 seemed to endow him with some ethereal 
 strength. After they had gone a mile or 
 two, the ghost slackened the pace, and 
 addressed Philip abruptly in the following 
 terms, 
 
 ' Sir, the power by which you are able 
 to see me arises from the reduction in your 
 animal strength caused by your long abstin- 
 ence from food. Your spirit thereby, like 
 air relieved from pressure, has risen up-
 
 140 The Glasgow Ghosts 
 
 right out of the bent and blinding posture 
 in which it is usually confined by your 
 coffin.' 
 
 1 My coffin ! ' 
 
 'Good sir,' said the ghost, with courteous 
 haste, ' we spirits call bodies coffins ! But, 
 sir, allow me, as we are about to enter the 
 presence of a number of goodly ghosts 
 my friends to allay in a measure the 
 curiosity which I plainly perceive almost 
 equals your hunger. I will let you know 
 everything about ourselves that ghosts are 
 permitted to tell the coffined. And, to 
 begin with, let me inform you that, at this 
 present moment, the number of people in 
 Glasgow having intercourse of some nature 
 with ghosts of all ages, from five thousand 
 years to one second, must be between six 
 and seven thousand. You will be astonished 
 at this ; but you must understand that it 
 is very seldom a true ghost-seer ever 
 publishes his visions, even to the wife of 
 his bosom ; because, without getting special 
 permission from a ghost, the flesh-trammelled 
 soul cannot recount what he sees and hears
 
 The Glasgow Ghosts 141 
 
 in our company. Besides, few know to 
 ask this licence, and it is taken away from 
 those to whom it is granted on the least 
 deviation from the truth, or heightening of 
 colour in what they say of us/ 
 
 ' Give me this power ! ' cried Philip. 
 
 ' It is yours ; but many things that you see 
 and hear you will be unable to recall. Well, 
 sir, my name is Hugh Rawhead, and my 
 wife is Lady Dolly Dimity. You do not 
 know these names, though the latter was 
 once famous in fashionable circles, and the 
 former noted on the highway, and canonised 
 in the Newgate Calendar. My lady and I 
 are living at present in an elegantly fur- 
 nished house in Gordon Terrace. Its tenant 
 has been out of Glasgow since the beginning 
 of June. Dolly and I came to it in August. 
 We are English ghosts, but prefer to live in 
 Scotland, because England is so changed 
 since our time that we have no comfort 
 living there. Scotland we didn't know in 
 our former existence, and, though the effects 
 of progress often shock us even here, it is 
 vastly pleasanter than in England. Why,
 
 142 The Glasgow Ghosts 
 
 sir, in that woeful country, my father's grave 
 has been built over ; and I have a friend, a 
 Yorkshire ghost, who saw his own tomb- 
 stone built into a dyke a dry dyke, sir!' 
 
 ' Atrocious ! ' said Philip. 
 
 ' Monstrous, my good sir, monstrous ! 
 But,' continued the ghost, increasing the 
 pace at which they proceeded, to use an 
 indefinite term for a notion hardly describ- 
 able, * I will not keep you from satisfying 
 your hunger any longer, as I see you are 
 getting fainter. You will not be surprised, 
 then, at my servants and guests, who are all 
 ghosts. I have three couples on a visit to 
 me at present. The gentlemen were all 
 highwaymen like myself. There is Tony 
 Trippet and his wife, Mirabel Dufresnoy, 
 who was a nun at Rouen ; Will Wannion 
 and his wife, the Duchess of Danskerville, 
 who, you may remember, eloped with her 
 husband's second gardener; and Robert 
 Blacklock and his wife, Jemima Jenkinson, 
 who was a Methodist preacher. I am sure 
 they will all make you welcome, and here 
 we are.'
 
 The Glasgow Ghosts 143 
 
 A footman of the most aristocratic appear- 
 ance ushered Philip and his friend into a 
 large dining-room, where the lady and gentle- 
 men ghosts whose names Mr Rawhead had 
 mentioned, all dressed in costumes of the 
 last century, sat round a supper-table. 
 
 'Ha! Mr Rawhead,' said Lady Dolly 
 Dimity in tones of muffled sweetness, ' how 
 late you are ! ' 
 
 * My dear life,' replied Mr Rawhead, ' I 
 would have been to the minute had I not 
 required to accommodate my pace to this 
 gentleman's, whose name I have not yet 
 inquired.' 
 
 Philip announced himself, and Mr Raw- 
 head's guests were introduced to him, and 
 shook hands with him cordially. A peculiar 
 lukewarmth in his own hand was the only 
 sensation conveyed by their grasp. Supper 
 was served immediately. The food set be- 
 fore the ghosts was wholly liquid ; but Philip 
 was too intent on the solids supplied to him- 
 self to observe further the nature of the 
 spiritual repast. When his hunger was suffi- 
 ciently appeased to allow of his looking
 
 144 The Glasgow Ghosts 
 
 about him, the others had all supped, or 
 rather drunk, and sat watching him with a 
 placid expression of pleasure. 
 
 ' Mr Marquis,' said Rawhead, ' if you can 
 now give me your attention, I will let you 
 know how I came to be walking about the 
 streets to-night.' 
 
 ' I shall be most happy,' said Philip, ' to 
 know the cause of my good fortune.' 
 
 1 All who have been pronounced criminals/ 
 continued the ghost, ' on entering the world 
 of spirits have this duty laid upon them to 
 roam up and down in search of people about 
 to commit crime for the purpose of dissuad- 
 ing them from their evil purposes. This is 
 done by acting secretly on their consciences, 
 and, in cases where it is possible, by a moni- 
 tory whisper or apparition. When I met 
 you I was returning from preventing a 
 burglary in Dennistoun, and several petty 
 larcenies in the Gallowgate. I am glad to 
 have been the means of saving you from 
 starving, and if I can help you in any other 
 way I shall esteem it a privilege. Lafayette, 
 you may go.'
 
 The Glasgow Ghosts 145 
 
 Philip turned and saw a magnificent lac- 
 quey leave the room. There could be no 
 mistake. This was none other than ' the 
 sublime hero of two worlds, Grandison- 
 Cromwell- Lafayette. ' 
 
 ' To what base uses ! ' he exclaimed. 
 
 ' Ah ! you are astonished,' said Rawhead. 
 ' But you must understand that, just as we 
 villains are engaged in preventing evil, so 
 misers occupy themselves in suggesting 
 charity to rich men ; philosophers in amus- 
 ing themselves ; epic poets in helping sub- 
 editors ; theologians in learning about God ; 
 and those who in the flesh were of haughty 
 natures, in serving spirits who were more 
 humble-minded. Lafayette is the best ser- 
 vant we ever had. Is he not, Dolly ? ' 
 
 * He is, indeed, my dear/ replied Lady 
 Dimity. ' We got him as soon as he died, 
 Mr Marquis ; and very glad of him we were, 
 I can tell you, although we were dubious 
 about taking him.' 
 
 ' How so? ' asked Philip. 
 
 1 Oh well, you know, sir, when the French 
 Revolution began, we were perfectly deluged 
 K
 
 146 The Glasgow Ghosts 
 
 with serving ghosts, on account of the 
 number of aristocrats sent us. Capital 
 domestics they were and are ; but in a little 
 while all kinds of low-mannered French 
 fellows, who, although not well born, had 
 been of the haughtiest natures, plagued us 
 in shoals, until the very name of Frenchman 
 made us shudder.' 
 
 ' Do you remember Robespierre, my love ? ' 
 asked Rawhead. 
 
 ' I'll never forget him till my dying day ! ' 
 cried Lady Dolly. ' Oh, the stiff, awkward 
 brute ! ' 
 
 4 1 hear,' said the Duchess of Dansker- 
 ville, 'that he has been engaged by Louis 
 XVI. as boots.' 
 
 ' This is extraordinary ! ' cried Philip. ' Can 
 you tell me anything of Marie Antoin- 
 ette?' 
 
 'Certainly, sir,' said Mirabel Dufresnoy. 
 ' She is the most fashionable milliner to the 
 ghosts in Paris, and she is married, I believe, 
 to a Highland laird, who goes out as a 
 waiter.' 
 
 'And Louis XVI.?'
 
 The Glasgow Ghosts 147 
 
 ' Oh ! ' said the French lady, ' he and an 
 English puritaness who sailed in the May- 
 flower keep house together.' 
 
 ' Mr Marquis,' said Jemima Jenkinson in 
 a solemn voice, ' I, who talked so much 
 formerly, never open my lips now except to 
 the point. When you join us for good, you 
 will find yourself besieged by crowds of 
 serving ghosts. Of all these the most for- 
 ward will be a little, stout, unencumbered, 
 olive-complexioned spirit, who, it seems, 
 created a great disturbance in his time. His 
 name is Napoleon Bonaparte. He is en- 
 gaged and discharged almost every day. 
 All new unsophisticated arrivals to whom he 
 offers himself, generally as butler, snap him 
 up with avidity, thinking themselves highly 
 honoured. But I don't believe he ever re- 
 mained in a place longer than three hours. 
 He is the most incompetent, absent-minded, 
 stumbling, blundering creature imaginable. 
 And the best of it all is, the wretch is so 
 anxious to please, and looks at one with such 
 a pathetic, dog-like gaze when he fails, that 
 nobody has the heart to rate him ; and his
 
 148 The Glasgow Ghosts 
 
 employers dismiss him with a most excellent 
 character, giving as a reason for discontinu- 
 ing his services that they are ashamed to be 
 waited on by such a great spirit.' 
 
 Philip thanked Jemima, and promised to 
 profit by her warning. 
 
 1 Dear me ! ' exclaimed Lady Dimity, look- 
 ing at her watch, ' how late it is ! I must 
 go and see to my children.' 
 
 She went to the nursery, while the other 
 ladies retired to the drawing-room. Then 
 Philip, with a face and accent expressive 
 of the greatest wonder, said to Mr Rawhead, 
 1 1 thought there was no marrying nor 
 giving in marriage there!' 
 
 'Ah, but, my dear sir, you see we are 
 not "there" yet,' replied Mr Rawhead, 
 smiling good-naturedly. 
 
 1 And Lady Dimity's children ! Are they 
 are they 
 
 ' Are they what, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Were they born since she died ? ' 
 
 ' Most assuredly, my good sir. She is 
 my wife, sir my affinity. It is the first 
 thing ghosts do, to seek out their affinities.
 
 The Glasgow Ghosts 149 
 
 Sometimes mistakes occur, as you may con- 
 ceive, many spirits being alike in char- 
 acter.' 
 
 'And what takes place when an error is 
 made ? ' 
 
 ' A duel, as a rule, which results in the 
 death of one or other of the parties.' 
 
 ' Death ? ' gasped Philip. 
 
 ' Ay ; did you think ghosts lived for 
 ever?' 
 
 ' But you said there were ghosts five 
 thousand years old.' 
 
 ' Quite true. The ghosts of most of the 
 antediluvians and many of the patriarchs 
 still survive ; but the average life of a 
 ghost since the beginning of the Christian 
 era is five hundred years. Adam and Eve 
 are still alive, and hearty as ever. It is 
 expected that they will live till the end 
 of the world.' 
 
 'Is Cain alive?' asked Philip. 
 
 ' No ; he and Abel departed in the end 
 of last century. After having had a great 
 many wives, they both conceived the notion 
 that their true affinity was Charlotte Cor-
 
 150 The Glasgow Ghosts 
 
 day. They fought a whole week about 
 her, with intervals for refreshment, and 
 they both died of the wounds they gave 
 each other.' 
 
 'And what became of Charlotte Cor- 
 day?' 
 
 ' She and Jephthah's daughter, desperate 
 of ever getting husbands, have founded a 
 sort of nunnery for ladies similarly situated. 
 It is said that Charlotte would like Crom- 
 well, but Judith won't give him up.' 
 
 Philip was so overpowered by these 
 revelations that he was silent for a while. 
 During the pause Will Wannion hummed 
 a song, and Tony Trippet drummed time 
 to it on the table; Bobby Blacklock 
 thoughtlessly picked his clean teeth ; Raw- 
 head polished his pistols ; and all four 
 ghosts snuffed industriously. 
 
 At length Philip said, ' Where do ghosts 
 go when they die ? ' 
 
 ' Nobody knows,' replied Rawhead. 
 
 1 Do they ever reappear ? ' pursued Philip. 
 
 'No, no ! There is still a talk in some 
 quarters of the spirits of ghosts reappear-
 
 The Glasgow Ghosts 151 
 
 ing, but it is the remnant of a foolish 
 superstition.' 
 
 ' The purest humbug,' said Trippet. 
 
 This is all that is known of Philip Mar- 
 quis and the ghosts.
 
 THE SCHOOLBOY'S TRAGEDY
 
 The Schoolboy's Tragedy 
 
 THE room was large and well ventilated, 
 but a hundred children on a warm day 
 in the middle of June had made it close 
 in half-an-hour. Mr Haggle, the head- 
 master, doled out with dull recapitulation 
 a lesson in grammar. Now and again 
 he whipped a boy to rouse his own 
 flagging energies, and as a check on the 
 general drowsiness. Returning to his desk 
 after one of these well-timed onslaughts, 
 he noticed a suspicious closing of a book 
 on the part of Jenny Stewart, who was 
 that day the dux of the girls. 
 
 ' Girl Stewart, stand. Come here.' 
 Scholars under Mr Haggle's charge were 
 never addressed by their Christian names ; 
 and as boys and girls were taught to-
 
 156 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 
 
 gether, in speaking to individuals Mr 
 Haggle, in his own phrase, 'prefixed to 
 the surname a word denoting gender,' 
 thereby illustrating one of the rules of 
 the grammar which he delighted to cram 
 and to thrash into the brains and through 
 the palms of his unfortunate pupils. 
 
 Jenny Stewart promptly obeyed the 
 word of command, and went up to Mr 
 Haggle's desk. 
 
 ' Were you looking on, girl Stewart ? ' 
 asked the master in a dry voice, indicat- 
 ing the mark of interrogation by an ex- 
 asperating cough. 
 
 ' No, sir,' answered Jenny, with a re- 
 signed look and accent. 
 
 ' I saw you close your book. Let me 
 see it.' 
 
 Jenny handed up her book, and at a 
 sign from Mr Haggle returned to her 
 seat. 
 
 The master then shook out the book, 
 and a soiled half sheet of note paper 
 fell on his desk. He tucked his cane 
 under his left arm, smoothed the paper
 
 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 157 
 
 carefully, and read it with close atten- 
 tion. Forty girls and sixty boys sat 
 before him holding their breath ; the 
 hundred children occupied five forms, the 
 girls in front. 
 
 Mr Haggle laid down his cane, rubbed 
 his spectacles, wiped his shaven mouth, 
 stroked the thick grey whiskers that, 
 with his hair, enclosed his face like a 
 faded plush frame, and read the paper 
 again. A sardonic expression gradually 
 appeared in every feature. His broad 
 chin filled with innumerable dimples ; his 
 thick underlip dropped to one side ; his 
 upper lip tightened ; his nostrils curled ; 
 his eyes gleamed ; one heavy eyebrow 
 rose and the other fell. Two kinds of 
 men succeed, with different kinds of 
 success, as schoolmasters : those who, 
 besides having sympathy with childhood, 
 possess the dramatist's faculty of thinking 
 with it; and those who have neither sym- 
 pathy nor insight. Mr Haggle was of the 
 latter order. It was before the days of 
 school boards ; so he had managed to flog
 
 158 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 
 
 his way from the lowest to the highest 
 post in the only government school in 
 Kilurn not the Perthshire Kilurn, but the 
 Ayrshire one, on the eastern shore of the 
 Firth of Clyde. Mr Haggle hated children, 
 and his punishments were cruel : he hurt 
 their minds as well as their bodies. 
 
 ' Nothing like this ever happened before,' 
 he said, increasing the natural harshness 
 of his voice. 'I'm going to read it 
 aloud.' 
 
 4 Shame ! shame ! ' I cried. 
 
 ' Was that you, boy Cameron ? ' queried 
 the master, as soon as his anger would 
 allow him to speak. 
 
 < Yes.' 
 
 ' Stand.' 
 
 I rose trembling, and as red as fire. 
 
 ' Are you mad ? ' cried Mr Haggle, him- 
 self enraged to madness. ' How dare 
 you? Such a sound was never heard 
 before since I became headmaster here; 
 and I will give you a flogging to match 
 your impertinence. Continue standing 
 while I read this.'
 
 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 159 
 
 I tried to speak, but couldn't articulate 
 a word. Mortified and afraid, I took hold 
 of the back of the form to steady myself. 
 
 ' Don't lean, sir ! ' roared the master. 
 
 I pulled myself together, and stood 
 with bent head and clenched hands. An 
 occasional shiver passed through me and 
 through the whole class. Mr Haggle felt 
 the children trembling before him, and re- 
 joiced. This is what he read : 
 
 ' MY DEAREST JENNY, I love you ; I've 
 tried to say it, but I can't. I hope you 
 won't laugh. Will you love me and wait 
 for me, and be my wife some day, and 
 will you meet me to-night at seven at 
 Bearhope's Point? Whether you like me 
 or not, you might come for once and 
 walk along the shore. 
 
 ' JAMES CAMERON. 
 
 'PS. In to-day's history, you see, 
 Richard II. married Isabella of France 
 when she was only eight years old, and 
 although, perhaps, we can't get married 
 yet, we might be engaged. J. C.'
 
 160 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 
 
 Mr Haggle read, or rather sang, very 
 loud, pitching his voice up and down 
 after the fashion still common among the 
 older Scottish ministers ; and the children, 
 understanding what was expected of them, 
 laughed noisily. 
 
 ' Silence ! ' shouted Mr Haggle, and the 
 laughter ceased. ' Boys and girls, this is a 
 thing that deserves to be laughed at, but it is 
 a serious matter, too. You, girl Stewart ' 
 
 ' I never read it, I never read it/ cried 
 Jenny, bursting into tears. 
 
 Mr Haggle understood that Jenny meant 
 to plead extenuating circumstances. In the 
 awful voice which he adopted when he 
 spoke a foreign language, he said, ' Petitio 
 principii you are begging the question. 
 You received the letter and concealed it ; 
 therefore you meant to read it. There- 
 fore you will ' 
 
 Again he was interrupted, this time by 
 a solitary laugh, hysterical a little, but 
 with a happy ring in it. 
 
 'Was it actually you who laughed, 
 Cameron ? '
 
 The Schoolboy's Tragedy 161 
 
 'Yes,' I answered. 
 
 I had interpreted Jenny's exclamation 
 differently from the master. For me it 
 meant, 'Had I read the letter, I would 
 have eaten it rather than give it up.' 
 For a moment or two I felt no dread 
 of the master. 
 
 Mr Haggle became livid with rage ; it 
 was fully half a minute before he found 
 words. 
 
 'You shall smart for this, sir,' he said 
 slowly. 
 
 Then he picked up the letter, and 
 began to try to sting my soul. 
 
 'And so you are in love, are you, at 
 thirteen and Miss Stewart, too, I suppose, 
 at twelve? It's very considerate of you 
 such a fiery lover to ask her to wait. 
 " The course of true love never did run 
 smooth ; " I suppose you've made up your 
 mind for that. Did you bargain for any 
 floggings in the course of your true love? 
 Eh ? But why should you wait ? Why 
 not get married to-morrow? You, with 
 your distinguished abilities ' I was, as a
 
 1 62 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 
 
 rule, at the bottom of the class 'will 
 easily make a way for yourself.' 
 
 But my feelings were not hurt, and my 
 courage still held out ; with a smile I 
 looked the master in the face. 
 
 ' Are you aware,' said Mr Haggle, ' of 
 the enormity of what you have done ? Dur- 
 ing a class you have allowed your thoughts 
 to wander away to a subject which is for- 
 bidden absolutely to a boy of your age ; and 
 you have endeavoured to draw the attention 
 of a girl to the same subject, suggesting to 
 her ideas that should be far from her mind 
 for half-a-dozen years yet, corrupting her 
 young imagination, and making it as foul as 
 your own.' 
 
 I stared at the master with a look of dull 
 amazement ; I didn't understand him. Then 
 I laughed quietly. 
 
 ' Go to the lobby ! ' shouted Mr Haggle. 
 
 I left the room at once, casting a long 
 glance at Jenny, who looked up for a second 
 through her tears. 
 
 Mr Haggle's room was on the upper floor 
 in the centre of the building. It was en-
 
 The Schoolboy's Tragedy 163 
 
 tered by two doors, one on either side, open- 
 ing on lobbies from which the upper rooms 
 in the wings of the school were reached ; 
 these lobbies also led to the outside stairs, 
 built against the wall and forming the fork 
 of a Y ; their united part, which led to the 
 ground, being the stalk of the letter. 
 
 The lobbies one for boys, the other for 
 girls, as Mr Haggle often administered chas- 
 tisement on feminine palms were the places 
 where punishments of a serious nature were 
 inflicted. 
 
 Having posted his miserable favourite at 
 the magisterial desk with a slate, on which 
 to write the names of those who miscon- 
 ducted themselves during his absence, Mr 
 Haggle entered the boys' lobby ; but I was 
 not there. Once or twice such a thing had 
 happened before. It was foolish to run 
 away, as Mr Haggle pointed out, for he 
 was very swift of foot, and had invariably 
 caught the fugitive and doubled the punish- 
 ment. The importance of the present oc- 
 casion increased his agility. He bounded 
 down the stairs, across the pavement, and
 
 1 64 The Schoolboys Tragedy 
 
 into the street. Seeing no signs on either 
 hand of the fugitive, Mr Haggle returned 
 to the playground just in time to see me 
 disappearing over the wall opposite the 
 gate. 
 
 I was actually the first boy of the many 
 hundred ' lobbied ' by Mr Haggle to whom 
 this simple ruse had occurred ; for when 
 an unfortunate was sentenced to abide the 
 master's wrath in that narrow passage, terror 
 held him fast, or sent him off in disastrous 
 flight. I had been there once or twice be- 
 fore, and had suffered as much from fear as 
 any of the other wretches whose minds and 
 bodies were warped and stunted by Mr 
 Haggle's discipline ; but this time, though 
 I trembled, my presence of mind did not 
 forsake me. Knowing that I was in for 
 a thrashing in Mr Haggle's best style 
 which meant until the master's arm was 
 tired I had determined in a brief medi- 
 tation to have value for my punishment ; 
 and so, surprised into a smile at the idea, 
 I had crossed the stairs and hidden in the 
 girls' lobby.
 
 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 165 
 
 ' Come back, sir,' shouted the master, 
 rushing across the playground. 
 
 I had dropped into the street before I 
 heard the summons, but I hesitated for a 
 second ; I actually thought of climbing back 
 and surrendering, so powerful was the 
 master's sway over his pupils. The cer- 
 tainty, however, that nothing I could do now 
 would in the least degree modify my punish- 
 ment, determined me to postpone its in- 
 fliction as long as possible. So I set off 
 down the road at the top of my speed. I 
 soon heard Mr Haggle on my track, and 
 the feeling that I was being hunted caused 
 my knees to tremble. I could hardly drag 
 my legs after me ; but the moment I turned 
 into the High Street my limbs recovered 
 their strength, and I span along at a frantic 
 pace. 
 
 It was market-day in Kilurn, and the 
 street was thronged. The various groups 
 made way for me, and stared after me 
 with divers degrees of unintelligent wonder ; 
 but when Mr Haggle appeared among them 
 they soon understood what was toward.
 
 1 66 The Schoolboys Tragedy 
 
 Such a chase up the High Street had 
 been seen on a market-day before. The 
 news that 'the schulemaister was after a 
 laddie ' sped on in advance of me, and 
 the business of the market was soon at a 
 standstill. Numbers of the farmers, corn- 
 merchants and tradesmen present had boys 
 of their own at Mr Haggle's school, and 
 some of the younger ones had themselves 
 been under his ferula. They all knew some- 
 thing of the severity of the schoolmaster's 
 discipline, and although they would not in- 
 terfere actively, feeling in their good, stupid 
 hearts that Mr Haggle only did his duty, 
 somehow or other there was a clear lane 
 for me, and a most tortuous passage for 
 the master. The hum of bargain-making 
 had ceased along the street ; windows went 
 up, and old women and young leaned out 
 with muttered imprecations on the school- 
 master, and more loudly expressed encourage- 
 ment and sympathy for the runaway ; and yet 
 not one of these dames would have given 
 me shelter had I sought it of them. They, 
 too, believed that Mr Haggle was right,
 
 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 167 
 
 and that I was wrong, and would have 
 confessed to weakness in sympathising with 
 me. It is very strange ! How old the 
 world is ! and people have not yet learned 
 to trust their hearts. 
 
 When I found myself beyond the crowd, 
 I turned down Heron Lane ; and when the 
 schoolmaster arrived at the corner, I was 
 not to be seen. 
 
 Heron Lane, a long winding passage, led 
 from the High Street to the shore. It was 
 closely built on both sides, and the school- 
 master saw at once that his prey must have 
 been received into one or other of the shops 
 or houses at the top of it : he had been very 
 close on my heels, so that he knew I could 
 not have gone far down the lane. He did 
 not take long to decide which was the like- 
 liest hiding-place. Old Peter Stewart's shop 
 was the third building on the left-hand side 
 of the lane ; and as Peter was the father 
 of Jenny Stewart, the girl accessory to 
 my crime, Mr Haggle went across at 
 once and accosted him as he stood in his 
 doorway.
 
 1 68 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 
 
 1 Did you see Jamie Cameron pass, Mr 
 Stewart ? ' asked Mr Haggle. 
 
 ' I did not,' said Stewart, turning away. 
 
 Mr Haggle followed him, feeling what 
 everybody experienced on entering Stewart's 
 shop for the hundredth as well as for the 
 first time a sense of impending extinction 
 under a ruin of books. Pillars of books 
 further straitened the originally narrow door- 
 way. There was barely room for customers 
 to stand at the counter an article of furni- 
 ture which had to be taken on trust, as the 
 stock-in-trade had been built against it, and 
 piled on its top, so that it had the appear- 
 ance of a solid block of books, behind which 
 little more of Stewart was visible than his 
 beaming black eyes. On either end of 
 the counter a loftier heap stood up ; that at 
 the door, having the wall to lean against, 
 seemed a comparatively secure structure ; 
 whereas the other heap, like the gable of 
 a castle in the air, was for ever tottering 
 and crumbling, and being rebuilt in the 
 most fantastic shapes. On the customer's 
 side of the counter a mass of books about
 
 The Schoolboy's Tragedy 169 
 
 five feet high, six feet deep and ten feet 
 long lay, compact as a pile of bricks, dense 
 and hopeless as ignorance, and hiding all the 
 shelves except the two top ones, which 
 groaned with old calf - bound theology. 
 There was more room, though less light, 
 on the bookseller's side of the counter ; 
 several tiers of books, and some mildewed 
 engravings, permitted only a ray or two 
 of the willingest sun to struggle through 
 the window here and there. A box con- 
 taining coal in a corner, and a chair on 
 either side of the fire, left just space enough 
 for those operations of cookery in which 
 Stewart was an adept, and which, after the 
 contemplation of his daughter, formed his 
 chief delight. He was, indeed, a much 
 better cook than bookseller, but thrift sup- 
 plied the place of skill. The litter in his 
 shop was an accumulation of unsaleable 
 books gathered during many years. A 
 Glasgow acquaintance in the business visited 
 Stewart periodically, and all purchases made 
 between his visits were kept in a box under 
 the counter until they should be inspected
 
 170 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 
 
 by this authority. The great man from 
 the city took a selection with him, account- 
 ing for them on his return ; the rejected 
 books were then arranged in the shop ac- 
 cording to size, and troubled the soul of 
 Stewart no more. 
 
 Late in life Peter Stewart had for pity's 
 sake married the widow of an old friend. 
 His wife had lived only two years after the 
 birth of Jenny ; and from that time the girl 
 had been brought up almost entirely by her 
 father. The relations between the two grew 
 to be more intimate and sympathetic than is 
 usual even between mother and daughter. 
 In the days of Jenny's infancy Stewart had 
 managed all domestic matters himself, and, 
 having acquired a liking for cookery, refused 
 to yield the ladle to Jenny. There had 
 been a fight over the duster and the broom ; 
 but at the age of ten Jenny had succeeded in 
 making them her insignia. 
 
 Mr Haggle, autocrat as he was, felt con- 
 strained to subdue his overbearing manner 
 in the presence of Peter Stewart a tribute 
 commonly offered by even greater men
 
 The Schoolboy's Tragedy 1 7 1 
 
 than schoolmasters to a life of quiet in- 
 dependence. 
 
 ' And you didn't see Jamie Cameron pass 
 here ? ' asked Mr Haggle again. 
 
 ' I did not,' answered Stewart. 
 
 ' Did you see him at all ? ' pursued the 
 schoolmaster. 
 
 'I did.' 
 
 1 Where did he go, then ? ' 
 
 ' Find out. I'll answer no more ques 
 tions.' 
 
 'The discipline of the school must be 
 maintained, Mr Stewart,' said the school- 
 master severely. ' I require your support, 
 and that of every law-abiding inhabitant of 
 Kilurn. As a matter of duty you should tell 
 me where Jamie Cameron is hiding.' 
 
 ' How can you tell that I ken where he's 
 hiding? But it doesn't matter. If I did, I 
 wouldn't tell on him. I wouldn't tell on a 
 fox, and do you think I'd put you on the 
 scent o' Jamie Cameron, and him such 
 friends with Jenny?' 
 
 1 Oh ! you know about that, do you ? ' said 
 Mr Haggle, with a sneer. ' Do you know
 
 172 The Schoolboy's Tragedy 
 
 that he has made her a formal offer of 
 marriage ? ' 
 
 'What!' cried Stewart, thrusting one 
 hand in his pocket, and sticking a pen he 
 held in the other behind his ear. ' Do you 
 mean to tell me so? Ay, man! In our 
 young days if I may be allowed to signify 
 that you was ever young, Mr Haggle we 
 used to say, " Boys will be boys ; " but now 
 we'll have to make it " Boys will be men," 
 I'm thinking. Made an offer of his heart 
 and hand ? Did he, though ! At thirteen ! 
 Well, well ! And it'll be for that you were 
 wanting to scud the bit laddie? Do you 
 not think that's just a wee ill-natured, Mr 
 Haggle?' 
 
 ' Ill-natured ! ' exclaimed Mr Haggle, 
 wrathfully. ' But I won't argue the point 
 with a man who talks in this cold-blooded 
 manner about such wicked precocity. Dur- 
 ing a class the grammar hour, too this 
 child of Satan for I cannot call him any- 
 thing else managed to convey, under my 
 very nose, a love-letter to your daughter 
 an altogether unprecedented piece of insub-
 
 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 173 
 
 ordination. I must find him and flog him 
 at once.' 
 
 ' Under your very nose ? Ha, ha ! At 
 thirteen ! Do you ken that I was in love 
 when I was seven with a bonny, wee, fair- 
 haired lassie, Mr Haggle ? And I was 
 friends with two laddies that proposed at the 
 age of six; ay, -and married the lassies at the 
 hinder end, too. You should never have 
 been a schoolmaster, Mr Haggle. I read a 
 bit among my bookies, Mr Haggle ; and the 
 more I read the more I'm convinced that 
 there's far more harm done by strictness, 
 even with love, than by laxity, even if it 
 comes from sheer indolence and carelessness. 
 And you can put that in your pipe and smoke 
 it, Mr Haggle. And, hark ye! If I hear 
 o' you laying your fell claws on Jenny, I'll 
 did you ever read Roderick Random , Mr 
 Haggle ? ' 
 
 1 God forbid ! ' exclaimed the schoolmaster. 
 
 'God would be pretty well pleased, I'm 
 thinking, if you were to learn a lesson o' 
 humanity, even out o' Roderick Random, Mr 
 Haggle. Well, you and me'll act a scene
 
 174 The Schoolboys Tragedy 
 
 from Roderick Random if you touch a 
 hair o' Jenny's head. I would scourge ye 
 with your own cane before all your scholars 
 till you could neither stand nor sit ; and take 
 a month for it gladly, and that's a fact.' 
 
 Mr Haggle, without replying, retired from 
 the old bookseller's shop, and prosecuted his 
 inquiries after the runagate further down the 
 lane, without success. At last he gave up 
 the search. On his return, as he passed 
 Stewart, who again stood in his doorway, 
 he said, ' If I find that he has been sheltered 
 by you ! ' a significant double shake of 
 the head finished the sentence. 
 
 Some seconds after Mr Haggle's retreat, 
 Stewart re-entered his shop, and, climbing 
 up a small ladder placed against his embank- 
 ment of books, rested his elbows on the top 
 of it, and addressed his shelves of theology. 
 
 4 Suppose now,' he said, ' Jamie Cameron 
 had come into my shop, and had slippit round 
 and hid under the counter in front o' the fire, 
 he would be fair skelped with the heat, and 
 I would have tell't no lies ; for, if he came 
 in here, he didn't pass by my door, and
 
 The Schoolboy's Tragedy 175 
 
 that was all I said. And when he asked 
 me if I knew where he was, all I said was, 
 " Find out." If Jamie Cameron is under my 
 counter just now, the best thing he can do 
 is to get out as quietly as he can while 
 my back's turned, so that I can say I never 
 saw or heard him leaving my shop ; for he's 
 a fell deevil, the schoolmaster, and I wouldn't 
 like the laddie to suffer because I sheltered 
 him. The worst of it is, if he is in my shop 
 I must have seen him enter ; he couldn't 
 possibly have hidden under my counter with- 
 out my leave. Well, that'll just have to be 
 a case of conscience, Mr Baxter, for you 
 and me to settle between us,' and he nodded 
 his head at a fat volume of The Saint's Ever- 
 lasting Rest. 'It's a lie I mean to tell 
 that is, if he did enter my shop Eh ! what's 
 that? It must have been a mouse. Ah! 
 well, Mr Baxter, you and me '11 discuss that 
 little point later on. Mind, I never saw or 
 heard the laddie leave my shop ; and if he 
 never left it, and if he's not in it, how could 
 he have entered it, even although I may 
 have seen him, or thought I saw him, coming
 
 176 The Schoolboy's Tragedy 
 
 in. That's my line o' argument, Mr Baxter, 
 and you can take it to avizandum for a while. 
 We'll have a bout o' casuistry in the gloaming.' 
 
 While the old man, his eye fixed on 
 Baxter's portly volume, was still addressing 
 the double row of divinity, with scorched 
 cheek and anxious air I slipped out into the 
 street. 
 
 And now I want to go back to Jenny 
 Stewart. Having brooded for many years 
 over some things that Jenny said, my visions 
 have become real to me, and I think you 
 will find them as verisimilar as those in- 
 cidents in which I was an actor. 
 
 When Jenny Stewart returned from school 
 in the afternoon the market was over. She 
 was only twelve, but she was tall for her age, 
 and something about her that day drew all 
 eyes to her as she walked home. Young 
 men and boys, old men and women and 
 other girls all looked at her with interest. 
 The town-clerk, the doctor, the most re- 
 putable solicitor, the banker, and a wealthy 
 but unranked burgher, obstructing the pave- 
 ment opposite the post-office, opened a path
 
 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 177 
 
 for her with military promptitude, although 
 they were half-ashamed of it afterwards ; for, 
 said the unranked burgher, 'That's old 
 Stewart's daughter.' 
 
 1 The Radical ? ' queried the doctor, with an 
 inflection which presupposed a negative. 
 
 'Ay, but she is though,' replied the un- 
 ranked burgher, as if to a contradiction. 
 
 Then the men looked curiously at each 
 other, and drew together again, planting 
 themselves with a rigidity which seemed 
 to bid defiance to courtesy and woman- 
 kind. 
 
 One of the round dozen of loafers who 
 hung about the cross of Kilurn a 
 weather-bronzed slab of granite with runic 
 carving and inscription said aloud as Jenny 
 passed, ' There's a gallant lassie for ye, 
 now ! ' He was a poacher, and had some 
 imagination, as all the more daring law- 
 breakers have. She did not hear, nor 
 did she catch the lavish glances thrown at 
 her. She seemed to waste her eyes upon 
 the pavement ; but when she did raise 
 them it was plain that, like other stars, 
 
 M
 
 178 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 
 
 although they had been looking down they 
 had not been watching what lay beneath 
 them ; they shone through some night of 
 day-dreams regardless of the underworld. 
 She cared not now for the raree show of 
 the street. She did not steal side-glances 
 at shop windows to see herself a use 
 every girl from six years upwards confesses 
 putting panes to. She had neither ears 
 nor eyes for the black-eyed girl who 
 twirled a tambourine to the piano-organ 
 of her swarthy mate. On other days she 
 would have listened devoutly, childish- 
 wise, and wholly unprejudiced against the 
 implicit enjoyment of that which comes 
 from the headless hancl. Even fashionably- 
 dressed ladies could not withdraw Jenny's 
 eyes from the vision that they watched. 
 
 Turning more by habit than from inten- 
 tion into Heron Lane, she was in her 
 father's shop before she quite realised her 
 whereabouts. 
 
 ' Hullo ye ! ' cried old Stewart cheerily. 
 
 She held up her face for his kiss, and 
 then went with him into the little parlour
 
 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 179 
 
 at the back of the shop, where tea was 
 ready. She said very little and ate very 
 little. Her silence was so unusual, her 
 preoccupation so evident, that the old 
 man wondered if my letter could be 
 the only cause. However, he asked 
 no questions ; and she went upstairs 
 to her own room as soon as tea was 
 over. 
 
 She sat down for a minute or two, and 
 rested her head on her tabled hands, 
 changing the cheek until both were red. 
 Then she started up and examined the 
 furniture in detail, as if she had never 
 seen it before. The room was filled with 
 a collection of fugitive pieces, the whole 
 dusky plenishing, old-fashioned, experienced, 
 secret. An inlaid six-legged walnut side- 
 board, with sliding panels and deep end- 
 drawers, with ringed lions' heads in brass 
 for handles, and a pair of laburnum wood 
 chairs with cup-shaped backs, pleased her 
 best. Curious old coloured prints adorned 
 the walls; and, more notably, two small 
 oil-paintings illustrating the departure and
 
 180 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 
 
 the degradation of the prodigal son 
 now resplendent in a ruffled shirt, 
 broidered vest, knee breeches and a tie- 
 wig, now grovelling among the rags of 
 the same, with the swine nuzzling about 
 him hung above the fireplace. The 
 mantelpiece looked like a gallery in minia- 
 ture with china shepherds and shepherdesses 
 and blackleaded metal horses. She looked 
 over everything, blew away some specks 
 of dust, and set a sprightly Strephon a 
 little nearer a languishing Chloe. Then 
 she glanced rapidly over the books on 
 the sideboard. She plucked out a volume 
 and dived into its leaves like a bee into a 
 bell. Soon she thrust it back and seized 
 another. That and a third one were re- 
 pudiated. A fourth seemed better suited 
 to her taste ; but it also was soon cast 
 aside. Then she ducked suddenly under 
 the sideboard, and lugged out a bulky, 
 tattered quarto. She slapped it petulantly, 
 to clear it from dust, and, flinging it on 
 the table, sat down resolutely and opened 
 it at the beginning. It was a volume of
 
 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 181 
 
 some far back year's illustrated newspaper, 
 and had been her earliest picture-book. 
 She knew well each picture as its friendly 
 face appeared, but doggedly proposed to 
 go through the book from the highly 
 allegoric frontispiece to the more highly 
 allegoric close, smoothing out all the dog's 
 ears and placing properly strayed leaves. 
 But old faces tired her, the homely feel- 
 ings they inspired irritated her, and she 
 threw the book to a corner of the room, 
 where it lay in, what she thought for a 
 regretful moment, reproachful dishevelment. 
 Then she opened the door of her concealed 
 bed and threw herself on it face downwards. 
 A minute later a chintz cover, whisked off 
 the top of what looked like a large chest, 
 revealed an old-fashioned piano, at which 
 the demon of unrest whirled her like a 
 tortured soul. And yet she was only 
 twelve. 
 
 She touched the keyboard languidly, 
 hovered over it a second, then bounded 
 away to the window. Instantly she was 
 back again, and, striking the jingling keys
 
 1 82 The Schoolboy's Tragedy 
 
 in a frenzy of desperation, began to sing 
 ' The Blue-bells of Scotland.' 
 
 ; Oh ! where, and, oh ! where, does your Highland 
 laddie dwell?' 
 
 The surging music bore her voice along. 
 Her simmering blood flamed up. She 
 sang with all her might, 
 
 1 I'll claim a priest to marry us, 
 
 A clerk to say " Amen ; " 
 And I'll ne'er part again 
 
 From my bonnie Highlandman.' 
 
 She was only twelve, but for a wondering" 
 moment the woman was broad awake. 
 
 She had little knowledge of music, but 
 her fingers danced over the keys. She 
 felt the pianist's supreme delight of per- 
 fect ease and mastery. Her hands were 
 like a summer breeze shaking a tune at 
 random out of the tinkling flowers. She 
 was in complete sympathy with what she 
 played, and was so delighted with herself 
 that, trading on her success, she began to
 
 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 183 
 
 try a sonata recently given her. With 
 much labour she came little speed. Even 
 the notes would not obey her, and she 
 was wholly unable to lay the spirit of the 
 piece. Her blood flagged, her fingers 
 languished. She flung back her hair, 
 which had come loose, and gulped down 
 a sob at her ineptitude. Where should 
 she turn for energy and ease? In a 
 moment her face lit up with passion, 
 pathos, pity, and she began, 
 
 c When ye gang awa', Jamie. ' 
 
 Having finished that song, she made no 
 second excursion into unknown regions, 
 but sang out with a happy peal the first 
 half verse of 'The Bailiffs Daughter.' 
 Then she ceased singing, and, with her 
 head hanging above the keys, as if her 
 spirit knelt, she played over and over 
 the simple melody, gently and more gently 
 listening to each verse ; and the quaint 
 song and the quaint instrument, with its 
 muffled white notes and its sharps piercing 
 and piping with age, sent the wine of life
 
 184 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 
 
 fuming into her young head, and she rose, 
 reeling, and stood in the middle of the 
 room. She writhed on her heel and stared 
 about her. Something ought to happen 
 now, she thought indeed. Watching, hop- 
 ing, listening, conjuring, she stood for some 
 minutes ; then, snatching her hat, she rushed 
 out. 
 
 Stewart watched his daughter until she 
 had passed from his sight. Then he went 
 up to her room, and, opening the door 
 just wide enough to admit his head, looked 
 about anxiously. He could discover no 
 clue to Jenny's sudden departure ; and, as 
 her room was too sacred for its threshold 
 to be crossed lightly, he closed the door 
 with marked gentleness and returned to 
 the shop. 
 
 Wrapped in her dream, Jenny wandered 
 down to the shore. There she found a 
 grass-green cushion spotted with honey- 
 scented sea-pinks, and, gathering her feet 
 under her, she sat down opposite the sun- 
 set. Behind her the night thickened, and 
 at her feet the sea embroidered the sand
 
 The Schoolboys Tragedy 185 
 
 with shells. As she looked across the 
 still, crimson water to the crimson sunset, 
 tears began to fall into her lap, she knew 
 not why. 
 
 ' Jenny ! ' 
 
 Her name was spoken so quietly that 
 she barely started. It was like a voice in 
 her dream. 
 
 'Jenny ! ' 
 
 She turned her head and saw me. 
 
 4 This is Bearhope's Point, Jenny,' I 
 said, bending towards her; 'but it's a 
 while after seven.' 
 
 ' So it is Bearhope's Point/ said Jenny ; 
 "but I forgot about that.' 
 
 ' You didn't come to meet me, then ? ' 
 I said. 
 
 ' I don't know ; I think I did,' answered 
 Jenny. ' Look,' she continued, pointing to 
 the rim of the sun that was vanishing be- 
 hind a hill. 
 
 'Ay,' said I, 'it's awful bonny.' 
 
 I sat down on the green cushion quite 
 close to her ; but she gathered her dress 
 about her, and put half a foot between us.
 
 i86 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 
 
 ' Can I no' come near ? ' I asked, kneel- 
 ing and leaning my hands on the 
 cushion. 
 
 She looked at me wonderingly, and 
 with some fear. 
 
 ' You're near enough, Jamie,' she said. 
 
 I went towards her on my knees, but 
 she stopped me with a question : ' How 
 did you get away from Haggle?' 
 
 Then I told her of my flight along the 
 High Street, and how her father had 
 sheltered me ; how I had gone home at 
 the hour of dismissal as if I had come 
 straight from school ; and how I had 
 waited on her for an hour at Bearhope's 
 Point. Jenny, in return, told of her piano- 
 playing, and of her unrest, not knowing 
 what it meant. During this conversation 
 I had gradually diminished the space be- 
 tween us, until I sat quite close to her, 
 with my foot touching hers. 
 
 ' Jenny, I wish I was you,' said I under 
 my breath, after a pause for a minute. 
 
 ' Would you like to be a lassie ? ' cried 
 Jenny, with an amazed smile.
 
 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 187 
 
 'Ay,' said I, looking away into the 
 west where the sunset still smoked and 
 smouldered as cloud after cloud paled, 
 glowed again, and went slowly out. ' I 
 mind when I first thought I would like to 
 be a lassie. There's a picture in an 
 almanack called "Water- Lilies "; and it's 
 in two, and it's coloured. On one side 
 there's just the white water-lily with its 
 green leaves on the top of the water ; on 
 the other there's a little burn with two 
 young ladies in white dresses like night- 
 gowns. One of the ladies is lying on the 
 bank, and the other is just stepping into 
 the water. The one that's lying is smil- 
 ing ; but the other one's looking down, 
 blushing, you would think. At first I 
 thought ' shame to look at her ; but one 
 day it came to me that I would just like 
 to be her ; and after that I could look at 
 her. I looked at her for hours, and I 
 always longed more and more to be her ; 
 but I wish I was you now, Jenny.' 
 
 I turned my innocent, glowing eyes on 
 hers ; and they fell before my gaze.
 
 1 88 The Schoolboy's Tragedy 
 
 1 Would you like to be me, Jenny ? ' I 
 asked breathlessly. 
 
 ' No,' answered Jenny, panting a little, 
 * I would just like to be mysel'.' 
 
 ' Maybe girls don't feel like boys,' said 
 I. ' You can like me without wishing to 
 be me, can you ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Jenny. ' Had we no' better 
 go now ? ' 
 
 4 Wait a wee,' said I. 
 
 1 What are you going to do the morn ? ' 
 asked Jenny anxiously. 
 
 ' Never mind the morn,' said I. 
 
 * But you'll get an awful licking, Jamie,' 
 said Jenny, with difficulty stifling a sob. 
 
 ' I suppose I will,' said I, paling a little. 
 ' But I wouldn't mind the worst licking 
 Haggle could give me, if you would kiss 
 me, Jenny.' 
 
 Jenny twisted her fingers in her lap and 
 looked down ; and the sunset had died 
 away, so that it had nothing to do with 
 the deep crimson that suffused her face. 
 I put my trembling arm about her waist, 
 and kissed her cheek, and she turned with
 
 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 189 
 
 wonder and delight in her eyes and pressed 
 her little burning mouth to mine. 
 
 ' Haggle can do what he likes to me/ 
 said I, 'I'll not open my lips.' 
 
 ' Poor Jamie,' said Jenny, kissing me 
 again. 
 
 ' Never mind,' said I ; ' it'll be over in 
 two or three minutes. Jenny, what would 
 you like me to be ? ' 
 
 ' To be ? ' 
 
 * Yes ; to do, I mean. Will I learn a 
 trade or a profession ? ' 
 
 ' You must just please yourself.' 
 
 ' No ; but I want to please you. What 
 would you like your husband to be, Jenny ? ' 
 
 Jenny looked down at the points of her 
 boots without speaking ; and I looked 
 down at the points of mine expecting 
 her answer. 
 
 ' I wouldn't like you to be anything/ 
 said Jenny. 'If we could have a little 
 house and a garden and could we travel ? 
 I would like to see the Pyramids.' 
 
 'And Pompey's Pillar,' I suggested, 
 with sudden excitement.
 
 190 The Schoolboy's Tragedy 
 
 ' That the sailors climbed up in the 
 reading book? Yes, I would like to see 
 that too.' 
 
 I had taken her hand, and we sat to- 
 gether in silence for several minutes. The 
 sky was grey now, and the water ; and 
 the green of the hills opposite was gradu- 
 ally darkening into ebony. A breeze 
 had sprung up, and soon it grew stormy 
 and sharp and mowed off the tops of the 
 waves ; and when some of the salt sea- 
 blossoms were cast in our faces, we rose, 
 and walked quickly up Heron Lane, hand 
 in hand. The wind from the firth pursued 
 us a little way, and, before we left it be- 
 hind, it took Jenny's loose hair and blew 
 it all about my neck. 
 
 I was the first boy in the playground 
 next morning. School began at half-past 
 nine, and I was there by nine. With my 
 hands in my pockets, I lounged against 
 a buttress, and greeted with a smile 
 the other boys as they dropped in by 
 twos and threes. Some with nonchalance
 
 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 191 
 
 hailed me, 'Hullo, Cameron!' and turned 
 at once to marbles or some other game. 
 Others formed groups to stare at me, and 
 discuss my case. One or two began to 
 jeer, but they were in a very small minority, 
 and soon gave it up. When my own 
 particular friends arrived they took me 
 away to an unfrequented part of the 
 playground, and gave me sage advice as 
 to the endurance of my punishment, with 
 practical illustrations of the best way to 
 hold out my hand, and reminiscences of 
 weak-minded boys who had been enabled 
 to display extraordinary hardihood by meet- 
 ing the palmies or ' luifies,' as they call 
 them on the Clyde half-way, and then 
 withdrawing the hand with the cane on 
 it. 'Just as you would catch a swift ball, 
 you know : as soon as it touches your 
 hands, pull them in.' 
 
 The departments of the school were 
 opened separately by their several masters 
 with praise and prayer and the reading 
 of a portion from the Bible. Mr Haggle 
 that morning sang two double verses of
 
 192 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 
 
 a metrical psalm, read a long passage from 
 one of the gospels, and delighted himself 
 with a brief but eloquent exposition of 
 the text : ' Suffer little children to come 
 unto Me and forbid them not, for of such 
 is the kingdom of heaven/ He then prayed 
 at considerable length, referring to the 
 painful duties which sometimes fell to the 
 lot of a teacher, and begging to be saved 
 from the sinfulness that spared the rod 
 and spoiled the child. The rustle that 
 followed the conclusion of the prayer 
 having subsided, Mr Haggle called on 
 1 boy Cameron ' to stand. 
 
 I stood up promptly, and looked towards 
 Jenny, whose back was to me; but she 
 turned, and gave me a glance from her 
 brown eyes ; then I felt quite confident, 
 and even careless. Mr Haggle noticed 
 the by-play and scored it against me. 
 
 ' Come here, sir,' said the master. 
 
 I walked up to the desk steadily. 
 
 ' Now, boys and girls,' said Mr Haggle 
 'this is an extreme case, and I mean to 
 make an example of James Cameron. I
 
 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 193 
 
 shall not punish him in the lobby, but 
 here, that you may all see how wicked 
 he has been.' 
 
 There were rumours in the school of some 
 terrific floggings administered by Mr Haggle 
 before the class for unexampled offences, but 
 none of the children present had ever been 
 spectators of one of these special punish- 
 ments. A deep hush fell on the room, and 
 many children turned pale; still, the 
 bulk of the boys and some of the girls 
 anticipated a fearful joy from the sufferings 
 of their class-mate. 
 
 Mr Haggle went to a press in which 
 he kept an assortment of canes. He 
 took out a thing hideous when its ap- 
 plication is considered about four feet 
 long, as thick as his own middle finger, 
 and with a crook at the end. Having 
 returned to his desk and breathed on 
 his hand to give it a better grip, he seized 
 the plain end of the cane, swished it 
 once or twice in the air to test its supple- 
 ness, and turned to his victim. I had 
 only a faint idea of what was in store for
 
 194 The Schoolboys Tragedy 
 
 me ; I was away on the shore with Jenny, 
 and I thought of the crimson sunset, and 
 the chill, singing wind that blew the foam- 
 flakes in our faces. 
 
 ' Hold out,' said the master, and I ex- 
 tended my right hand. I wondered for 
 a moment, as my misery closed in on me, 
 if I would ever see the Pyramids and 
 Pompey's Pillar now. 
 
 White as paper, with clenched teeth, 
 but without a nicker of a finger, I took 
 the twelve strokes which the master 
 brought down slowly, with all his force, 
 on my little quivering hand. After the 
 twelfth Mr Haggle paused, and, with a 
 great gulp that swallowed down count- 
 less sobs, I whipped my hand into my 
 pocket, and, bending down, pressed it 
 tightly. 
 
 'The other hand,' said the master. 
 
 I had thought it was over. With a sick 
 cry, and an appeal for mercy in my face, 
 I looked up at Mr Haggle. 
 
 'Come, be quick,' said the master 
 coldly.
 
 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 195 
 
 I braced myself to bear it; the tears 
 stood in my eyes, and my heart was burst- 
 ing, but I held out my left hand steadily. 
 
 It is the case that the pain of a whip- 
 ping on the hand is felt most keenly shortly 
 after the blows have ceased. Just as Mr 
 Haggle brought down the first stroke on 
 my left hand, the nerves of the right, that 
 had been deadened by the number and 
 heaviness of the stripes, wakened up and 
 carried their entire message to my brain. 
 Jenny, the crowded room, and the sardonic 
 inflictor of the pain were all forgotten ; I 
 cried out and writhed, and tears and sweat 
 streamed down my face. My left hand 
 fell after the third blow, and when I tried 
 to raise it I couldn't keep it open ; but 
 that was a matter of indifference to Mr 
 Haggle ; he brought the cane down as 
 before, but on my knuckles. I screamed, 
 and thrust my left hand into my other 
 pocket. 
 
 ' Hold out/ said the master. But all 
 my courage and resolution were gone ; I 
 screamed and sobbed, and stamped with
 
 196 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 
 
 pain and the anticipation of pain, and 
 made no attempt to obey Mr Haggle's, 
 order. 
 
 ' Hold out/ said the master again ; and 
 when I failed to comply he lashed me on 
 the legs till I was almost suffocated with 
 my tears and cries. 
 
 'Will you hold out now?' said the 
 master. 
 
 Bending back till I nearly overbalanced 
 myself, and pressing my elbow close to my 
 side, my knees trembling and my right 
 hand clutching the air, I managed to ex- 
 tend my left hand half open. Again the 
 cane came down on my knuckles, and again 
 I screamed and danced. The remaining 
 seven strokes were given and taken in the 
 same way ; after each I tried to snatch a 
 moment's respite by pocketing my hand, 
 and Mr Haggle lashed me on the legs 
 till I 'held out.' 
 
 At the end of this second dozen Mr 
 Haggle said, 'Sit down there' a culprit's 
 seat stood beside the desk. 'That is your 
 punishment for writing a letter to the girl
 
 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 197 
 
 Stewart during the grammar-hour. I will 
 punish you in a little for running away. 
 I'll take the psalm.' 
 
 ' Please, sir,' said three or four girls 
 at once, 'please, sir, Jenny Stewart's 
 fainted.' 
 
 Mr Haggle looked suspiciously at the 
 white face and closed eyes of my little 
 sweetheart, but there was no sham about 
 it. He himself, much against the grain, 
 carried her down to the head-mistress, who 
 having restored her to consciousness, sent 
 her home. 
 
 ' The psalm,' said Mr Haggle, on re- 
 turning to his room. 
 
 The first lesson always consisted in the 
 repetition of two verses of a psalm or two 
 questions from the Shorter Catechism. The 
 class had learned during the session the 
 whole of the hundred and nineteenth psalm ; 
 and had then turned to the beginning of 
 the Psalter; the task for that morning 
 was the conclusion of the second psalm, 
 which runs, in the version used, as 
 follows :
 
 198 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 
 
 ' Now, therefore, kings, be wise ; be taught, 
 
 Ye judges of the earth : 
 Serve God in fear, and see that ye 
 Join trembling with your mirth. 
 
 Kiss ye the Son, lest in his ire, 
 
 Ye perish from the way, 
 If once his wrath begins to burn : 
 
 Bless'd all that on him stay.' 
 
 The girls repeated first, and all of them, 
 except five, were letter-perfect. These five 
 received two ' luifies ' each. They were 
 then instructed to amend the fault, with the 
 inspiring assurance that, if they weren't 
 perfect by the time Mr Haggle had heard 
 the. boys, the punishment would be doubled. 
 
 Ten boys failed and received four ' luifies * 
 each. Then the master returned to the 
 girls. Four of the failures managed to 
 pass on a second trial, but the fifth one 
 stuck in the middle of the second verse. 
 It is a difficult verse to grasp the mean- 
 ing of, and the unintelligent sing-song, 
 which was the chief characteristic of the 
 elocution of Mr Haggle's pupils, kept on 
 its course regardless of points, and tended 
 to obscure the sense of the simplest pass-
 
 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 199 
 
 age. The poor girl who failed a second 
 time was a very dull, unpleasant-looking 
 creature with a hunch back, to whom the 
 lightest intellectual work was torture. 
 Nevertheless, she received four 'luifies,' 
 with a promise of eight if she failed a 
 third time. 
 
 Six of the ten boys were not perfect on 
 a second trial. With them also the second 
 verse was the stumbling block. 
 
 ' Cushee the Son les-tin 'is-ire 
 Yeperrish from the way. . . .' 
 
 Rapidly running their words together, they 
 got that length with ease, and there they 
 stuck. If Mr Haggle had been possessed 
 of brains of even ordinary quality he would 
 have detected in the failure a sign of 
 superior intelligence. The boys perceived a 
 kind of sense up to the point where they 
 stuck ; there, however, as the colon at 
 ' burn ' was disregarded by them, and its 
 force quite unknown, the utter meaningless- 
 ness, to them, of the sounds they tried to 
 recall paralysed their memories. These six
 
 200 The Schoolboys Tragedy 
 
 boys having each received eight 'luifies,' 
 what Mr Haggle thought a brilliant idea 
 occurred to him. 
 
 ' Boy Cameron,' he cried, with a sparkle 
 in his eye and a new tang in his voice, 
 'say your psalm.' 
 
 I had been moaning with pain, and nurs- 
 ing my blistered hands both of them were 
 blue and blistered ; but I now became silent 
 and looked up with affright. Like most of 
 the children in the room, I had learned the 
 second psalm many times in my short life, 
 but only by rote, and as I had not prepared 
 any lessons at all on the previous night, I 
 could not recall correctly a single line of 
 that morning's task. 
 
 1 Come, sir ; get up, and say your psalm/ 
 persisted Mr Haggle, approaching me. 
 
 I rose, and began, with a sob after every 
 word, and a break in my voice 
 
 ' Now, therefore, judges of the earth,' 
 
 and stopped. 
 
 I felt that the line was a good line, but I 
 was horribly conscious that it was all wrong.
 
 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 201 
 
 'Try again,' said the master. 
 
 * Please, sir,' said I in despair, ' I know 
 all the words, but I can't say the lines.' 
 
 'What tomfool talk is this?' cried Mr 
 Haggle. ' Hold out.' 
 
 I looked round the room, at the ceiling, 
 and at the master ; but there was no mercy 
 anywhere. Mr Haggle was quite unmoved 
 by the terrible trouble that must have 
 darkened my face. I put my hands in 
 my armpits and pressed them tightly ; 
 then I blew hard on my swollen fingers 
 and pressed them in my armpits again. 
 
 ' Come, sir ; I can't wait all day,' said 
 the master. ' Hold out.' 
 
 I half extended my arm ; but I couldn't 
 open my hand it was a physical impos- 
 sibility. 
 
 ' I canna', Maister Haggle, I canna',' I 
 said. 
 
 'We'll see about that/ said the master. 
 
 He seized my left wrist, and holding it 
 out at the stretch of his arm, brought his 
 cane down twice on my blistered, swollen 
 hand I lost my temper, I kicked over
 
 2O2 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 
 
 the master's desk, and, seizing a frameless 
 slate which lay on the seat beside me, 
 threw it at the head of my tormentor. I 
 had laughed hysterically when I upset the 
 desk ; but I cried with rage a moment 
 afterwards, for my dangerous missile had 
 missed its aim. 
 
 ' Ay ! ' said the master ; ' so we have our 
 little tantrums, have we ? ' 
 
 He seized me by the collar, and lashed 
 me on the body till the cane dropped from 
 his hand, and I had no strength left to 
 shriek. 
 
 1 Now, sir,' said Mr Haggle, forcing me 
 to sit on the culprit's bench, 'how many 
 more thrashings do you want ? You learn 
 to keep your temper, or it'll be the worse 
 for you. You have done wrong, and I 
 advise you to make up your mind to take 
 the penalty quietly. Next hour I'll flog 
 you for running away, and it will be wise 
 of you not to require an}' more accidental 
 thrashings in the course of your punishment. 
 That will do,' he continued to the class ; 
 ' I've no more time for the psalm. Those
 
 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 203 
 
 \vho failed will stay in at four, and learn 
 three double verses of another psalm they 
 will be told which when the time comes.' 
 
 The class was then dismissed for five 
 minutes, but I was not allowed to go. 
 During the interval Mr Haggle eyed me 
 like a cat watching a mouse. 
 
 When the class returned, they were set 
 to writing, and as soon as all the children 
 were occupied, the master resumed his puni- 
 tive duties. 
 
 ' Boy Cameron, stand ; hold out.' 
 
 I struggled to my feet, but sank down 
 almost immediately, my heart was broken ; 
 and I was not the first boy whose heart 
 had been broken by Mr Haggle, under 
 pretence of breaking a rebellious spirit. 
 
 The master did not repeat the order to 
 stand ; but he growled out his other so 
 often reiterated one, * Hold out.' 
 
 I held out my hand slackly, but it fell 
 on the seat ; Mr Haggle brought his cane 
 down on it as it lay, and I screamed with 
 the pain. He then repeated his order to 
 hold out; but I sat on my hands. The
 
 204 The Schoolboy's Tragedy 
 
 master was about to lash me on the legs, 
 when an important matter which he had 
 forgotten in the excitement of the 
 morning's varied labours recurred to his 
 memory. 
 
 ' By-the-bye,' he said jocosely, sitting 
 down in his chair opposite me, ' where did 
 you vanish to when you turned the corner 
 of Heron Lane yesterday ? ' 
 
 ' I'll no tell you that,' said I sullenly. ' I'll 
 no tell y'it. You can do what you like.' 
 
 'Now, what a fool you are!' said Mr 
 Haggle, striking me with all his strength 
 over both knees. ' Do you actually want 
 another accidental thrashing ? ' 
 
 ' I'll no' tell you,' I screamed. 
 
 That which had not been present in my 
 mind since my prolonged punishment 
 began was recalled by Mr Haggle's 
 question. Even Jenny's fainting had not 
 had any special meaning for me, so dazed 
 was I at the time. Now, however, as I 
 had ceased entirely the attempt to endure 
 in silence, my mind was freer, and the 
 memory of the sunset, and the night
 
 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 205 
 
 breeze, and Jenny's kisses, returned to my 
 broken heart, and gave me a little passing 
 strength. Mr Haggle rose and lashed me 
 as I sat on my back, shoulders, legs, 
 arms and hands. It was amazing that I 
 did not faint. 
 
 ' Now, sir,' he said, resuming his seat, 
 4 where did you hide ? ' 
 
 ' I'll no' tell you,' I shrieked. 
 
 Mr Haggle lashed me on each thigh, and 
 then put his question, ' Where did you hide ? ' 
 
 I replied only with cries and groans. 
 
 ' I'll whip you till you answer me,' said 
 Mr Haggle. 
 
 He put the question more than a dozen 
 times, giving me two lashes after each 
 repetition. The master had now lost his 
 temper. He thrust his face into mine 
 and yelled at me, with fierce eyes, knotted 
 forehead and hot breath. Suddenly he 
 desisted. This was a morning of brilliant 
 ideas for Mr Haggle, and the most bril- 
 liant of them had just suggested itself. 
 
 ' Stop writing/ he said. ' Stand. Let 
 us pray.'
 
 2o6 The Schoolboy 's Tragedy 
 
 He prayed with great fervour that this 
 punishment might be sanctified to James 
 Cameron ; that the poor misguided boy 
 might be led to see the error of his ways, 
 and, in submission to the superior placed 
 over him by Providence, tell what was 
 required of him. 
 
 At the conclusion of the prayer the 
 class resumed their writing, and Mr 
 Haggle seated himself again opposite me. 
 
 ' Now, James,' he said, in as soft a voice 
 as he could adopt, ' I hope your heart has 
 been touched, and that you will answer 
 my question. Where did you hide yester- 
 day ? ' 
 
 I shook my head. 
 
 'Very well,' said the master, rising; 
 * we'll just have to begin again, James. 
 Stand up, sir, and hold out.' 
 
 I could do neither for the pain of my 
 legs and hands, which yet was as nothing 
 to the anguish of my mind. I sat with 
 my hands in my pockets, trembling in 
 every limb, and swaying backwards and 
 forwards. On my failure to obey the
 
 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 207 
 
 command Mr Haggle lashed me on the 
 thighs, the calves of the legs, the knees, 
 on the backs of my hands through my 
 pockets ; and I sat with contorted face 
 and the tears streaming down my cheeks 
 and cried at the pitch of my voice, ' Oh, 
 dear me! Oh, dear me!' 
 
 ' Where did you hide ? ' said Mr Haggle, 
 pausing. 
 
 No answer. 
 
 ' I hope you understand that I shall 
 whip you till you tell me,' said Mr 
 Haggle, attacking my legs again. 
 
 A few more strokes, and I gave in. 
 
 ' In Stewart's, the bookseller's,' I yelled. 
 
 ' A mistake in grammar,' said Mr 
 Haggle ; ' the double possessive is need- 
 less. You will bring me written out a 
 hundred times to-morrow, "In Stewart, 
 the bookseller's." Now, I shall give you 
 your punishment for running away. Hold 
 out.' 
 
 Every pen in the room stopped, and 
 most of the children turned pale with 
 horror. As for me I rolled off the seat,
 
 2o8 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 
 
 and lay on the floor kicking and 
 screaming. 
 
 'What's the matter?' said Mr Haggle, 
 surveying his pupils. 'Continue writing/ 
 But the involuntary action of the children 
 had its effect on him. He considered 
 for a minute, biting the end of his 
 cane. 
 
 'Well,' he said, 'it is always best, if 
 possible, to temper justice with mercy. I 
 expect you've had enough to serve you 
 for many a day. You can go to your 
 place, Cameron.' 
 
 I rose and limped with difficulty to 
 where my writing copy lay ; and one boy 
 whispered to another that ' Haggle was 
 na' so bad, after all. He let Jamie off a 
 lickin' he had promised him, mind ye.' 
 
 The master heard ; and the boy received 
 four ' luifies ' for talking during class. 
 
 My father and mother had been dead 
 for several years, and I lived with an 
 uncle, who, while he had a sincere sense 
 of duty, was altogether under the control 
 of his wife. Mrs Cameron, my aunt, had
 
 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 209 
 
 six children of her own, and with every 
 addition to her family her mind and heart 
 seemed to have contracted, instead of ex- 
 panding. It is surely the case that the 
 more claims there are on a woman's 
 affections the more abounding is her love ; 
 but there are exceptions, and Mrs Cameron 
 was one. She fixed a gulf between her 
 own children and her nephew not in her 
 heart alone, but openly, in food, in clothes, 
 in education ; and thus it was that, instead 
 of accompanying my cousins to the ex- 
 pensive private school they attended, I 
 had been given over, under pretence of 
 being difficult to manage, to the tender 
 mercies of Mr Haggle. ' Keep him to 
 his work,' said Mrs Cameron to the master. 
 ' He's an idle, dreamy boy, and requires 
 a tight rein.' 
 
 Such a series of thrashings as Mr Haggle 
 had given me in one forenoon were not of 
 very frequent occurrence thirty years ago, 
 nor were they nearly so common then as 
 they had been in the days of the parish 
 schoolmasters ; but there are still teachers 
 o
 
 2io The Schoolboy's Tragedy 
 
 who cherish the tradition of education by 
 means of pain and fear ; and in Mr 
 Haggle's time, although better counsels 
 were beginning to prevail, the propriety 
 of severe corporal punishment for every 
 species of offence, and as the true men- 
 struum of shy capacity, was almost 
 universally recognised. It was not every 
 boy, however, that Mr Haggle would have 
 flogged as he had flogged me. The 
 master was carefully informed of the 
 domestic circumstances of all his pupils ; 
 and it was only when he felt certain that 
 the severity of his discipline would be 
 supported by parents and guardians that 
 he did his duty as drum-major thoroughly. 
 
 Knowing quite well that it would be 
 useless to appeal to my uncle or aunt, I 
 tried hard to conceal the condition of my 
 hands ; but my cousins had heard of my 
 punishment, and I was put on bread and 
 water for a week. 
 
 In the dusk I crawled out and went 
 down to the shore not to Bearhope's 
 Point, but to a rocky place where no sea-
 
 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 211 
 
 pinks grew. I was too late for the sunset ; 
 the waves and the sky were cold and 
 grey; but the wind was warmer than it 
 had been the night before, and I took off 
 my bonnet and let it blow through my 
 hair. I sat for an hour trying to think, 
 and trying to be the Jamie Cameron who 
 had made love to Jenny Stewart. I set 
 myself to recall the meeting with my 
 sweetheart at Bearhope's Point ; but it 
 wouldn't come back to me none of it 
 except my promise to endure my punish- 
 ment in silence. I tried to remember my 
 mother, to think of some happy days I 
 had spent during the previous summer 
 with one of my companions at a farm 
 where everybody had been kind to me ; 
 I tried to think of being a man, of marry- 
 ing Jenny Stewart, of travelling, and of 
 the Pyramids. It was all in vain. Mr 
 Haggle's harsh voice with its heartless 
 ' Hold out ' ; the swish of the cane ; the 
 ache in my hands, in my legs, in my mind 
 above all, the moment when I broke 
 down and cried, and that other moment
 
 212 The Schoolboy s Tragedy 
 
 when I told where I had hidden, would 
 not quit my memory. 
 
 I had frightful dreams that night, and 
 wakened several times; and there was no- 
 body to comfort me nobody even to laugh 
 at me, for I slept alone in a little stifling 
 box-room. 
 
 Next morning on my road to school, 
 Jenny Stewart made up on me, and 
 touching me on the shoulder, said, * Jamie, 
 dear,' and looked round into my face 
 sweetly and mournfully. I returned her 
 glance with a shiver, and then ran away 
 as fast as I could. My heart was broken 
 and my mind was dulled. At thirteen I 
 lad lost faith in myself.
 
 EAGLE'S SHADOW
 
 Eagle's Shadow 
 
 THE progress of Ebenezer Eaglesham in the 
 office of Messrs Clay, Clod and M'Latchy 
 was unromantically slow. It took him 
 thirteen years to climb to a stool of his own 
 before a desk of his own in the immediate 
 neighbourhood of the confidential clerk, with 
 a set of books to keep and a key of the 
 private safe. He had started from a niche 
 behind the stove. There, as office-boy, 
 during numerous short intervals between 
 his multifarious duties, he had rubbed into 
 the wall with the dirt of his jacket and 
 the grease of his hair a permanent impres- 
 sion of his head and shoulder, known in 
 office as ' Eagle's Shadow.' 
 
 At twenty-six, with ' the confidence of his 
 employers,' a hundred a year, and an entire 
 215
 
 2 1 6 Eagles Shadow 
 
 fortnight at midsummer to do what he liked 
 in, he experienced for the first time in his 
 life a feeling of manhood, and was moder- 
 ately well satisfied. Having never had 
 so long a holiday before, he made great 
 preparations for it. As it rained the whole 
 time it was lucky for him that he took 
 some books with him some stories of 
 adventure, Froude's Oceana, and Spencer's 
 Study of Sociology, and a book on language 
 for he was anxious to improve himself. 
 The book that had the greatest effect 
 upon him was Spencer's, of course ; a 
 fact which the reader will please bear in 
 mind. 
 
 On returning to his stool, Ebenezer found 
 that he would require for some days to 
 spend an extra hour or two in posting his 
 books. At six o'clock, therefore, on the 
 evening of the day on which he resumed 
 work, he was alone in the office. He had 
 been copying an invoice into a huge, fat 
 volume, and it was not until the scratching 
 of his pen had ceased with the completion 
 of the copy that he perceived his solitude.
 
 Eagles Shadow 2 1 7 
 
 He shook himself, yawned, slid off his 
 stool, and lounged out of the space railed 
 off for the confidential clerk and himself, 
 and looked about him in the common 
 office. 
 
 Seven hours of the musty smell of sheep- 
 skin binding, mingled with the more pun- 
 gent odour of red ink, had not overcome 
 a spice of novelty in the routine interrupted 
 for a fortnight, and in the dingy room, the 
 aspect of which had not once crossed his 
 mind during his holiday. He examined 
 with subdued interest a curious mark on 
 the lid of a desk which had once been 
 his. He even traced its course with a 
 lead pencil, as he had been in the habit 
 of doing in the past. He wrote his initials 
 with his finger in the dust on a table 
 where a jug of water and a foggy-looking 
 tumbler stood. Then he sat down in an 
 armchair beside the stove, and looked 
 across at ' Eagle's Shadow.' It was a very 
 black mark now, for, though still called 
 after him, each succeeding office-boy had 
 given it another coat. There was no fire
 
 2 1 8 Eagles Shadow 
 
 in the stove ; so he leant his arms on the 
 top of it, and gazed silently at the rough 
 silhouette on the wall. His life rose up 
 before him, and he became very sombre. 
 For about an hour he sat staring at the 
 crude shape. Shortly after seven he started, 
 rubbed his eyes, and glared across the 
 stove in the greatest astonishment. Then 
 he rubbed his eyes again, but the source 
 of his astonishment remained. 
 
 The shape had become a little boy read- 
 ing a book. 
 
 The boy looked up and said, 'Hillo!' 
 
 ' Hillo ! ' echoed Eaglesham mechani- 
 cally. 
 
 'Who are you?' said the boy. 
 
 ' Ebenezer Eaglesham. Who are you?* 
 
 ' I'm the son of Mr Herbert Spencer's 
 "independent observer." Where am I?' 
 
 ' This is the office of Messrs Clay, Clod 
 and M'Latchy.' 
 
 ' What funny names ! ' said the boy, 
 laughing. ' Do you know my father ? ' 
 
 ' I've read about him in Mr Spencer's 
 Study of Sociology'
 
 Eagles Shadow 
 
 ' Have you, now ? What a clever man 
 Mr Spencer must have been ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, he's not dead yet ! ' 
 
 ' Get away ! He's been dead more than 
 five thousand years.' 
 
 ' Nonsense ! He's writing his own life 
 just now.' 
 
 'Well, now, that's funny. Do you know 
 what year this is ? ' 
 
 'Yes; it's 1886.' 
 
 ' It's nothing of the sort. It's 8020. 
 See,' said the boy, showing Eaglesham the 
 title-page of his book, 'there's the date 
 8020.' 
 
 ' So it is ! Where do you come from ? * 
 
 ' Nowhere. This is the world, isn't it ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, but what country ? ' 
 
 ' Country ! Do you live in a country ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; in Scotland, the northern part of 
 Great Britain.' 
 
 'How funny! I'm reading about Great 
 Britain here. Since my father wrote the 
 observation quoted by Mr Spencer, we 
 have learned much more about the pre- 
 historic ages. Manuscripts, and books, and
 
 22O Eagles Shadow 
 
 lots of things have been found, preserved 
 deep down in the glacial strata ; and this 
 is a boy's book telling a story founded 
 on information obtained from these old 
 writings.' 
 
 ' Most extraordinary ! ' 
 
 ' Isn't it! Here are you living in 1886 ; 
 and here's me living in 8020, talking 
 together in the office of Clay, Clod and 
 M'Latchy. I wonder how I came here.' 
 
 4 So do I,' said Eaglesham. 
 
 1 1 suppose I'll go away just as I came.' 
 
 ' I suppose so.' 
 
 * It's a very interesting book this. Would 
 you like to hear some of it?' 
 
 ' I would indeed.' 
 
 'I'll read you a bit of it, then.' 
 
 The boy turned back to the beginning 
 of his book, saying, ' You must know that 
 this is the story of the first historical boy. 
 There is a preliminary chapter which shows 
 who and what were the English, his ances- 
 tors. It explains what it was that first 
 started the atmospheric and other changes 
 which gradually reduced the inhabitants of
 
 Eagles Shadow 221 
 
 the world to two the human inhabitants, 
 you know one, a little boy, who wakened 
 up in the morning at the North Pole, to find 
 himself, as he thought, alone in the world ; 
 and the other, a little girl, who wakened 
 up on the same morning at the South Pole 
 with the same thought. The story is how 
 these two found each other after stupendous 
 adventures. Now, I'll read you the pre- 
 liminary chapter, and I think you'll find it 
 very interesting.' 
 
 The little boy cleared his throat, and read 
 what follows, viz., the first chapter of the 
 historical romance entitled The First Boy. 
 
 ' Our knowledge of the history and 
 geography of the world as it was before 
 our era, even my youngest reader may re- 
 member is still in its infancy. We know 
 most about a portion of land which belonged 
 to our forefathers, and lay in what was 
 termed the North Temperate Zone. It was 
 called Britain, and seems to have been an 
 island. The inhabitants were called English. 
 
 4 The human inhabitants of the earth 
 were not then one race, speaking one
 
 222 Eagle 's Shadow 
 
 language. They were divided into many 
 species, each species having a different 
 dress, a different language, and a separate 
 territory, the boundaries of the last being 
 a constant source of dispute. Some of my 
 young readers may remember the shudder 
 which passed over the whole world one 
 morning when the press announced authen- 
 tically that our predecessors in this globe 
 had for thousands of years habitually settled 
 the most trifling disputes by what they 
 called War. We have been able to make 
 out from certain of their writings that these 
 people never themselves realised to the full 
 the horrors of this devilish art for it be- 
 came an art, and had professors who lived 
 by it alone. It cannot, therefore, be 
 possible for us to comprehend in any due 
 degree the misery brought about by its 
 practice. According to its success in War 
 was a people great. Now the English 
 were the greatest warriors, and conse- 
 quently the greatest and most enlightened 
 people in the world for many hundreds of 
 years. From our knowledge of their
 
 Eagles Shadow 223 
 
 manners and customs this fact tells us in 
 what a terribly savage state the other 
 peoples must have been, especially a race 
 called the French, who were the neighbours 
 of the English, but, from certain statements 
 in the writings of the latter, a people most 
 unlike them in all good qualities. 
 
 ' Many of the manners and customs of 
 the English are inexplicable. For example, 
 the name of one of their great institutions, 
 Rich-and-Poor, conveys no meaning to us. 
 One feature, however, a very expert eth- 
 nologist has been able to make out. By 
 its establishment all people were divided 
 into two classes or castes, viz., those who 
 had nothing to do, and had all the good 
 things of life at their disposal ; and those 
 who had all the work to do, and in return 
 received, very grudgingly from the others, 
 food and time to sleep. Sometimes I 
 think that this must have been a much 
 worse institution even than War. Traces 
 are not wanting in the writings of those 
 unfortunate people of an inclination to 
 rebel against this institution ; but, as one
 
 224 Eagles Shadow 
 
 of their thinkers said, they were enchanted, 
 and could only submit. 
 
 ' There seems to have been a time when 
 Britain lost its supremacy. The chief 
 cause of this period of eclipse, which was 
 not of long duration, arose from injudicious 
 treatment of the numerous colonies estab- 
 lished by the English in various parts of 
 the world. These offshoots were in some 
 cases allowed to straggle pretty much as 
 they pleased ; in others, trained in a manner 
 contrary to their actual bent ; in all mis- 
 managed. Britain, a small over-populated 
 island, was no longer able to cope single- 
 handed with any of the powerful peoples 
 of Europe the name of the large territory 
 inhabited by the French, Germans and 
 Russians. These nations, all of them re- 
 lated by blood and language to the Eng- 
 lish, had for centuries been at war among 
 themselves. But there had grown up an 
 uncontrollable hatred of Britain. While 
 the other nations had been wasting their 
 energies in fighting each other, the Eng- 
 lish had amassed much more than their
 
 Eagle s Shadow 225 
 
 share of the world's wealth, and had ac- 
 quired all the most valuable lands. Tak- 
 ing advantage of the estrangement of the 
 English colonies from the mother-land, the 
 nations of Europe formed an alliance for the 
 overthrow of the British Empire. They 
 combined their fleets, and sent two millions 
 of men to invade the hated island. So great 
 had been the breach between its colonies 
 and Britain, that the Europeans did not 
 think it necessary to take the former into 
 account. Their whole power was con- 
 centrated against Britain ; and in spite of 
 the opposition of the English fleet, until that 
 time invincible, a landing was effected. For 
 the first time during more than six hundred 
 years a foreign army trod British soil. The 
 captain of the British forces, unable to face 
 such a mass of men in the open country, 
 retired to London, the metropolis of the 
 island. It is impossible for us to under- 
 stand what London was ; all we know is, 
 that it was an immense place called a city, 
 crowded with people. 
 
 'When the English army retreated to 
 p
 
 226 Eagle's Shadow 
 
 London it was followed by throngs of re- 
 fugees from all parts of the country, until 
 the city contained more than double its 
 ordinary population. It was gorged with 
 humanity, and the influx of the panic- 
 stricken folk had to cease. A cordon of 
 men actual soldiers, as they called their 
 professional fighters, could not be spared 
 soon surrounded the city, and there was 
 an end to all ingress or egress except by 
 order of the captain. An effective circum- 
 vallation was rapidly improvised, and the 
 siege began. 
 
 'Contemporary accounts hitherto dis- 
 covered are few, meagre and contradic- 
 tory ; but we are able to give a short 
 statement of the main features of the 
 siege. There seems, first of all, to have 
 been a pitched battle, in which the Eng- 
 lish were badly beaten, and driven behind 
 their fortifications. Then the invaders 
 began to throw explosives, killing many 
 people and destroying many buildings. 
 No attempt was made at first to fire the 
 city, as the rank and file of the foreign
 
 Eagles Shadow 227 
 
 armies would not hear of it, afraid lest 
 too much of the expected loot might be 
 destroyed.' 
 
 4 By-the-bye,' exclaimed the boy, look- 
 ing up from his book, ' I have skipped 
 some footnotes explaining words. I know 
 their meanings, having read the chapter 
 before. I suppose, as you are living 
 about the time these events happened, 
 you will know the meanings of all 
 the words that are obsolete to us?' 
 
 ' Perfectly,' said Eaglesham. ' Go on.' 
 
 The boy resumed his reading. 
 
 ' But the European hordes grew im- 
 patient, and several quarters of the city 
 were set on fire, the invaders anticipating 
 that in the confusion they would be en- 
 abled to force an entrance. This ruse, 
 however, failed, and the enemy withdrew 
 to their trenches. A truce of several days 
 was asked for and granted. The English 
 rightly judged that the time was to be 
 occupied in preparation for a general attack, 
 and they set themselves to devise means 
 to repel it. They had ammunition and ex-
 
 228 Eagle's Shadow 
 
 plosives of extraordinary kinds, the nature 
 and the employment of which are alike 
 riddles to us. One of the numerous 
 stratagems of the besieged we are en- 
 abled to describe. Between the city and 
 the external fortifications there extended 
 a belt varying from a hundred to a thou- 
 sand yards. Many houses were in this 
 space, but they were tenanted only by 
 soldiers on duty. By a superhuman effort 
 a great number of rails were laid across 
 this zone, and all the available engines 
 and railway-carriages, charged with ex- 
 plosives and missiles, were placed on 
 them. On the expiry of the truce, as 
 was expected, a furious onslaught began 
 on all sides. Some resistance was made 
 as a blind, but soon all the English with- 
 drew behind the trains. With hideous 
 clamour the enemy rushed like a boiling 
 sea into the awful trap. Some hesitated 
 for a moment, suspecting an ambush, but 
 the thought of the enormous wealth within 
 their grasp urged them on. The trains 
 were all ready ; the electric wires all con-
 
 Eagles Shadow 229 
 
 nected with a central battery. At once, 
 at sixty miles an hour, some thousands 
 of death-laden waggons ploughed through 
 the appalled masses of men. In the 
 preceding events of the siege close on 
 half a million of the enemy had fallen ; 
 the remainder by this desperate stratagem 
 was annihilated. We, who know death 
 only as a cessation of life when the com- 
 plement of years is ended, can but shudder 
 and forget that such a doom was once 
 fulfilled. No shout of victory rose from 
 the affrighted Londoners, nor were they 
 allowed time to realise the success of 
 their murderous device. While crowds 
 were yet thronging to the barriers, the 
 drums beat to arms, the bells hammered 
 from all the steeples, and the people, with 
 murmured wonder and questioning faces, 
 surged into the streets and squares where 
 their chief men dwelt The news was 
 soon published. A second army had been 
 perceived by the balloon watchman march- 
 ing from the north. A groan went through 
 the whole city ; shrieks and shouts and
 
 230 Eagle s Shadow 
 
 lamentations rose everywhere ; but the 
 order for all not under arms to retire to 
 their houses was issued, and the streets 
 were cleared for a breathing space in 
 some instances at the point of the bayonet. 
 'The second army, though not so well 
 disciplined, outnumbered the first. Fully 
 one-third of it consisted of barbarians from 
 lands lying east of Europe. Their very 
 dress was sufficient to strike terror to the 
 hearts of less savage people ; and they had 
 strange music with them. The English 
 army now suffered what it had often in- 
 flicted on others. In their own countries 
 these barbarians had been defeated times 
 without number by the English in their 
 outlandish uniforms, with unknown music, 
 and weapons apparently miraculous. But 
 now the barbarians were the invaders, and 
 the bulk of the English, panic-stricken, 
 threw down their arms and fled. The 
 unarmed populace was not slow to follow. 
 The captain with a few hundred brave men 
 surrounded one of their important buildings. 
 We do not know of what nature this build-
 
 Eagle's Shadow 231 
 
 ing was ; but the captain judged rightly 
 that the foreigners would not care to destroy 
 it. By this disposition of his forces one 
 point at least was gained : each man could 
 die fighting with his back to the wall. 
 
 ' The second army, after the stupor caused 
 by the sight of the blackened, bloody, and 
 still smoking belt of exploded humanity had 
 in a measure passed, broke all bounds of disci- 
 pline. " Revenge ! " in one terrible roar and 
 a hundred dialects carried new fear to the 
 distant fliers ; while the stern ring in the 
 city gripped their weapons and knew their 
 time had come. In groups, in fragments 
 of regiment, in twos and threes, heedless 
 of the word of command, the avengers 
 rushed on. There was no pillaging ; de- 
 struction reigned. Hundreds of people, 
 belated by greed or foolhardinesss, fell 
 shrieking ; street after street was set on 
 fire, and for a time it seemed as if the 
 whole city were about to perish. In 
 vain the captains rode hither and thither, 
 ordering and even slaying. What dis- 
 cipline could not do, the lust of spoil
 
 232 Eagles Shadow 
 
 achieved. The immense wealth which 
 lay to their hands had been forgotten in 
 the first emotions of horror and vengeance ; 
 but blood and fire having taken the edge 
 off these, and a sight of the treasure 
 which was to be their principal pay 
 having awakened a dread lest the prize 
 should escape them, those who had taken 
 the lead in destruction began to organise 
 salvage parties, and in a short time most 
 of the fires were under control. Lust of 
 pillage, however, proved as strong as that 
 of vengeance ; discipline was further from 
 reasserting itself than ever, and the leaders 
 had given up in despair, when it was 
 bruited about that a remnant of the 
 British force still stood under arms. On the 
 spread of this news among the common 
 soldiers the slumbering desire for ven- 
 geance woke up unsatiated, and a great 
 body of them were soon in their ranks 
 again. 
 
 ' It was many hours since the last of 
 the English had surrounded their famous 
 building. They could have fought, oh !
 
 Eagles Shadow 233 
 
 so well ! and died so manfully ! But 
 they had not bargained for this waiting. 
 Every face was white, every eye blood- 
 shot with anguish ; some fainted, and 
 one man dropped dead. Only the courage 
 and endurance of their captain supported 
 them. He rode round at intervals with 
 a word and a smile for everyone. They 
 were at a considerable distance from the 
 outskirts of the city, and during most 
 part of their long vigil were utterly at a 
 loss, except for the flames, as to what 
 was going forward. At last some idea 
 of the disorderly state of the enemy 
 dawned upon their leader, and a wild 
 hope of defeating them piecemeal flashed 
 through his brain ; but, while this was 
 in contemplation, word came from the 
 watchman that a third army was approach- 
 ing from the west. Then the blood 
 surged up into the faces of these men ; 
 fire sprang from their eyes ; and, as if 
 they had drunk deeply of strong wine, 
 they shook off the drowsier hopelessness, 
 and steeled their spirits with despair.
 
 234 Eagle s Shadow 
 
 But word came that the standards of the 
 new army were banners striped and 
 starred ; and with that a wail rose from 
 the devoted ring, and strong men were 
 convulsed with sobs. They knew by the 
 banners that this army came from the 
 United States a country which had been 
 their first great colony, but which, by 
 their mismanagement, had broken from 
 them altogether, and had latterly become 
 a rival, though on moderately friendly 
 terms. These banners told them that 
 their very flesh and blood, speaking their 
 own language, was come against them. 
 They wept and cried aloud, and dashed 
 themselves against the wall. It was not 
 that their vanity was hurt ; but that the 
 sons of their great ancestors should come 
 to rejoice in their final overthrow was 
 more than they could bear. 
 
 ' Suddenly shouts and a shot or two 
 forced their tortured thoughts to a more 
 pressing matter. The second army had 
 found them out, and were pouring upon 
 them by every approach, the barbarians
 
 Eagle s Shadow 235 
 
 in the van. On they came, firing reck- 
 lessly. Steady and true when actual 
 damage could be done, the English re- 
 plied, and the attacking party fell back. 
 Twice again they came on, after deliver- 
 ing their fire, and twice again they were 
 compelled to retire. The Europeans held 
 aloof, having no intention of wasting their 
 lives as long as a barbarian was left; and 
 the leaders would not allow artillery, as 
 they wished to save the building. 
 
 * The first three onslaughts had been 
 carelessly conducted, or rather not at all 
 conducted ; a fourth was to be made 
 with greater regularity. The word had 
 just been given to advance, when there 
 came a blast of music. All paused to 
 listen. Though the players were at a 
 distance, a blare of trumpets and roll of 
 drums pealed forth unmistakably the tune 
 of "Rule, Britannia," the war - song of 
 the English. The barbarians were the 
 first to recognise it. They had heard it 
 on many a battlefield ; and now, coming 
 as it were out of the sky, it demoralised
 
 236 Eagles Shadow 
 
 them and they fled precipitately. At first 
 the English did not believe their ears ; 
 but as the tune grew louder and louder 
 doubt fled. Nobody, however, except the 
 leader, guessed what was taking place. 
 He ordered his men to form in front of 
 the building ; then he said simply, " The 
 Yankees." 
 
 ' A flash of eyes like lightning glim- 
 mered over the forlorn troop, and a hoarse, 
 hysterical cry burst from their quivering 
 lips, followed by a stupendous cheer. 
 
 ' " Follow me ! " cried the captain. 
 
 ' Shouting their war-song at the pitch 
 of their voices, and with the tears stream- 
 ing down their faces, they dashed through 
 the amazed Europeans, and reached the 
 Yankees without the loss of a single 
 man. 
 
 ' For weeks the United States forces 
 had been in Britain, friendly from the 
 first. A third European army, guarding 
 the coast, had been fought with many 
 times before they reached London. The 
 moment the way was clear, they had
 
 Eagle s Shadow 237 
 
 advanced, playing the English war-song to 
 announce their presence and their amity. 
 
 ' In vain do we look for details of the 
 events succeeding the relief of London. 
 The broad facts are these : the European 
 armies had to surrender; all the English- 
 speaking races united in a great federa- 
 tion ; and there is no trace of the 
 recurrence of a general war. 
 
 ' One May morning, a while after the 
 close of the war, the English in Britain 
 were taking a holiday. Peace, prosperity, 
 and a considerable modification of the in- 
 stitution of Rich-and-Poor had improved 
 the social condition in such a notable 
 degree that some of the more sanguine 
 were beginning to apply to their country 
 the title, long disused, of " Merry Eng- 
 land." In many places May-poles had 
 been erected, and dancing and light- 
 hearted festivity were going on in the 
 open air, as in the times of their great 
 poet Shakespeare pretty much, from all 
 that we can gather, in the manner of our 
 own outdoor merry-makings.
 
 238 Eagles Shadow 
 
 ' Without any warning, while the mirth 
 was at its height, a long, hollow whisper 
 was borne inward from the western sea- 
 board a whisper so deep and far-reach- 
 ing that it was heard even at Lowestoft- 
 ness, the most easterly point in Britain. 
 A stagnation in the air as if the earth 
 had stood still followed, and then a wind 
 began. It came from the north-east, and 
 was at first pleasant and bracing, for the 
 sun shone in a cloudless sky. Gradually 
 and then rapidly the cold increased ; the 
 heavens grew grey, and snow began to 
 fall. The ribbons were frozen to the May- 
 poles ; the hobby-horse and the dragon's 
 case, thrown aside by the horror-stricken 
 Morris - dancers, made fantastic shapes 
 under the snow ; barrels of ale left run- 
 ning froze at the tap with amber icicles. 
 It is impossible to describe the terrors of 
 that day and night. In twenty-four hours 
 there was a change from the rosy blush 
 and the green mantle of early summer 
 to the nakedness and pallor of the depth 
 of winter such a winter as the country
 
 Eagles Shadow 239 
 
 had never known, a winter that should 
 last for ages. Britain was an iceberg. 
 What had happened? 
 
 ' The Nihilists, a party that wished 
 for the overturn of all the institutions of 
 their time in order to start afresh, had 
 for many years been so silent that the 
 world thought them entirely disorganised. 
 This was not the case. Though silent, 
 they had not been idle. A large body 
 of them, not known to be Nihilists, had 
 secured territory on an isthmus which 
 connected the two divisions of the western 
 world. Their professed intention was to 
 establish a colony which should govern 
 itself on principles absolutely altruistic. 
 The English, to whom the land belonged, 
 surrendered gladly. Ship-loads of emi- 
 grants, all Nihilists, crossed from the 
 eastern world ; and no one interfered 
 with the new attempt to realise the 
 golden age. 
 
 ' Now the ocean between the eastern and 
 western worlds was an immense oval whirl- 
 pool, called the Atlantic, and the outside
 
 240 Eagle s Shadow 
 
 sweep of it was known as the Gulf- 
 stream. This whirlpool brought round 
 to Europe some of the warmth acquired 
 by the waters as they span round 
 the Tropics, and so maintained the 
 equable climate of the North Temperate 
 Zone.' 
 
 Suddenly the boy vanished. There was 
 nothing but the grimy shadow on the 
 wall. Ebenezer Eaglesham speculated for 
 some minutes on the means adopted by 
 the Nihilists to divert the course of the 
 Gulf-stream, for he thought that that 
 must have been the way by which the 
 change in the world's atmosphere had 
 been wrought. He wondered if it could 
 have been by an immense subterranean 
 tunnel through Panama. Then he won- 
 dered what changes had followed which 
 brought about the destruction of mankind, 
 all except the hero and heroine of the 
 story. Remembering, however, that the 
 boy had been reading fiction to him, he 
 concluded that it was not worth further 
 consideration.
 
 Eagle s Shadow 241 
 
 Staring vacantly, and with hasty yet 
 
 curiously exact movements like those of a 
 
 somnambulist, he put past his books and 
 went home.
 
 THE SALVATION OF NATURE
 
 THE SALVATION OF NATURE. 
 
 ON the day that Sir Wenyeve Westa way's 
 World's Pleasance Bill became law, the 
 happy baronet kissed his wife and said, 
 ' Lily, darling, it has taken twenty years, 
 but we have saved Nature.' 
 
 1 Never mind, dear,' said Lady Westaway, 
 who, though a true helpmeet, loved to quiz 
 her husband, ' the time has not been wholly 
 wasted.' 
 
 'Wholly wasted!' cried Sir Wenyeve, 
 too much in earnest for even the mildest 
 persiflage. 'The salvation of Nature is 
 a task worthy of an antediluvian life- 
 time.' 
 
 ' In the longest life there is only one 
 youth,' sighed Lady Westaway, as she left 
 the library. 
 
 She was thirty-five years old, and her 
 245
 
 246 The Salvation of Nature 
 
 married life had been a continuous intrigue 
 to bring about the fulfilment of her husband's 
 dream. Now that his object was gained, 
 she felt that her youth and prime had passed 
 like a rout at the close of the season stale, 
 unenjoyed, immemorable. But she dressed 
 beautifully on the night of her husband's 
 triumph ; and the subtler of her guests mis- 
 took the sadness in her eyes and voice for 
 the exquisite melancholy which overcomes 
 some natures when an arduous undertaking 
 is accomplished. 
 
 The day after Sir Wenyeve's banquet cele- 
 brating the passage of his Bill, two thousand 
 clerks and message boys posted two million 
 copies of the following prospectus. The 
 list of directors, financial agents, bankers, 
 managers, and other uninteresting details are 
 omitted. 
 
 THE WORLD'S PLEASANCE COMPANY, LIMITED. 
 Incorporated under the Companies Acts. 
 
 Capital . . . ; 2 oo, ooo, ooo. 
 Issue of 1,000,000 shares of ^"100 each, of
 
 The Salvation of Nature 247 
 
 which ^50 is called up as follows : ^5 on 
 application, ^"5 on allotment, 20 on May 
 i, and 20 on July i. The remaining 
 ^50 per share is to form security for de- 
 bentures. 
 
 The capital of the company is divided 
 into 2,000,000 shares of ;ioo each, of 
 which 
 
 i 650,000 shares will be issued as ordinary 
 shares, entitled to a cumulative dividend of 
 15 per cent, before the deferred shares par- 
 ticipate in profit. 
 
 350,000 shares as deferred shares to be 
 issued at ^50 paid, which will not be en- 
 titled to participate in dividend until 15 per 
 cent, has been paid on the paid up capital 
 of the ordinary shareholders. 
 
 The deferred shares and 600,000 of the 
 ordinary shares will be taken by the pro- 
 moters in part payment of the price. 
 
 This company has been incorporated for 
 the purpose of acquiring that part of Great 
 Britain known as the kingdom of Scotland, 
 with the outer and inner Hebrides and the 
 Orkney and Shetland Isles.
 
 248 The Salvation of Nature 
 
 It is estimated that three-quarters of the 
 capital of the company will be expended on 
 the purchase of Scotland ; the remainder to 
 be devoted 
 
 i. To the demolition of all manufac- 
 tories, foundries, building-yards, railways, 
 tramways, walls, fences, and all unnatural 
 divisions, and of all buildings, with some 
 few exceptions, of a later date than 
 1700 A.D. 
 
 2. To the purchase of a number of the 
 Polynesian Islands. 
 
 3. To the importation of these islands and 
 the distribution of their soil over the razed 
 cities, towns, villages, etc. 
 
 When the land has thus been returned to 
 the bosom of Nature, it will remain there un- 
 molested for a year or two. At the end of 
 this nursing-time, Scotland, having been in a 
 manner born again, will be called by its new 
 name, ' The World's Pleasance ' ; and visitors 
 will be admitted during the six months of 
 summer and autumn on payment of ^"50 for 
 each individual per month. At the rate of 
 100,000 visitors per month, this will give an
 
 The Salvation of Nature 249 
 
 income of .30,000,000. Figures like these 
 m:ed no comment. 
 
 Every species of tent, marquee, awning, 
 and canvas or waterproof erection ; every 
 species of rowing or sailing vessel ; and 
 every species of rational land conveyance 
 will be permitted in the World's Pleasance ; 
 but there must not be laid one stone upon 
 another ; nor shall steam, electricity or 
 hydraulic power be used for any purpose, 
 except for the working of Professor Pen- 
 pergwyn's dew-condensers. One of these 
 machines will be erected at John o' Groat's 
 House, and another at Kirkmaiden. Pro- 
 fessor Penpergwyn has recently, at the 
 request of the promoters of this com- 
 pany, devoted all his time to perfecting 
 his celebrated apparatus ; and we are 
 happy to be able to state that the 
 cloud-compelling attachment for withhold- 
 ing rain from an area greater than half 
 that of Scotland, now works with the 
 requisite power, regularity and delicacy ; 
 while the dew-condensers proper can, at 
 a moment's notice, fill the air with any
 
 250 The Salvation of Nature 
 
 degree of moisture, from the filmiest mist ta 
 a deluge. 
 
 The promoters of this company congratu- 
 late themselves, and the peoples of every 
 continent, on the salvation of a fragment of 
 the Old World from the jaws of Civilisation ; 
 and in conclusion they think they cannot do 
 better than quote the peroration of Sir 
 Wenyeve Westaway's great speech on the 
 motion for the third reading of the Bill with 
 which his name will be associated to the end 
 of time. The honourable baronet said in 
 conclusion, ' If you would loosen the shackles 
 which bind the poetry and art of the day ; 
 if you would give a little ease to the voice- 
 less, suffering earth, crushed in the iron 
 shell of civilisation, like the skull of a 
 martyr in that Venetian head-screw which 
 ground to a pulp bone and brain and flesh ; 
 if, in a word, you would provide a home, 
 a second Academe, a new Arcadia for poetry 
 and art, these illustrious outcasts ; if you 
 would save Nature, you will pass this Bill. 
 Make Scotland the World's Pleasance, and 
 I venture to predict that the benefits spring-
 
 The Salvation of Nature 251 
 
 ing from such a recreation-ground to Art 
 and Morality will be so immense, that the 
 world will bless, as long as the earth en- 
 dures, the legislators who licensed the 
 creation of a second Eden.' 
 
 The demand for shares during the week 
 in which the prospectus was published was 
 more than double the supply. Ling-long, 
 the Chinese perpetual president of the 
 United States, applied for a thousand ; but 
 his Perpetuity had to be contented with 
 ten. All the kings and queens in the 
 world took as many as could be allotted 
 to them. The ancient list of the world's 
 seven wonders was cancelled, and the 
 company's palatial and labyrinthine offices 
 on the English banks of the Tweed be- 
 came the initial wonder of a new one. 
 And Sir Wenyeve Westaway ? He was 
 made a peer of the realm, and the com- 
 pany, in the joy of success, voted him for 
 two lives the sole right of visiting the 
 island of Arran. 
 
 Professor Penpergwyn superintended the
 
 252 The Salvation of Nature 
 
 destruction of civilised Scotland. Electrite 
 was the explosive used, on account of the 
 precision with which the upheaval produced 
 by a given charge could be calculated. It 
 was possible with this remarkable inven- 
 tion to destroy one half of a building, and 
 leave the other undamaged; for the debris 
 fell back, like an ill-thrown boomerang, 
 exactly to the spot whence it had shot 
 up. The Professor was truly a great man. 
 When all the railways and tramways had 
 been removed, and sold at great profit 
 to the Chinese ; when all the wires had 
 been prepared, and half the known tar, 
 and every tar-barrel beneath the sun had 
 been duly distributed among the build- 
 ings to be deracinated, he let the world 
 into the secret of the broad and lofty 
 piers which he had erected on many parts 
 of the Scottish coast, at various distances 
 from the shore. From them the public 
 could view the great fire, on payment to 
 the Professor of three guineas per head. He 
 provided no conveyance to or from the piers. 
 He guaranteed nothing, either regarding their
 
 The Salvation of Nature 255 
 
 security or the width of view which they 
 commanded. You paid your money and took 
 your chance. Two million people bought 
 tickets. The Professor's profit, deducting 
 the cost of the piers, and of *he huge 
 army of ticket-collectors, was ,2,000,000. 
 
 On the last night of the year, Scotland 
 was set on fire. The Professor had utilised 
 the Scotch telegraph wires. By their means 
 all his mines were connected with the 
 battery at which he sat in London, waiting 
 impatiently till ten should strike. In the 
 moment of the last stroke he touched the 
 machine ; then he set off for Kamtschatka 
 with his wife and his only daughter, a child 
 of seven years. 
 
 As will be surmised, this extraordinary 
 man was not the only individual who waited 
 with impatience till ten o'clock that night. 
 All England, all 'the world was en fete. 
 Miniature explosions were prepared in every 
 town and hamlet, in nearly every street and 
 lane in the four quarters of the globe each 
 little mine surrounded by a restless mob. 
 But the most impatient of all the inhabi-
 
 254 The Salvation of Nature 
 
 tants of the earth were the two millions of 
 men and women who crowded the Professor's 
 piers. 
 
 At a minute from ten, the human zone 
 girdling Scotland was as silent as death. 
 All the clocks in all the towers and steeples 
 in the doomed country had been wound 
 up for that night. There was no wind, 
 and the air was frosty. When the hour 
 rang the last hour that should ever ring 
 in Scotland pealing in many tones, but 
 harmonised by the distance to the ears 
 of the listeners, so that poets thought of 
 swan-songs and the phcenix, and the 
 most prosaic remembered the death-knell 
 a strong thrill passed through the multitude 
 and a rustle went about from pier to pier, 
 like a wind wandering among the woods. 
 Not a star could be seen. Scotland was 
 only discerned as a more intense black- 
 ness in the bosom of the night. The 
 silence after the striking of the hour was 
 deeper than before so deep that the 
 people heard faintly the petty plash of the 
 waves against the piers.
 
 The Salvation of Nature 255 
 
 Suddenly the Cheviots were tipped with 
 fire, and two million faces grew pale. In 
 the same breathless instant these faces, 
 rank after rank, loomed out in the light 
 of the burning country, as the land-wide 
 flash sped over the mountains to Cape 
 Wrath, and a sound as if the thunder of 
 a century had been gathered into one 
 terrific, long-rolling peal shook the whole 
 sea, and forced every head to bend. Then 
 again silence and blackness, uttermost, 
 appalling. All the people trembled. A 
 wife said to her husband in the lowest 
 whisper ever breathed, ' I am going mad.' 
 
 'And I too,' he replied hoarsely. 
 
 A sage old man beside them, who over- 
 heard their whispers, cried ' Hurrah ! ' 
 
 It broke the spell. From pier to pier the 
 word ran until the shout became general. 
 
 ' Hurrah ! hurrah ! ' the most voluminous 
 cheer on record and with that the people 
 fell a- talk ing. 
 
 ' Has it failed ? ' was the universal question. 
 The wise old fellow who had started the 
 cheer thought not.
 
 256 The Salvation of Nature 
 
 ' The explosions are over,' he said, ' but 
 the fires will soon break out.' 
 
 And he was right. Even as he spoke 
 tongues of flame were jetting up. It was 
 then five minutes past ten. In another 
 minute, Scotland looked like a huge leviathan, 
 spotted and brindled with eyes and stripes 
 of fire. Where the towns were thick these 
 ran into each other, and soon the Lowlands 
 were wrapped in one glowing sheet. The 
 smoke wallowed on high, and dipped and 
 writhed in and out among the flames. 
 Description shrivels before such a scene. 
 
 ' Behold,' cried Lord Westaway, ' the 
 altar on which the world sacrifices to Nature 
 for the sin of Civilisation!' 
 
 It is not known when the last flame of 
 the great fire went out ; but in the end 
 of February the first fleet of vessels from 
 Polynesia arrived in the Clyde. They 
 landed their cargoes among the ruins of 
 Glasgow ; and the debris on the Broomielaw 
 was soon covered with the dust of the coral 
 insect. 
 
 In six months the reclamation of Scotland
 
 The Salvation of Nature 257 
 
 to the bosom of Nature was completed by 
 a million men, who wrought in three relays, 
 night and day. Professor Penpergwyn's 
 piers were then destroyed ; and a cordon 
 of five hundred war-vessels was placed 
 along the coast, and not a human foot trod 
 Scottish earth or Polynesian earth in Scot- 
 land for two years. 
 
 Lord Westaway, on the day the company 
 granted him the Island of Arran, had shut 
 himself up in his study. Three hours he 
 brooded, and then summoned his son, 
 Lewellyn, a handsome boy, in his eleventh 
 year. 
 
 ' Lewellyn/ said Lord Westaway, ' I am 
 going to prepare Arran for you. You will 
 enter into possession on your twenty-first 
 birthday. I will make it the most remark- 
 able island in the world.' 
 
 'How will you do that, papa?' 
 
 'Do not inquire; don't try to discover 
 from any source ; your surprise and pleasure 
 ten years hence will be the greater.' 
 
 The boy, who worshipped his father, 
 agreed to this unhesitatingly.
 
 258 The Salvation of Nature 
 
 The World's Pleasance brought down 
 the world. At the close of the first season 
 in which the rejuvenated Scotland was 
 open to the public, instead of the fifteen 
 per cent, expected by the promoters, a 
 dividend of thirty per cent, was declared 
 on all the shares. From many glowing 
 contemporary accounts of the wonders of 
 the great pleasure-ground, I select the 
 following letter of the young Empress of 
 the East to her Prime Minister, whom 
 she afterwards married, as being the least 
 overcharged : 
 
 Extract from the Letter of the Empress of 
 the East. 
 
 'We landed in the end of June on the 
 shore where Leith once stood. I was 
 carried up to Edinburgh in a litter, the 
 rugged nature of the ground preventing 
 any other mode of conveyance. A Greek 
 temple-like building formerly a picture- 
 gallery, I believe had been prepared for 
 us. The rent of it is enormous, as the
 
 The Salvation of Nature 259 
 
 company put up to auction all the habitable 
 buildings in the country. This was ren- 
 dered necessary by the battles which 
 took place for the possession of historical 
 or finely situated houses. At first the 
 directors thought the fighting would lend 
 an additional charm to life here; but when 
 Ling-long, the American president, besieged 
 the Emperor of the French in Holyrood 
 with bows and arrows and battering-rams 
 a bye-law forbids the use of all explosives 
 and took the palace with the loss of 
 several lives on both sides, interference was 
 deemed expedient. All fighting, except in 
 the tourney, is now done with quarter-staves. 
 Every third day we have a quarrel with 
 some other potentate about a fishing-stream 
 or a glade for hawking in. My greatest 
 enemy is the King of England, who lives 
 in Edinburgh Castle. We are very warm 
 friends and model disputants, complying 
 graciously with the bye-law which adjudges 
 victory to the side that first draws blood. 
 Although the King's retinue exceeds mine, 
 my Tartar giant, by his superior strength
 
 260 The Salvation of Nature 
 
 and agility, manages, as a rule, to finish. 
 the fight in our favour. 
 
 1 1 will just go on scribbling in my woman's 
 way as I have begun. The next thing that 
 occurs to me is the splendour of Edinburgh. 
 It is pronounced by everybody the most 
 beautiful piece of the juvenile country. 
 Scientific men are much perplexed by it, 
 as indeed they are by all the newly natur- 
 alised land. It would seem that at present 
 there is a struggle going on between the 
 imported tropical vegetation and the native 
 plants and grasses. The latter have con- 
 quered in Edinburgh. It is covered with 
 young heather and broom and bracken, 
 and only here and there a dwarfed alien 
 plant appears. The billows of purple and 
 green and gold toss about in what was the 
 New Town, and, swirling across the valley, 
 roll up the High Street to throw splashes 
 of colour here and there on the Castle 
 esplanade. 
 
 'We are clad in sixteenth century cos- 
 tumes ; the King of England and his 
 Court in dresses of the time of the Charleses.
 
 The Salvation of Nature 261 
 
 Nearly all the Americans go about in 
 Greek robes, as gods and goddesses, heroes 
 and heroines. The French Court is a 
 miniature of that of Louis XIV. The 
 Russians are dressed in Lincoln green ; 
 the Czar is called Robin Hood, and the 
 Czarina, Maid Marian. We have no clocks ; 
 the dial is our only timekeeper. It is all 
 a great masque, from the country itself to 
 the pot-boys and scullions. Last week I 
 rode as far north as Perth, and seemed to 
 journey through all the times and peoples 
 of Europe. Here, in a broad meadow, we 
 saw a tournament, where some princess sat 
 as queen of love and beauty. A few miles 
 further on we passed a water-party of the 
 Restoration, with music and laughter. Then 
 a pavilion gleamed white among the trees, 
 and there two knights of the Round Table 
 hung out their blazoned shields. Up rode> 
 with lofty air, Don Quixote, wearing the 
 veritable helmet of Mambrino. Behind, all 
 amort, on a sorry ass, ambled the wisest 
 of fools, dear old Sancho Panza. " What, 
 ho! vile recreants!" cried the knight of La
 
 262 The Salvation of Nature 
 
 Mancha, and struck exultingly one of the 
 shields. We stood aside to watch the en- 
 counter, and beheld him of the sorrowful 
 countenance go down before the spear of 
 Launcelot of the Lake. Anon, Mary Queen 
 of Scots, followed by Douglases and Graemes 
 and Setons, sped by, chasing a stag of ten. 
 "Splendeur de Dieu!" cried a deep voice 
 in front; and a body of Norman knights 
 charged the Scotsmen. But after a brief 
 battle, William the Conqueror and Mary 
 Stuart agreed to hunt together. 
 
 ' O me ! my heart is sick with dreaming 
 over these old times. And yet, although I 
 know it is the signal for my return, I long 
 for the day when you are to come, my 
 faithful friend. 
 
 ' I have some, and shall have more, very 
 pleasant stories to tell you of a party of 
 Germans, who have undertaken to act 
 through all Shakespeare's comedies, with 
 the whole World's Pleasance for stage, 
 naming places after localities in the plays> 
 and travelling about as the scene requires. 
 They have already acted two comedies,
 
 The Salvation of Nature 263 
 
 and in each of them real passions and 
 events have grown out of the fiction, so 
 that the company has lost half its original 
 members owing to elopements and quarrels. 
 This is a long letter, and I am tired.' 
 
 One result of the success of the World's 
 Pleasance Company was the establishment 
 of similar companies in nearly every country. 
 The Americans reclaimed Peru and Cali- 
 fornia. The Empress of the East was the 
 principal promoter of a company for the 
 naturalisation of Greece. The French re- 
 claimed Provence ; the Germans the Rhine 
 Provinces. Italy was given over entirely 
 to Nature ; and the whole Italian nation 
 became brigands. This country was much 
 frequented by young people in search of 
 adventure. The African Republics made 
 pleasances of Algeria, and the country 
 about the great lakes ; and a gigantic 
 Asiatic company bought up the Himalayas 
 and the Indo-Chinese Peninsula. For eight 
 years all these pleasance companies paid 
 great percentages, and immense fortunes
 
 264 The Salvation of Nature 
 
 were made. Every other man was a 
 millionaire. Then it seemed that the world 
 came bankrupt. Thousands of people 
 committed suicide. Famine followed bank- 
 ruptcy ; and after it came a new disease. 
 It began in India, and travelled almost as 
 fast as the news of its ravages. People 
 fled to their pleasances for refuge, but the 
 pest was there before them. Cities were 
 emptied in a day. In every town and 
 hamlet the last to die thought himself the 
 last man, and posed mentally as such. 
 London was swept of life like the deck of 
 a vessel by a mountainous wave. In the 
 World's Pkasance people wandered about 
 in twos and threes, shunning strangers, 
 digging roots, dropping dead. Most of 
 them wore their holiday costumes. Some 
 few carried bottles of wine, and laughed 
 and sang. But the time for such desper- 
 ate jollity soon passed, and the plague 
 remained. 
 
 In the beginning of July, an old man 
 of great freshness and vigour appeared in 
 that part of the Pleasance formerly known
 
 The Salvation of Nature 265 
 
 as Ayrshire. He approached everybody 
 he met. To those whom he could stay, 
 he put this question, ' Do you know any- 
 thing of Lewellyn Westaway?' A languid 
 shake of the head was all the answer he 
 ever got So many kept him aloof, that 
 he resorted to calling out his question at 
 the pitch of his voice. For an entire fore- 
 noon he did this ; and shortly after midday 
 a man dropped out of a tree almost on his 
 head, and said, * I am Lewellyn Westaway.' 
 
 * And I,' said the old man, 'am Professor 
 Penpergwyn.' 
 
 The Professor wore a white hat and a 
 black frock coat, old and rusty. Lewellyn 
 was dressed in a purple velvet doublet, 
 and from his close-fitting cap a feather 
 hung gracefully, and mingled with his 
 long hair. The contrast was striking. 
 
 'What do you want with me?' asked 
 Lewellyn. 
 
 'Why are you not in Arran?' 
 
 'In Arran?' 
 
 'Yes; you are twenty-one now, and the 
 island awaits you.'
 
 266 The Salvation of Nature 
 
 ' I had forgotten about it.' 
 
 ' Drink this, and go there at once.' 
 
 * What's this ? and why should I ga 
 there at once?' 
 
 'This,' said the Professor, opening the 
 morocco case he had offered Lewellyn, and 
 holding up a little vial, 'is an infallible 
 remedy for the plague.' 
 
 Lewellyn laughed scornfully. 
 
 'Faithless, faithless!' cried the Pro- 
 fessor, looking earnestly with his strong, 
 convincing eyes into those of the young 
 man. 
 
 Lewellyn was bound by his gaze ; and 
 the Professor continued, ' I tell you, who 
 may die this moment, who must die with- 
 in a week, that this will save you, and 
 you laugh in my face. Will you take it 
 or not?' 
 
 Lewellyn took it. 
 
 ' Drink it.' 
 
 He did so in silence. 
 
 ' Now listen to me.' 
 
 The Professor leaned against a tree,, 
 while Lewellyn stood meekly before him.
 
 The Salvation of Nature 267 
 
 'First tell me are your father and 
 mother dead?' 
 
 'They are.' 
 
 'Then you are as free as I could wish 
 you to be, unless you are married.' 
 
 ' I am not.' 
 
 ' Good. Many years ago I discovered 
 this disease in Kamtschatka. It is really 
 nothing more or less than hunger, the 
 millionth power of hunger. I have not 
 time to explain it. It must often have 
 appeared in the world. Probably it has 
 always existed actively, but never till this 
 great famine has it fairly got wing. I 
 recognised its power in Kamtschatka, and 
 saw that if it should get strength from 
 feeding on a few thousand lives, it would 
 kill the world. Its power and velocity in- 
 crease with its progress. It knows no 
 crisis. In a few days it will be as swift 
 as the lightning. I began in Kamtschatka 
 to try for a remedy. I laboured for years, 
 and then had to come west for materials. 
 It was during that visit that I burned 
 Scotland. On my return to Kamtschatka
 
 ^ 
 268 The Salvation of Nature 
 
 I found that a filtrate I had left standing 
 had clarified itself, and was, in fact, the 
 required remedy. For the last ten years 
 I have been trying to repeat the process, 
 but have always failed. When I heard of 
 the breaking out of the pest I came at 
 once from Kamtschatka. I had sufficient 
 of my remedy to save two lives. My wife 
 is dead, so I give one half to you. Now, 
 sir, go to Arran.' 
 
 ' Why give me half ? ' 
 
 'Is that your gratitude? Had I not 
 found you I should have given it to the 
 finest young fellow I could meet with. But 
 ask no more questions. Do as I bid you. 
 You will find it to your advantage. You 
 will never see me more. Within a fort- 
 night all who have not drunk of my medi- 
 cine will be dead.' 
 
 ' What ! Are we two to be the only men 
 left alive, and are we to part for ever ? ' 
 
 'Yes. Your father has saved Nature, 
 but in a way he little expected. Good- 
 bye for ever.' 
 
 Lewellyn realised but faintly what the
 
 The Salvation of Nature 269 
 
 old man has said with such authority, and 
 stood irresolute. 
 
 ' Go,' said the Professor ; and Lewellyn, 
 like one under a spell, hurried down to the 
 coast. He was hardly out of sight when 
 Professor Penpergwyn dropped dead. 
 
 On the shore Lewellyn found many 
 boats some floating, some high and dry 
 all masterless. He chose the one he 
 judged the swiftest sailer, and was soon 
 flying across the firth with a strong east 
 wind behind him. As he neared Arran he 
 saw a white flag run up a short pole on 
 a little eminence near the beach. He was 
 too much battered with wonder to feel this 
 new stroke. Involuntarily he steered for 
 the flag. When he was some hundred 
 yards from land he observed below the flag- 
 pole, seated on a rock, a figure like that 
 of a woman, motionless and watching him 
 intently. In landing, his boat occupied 
 all his attention, so that when he stepped 
 ashore and found a tall girl standing with 
 her back to him, but within reach of his 
 arm, the effect upon him was almost as
 
 270 The Salvation of Nature 
 
 great as if he had not seen her before. He 
 stood still, expecting her to turn round ; but 
 she remained as she was for some moments, 
 fingering a bow she carried. A quiver full 
 of arrows was slung across her shoulder. 
 Her dress, of some dark blue homely stuff, 
 came to her ankles. She wore shoes of 
 untanned leather, and a belt of the same, 
 in which was stuck a short sword. On her 
 head she had a little fur cap, and her short 
 golden brown hair curled on her shoulders. 
 Slowly she turned and gave him a side 
 glance. Then she looked him full in the 
 face and sighed deeply, but as if some 
 doubt had been resolved to her satisfaction. 
 He fell back a step at the splendour of her 
 eyes. Her face was broad and her com- 
 plexion delicate, though browned. He hardly 
 noticed her low forehead, her straight eye- 
 brows, her strong, round chin, and full red 
 mouth; her eyes held him. He did not 
 think of their colour. He was subdued by 
 their intense expression. They seemed to 
 pierce him with intuition, and at the same 
 time to bathe him in a soft, warm light.
 
 The Salvation of Nature 271 
 
 She spoke, and her voice seemed to caress 
 him ; but all she said was, ' Do you come 
 from Professor Penpergwyn ? ' 
 
 He bowed. If he spoke he felt the 
 vision would vanish. 
 
 ' Have you drunk the other half? ' 
 He bowed again, understanding her to 
 mean the other half of the Professor's 
 remedy. 
 
 ' Did he tell you there was only enough 
 for two ? ' 
 
 He found his tongue and answered 'Yes,' 
 whispering as intensely as she did, but 
 wondering why there should be so much 
 passion about the matter. 
 
 1 Do you know who drank the rest ? ' 
 ' I supposed it was the Professor/ 
 She sighed again, a deep sigh of satis- 
 faction, and sank on the beach sobbing. 
 Lewellyn, after a moment's thought, knelt 
 beside her and held one of her hands in both 
 his. She made no resistance. In a little she 
 dried her tears with her disengaged hand, 
 shook back her hair and looked him in the 
 face.
 
 272 The Salvation of Nature 
 
 'I'm so glad to see you,' she said ; ' I 
 have been alone here for a week. You 
 needn't ask any questions. I'll tell you it 
 all at once. Professor Penpergwyn is my 
 papa. Is he alive?' 
 
 ' He was four hours ago.' 
 
 ' He may be dead now, though. Poor 
 papa! He would always have his own 
 way. Papa expected to find you. When 
 he didn't, he left me all alone and went to 
 search for you. We brought some pro- 
 visions and weapons with us, and I have 
 managed to get on very well. But I'm 
 glad you've come. Are you Lewellyn 
 Westaway ? ' she cried sharply, springing 
 to her feet in sudden doubt. 
 
 'Yes, I am Lord Westaway, if it's of 
 any consequence.' 
 
 ' I'm very glad. Tell me what was the 
 name of your father's steward ? ' 
 
 ' Dealtry Henry Dealtry ? ' 
 
 ' It was ; it was ! ' 
 
 The lady smiled, and looked as happy 
 and self-satisfied as if she had exercised 
 the most extraordinary subtlety in putting
 
 The Salvation of Nature 273 
 
 this question, and as if Lewellyn's answer 
 were conclusive proof of his identity. 
 
 'But you must be hungry,' she said 
 suddenly. ' Come.' 
 
 She led him to a tent at the entrance of 
 a little glen, and bade him sit on the turf 
 at the door, while she went in. A pleasant 
 odour came through the canvas, and he 
 heard the clatter of dishes a very whole- 
 some sound to one who had been living a 
 half-savage life for several weeks. 
 
 Soon she cried, 'Come in,' and he 
 entered. 
 
 ' I began to prepare this little dinner when 
 I saw your boat far, far away.' 
 
 He thanked her, and they ate in silence, 
 stealing shy glances at each other, and 
 feeling a little uncomfortable. But being 
 hungry they did not mind that much. 
 
 ' Now,' she said, resuming her frankness, 
 not perfectly however, ' if you're quite satis- 
 fied, come and I'll show you the wonders 
 of your island. You know your father pro- 
 mised you it should be the most remarkable 
 island in the world.' 
 
 s
 
 274 The Salvation of Nature 
 
 'And so it is,' he said, looking at her 
 steadily. 
 
 She blushed, and said nothing. 
 
 They had not taken many steps up the 
 glen when a roar shook the ground. 
 
 He stopped in wonder. She answered 
 the question in his eyes. 
 
 'That's the old lion. He's the only one 
 left.' 
 
 ' The only one ! ' 
 
 'Are you frightened? He's not at all 
 dangerous. He's got hardly any teeth, 
 and he just crawls. I'll tell you all about 
 it now, although I meant to show it to 
 you before explaining. My father and I 
 met Dealtry, your father's steward, in 
 London, and he told us about the island 
 being yours, and how your father promised 
 you it should be the most remarkable 
 island in the world, and how in fulfilment 
 of that promise he stocked it with all 
 kinds of wild beasts and birds and insects, 
 intending it to be a great hunting-ground. 
 Dealtry told us you would be sure to be 
 here.'
 
 The Salvation of Nature 275 
 
 'I had forgotten all about it.' 
 
 'Well, except this old lion, all the 
 originals are dead. But there are many 
 elephants, lions, tigers, bears, leopards, 
 hyenas, and beasts I don't know the names 
 of all very little, and not at all fierce. 
 They're fast dying out, too, for they can't 
 get any food. You'll hardly see a deer, 
 and even rabbits are scarce. There's a 
 tiger ! ' 
 
 Lewellyn saw a striped beast about the 
 size of a Newfoundland dog slinking across 
 the path before them. While he looked at 
 it curiously, something whistled through 
 the air, and with a scream the beast rolled 
 over, pierced to the heart by one of Miss 
 Penpergwyn's arrows. 
 
 ' I always shoot them,' she said, ' and 
 you will do so, too ; for we must get rid 
 of them. That was papa's order. 
 
 Lewellyn sighed, and thought of his 
 father. This was the end of his high- 
 pitched imaginings, and passionate en- 
 deavours to realise what others would 
 never dream of imagining. A melancholy,
 
 276 The Salvation of Nature 
 
 profounder than that which was normal 
 to all high-strung souls at that dread time, 
 seized him and was reflected by his com- 
 panion. They wandered about the island, 
 hand in hand, saying little. Every foreign 
 beast, bird and insect that they saw, all 
 small, and much less brilliant than in their 
 native climes, increased his melancholy 
 until it became almost an agony, and he 
 was glad when they reached the tent 
 again. She bade him sit once more at 
 the entrance while she got supper ready. 
 
 ' And while you are waiting,' she said, 
 'you can read this. My father left it for 
 you, and I forgot about it till now.' 
 
 Lewellyn took from her a sealed letter, 
 which he read slowly and with much 
 emotion. He had been thinking over it 
 for some minutes when he was summoned 
 to supper. 
 
 'Come out/ he said. 
 
 Miss Penpergwyn obeyed. 
 
 'Stand beside me while I read this to 
 you. There is no date. " You will be be- 
 ginning to understand by this time. I had
 
 The Salvation of Nature 277 
 
 a long struggle with myself; but my life 
 would soon have ended and hers was just 
 beginning. I felt sure I would find you. 
 I had known your father, and had seen 
 you in your boyhood ; I knew your char- 
 acter, and that you must be a strong and 
 handsome man. The world begins again 
 with you two." That is all. What is 
 your name, Miss Penpergwyn?' 
 1 Lynden.' 
 
 1 Lynden ! a strange name.' 
 ' My father was a strange man.' 
 He took both her hands, and drew her 
 towards him. 
 
 ' Lynden Westaway,' he said. 
 She trembled ; then, dropping her head 
 on his shoulder, whispered between a sob 
 and a laugh, 'My husband.' 
 
 Next morning Lewellyn said, ' I've been 
 thinking over all you did yesterday, and 
 there are two things I don't understand. 
 Why did you sigh so deeply and gladly 
 when I said I supposed your father had 
 drunk the other half of the remedy ? '
 
 278 The Salvation of Nature 
 
 I Because I was glad that you hadn't 
 taken it knowingly from him.' 
 
 'And why did you stand with your 
 back to me when I landed, and then sigh 
 so happily again when I turned round ? ' 
 
 I 1 stood with my back to you because I 
 was afraid you might not be easy to love ; 
 and I sighed with happiness when I saw 
 how handsome you were. Oh! how bold 
 you must have thought me ! I imagined 
 that my father would have told you about 
 me, and all he meant, and that was why 
 I was so frank. I wanted to put you at 
 your ease, my dear to meet you half way, 
 love.' 
 
 THE END 
 
 Colston & Coy., Limited, Printers, Edinburgh.
 
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