FROM THE- LIBRARY- OF A. ''U Ryder EaO% « The Duel Original Etching by Alfred Hartley Illustrated Sterling edition Old Mortality The Black Dwarf A Legend of Montrose The Surgeon's Daughter BY SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART. BOSTON DANA ESTES & COMPANY PUBLISHERS ■^V^c U;,V/3- • • .'.<•< fSSs LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS OLD MORTALITY PAGB The Duel Frontispiece Shooting the Popinjay 19 Rout and Slaughter of the Puritans after the Battle of Bothwell Bridge 166 Habbakuk Mucklewrath forward to the Inner Part OF THE Circle 202 "HaLLIDAY STUMBLED INTO THE ROOM . . . PALE AND ghastly" 346 LEGEND OF MONTROSE Inverlochy Castle 170 The Children of the Mist 187 Annot Lyle, Lord Monteith, and Allan McAulay . 197 The Passage of the Army of Montrose during Win- T£& through the Passes of Strathfillan . . 308 iyi29088 %^i>H\/.i)U TO HIS LOVING COUNTRYMEN, THKY ARE DBNOMINATBD MEN OF THE SOUTH, GENTLEMEN OF THE NOBTH, PEOPLE OF THE WEST, OR FOLK OF FIFE, THESE TALES, ILLUSTRATIVE OF ANCIENT SCOTTISH MANNERS, AND OF THE TRADITIONS OF THEIR RESPECTIVE DISTRICTS, ARE RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED, BT THKIR FRIEND AND LIEGE FELLOW-SUBJEOT, JEDEDIAH CLEISHBOTHAM -ax5f JD Bjaasam, TALES OF MY LANDLORD Hear, Land o' Cakes and brither Scots, Frae Maidenkirk to Johnny Groat's, If there's a hole in a' your coats, I rede ye tent it ; A ckiel's amang you takin' notes, An' faith he'll prent it I Burns. Ahora Men, dixo il Cura, traedme, senor huisped, aquesos libros, que los quiero ver. Que me place, respondio el, y entrando en su aposento, saco del una maletilla vieja cerrada con una cadenilla, y ahriendola hallo en ella tres libros grandes y unospapeles de muy buena letra escritos de mano. — Don Quixote, Parte I. , Capitulo xxxii. It is mighty well, said the priest ; pray, landlord, bring me those books, for I have a mind to see them. With all my heart, answered the host ; and going to his chamber, he brought out a little old cloke- bag, with a padlock and chain to it, and opening it, he took out three large rolumes, and son? 3 manuscript papers written in a fine char- acter.— J arvis's Translation. INTRODXTCTION TO OLD MORTALrTT The remarkable person called by the title of Old Mortality was well known in Scotland about the end of the last century. His real name was Robert Paterson. He was a native, it is said, of the parish of Closeburn, in Dumfriesshire, and prob- ably a mason by profession — at least educated to the use of the chisel. Whether family dissensions, or the deep and en- thusiastic feeling of supposed duty, drove him to leave his dwelling, and adopt the singular mode of life in which he wandered, like a palmer, through Scotland, is not known. It could not be poverty, however, which prompted his journeys, for he never accepted anything beyond the hospitality which was willingly rendered him, and when that was not proffered, he always nad money enough to provide for his own humble wants. His personal appearance, and favorite, or rather sole, occupation, are accurately described in the preliminary chapter of the following work. It is about thirty years since, or more, that the Author met this singular person in the churchyard of Dunnottar, when spending a day or two with the late learned and excellent clergyman, Mr. Walker, the minister of that parish, for the purpose of a close examination of the ruins of the Castle of Dunnottar, and other subjects of antiquarian research in that neighborhood. Old Mortality chanced to be at the same place, on the usual business of his pilgrimage ; for the Castle of Dunnottar, though lying in the an ti-covenan ting district of the Mearns, was, with the parish churchyard, celebrated for the oppressions sustained there by the Cameronians in the time of James II. It was in 1685, when Argyle was threatening a descent upon Scotland, and Monmouth was preparing to invade the west of England, that the privy council of Scotland, with cruel precaution, made a general arrest of more than a hundred per- sons in the southern and western provinces, supposed, from their religious principles, to be inimical to government, to' gether with many women and children. These captives were driven northward like a flock of bullocks, but with less pre- caution to provide for their wants, and finally penned nj) in is Z WAVERLEY NOVELS a subterranean dungeon in the Castle of Dunnottar, having m "window opening to the front of a precipice which overhaCgs the German Ocean. They had suffered not a little on the i'ourney, and were much hurt both at the scoffs of the northern ?*relatists, and the mocks, gibes, and contemptuous tunes played by the fiddlers and, ^pipers who had come from every quarter as they passed, to triumph over the revilers of their calling. The repose which the melancholy dungeon afforded them was anything but undisturbed. Th^ guards made them pay for every indulgence, even that of water ; and when some of the prisoners resisted a demand so unreasonable, and insisted on their right to have this necessary of life untaxed, their keepers emptied the water on the prison floor, saying, **If they were obliged to bring water for the canting Whigs, they were not bound to afford them the use of bowls or pitchers gratis.^' In this prison, which is still termed the Whigjs' Vault, several died of the diseases incidental to such a situation ; and others broke their limbs, and incurred fatal injury, in des- perate attempts to escape from their stern prison-house. Over the graves of these unhappy persons, their friends, after the Revolution, erected a monument with a suitable inscriptioli. This peculiar shrine of the Whig martyrs is very much honored by their descendants, though residing at a great dis- tance from the land of their captivity and death. My friend, the Rev. Mr. Walker, told me that, being once upon a tour in the south of^cotland, probably about forty years since, he had the bad luck to involve himself in the labyrinth of pas- sages and tracks which cross, in every direction, the extensive waste called Lochar Moss, near Dumfries, out of which it is scarcely possible for a stranger to extricate himself ; and there was no small difficulty in procuring a guide, since such peo- ple as he saw were engaged in digging their peats — a work of paramount necessity, which will hardly brook interruption. Mr. Walker could, therefore, only procure unintelligible direc- tions in the southern brogue, which differs widely from that of the Mearns. He was beginning to think himself in a serious dilemma, when he stated his case to a farmer of rather the better class, who was employed, as the otiiers, in digging his winter |uel. The old man at first made the same excuse with those who had alreiidy declined acting as the traveller's guide ; but perceiving him in great perplexity, and paying the respect due to his profession, '^ You are a clergyman, sir ? he said. Mr. Walker assented. " And I observe from your • speech that you are from the north ?" ** You are right, my INTRODUCTION TO OLD MORTALITY xi good friend/* was the reply. '' And may I ask if yon have ever heard of a place called Dnnnottar ? '' "I onght to know something about it, my friend/' said Mr. Walker, '* since I have been several years the minister of the parish.** *' I am glad to hear it,** said the Dumfriesian, " for one of my near rela- tions lies buried there, and there is, I believe, a monument over his grave. I would give half of what I am aught to know if it is still in existence.*' *' He was one of those who- perished in the Whigs* Vault at the castle ? ** said the min- ister ; '' for there are few southlanders besides lying in our churchyard, and none, I think, having monuments.** " Even sae — even sae,** said the old Cameronian, for such was the far- mer. He then laid down his spade, cast on his coat, and heart- ily offered to see the minister out of the moss, if he should lose the rest of the day's dargue, Mr. Walker was able to requite him amply, in his opinion, by reciting the epitaph, which he remembered by heart. The old man was enchanted with find- ing the memory of his grandfather or great-grandfather faith- fully recorded among the names of brother sufferers ; and rejecting all other offers of recompense, only requested, after he had guided Mr. Walker to a safe and dry road, that he f would let him have a written copy of the inscription. It was. while I was listening to this story, and looking at .^ the monument referred to, that I saw Old Mortality engaged i5,his daily task of cleaning and repairing the ornaments and ^ epitaphs upon the tomb. His appearance and equipment were exactly, as described in the Novel. I was very desirous ^ to see something of a person so singular, and expected to have -done so, as he took up his quarters with the hospitable and liberal -spirited minister. But though Mr. Walker invited him up after dinner to partake of a glass of spirits and water, to which he was supposed not to be very averse, yet he would not speak frankly upon the subject of his occupation. He _ was in bad humor, and had, according to his phrase, no free- dom for conversation with us. His spirit had been sorely vexed by hearing, in a certain Aberdonian kirk, the psalmody directed by a pitch-pipe, or Bome similar instrument, which was to Old Mortality the abomination of abominations. Perhaps, after all, he did not feel himself at ease with his company ; he might suspect the questions asked by a north-country minister and a young barrister to savor more of idle curiosity than profit. At any rate, in the phrase of John Bunyan, Old Mortality went on his way, and I saw him no more. "-— The remarkable figure and occupation of this ancient pil- adi WAVERLEY NOVELS grim was recalled to my memory by an account transmitted by my friend, Mr. Joseph Train, supervisor of excise at Dum- fries, to whom I owe many obligations of a similar nature. From this, besides some other circumstances, among which are those of the old man^s death, I learned the particulars described in the text. I am also informed that the old palm- er's family, in the third generation, survives, and is highly respected both for talents and worth. While these sheets were passing through the press, I re^ ceived the following communication from Mr. Train, whose nndeviating kindness had, during the intervals of laborious duty, collected its materials from an indubitable source: *' In the course of my periodical visits to the Glenkens, I have become intimately acquainted with Robert Paterson, a son of Old Mortality, who lives in the little village of Balma- clellan ; and although he is now in the seventieth year of his age, preserves all the vivacity of youth — has a most reten- tive memory, and a mind stored with information far above what could be expected from a person in his station of life. To him I am indebted for the following particulars relative to his father and his descendants down to the present time. '' Robert Paterson, alias Old Mortality, was the son of Walter Paterson and Margaret Scott, who occupied the farm of Haggisha, in the parish of Hawick, during nearly the first half of the 18th century.. Here Robert was born, in the memorable year 1715. " Being the youngest son of a numerous family, he, at an early age, went to serve with an elder brotlier, named Francis, who rented, from Sir John Jardine of Applegarth, a small tract in Corncockle Moor, near Lochmaben. During his res- idence there he became acquainted with Elizabeth Gray, daughter of Robert Gray, gardener to Sir John Jardine, whom he afterwards married. His wife had been for a con- siderable time a cook-maid to Sir Thomas Kirkpatrick of Closeburn, who procured for her husband, from the Duke of Queensberry, an advantageous lease of the freestone quarry of Gatelowbrigg, in the parish of Morton. Here he built a house, and had as much land as kept' a horse and cow. My informant cannot say with certainty the year in which his father took up his residence at Gatelowbrigg, but he is surw it must have been only a short time prior to the year 1746, ag^ during the memorable frost in 1740, he says his mother still resided in the service of Sir Thomas Kirkpatrick. When the Highlanders were returning from England on their route t4^ Glasgow, in the year 1745-46, they plundered Mr. Pate^so^'d INTRODUCTION TO OLD MORTALITY xiii house at Gatelowbrigg, and carried him a prisoner as far as Glenbuck, merely because he said to one of the straggling army that their retreat might have been easily foreseen, as the strong arm of the Lord was evidently raised, not only against the bloody and wicked house of Stewart, but against all who attempted to support the abominable heresies of the Church of Eome. From this circumstance it appears that Old Mor- tality had, even at that early period of his life, imbibed the religious enthusiasm by which he afterwards became so much distinguished. " The religious sect called Hill-men, or Cameronians, was at that time much noted for austerity and devotion, in imi- tation of Cameron, their founder, of whose tenets Old Mor- tality became a most strenuous supporter. He made frequent journeys into Galloway to attend their conventicles, and occasionally carried with him gravestones from his quarry at Gatelowbrigg, to keep in remembrance the righteous whose dust had been gathered to their fathers. Old Mortality was not one of those religious devotees who, although one eye is seemingly turned towards heaven, keep the other steadfastly fixed on some sublunary object. As his enthusiasm increased, his journeys into Galloway became more frequent ; and he gradually neglected even the common prudential duty of pre vidirig for his offspring. From about the year 1758, he neg- lected wholly to return from Galloway to his wife and. five children at Gatelowbrigg, which induced her to send her eldest son Walter, then only twelve years of age, to Galloway in search of his father. After traversing nearly the whole of that extensive district, from the Nick of Benncorie to the Fell of Barhullion, he found him ait last working on the Oameronian monuments, in the old kirkyard of Kirkchrist, on the west side of the Dee, opposite the town of Kirkcud- bright, The little Avanderer used all the influence in his power to induce his father to return to his family ; but in vain. Mrs. Paterson sent even some of her female children into Galloway in search of their father, for the same purpose of persuading him to return home ; but without any success. At last, in tlie summer of 1768, *she removed to the little up- land village of Balmaclellan, in the Glenkens of Galloway, where, upou the small pittance derived from keeping a little school, she supported her numerous family in a respectable manner. ^' Tliere is a small monumental stone in the farm of the Caldon, near the House of the Hill, in Wigtonshire, which is highly venerated as being the first erected, by Old Mortality, Jdr WAVERLEY NOVELS to the memory of several persons who fell at that place in defence of their religious tenets in the civil war, in tne reign of Charles Second.* *' From the Caldon, the labors of Old Mortality, in the course of time, spread over nearly all the Lowlands of Scot- land. There are few churchyards in Ayrshire, Galloway, or Dumfriesshire, where the work of his chisel is not yet to be seen. It is easily distinguished from the work of any other artist by the primitive rudeness of the emblems of death, and of the inscriptions which adorn the ill-formed blocks of his erection. This task of repairing and erecting gravestones, practised without fee or reward, was the only ostensible employment of this singular person for upwards of forty years. The door of every Cameronian's house was indeed open to him at all times when he chose to enter, and he was gladly received as an inmate of the family ; but he did not invariably accept of these civilities, as may be seen by the following account of his frugal expenses, found, among other little papers (some of which I have likewise in my possession), in his pocket- book after his death ; Gatehotise of Fleet, 4th February 1796. Robert Paterson debtor to Margaret Chrystale To drye Lodginge for seven weeks . . . .£041 To Four Auchlets of Ait Meal 3 4 To 6 Lippies of Potatoes 13 To Lend Money at the time of Mr. Reid's Sacrament 6 ToSChappinsof Yell with Sandy the Keelmanf . 9 £0 15 5 Received in part . . . 10 Unpaid . . . £0 5 5 '* This statement shows the religious wanderer to have been Tery poor in his old age ; but he was so more by choice than through necessity, as at the period here alluded to his children were all comfortably situated, and were most anxious to keep their father at home, but no entreaty could induce him to alter his erratic way of life. He travelled from one churchyard to another, mounted on his old white pony, till the last day of his existence, and died, as you have described, at Bankhill, near Lockerby, on the 14th February 1801, in the eighty, ♦ The house was stormed by a Captain Orchard or Urquhart, who was shot In the attack. t A well-known huraorist, still alive, popularly called by the name of Old KmI)^ baci, who deals In the keel or chalk with wnioh farmers mark their flooka. INTRODUCTION TO OLD MORTALITY xt sixth year of his age. As soon as his body was found, intima- tion was sent to his sons at Balmaclellan ; but, from the great depth of the snow at that time, the letter communicating the particulars of his death was so long detained by the way that the remains of the pilgrim were interred before any of his re- lations could arrive at Bankhill. " The following is an exact copy of the account of his funeral expenses, the original of which I have in my pos- session : Memorandum of the Funral Charges of Robert Paterson, who dyed at Bankhill on the 14th day of February 1801 To a Coffon £0 12 To Hunting for do 2 8 To a Shirt for him 5 To a pair of Cotton Stockings . . . . . 2 To Bread at the Founral 2 6 To Chise at ditto 3 To 1 pint Rume 4 6 To 1 pint Whiskie 4 6 To a man going to Annan 2 P To the grave diger ...••.. 010 To Linnen for a sheet to him . .,028 £2 1 10 Taken off him when dead . 1 7 (> £0 14 4 " The above account is authenticated by the son of the deceased. *' My friend was prevented by indisposition from even going to Bankhill to attend the funeral of his father, which I regret very much, as he is not aware in what churchyard he was interred. *' For the purpose of erecting a small monument to his memory, I have made every possible inquiry, wherever 1 thought there was the least chance of finding out where Old Mortality was laid ; but I have done so in vain, as his death is not registered in the session-book of any of the neighboring parishes. * I am sorry to think that in all probability this singular person, who spent so many years of his lengthened ♦TIus good intention was, however, carried out. A headstone was erected November, 1869, to the memory of Old Mortality in the churchyard of Caerlavrock, where there is satisfactory proof of his havin.^ been interred in the month of Feb- ruary, 1801. Mr. Train seems to have been misled in his information respecting the name of the village where Robert Paterson died. There is now strong evidence that not Bankhill, but Bankend, about fifteen miles from Bankhill, was the place when Old Mortality breathed his last CLaing^ 3tvi ^,r . WAVERLEY NOVELS existence in striving with his chisel and mallet to perpetuate the memory of many less deserving than himself, must remain even without a single stone to mark out the resting-place of his mortal remains. '' Old Mortality had three sons, Eobert, Walter, and John ; the former, as has been already mentioned, lives in the village of Balmaclellan, in comfortable circumstances, and is much respected by his neighbors. Walter died several years ago, leaving behind him a family now respectably situated in this point. John went to America in the year 1776, and, after various turns of fortune, settled at Baltimore." Old Nol himself is said to have loved an innocent jest (see Captain Hodgson^s Memoirs), Old Mortality somewhat resembled the Protector in this turn to festivity. Like Master Silence, he had been merry twice and thrice in his time ; but even his jests were of a melancholy and sepulchral nature, and sometimes attended wdth inconvenience to himself, as will appear from the following anecdote : The old man was at one time following his wonted occupa- tion of repairing the tombs of the martyrs, in the churchyard of Girthon, and the sexton of the parish was plying his kin- dred task at no small distance. Some roguish urchins were sporting near them, and by their noisy gambols disturbing the old men in their serious occupation. The most petulant of the juvenile party were two or three boys, grandchildren of a person well known by the name of Cooper Climent. This artist enjoyed almost a monopoly in Girthon and the neighboring parishes for making and selling ladles, caups, bickers, bowls, spoons, cogues, and trenchers, formed of wood, for the use of the country people. It must be noticed that, notwithstand- ing the excellence of tlie cooper's vessels, they were apt, when new, to impart a reddish tinge to whatever liquor was put into them, a circumstance not uncommon in like cases. . The grandchildren of this dealer in wooden work took it into their head to ask the sexton what use he could possibly make of the numerous fragments of old coffins which were thrown up in opening new graves. '* Do you not know,'' said Old Mortality, ^' that he sells them to your grandfather, who makes them into spoons, trenchers, bickers, bowies, and so forth ? " At this assertion, the youthful group broke up in great confusion and disgust, on reflecting how many meals they had eaten out of dishes which, by Old Mortality's ac- count, were only fit to be used at a banquet of witches or of ghouls. Tliey carried the tidings home, when many a dinner was spoiled by the loathing which the intelligence imparted; INTRODUCTION TO OLD MORTALITY xvii for the account of the materials was supposed to explain the reddish tinge which, even in the days of the cooper^s fame, had seemed somewhat suspicious. The ware of Cooper Climent was rejected in horror, much to the benefit of his rivals the muggers, who dealt in earthenware. The man of cutty-spoon and ladle saw his trade interrupted, and learned , the reason, by his quondam customers coming upon him in wrath to return the goods which were composed of such unlial- lowed materials, and demand repayment of their money. In this disagreeable predicament, the forlorn artist cited Old Mor- tality into a court of justice, where he proved that the wood he used in his trade was that of the staves of old wine-pipes bought from smugglers, with whom the country then abounded, a circumstance which fully accounted for their imparting a color to their contents. Old Mortality himself made tlie ful- lest declaration that he had no other purpose in making the assertion than to check the petulance of the children. But it is easier to take away a good name than to restore it. Cooper Climent's business continued to languish, and he died in a state of poverty. OLD MORTALITY CHAPTER I PRELIMINARY Why seeks he with unwearied toil Through death's dim walks to urge his waj, Reclaim his long-asserted spoil, And lead oblivion into day ? liANaHOBNB. "Most readers," says the Manuscript of Mr. Pattieson, "mnst have witnessed with delight the joyous burst which attends the dismissing of a village school on a fine summer evening. The buoyant spirit of childhood, repressed with so much dif- ficulty during the tedious hours of discipline, may then be seen to explode, as it were, in shout, and song, and frolic, as the little urchins join in groups on their playground, and ar- range their matches of sport for the evening. But there is one individual who partakes of the relief afforded by the mo- ment of dismission, whose feelings are not so obvious to the eye of the spectator, or so apt to receive his sympathy. I mean the teacher himself, who, stunned with the hum, and suffocated with the closeness of his schoolroom, has spent the whole day (himself against a host) in controlling petulance, exciting indifference to action, striving to enlighten stupidity, and laboring to soften obstinacy ; and whose very powers of intellect have been confounded by hearing the same dull les- son repeated a hundred times by rote, and only varied by the various blunders of the reciters. Even the flowers of classic genius, with which his solitary fancy is most gratified, have been rendered degraded in his imagination by their connection with tears, with errors, and with punishment; so that the Eclogues of Virgil and Odes of Horace are each inseparably allied in association with the sullen figure and monotonous recitation of some blabbering schoolboy. If to these mental 3 WAVERLEY NOVELS distresses are added a delicate frame of body, and a mind am- bitious of some higher distinction than that of being the ty- rant of childhood, the reader may have some slight conception of the relief which a solitary walk in the cool of a fine summer evening affords to the head which has ached, and the nerves which liave been shattered, for so many hours in plying the irksome task of public instruction. ' ': - " To me these evening strolls have been the happiest hours of an unhappy life ; and if any gentle reader shall hereafter find pleasure in perusing these lucubrations, I am not unwilling he should know that the plan of them has been usually "traced in those moments when relief from toil and clamor, combined with the quiet scenery around me, has disposed my mind to the task of composition. ''My chief haunt, in these hours of golden leisure, is the banks of the small stream which, winding through a ' lone vale of green bracken,' passes in front of the village school-house of Gandercleugh. For the first quarter of a mile, perhaps, I may be disturbed from my meditations in order to return the scrape or doffed bonnet of such stragglers among my pupils as fish for trouts or minnows in the little brook, or seek rushes and wild flowers by its margin. But beyond the space I have mentioned the juvenile anglers do not after sunset voluntarily extend their excursions. The cause is, that further up the narrow valley, and in a recess which seems scooped out of the side of the steep heathy bank, there is a deserted burial-ground, which the little cowards are fearful of approaching in the twilight. To me, however, the place has an inexpressible charm. It has been long the favorite termination of my walks, and, if my kind patron forgets not his promise, will (and prob- ably at no very distant day) be my final resting-place after my mortal pilgrimage.* " It is a spot which possesses all the solemnity of feeling attached to a burial-ground, without exciting those of a more unpleasing description. Having been very little used for many years, the few hillocks which rise above the level plain are covered with the same short velvet turf. The monuments, of which there are not above seven or eight, are half sunk in the ground and overgrown with moss. No newly erected tomb disturbs the sober serenity of our reflections by reminding ua of recent calamity, and no rank-springing grass forces upon our imagination the recollection, that it owes its dark luxuri- ance to the foul and festering remnants of mortality which ferment beneath. The daisy which sprinkles the sod, and * See ii'Mw F»ttieioa'« Grave. Note 1. OLD MORTALITY t the harebell which hangs over it, derive their pure nourishment from the dew of heaven, and their growth impresses us with no degrading or disgusting recollections. Death has indeed been here^ and its traces are before us ; but they are softened and deprived of their horror by our distance from the period when they have been first impressed. Those who sleep beneath / are only connected with us by the reflection, that they have once been what we now are, and that, as their relics are now identified with their mother earth, ours shall at some future period undergo the same transformation. " Yet, although the moss has been collected on the most modern of these humble tombs during four generations of mankind, the memory of some of those who sleep beneath them is still held in reverent remembrance. It is true that, upon the largest, and, to an antiquary, the most interesting monument of the group, which bears the effigies of a doughty knight in his hood of mail, with his shield hanging on his breast, the armorial bearings are defaced by time, and a few worn-out letters may be read at the pleasure of the decipherer, Dns. Johan de Hamel, or Jolian de Lamel. And it is also true that of another tomb, richly sculptured with an orna- mental cross, mitre, and pastoral staff, tradition can only aver that a certain nameless bishop lies interred there. But upon other two stones which lie beside may still be read in rude prose and ruder rhyme the history of those who sleep beneath them. They belong, we are assured by the epitaph, to the class of persecuted Presbyterians who afforded a melancholy subject for history in the times of Charles II. and his successor. * In returning from the battle of Pentland Hills, a party of the insurgents had been attacked in this glen by a small detach- ment of the king's troops, and three or four either killed in the skirmish, or shot after being made prisoners, as rebels taken with arms in their hands. The peasantry continued to attach to the tombs of those victims of prelacy an honor which they do not render to more splendid mausoleums ; and, when they point them out to their sons, and narrate the fate of the sufferers, usually conclude by exhorting them to be ready, should times call for it, to resist to the death in the cause of civil and religious liberty, like their brave forefathers. '^ Although I am far from venerating the peculiar tenets asserted by those who call themselves the followers of those men, and whose intolerance and narrow-minded bigotry are at least as conspicuous as their devotional zeal, yet it is with- * James, Seventh King of Scotland of that name, and Second according to the nxuneration of the Kings of England.— J. C. ^ 4 Waverley novels out depreciating the memory of those sufferers, many of whom united the independent sentiments of a Hampden with the suffering zeal of a Hooper or Latimer. On the other hand, it would be unjust to forget that many even of those who had been most active in crushing what they conceived the re- bellious and seditious spirit of those unhappy wanderers, dis- played themselves, when called upon to suffer for their politi- cal and religious opinions, the same daring and devoted zeal, tinctured, in their case, with chivalrous loyalty, as in the for- mer with republican enthusiasm. It has often been remarked of the Scottish character, that the stubbornness with which it is moulded shows most to advantage in adversity, when it seems akin to the native sycamore of their hills, which^scorns to be biassed in its mode of growth even by the influence of the prevailing wind, but, shooting its branches with equal boldness in every direction, shows no weather-side to the storm, and may be broken, but can never be bended. It must be understood that I speak of my countrymen as they fall under my own observation. When in foreign countries, I have been informed that they are more docile. But it is time to return from this digression. '' One summer evening as, in a stroll such as I have de- scribed, I approached this deserted mansion of the dead, I was somewhat surprised to hear sounds distinct from those which usually soothe its solitude, the gentle chiding, namely, of the brook, and the sighing of the wind in the boughs of three gi- gantic ash-trees, which mark the cemetery. The clink of a ham- mer was on this occasion distinctly heard ; and I entertained some alarm that a march dike, long meditated by the two pro- prietors whose estates were divided by my favorite brook, was about to be drawn up the glen, in order to substitute its rectilinear deformity for the graceful winding of the natural boundary.* As I approached I was agreeably undeceived. An old man was seated upon the monument of the slaugh- tered Presbyterians, and busily employed in deepening with his chisel the letters of the inscription which, announcing in Scriptural language the promised blessings of futurity to be the lot of the slain, anathematized the murderers with corre- sponding violence. A blue bonnet of unusual dimensions covered the grav hairs of the pious workman. His dress was a large old-fashioned coat of the coarse cloth called ' liodden- gray,' usually worn by the elder peasants, with waistcoat and breeches of the same ; and the whole suit, though still in decent repair, had obviously seen a train of long service. ♦ See A March-Dike Boundary. Note 8. OLD MORTALITY 5 Strong clouted shoes, studded with hob-nails and ' gramashes ' or ' leggins/ made of thick black cloth, completed his equipment. Beside him, fed among the graves a pony, the companion of his journey, whose extreme whiteness, as well as its projecting bones and hollow eyes, indicated its antiq- uity. It was harnessed in the most simple manner, with a pair of branks, a hair tether, or halter, and a ' sunk,' or cushion of straw, instead of bridle and saddle. A canvas pouch hung around the neck of the animal, for the purpose, probably, of containing the rider's tools, and anything else he might have occasion to carry with him. Although I had never seen the old man before, yet from the singularity of his employment and the style of his equipage, I had no difficulty in recognizing a religious itinerant whom I had often heard talked of, and who was known in various parts of Scotland by the title of Old Mortality. " Where this man was born, or what was his real name, I have never been able to learn ; nor are the motives which made him desert his home and adopt the erratic mode of life which he pursued known to me except very generally. Ac- cording to the belief of most people, he was a native of either the county of Dumfries or Galloway, and lineally descended from some of those champions of the Covenant whose deeds and sufferings were his favorite theme. He is said to have held, at one period of his life, a small moorland farm ; but, whether from pecuniary losses or domestic misfortune, he had long renounced that and every other gainful calling. In the language of Scripture, he left his house, his home, and his kindred, and wandered about until the day of his death, a period of nearly thirty years. " During this long pilgrimage, the pious enthusiast regu- lated his circuit so as annually to visit the graves of the un- fortunate Covenanters who suffered by the sword, or by the executioner, during the reigns of the two last monarch s of the Stewart line. These are most numerous in the western districts of Ayr, Galloway, and Dumfries ; but they are also to be found in other parts of Scotland, wherever the fugitives had fought, or fallen, or suffered by military or civil execu- tion. Their tombs are often apart from all human habitation, in the remote moors and wilds to which the wanderers had fled for concealment. But wherever they existed, Old Mor- tality was sure to visit them when his annual round brought them within his reach. In the most lonely recesses of the mountains the moor-fowl shooter has been often surprised tc find him busied in cleaning the moss from the gi-ay stones, « WAVERLEY NOVELS renewing with his chisel the half-defaced inscriptions, and repairing the emblems of death with which these simple monuments are usually adorned. Motives of the most sincere, though fanciful, devotion induced the old man to dedicate so many years of existence to perform this tribute to the memory of the deceased warriors of the church. He considered him-, self as fulfilling a sacred duty, while renewing to the eyes of posterity the decaying emblems of the zeal and sufferings of their forefathers, and tliereby trimming, as it were, the beacon- light which was to warn future generations to defend their religion even unto blood. *' In all his wanderings the old pilgrim never seemed to- need, or was known to accept, pecuniary assistance. It is true, his wants were very few ; for wherever he went, he found ready quarters in the house of some Oameronian of his own sect, or of some other religious person. The hospitality which was reverentially paid to him he always acknowledged by re- pairing the grave-stones (if there existed any) belonging to the family or ancestors of his host. As the wanderer was usually to be seen bent on this pious task within the precincts of some country churchyard, or reclined on the solitary tomb- stone among the heath, disturbing the plover and the black- cock with the clink of his chisel and mallet, with his old white pony grazing by his side, he acquired, from his converse among the dead, the popular appellation of Old Mortality. '*The character of such a man could have in it little con- nection even with innocent gayety. Yet among those of his own religious persuasion, he is reported to have been cheer- ful. The descendants of persecutors, or those whom he sup- posed guilty of entertaining similar tenets, and the scoffers at religion by whom he was sometimes assailed, he usually termed the generation of vipers. Conversing with others, he was grave and sententious, not without a cast of severity. But he is said never to have been observed to give way to vio- lent passion, excepting upon one occasion, when a niischievous truant- boy defaced with a stone the nose of a cherub's face which the old man was engaged in retouching. I am in gen- eral a sparer of the rod, notwithstanding the maxim of Solo- mon, for which schoolboys have little reason to thank his memory ; but on this occasion I deemed it proper to show that I did not hate the child. But I must return to the circum- stances attending my first interview with this interesting en- thusiast. '* In accosting Old Mortality, I did not fail to pay respect to his years and his principles, beginning my address by a OLD MORTALITY ♦ respectful apology for interrupting his labors. The old man intermitted the operation of the chisel, took off his spectacles and wiped them, then, replacing them on his nose, acknowl- edged my courtesy by a suitable return. Encouraged by his affability, I intruded upon him some questions concerning the sufferers on whose monument he was now employed. To talk of the exploits of the Covenanters was the delight, as to re- pair their monuments was the business, of his life. He was profuse in the communication of all the minute information which he had collected concerning them, their wars, and their wanderings. One would almost have supposed he must have been their contemporary, and have actually beheld the pas- sages which he related, so much had he identified his feelings and opinions with theirs, and so much had his narratives the circumstantiality of an eye-witness. ^'^We,' he said, in a tone of exultation — 'we are the only true Whigs. Carnal men have assumed that triumphant appellation, following him whose kingdom is of this world. Which of them would sit six hours on a wet hillside to hear a godly sermon ? I trow an hour o't wad staw them. They are ne^er a hair better than them that shamena to take upon them- sells the persecuting name of bluidthirsty Tories. Self-seek- ers all of them, strivers after wealth, power, and worldly am- bition, and forgetters alike of what has been dree'd and done by the mighty men who stood in the gap in the great day of wrath. Xae wonder they dread the accomplishment of what was spoken by the mouth of the worthy Mr. Peden — that precious servant of the Lord, none of whose words fell to the ground — that the French monzies sail rise as fast in the glens of Ayr and the Kens of Galloway as ever the Highlandmen did in 1677. And now they are gripping to the bow and to the spear,"when they suld be mourning for a sinfu' land and a broken Covenant.' " Soothing the old man by letting his peculiar opinions pass without contradiction, and anxious to prolong conversa- tion with so singular a character, I prevailed upon him to accept that hospitality which Mr. Cleishbotham is always willing to extend to those who need it. In our way to the schoolmaster's house we called at the Wallace Inn, where I was pretty certain I should find my patron about that hour of the evening. After a courteous interchange of civilities. Old Mortality was, with difficulty, prevailed upon to join his host in a single glass of liquor, and that on condition that he should be permitted to name the pledge, which he prefaced with a grace of about five minutes, and then, with bonnet doffed and 4 WAVERLEY NOVELS eyes uplifted, tlrank to the memory of those heroes of tht? Scirk who had first uplifted her banner upon the mountains. As no persuasion could prevail on him to extend his convivi- ality to a second cup, my patron accompanied him home, and accommodated him in the * prophet^s chamber/ * as it is his pleasure to call the closet which holds a spare bed, and which IS frequently a place of retreat for the poor traveller. " The next day I took leave of Old Mortality, who seemed affected by the unusual attention with which I had cultivated his acquaintance and listened to his conversation. After he had mounted, not without difficulty, the old white pony, he took me by the hand, and said, ' The blessing of our Master be with you, young man ! My hours are like the ears of the latter harvest, and your days are yet in the spring ; and yet you may be gathered into the garner of mortality before me, for the sickle of death cuts down the green as oft as the ripe, and there is a color in your cheek that, like the bud of the rose, serveth oft to hide the worm of corruption. Wherefore labor as one who knoweth not when his Master calleth. And if it be my lot to return to this village after ye are gane hame to your ain place, these auld withered hands will frame a stane of memorial, that your name may not perish from among the people.' '' I thanked Old Mortality for his kind intentions in my behalf, aud heaved a sigh, not, I think, of regret so much as of resignation, to think of the chance that I might soon require his good offices. Bat though, in all human probability, he did not err in supposing that my span of life may be abridged in youth, he had overestimated the period of his own pilgrimage on earth. It is now some years since he has been missed in all his usual haunts, while moss, lichen, and deer-hair are fast covering those stones to cleanse which had been the business of his life. About the beginning of this century he closed his mortal toils, being found on the highway near Lockerbie, in Dumfriesshire, exhausted and just expiring. The old white pony, the companion of all his wanderings, was standing by the side of his dying master. There was found about his person a sum of money sufficient for his decent interment, which serves to show that his death was in no ways hasteued by violence or by want. The common people still regard his memory with great respect ; and many are of opinion that the stones which he repaired will not again require the assistance of the chisel. They even assert that on the tombs where the manner of the martyrs' murder is recorded, their names have remained in- * See Note 8. OLD MORTALITY % delibly legible since the death of Old Mortality, while those of the persecutors, sculptured on the same monuments, have been entirely defaced. It is hardly necessary to say that this is a fond imagination, and that, since the time of the pious pilgrim, the monuments which were the objects of his care are hastening, like all earthly memorials, into ruin or decay. " My readers will of course understand that in embodying into one compressed narrative many of the anecdotes which I had the advantage of deriving from Old Mortality, I have been far from adopting either his style, his opinions, or even his facts, so far as they appear to have been distorted by party prejudice. I have endeavored to correct or verify them from the most authentic sources of tradition, afforded by the rep- resentatives of either party. '' On the part of the Presbyterians, I have consulted such moorland farmers from the western districts as, by the kind- ness of their landlords, or otherwise, have been able, during the late general change of property, to retain possession of the grazings on which their grandsires fed their flocks and herds. I must own, that of late days, I have found this a limited source of information. I have, therefore, called in the supplementary aid of those modest itinerants wliom the scrupulous civility of our ancestors denominated travelling merchants, but whom, of late, accommodating ourselves in this as in more material particulars to the feelings and sen- timents of our more wealthy neighbors, we have learned to call packmen or peddlers. To country weavers travelling in hopes to get rid of their winter web, but more especially to tailors, who, from their sedentary profession, and the neces- sity in our country of exercising it by temporary residence in the families by whom they are employed, may be considered as possessing a complete register of rural traditions, I have been indebted for many illustrations of the narratives of Old Mortality, much in the taste and spirit of the original. '' I had more difficulty in finding materials for correcting the tone of partiality which evidently pervaded those stores of traditional learning, in order that I might be enabled to present an unbiassed picture of the manners of that unhappy period, and at the same time to do justice to the merits of both parties. But I have been enabled to qualify the narra- tives of Old Mortality and his Cameronian friends by the re- ports of more than one descendant of ancient and honorable families, who, themselves decayed into the humble vale of life, yet look proudly back on the period when their ancestors fought and fell in behalf of the exiled house of Stewart. I 10 WAVERLEY NOVELS may even boast right reverend authority on the same score ; for more than one nonjuring bishop, whose authority and in- come were upon as apostolical a scale as the greatest abomina- tor of Episcopacy could well desire, have deigned, while par- . taking of the humble cheer of the Wallace Inn, to furnish me with information corrective of the facts which I learned from others. There are also here and there a laird or two who, though they shrug their shoulders, profess no great shame in their fathers having served in the persecuting squadrons of Earlshall and Olaverhouse. From the gamekeepers of these gentlemen, an office the most apt of any other to become hereditary in such families, I have also contrived to collect" much valuable information. " Upon the whole, I can hardly fear that at this time, in describing the operation which their opposite principles pro- duced upon the good and bad men of both parties, I can be suspected of meanmg insult or injustice to either. If recol- lection of former injuries, extra-loyalty, and contempt and hatred of their adversaries, produced rigor and tyranny in the one party, it will hardly be denied, on the other hand, that, if the zeal for God^s house did not eat up the Conventi- clers, it devoured at least, to imitate the phrase of Dryden, no small portion of their loyalty, sober sense, and good breed- ing. We may safely hope that the souls of the brave and sincere on either side have long looked down with surprise and pity upon the ill-appreciated motives which caused their one of those numerous Presbyterian clergymen, who, comply- ing with certain regulations, were licensed to preach without interruption from the government. This '' indulgence,'' as it was called, made a great schism among the Presbyterians, and those who accepted of it were severely censured by the more rigid sectaries, who refused the proffered terms. The stranger, therefore, answered with great disdain to Morton's profession of faith. " That is but an equivocation — a poor equivocation. Ye listen on the Sabbath to a cold, wordly, time-serving discourse from one who forgets his high commission so much as to hold his apostleship by the favor of the courtiers and the false prelates, and ye call that hearing the Word ! Of all the baits with which the devil has fished for souls in these days of blood and darkness, that Black Indulgence has been the most destructive. An awful dispensation it has been, a smiting of the shepherd and a scattering of the sheep upon the mountains, an uplifting of one Christian banner against another, and a fighting of the wars of darkness with the swords of the children of light ! " '' My uncle," said Morton, '' is of opinion that we enjoy a reasonable freedom of conscience under the indulged clergy- men, and I must necessarily be guided by his sentiments re- specting the choice of a place of worship for his family." '*' Your uncle," said the horseman, 'Ms one of those to whom tiie least lamb in his own folds at Milnwood is dearer than the whole Christian flock. He is one that could willingly bend down to the golden calf of Bethel, and would have fished for the dust thereof when it was ground to powder and cast upon the waters. Thy father was a man of another stamp." *'My father," replied Morton, '' was indeed a brave and , gallant man. And you may have heard, sir, that he fought \ for that royal family in whose name I was this day carrying \ arms." "Ay, and had he lived to see these days, he would have cursed the hour he ever drew sword in their cause ; but more of this hereafter. I promise thee full surely that thy hour will come, and then the words thou hast now heard will stick in thy bosom like barbed arrows. My road lies there." He pointed towards a pass leading up into a wild extent of dreary and desolate hills ; but as he was about to turn his horse's head into the rugged path which led from the high-road in that direction, an old woman wrapped in a red cloak, who wag sitting by the cross-way, arose, and approaching him said, in a mysterious tone of voice, ^' If ye be of ourain folk, gangna up the pass the night for your lives. There is a lion in the path 86 WAVERLEY NOVELS that is there. The curate of Brotherstane ana ten soldiers hae beset the pass to hae the lives of ony of our puir wanderers that venture that gate to join wi' Hamilton and Dingwall/' " Have the persecuted folk drawn to any head among them- selves ? " demanded the stranger. " About sixty or seventy horse and foot/' said the old dame ; *' but, ewhow ! they are puirly armed, and warse fended wi' victual. " " God will help His own/' said the horseman. " Which way shall I take to join them ? " ^' It's a mere impossibility this night/' said the woman, '^ the troopers keep sae strict a guard ; and they say there's strange news come frae the east that makes them rage in their cruelty mair fierce than ever. Ye maun take shelter somegate for the night before ye get to the muirs, and keep yoursell in hiding till the gray o' the morning, and then you may find your way through the Drake Moss. When I heard the awf u' threatenings o' the oppressors, I e'en took my cloak about me and sat down by the wayside to warn ony of our puir scattered remnant that chanced to come this gate, be- fore they fell into the nets of the spoilers." '^ Have you a house near this ? " said the stranger ; " and can you give me hiding there ?" '' I have," said the old woman, " a hut by the wayside, it may be a mile from hence ; but four men of Belial, called dragoons, are lodged therein, to spoil my household goods at their pleasure, because I will not wait upon the tJiowless, thriftless, fissenless ministry of that carnal man, John Half- text, the curate." '^ Good-night, good woman, and thanks for thy counsel," said the stranger as he rode away. " The blessings of the promise upon you," returned the old dame ; "may He keep you that can keep you." '' Amen ! " said the traveller ; *' for where to hide my head this night mortal skill cannot direct me." *^ I am very sorry for your distress," said Morton ; *' and had I a house or place of shelter that could be called my own, I almost think I would risk the utmost rigor of the law rather than leave yoa in such a strait. But my uncle is so alarmed at the pains and penalties denounced by the laws against such as comfort, receive, or consort with intercommuned persons, that he has strictly forbidden all of us to hold any intercourse with them." *' It is no less than 1 expected," said the stranger ; " never- theless, I might be received without his knowledge. A barn. OLD MORTALITY 37 a hay-loft, a cart-shed, any place where I could stretch me down, would be to my habits like a tabernacle of silver, set about with planks of cedar/' " I assure you,*' said Morton, much embarrassed, " that I have not the means of receiving you at Milnwood without my uncle's consent and knowledge ; nor, if I could do so, would I think myself justifiable in engaging him unconsciously in a danger which, most of all others, he fears and deprecates." ''Well," said the traveller, " I have but one word to say. Did you ever hear your father mention John Balfour of Bur- ley ? " " His ancient friend and comrade who saved his life, with almost the loss of his own, in the battle of Long Marston Moor ? Often, very often." ''I am that Balfour," said his companion. ''Yonder stands thy uncle's house ; I see the light among the trees. The avenger of blood is behind me, and my death certain unless I have refuge there. Now, make thy choice, young man ; to shrink from the side of thy father's friend like a thief in the night, and to leave him exposed to the bloody death from which he rescued thy father, or to expose thine uncle's worldly goods to such peril as in this perverse gener- ation attends those who give a morsel of bread or a draught of cold water to a Christian man when perishing for lack of refreshment I " A thousand recollections thronged on the mind of Morton at once. His^ father, whose memory he idolized, had often enlarged upon his obligations to this man, and regretted that after having been long comrades, they had parted in some unkindness at the time when the kingdom of Scotland was divided into Resolutioners and Protesters ; the former of whom adhered to Charles II., after his father's death upon the scaffold, while the Protesters inclined rather to a urion with the triumphant republicans. The stern fanaticism of Burley had attached him to this latter party, and the com- rades had parted in displeasure, never, as it happened, to meet again. These circumstances the deceased Colonel Morton had often mentioned to his son, and always with an expression of deep regret that he had never, in any manner, been enabled to repay the assistance which on more than one occasion he had received from Burley. To hasten Morton's decision, the night-wind, as it swept along, brought from a distance the sullen sound of a kettle- drum, which, seeming to approach nearer, intimated that a body of horse were upon their march towards them. 88 WAVERLEY NOVELS ''It must be Claverhouse with the rest of his regiment. What can have occasioned this night-march ? If you go on you fall into their hands ; if you turn back towards the Dorough-town you are in no less danger from Cornet Grahame's party. The path to the hill is beset. I must shelter you at iiilnwood, or expose you to instant death ; but the punish- ment of the law shall fall upon myself, as in justice it should, not upon my uncle. Follow me." Burley, who had awaited his resolution with great compo- sure, now followed him in silence. The house of Milnwood, built by the father of the present proprietor, was a decent mansion, suitable to the size of the estate, but since the accession of this owner, it had been suf- fered to go considerably into disrepair. At some little dis- tance from the house stood the court of offices. Here Morton paused. '' I must leave you here for a little while," he whispered, ''until I can provide a bed for you in the house." '' I care little for such delicacy," said Burley ; "for thirty years this head has rested oftener on the turf, or on the next gray stone, than upon either wool or down. A draught of ale, a morsel of bread, to say my prayers, and to stretch me upon dry hay, were to me as good as a painted chamber and a prince's table.'^ It occurred to Morton at the same moment that to attempt to introduce the fugitive within the house would materially in- crease the danger of detection. Accordingly, having struck a li^ht with implements left in the stable for that purpose, and having fastened up their horses, he assigned Burley for his place of repose a wooden bed, placed in a loft half full of hay, which an out-of-door domestic had occupied until dismissed by his uncle in one of those fits of parsimony which became more rigid from day to day. In this untenanted loft Morton left his companion, with a caution so to shade his light that no reflec- tion might be seen from the window, and a promise that he would presently return with such refreshments as he might be able to procure at that late hour. This last, indeed, was a subject on which he felt by no means confident, for the power of obtaining even the most ordinary provisions depended en- tirely upon the humor in which he might happen to fifid his uncle's sole confidante, the old housekeeper. If she chanced to be abed, which was very likely, or out of humor, which was not less so, Morton well knew the case to bo at least problematical. Cursing in his heart the sordid parsimony which pervaded OLD MORTALITY 3ft every part of his uncle's establishment, he gave the usual gentle knock at the bolted door, by which he was accustomed to seek admittance when accident had detained him abroad beyond the early and established hours of rest at the house of Milnwood. It was a sort of hesitating tap, which carried an acknowledgment of transgression in its very sound, and seemed rather to solicit than command attention. After it had been repeated again and again, the housekeeper, grumbling betwixt her teeth as she rose from the chimney-corner in the hall, and wrapping her checked handkerchief round her head to secure her from the cold air, paced across the stone passage, and re- peated a careful '^Wha's there at this time o' night ?" more than once before she undid the bolts and bars and cautiously opened the door. " This is a fine time o' night, Mr. Henry,'* said the old dame, with the tyrannic insolence of a spoiled and favorite domestic ; ''a braw time o' night and a bonny to disturb a peaceful house in, and to keep quiet folk out o' their beds waiting for you. Your uncle's been in his maist three hours syne, and Robin's ill o' the rheumatize, and he's to his bed too, and sae I had to sit up for ye mysell, for as sair a hoast as I hae. " Here she coughed once or twice in further evidence of the egregious inconvenience which she had sustained. **Much obliged to you, Alison, and many kind thanks." " Hegh, sirs, sae fair-fashioned as we are ! Mony folk ca' me Mistress Wilson, and Milnwood himsell is the only ane about this town thinks o' ca'ing me Alison, and indeed he as often says Mrs. Alison as ony other thing." **Well, then. Mistress Alison," said Morton, "I really am sorry to have kept you up waiting till I came in." " And now that you are come in, Mr. Henry," said the cross old woman, " what for do you no tak up your candle and gang to your bed ? and mind ye dinna let the candle sweal as ye gang alang the wainscot parlor, and baud a' the house scouring to get out the grease again." ''But, Alison, I really must have something to eat, and a draught of ale, before I go to bed." *' Eat ! and ale, Mr. Henry ! My certie, ye're ill to serve. Do ye think we havena heard o' your grand popinjay wark yonder, and how ye bleezed away as muckle pouther as wad hae shot a' the wild-fowl that we'll want atween this and Candlemas ; and then ganging majoring to the piper's Howff wi' a' the idle loons in the country, and sitting there birling at your poor uncle's cost, nae doubt, wi' a' the scaff and raff o' I 40 WAVERLEY NOVELS the water-side till sundown, and then coming hame and crying for ale as if ye were maister and mair ! " Extremely vexed, yet anxious, on account of his guest, to procure refreshments if possible, Morton suppressed his re- sentment, and good-humoredly assured Mrs. Wilson that he was really both hungry and thirsty ; "and as for the shooting at the popinjay, I have heard you say you have been there yourself, Mrs. Wilson. I wish you had come to look at us.^' *^Ah, Maister Henry," said the old dame, "I wish ye binna beginning to learn the way of blawing in a woraan^s lug wi* a' your whilly-wha's ! Aweel, sae ye dinna practise them but on auld wives like me the less matter. But tak heed o' the young queans, lad. Popinjay — ye think yoursell a braw fellow enow ; and troth ! [surveying him with the candle] there's nae fault to find wi' the outside, if the inside be conforming. But I mind when I was a gilpy of a lassock seeing the Duke — that was him that lost his head at London; folks said it wasna a very gude ane, but it was aye a sair loss to him, puir gentleman. Aweel, he wan the popinjay, for few cared to win it ower his Grace's head. Weel, he had a comely presence, and when a' the gentles mounted to show their capers, his Grace was as near to me as I am to you, and he said to me, ^ Tak tent o' yoursell, my bonny lassie ' — these were his very words — ^for my horse is not very chancy.* And now, as ye say ye had sae little to eat or drink, I'll let you see that I ha vena been sae unmindfu' o' you ; for I dinna think it's safe for young folk to gang to their bed on an empty stamach." To do Mrs. Wilson justice, her nocturnal harangues upon such occasions not unfrequently terminated with this sage apothegm, which always prefaced the producing of some pro- viaion a little better than ordinary, such as she now placed before him. In fact, the principal object of her "maunder- ing " was to display her consequence and love of power ; for Mrs. Wilson was not at the bottom an ill-tempered woman, and certainly loved her old and young master (both of whom she tormented extremely) better than any one else in the world. She now eyed Mr. Henry, as she called him, with great complacency as he partook of her good cheer. " Muckle gude may it do ye, my bonny man. I trowye dinna get sic a skirl-in-t5ie-pan as that at Niel Blane's. His wife was a canny body, and could dress things very weel for ane in her line o' business, but no like a gentleman's house- keeper, to be sure. But I doubt the daughter's a silly thing ; an unco cockernony she had busked on her head at the kirk last OLD MORTALITY 41 Snnday. I am doubting that there will be news o' a' thae braws. But my auld e'en's drawing thegither ; dinna hurry yoursell, my bonny man. Tak mind about the putting out the candle, and there's a horn of ale and a glass of clow-gillie- flower water. I dinna gie ilka body that ; I keep it for a pain I hae whiles in my ain stamach, and it's better for your young blood than brandy. Sae gude-night to ye, Mr. Henry, and see that ye tak gude care o' the candle." Morton promised to attend punctually to her caution, and requested her not to be alarmed if she heard the door opened, as she knew he must again, as usual, look to his horse and arrange him for the night. Mrs. Wilson then retreated, and Morton, folding up his provisions, was about to hasten to his guest when the nodding head of the old housekeeper was again thrust in at the door with an admonition to remember to take an account of his ways before he laid himself down to rest, and to pray for protection during the hours of dark- ness. Such were the manners of a certain class of domestics,* once common in Scotland, and perhaps still to be found in some old manor-houses in its remote counties. They were fixtures in the family they belonged to ; and, as they never conceived the possibility of such a thing as dismissal to be within the chances of their lives, they were, of course, sin- cerely attached to every member of it. On the other hand, when spoiled by the indulgence or indolence of their superi- ors, they were very apt to become ill-tempered, self-sufficient, and tyrannical ; so much so that a mistress or master would sometimes almost have wished to exchange their cross-grained fidelity for the smooth and accommodating duplicity of a modern menial. ♦ See Old Family Servants. Note 9. CHAPTER VI Yea, this man's brow, like to a tragic leaf, Foretells the nature of a tragic volume. Shakespeare. Being at leng1;h rid of the housekeeper's presence, Morton made a collection of what he had reserved from the provisions set before him and prepared to carry them to his concealed guest. He did not think it necessary to take a light, being perfectly acquainted with every turn of the road ; and it was lucky he did not do so, for he had hardly stepped beyond the threshold ere a heavy tramping of horses announced that the body of cavalry, whose kettle-drums* they had before heard, were in the act of passing along the high-road which winds round the foot of the bank on which the house of Milnwood was placed. He heard the commanding officer distinctly give the word " Halt.^' A pause of silence followed, interrupted only by the occasional neighing or pawing of an impatient charger. '* Whose house is this ? " said a voice in a tone of authority and command. "Milnwood, if it like your honor,'' was the reply. *' Is the owner well affected ^ " said the inquirer. '*He complies with the orders of government, and fre- quents an indulged minister," was the response. *'Hum I ay! indulged ! A mere mask for treason, very impolitically allowed to those who are too great cowards to wear their principles barefaced. Had we not better send up a party and search the house in case some of the bloody villains concerned in this heathenish butchery may be concealed in :t?" Ere Morton could recover from the alarm into which this proposal had thrown him a third speaker rejoined, *' I cannot think it at all necessary ; Milnwood is an infirm, hypochon- driac old man, who never meddles with politics, and loves his money-bags and bonds better than anything else in the world. His nephew, I hear, was at the wappenschaw to-day, and ♦ See MUitary Music at Night. Note 10. 4r I OLD MORTALITY AM gained the popinjay, which does not look like a fanatic. I should think they are all gone to bed long since, and an alarm this time of night might kill the poor old man/' '' Well,'' rejoined the leader, *'if that be so, to search the iionse would be lost time, of which we have but little to throw away. Gentlemen of the Life Guards, forward. March ! " A few notes on the trumpet, mingled with the occasional boom of the kettle-drum to mark the cadence, joined with the tramp of hoofs and the clash of arms, announced that the troop had resumed its march. The moon broke out as the leading files of the column attained a hill up which the road winded and showed indistinctly the glittering of the steel caps ; and the dark figures of the horses and riders might be imperfectly traced through the gloom. They continued to advance up the hill and sweep over the top of it in such long succession as intimated a considerable numerical force. When the last of them had disappeared young Morton re- sumed his purpose of visiting his guest. Upon entering the place of refuge he found him seated on his humble couch with a pocket Bible open in his hand, which he seemed to study with intense meditation. His broadsword, which he had un- sheathed in the first alarm at the arrival of the dragoons, lay naked across his knees, and the little taper that stood beside him upon the old chest, which served the purpose of a table, threw a partial and imperfect light upon those stern and harsh features, in which ferocity was rendered more solemn and dig- nified by a wild cast of tragic enthusiasm. His brow was that of one in whom some strong o'ermastering principle has over- whelmed all other passions and feelings, like the swell of a high spring-tide, when the usual cliffs and breakers vanish from the eye, and their existence is only indicated by the chaf- ing foam of the waves that burst and wheel over them. He raised his head after Morton had contemplated him for about a minute. *' I perceive," said Morton, looking at his sword, '* that you heard the horsemen ride by ; their passage delayed me for some minutes." "I scarcely heeded them," said Balfour; "my hour is not yet come. That I shall one day fall into their hands and be honorably associated with the saints whom they have slaughtered, I am full well aware. And I would, young man, that the hour were come ;s it should be as welcome to me as ever wedding to bridegroom. But if my Master has more work for me on earth I must not do His labor grudg- ingly." 44 WAVERLEY NOVELS " Eat and reiresh yourself/' said Morton ; '' to-morrow yonr safety requires you should leave this place in order to gain the hills so soon as you can see to distinguish the track through the morasses." '' Young man/' returned Balfour, "you are already weary of me, and would be yet more so, perchance, did you know the task upon which I have been lately put. And I wonder not that it should be so, for there are times when I am weary of myself. Think you not it is a sore trial for flesh and blood to be called upon to execute the righteous judgments of Heaven while we are yet in the body,and continue to retain that blinded sense and sympathy for carnal suffering which makes our own flesh thrill when we strike a gash upon the body of another ? And think you that when some prime tyrant has been removed from his place, that the instruments of his punishment can at all times look back on their share in his downfall with firm and unshaken nerves ? Must they not sometimes even ques- tion the truth of tliat inspiration which they have felt and acted under ? Must they not sometimes doubt the origin of that strong impulse with which their prayers for heavenly direction under difficulties have been inwardly answered and confirmed, and confuse, in their disturbed apprehensions, the responses of Truth itself with some strong delusion of the enemy ?" " Tliese are subjects, Mr. Balfour, on which I am ill-qual- ified to converse with you," answered Morton ; *' but I own I should strongly doubt the origin of any inspiration which seemed to dictate a line of conduct contrary to those feelings of natural humanity which Heaven has assigned to us as the general law of our conduct." Balfour seemed somewhat disturbed, and drew himself hastily up, but immediately composed himself and answered coolly, " It is natural you should think so ; you are yet in the dungeon-house of the law, a pit darker than that into which Jeremiah was plunged, even the dungeon of Malcaiah the son of Hamelmelech, where there was no water but mire. Yet is the seal of the covenant upon your forehead, and the son of the righteous who resisted to blood, where the banner was spread on the mountains, shall not be utterly lost as one of the chil- dren of darkness. Trow ye that in this day of bitterness and calamity nothing is required at our hands but to keep the moral law as far as our carnal frailty will permit ? Tliiuk ye our conquests must be only over our corrupt and evil affec- tions and passions ? No ; we are called upon, when we have girded up our loins, to run the race boldly, and when we have OLD MORTALITY 45 draTrn the sword we are enjoined to- smite the ungodly though he be our neighbor, and the man of power and cruelty though he were of our own kindred and the friend of our own bosom/' '' These are the sentiments/^ said Morton, *' that your enemies impute to you, and which palliate, if they do not vindicate, the cruel measures which the council have di- rected against you. They affirm that you pretend to derive your rule of action from what you call an inward light, re- jecting the restraints of legal magistracy, of national law, and even of common humanity, when in opposition to what you call the spirit within you/' *' They do us wrong,'' answered the Covenanter ; " it is they, perjured as they are, who have rejected all law, both divine and civil, and who now persecute us for adherence to the Solemn League and Covenant between God and the kingdom of Scotland, to which all of them, save a few Popish malignants, have sworn in former days, yet which they now burn in the market-places, and tread under foot in derision. When this Charles Stewart returned to these kingdoms, did the malignants bring him back ? They had tried it with strong hand, but they failed, I trow. Could James Grahame of Montrose and his Highland caterans have put him again in the place of his father ? I think their heads on the Westport told another tale for many a long day. It was the workers of the glorious work, the reformers of the beauty of the tabernacle that called him again to the high place from which his father fell. And what has been our reward ? In the words of the prophet, ' We looked for peace, but no good came ; and for a time of health, and behold trouble. The snorting of his horses was heard from Dan ; the whole land trembled at the sound of the neighing of his strong ones ; for they are come, and have devoured the land and all that is in it.' " '^ Mr. Balfour," answered Morton, *'l neither undertake to subscribe to or refute your complaints against the govern- ment. I have endeavored to repay a debt due to the comrade of my father by giving you shelter in your distress, but you will excuse me from engaging myself either in your cause or in coutroversy. I will leave you to repose, and heartily wish it were in my power to render your condition more comfort- able." *' But I shall see you, I trust, in the morning ere I de- part ? I am not a man whose bowels yearn after kindred and friends of this world. When I put my hand to the plough I entered into a covenant with my worldly affections \ that I should not look back on the things I left behind me; \ 46 WAVERLEY NOVELS Yet the son of mine ancient comrade is to me as mine own, and I cannot behold him without the deep and firm belief that I shall one day see him gird on his sword in the dear and precious cause for which his father fought and bled." With a promise on Morton's part that he would call the refugee when it was time for him to pursue his journey, they parted for the night. Morton retired to a few hours* rest ; but his imagination, disturbed by the events of the day, did not permit him to enjoy sound repose. There was a blended vision of horror before him, in which his new friend seemed to be a principal actor. The fair form of Edith Bellenden also mingled in his dream, weeping, and with dishevelled hair, and appear- ing to call on him for comfort and assistance which he had not in his power to render. He awoke from these unref reshing slumbers with a feverish impulse and a heart which foreboded disaster. There was already a tinge of dazzling lustre on the verge of the distant hills, and the dawn was abroad in all the freshness of a summer morning. ^' I have slept too long," he exclaimed to himself, ''and must now hasten to forward the journey of this unfortunate fugitive." He dressed himself as fast as possible, opened the door ol the house with as little noise as he could, and hastened to the place of refuge occupied by the Covenanter. Morton entered on tiptoe, for the determined tone and manner, as well as the unusual language and sentiments of this singular individual, had struck him with a sensation approaching to awe. Balfour was still asleep. A ray of light streamed on his uncurtained couch, and showed to Morton the working of his harsh features, which seemed agitated by some strong internal cause of disturbance. He had not undressed. Both his arms were above the bed-cover, the right hand strongly clinched, and occasionally making that abortive attempt to strike which usually attends dreams of violence ; the left was extended, and agitated from time to time by a movement as if repulsing some one. The perspiration stood on his brow ''like bubbles in a late disturbed stream," and these marks of emotion were accompanied with broken words which es- caped from him at intervals — "Thou art taken, Judas — thou art taken. Cling not to my knees — cling not to my knees ; hew him down ! A priest ! Ay, a priest of Baal, to be bound and slain, even at the brook Kishon. Firearms will not pre- Tail against him. Strike — thrust with the cold iron — put OLD MORTALITY' 4^ him out of pain — put him out of pain, were it but for the sake of his gray hairs/' Much alarmed at the import of these expressions, which seemed to burst from him even in sleep with the stern energy accompanying the perpetration of some act of violence, Mor- ton shook his guest by the shoulder in order to awake him. The first words he uttered were, '' Bear me where ye will, I will avouch the deed ! " His glance around having then fully awakened him, he at once assumed all the stern and gloomy composure of his ordinary manner, and throwing himself on his knees before speaking to Morton poured forth an ejaculatory prayer for the suffering Church of Scotland, entreating that the blood of her murdered saints and martyrs might be precious in the sight of Heaven, and that the shield of the Almighty might be spread over the scattered remnant, who, for His name's sake, were abiders in the wilderness. Vengeance, speedy and ample vengeance on the oppressors, was the concluding peti- tion of his devotions, which he expressed aloud in strong and emphatic language, rendered more impressive by the Orientalism of Scripture. When he had finished his prayer he arose, and taking Morton by the arm, they descended together to the stable, where the Wanderer (to give Burley a title which was often conferred on his sect) began to make his horse ready to pur- sue his journey. When the animal was saddled and bridled, Burley requested Morton to walk with him a gun-shot into the wood and direct him to the right road for gaining the moors. Morton readily complied, and they walked for some time in silence under the shade of some fine old trees, pur- suing a sort of natural path, which, after passing through woodland for about half a mile, led into the bare and wild country which extends to the foot of the hills. There was little conversation between them, until at length Burley suddenly asked Morton, " Whether the words he had spoken over-night had borne fruit in his mind ?*' Morton answered, '' That he remained of the same opinion which he had formerly held, and was determined, at least as far and as long as possible, to unite the duties of a good Chris- tian with those of a peaceful subject.'' "In other words," replied Burley, ''yon are desirous to serve both God and Mammon — to be one day professing the truth with your lips, and the next day in arms, at the com- mand of carnal and tyrannic authority, to shed the blood of those who for the truth have forsaken all things ? Think 48 WAVERLEY NOVELS ye/' he continned, *' to touch pitch and remain nndefiled ? to mix in the ranks of malignants, papists, papa-prelatists, lati- tudinarians, and scoffers ; to partake of their sports, which are like the meat offered unto idols ; to hold intercourse, per- chance, with their daughters, as the s^ns of God with the daughters of men in the world before the flood. Think you, I say, to do all these things and yet remain free from pol- lution ? I say unto you that all communication with the enemies of the church is the accursed thing which God hateth ! Touch not, taste not, handle not ! And grieve not, young man, as if you alone were called upon to subdue your carnal affections, and renounce the pleasures which are a snare to your feet. I say to you, that the son of David hath denounced no better lot on the whole generation of mankind.'' He then mounted his horse, and, turning to Morton, re- peated the text of Scripture, '' An heavy yoke was ordained for the sons of Adam from the day they go out of their mother's womb till the day that they return to the mother of all things, from him who is clothed in blue silk and weareth a crown even to him who weareth simple linen — wrath, envy, trouble, and unquietness, rigor, strife, and fear of death in the time of rest." Having uttered these words he set his horse in motion, and soon disappeared among the boughs of the forest. " Farewell, stern enthusiast," said Morton, looking after him ; " in some moods of my mind how dangerous would be the society of such a companion ! f' If I am unmoved by his zeal for abstract doctrines of faith, or rather for a peculiar mode of worship [such was the purport of his reflections], can I be a man and a Scotchman, and look with indifference on that persecution which has made wise men mad ? Was not the cause of freedom, civil and religious, that for which my father fought ; and shall I do well to remain inactive or to take the part of an oppressive government if there should ap- pear any rational prospect of redressing the insufferable wrongs to which my miserable countrymen are subjected ? And yet, who shall warrant me that these people, rendered wild by per- secution, would not, in the hour of victory, be as cruel and as intolerant as those by whom they are now hunted down ? What degree of moderation or of mercy can be expected from this Burley, so distinguished as one of their principal cham- Sions, and who seems even now to be reeking from some recent eed of violence, and to feel stings of remorse which even his en- thusiasm cannot altogether stifle ? I am weary of seeing noth- ing but violence and fury around me — now assuming the mask OLD MORTALITY 4d of lawful anthority, now taking that of religious zeal. I am sick of my country, of myself, of my dependent situation, of my re- pressed feelings, of these woods, of that river, of that house, of all but Edith, and she can never be mine ! Why should I haunt her walks ? Why encourage my own delusion, and perhaps hers ? She can never be mine. Her grandmother^s pride, the opposite principles of our families, my wretched state of dependence — a poor miserable slave, for I have not even the wages of a servant ; all circumstances give the lie to the vain hope that we can ever be united. Why then protract a delusion so painful ? '' But I am no slave,'' he said aloud, and drawing himsell up to his full stature — *' no slave in one respect surely. I can change my abode, my father's sword is mine, and Europe lies open before me as before him and hundreds besides of my countrymen who have filled it with the fame of their exploits. Perhaps some lucky chance may raise me to a rank with our Ruthvens, our Lesleys, our Monros, the chosen leaders of the famous Protestant champion, Gustavus Adolphus, or if not, a soldier's life or a soldier's grave." When he had formed this determination he found himself near the door of his uncle's house, and resolved to lose no time in making him acquainted with it. "Another glance of Edith's eye, another walk by Edith's side, and my resolution would melt away. I will take an irrevocable step, therefore, and then see her for the last time." In this mood he entered the wainscotted parlor, in which his uncle was already placed at his morning's refreshment, a huge plate of oatmeal porridge, with a corresponding allow- ance of buttermilk. The favorite housekeeper was in at- tendance, half standing, half resting on the back of a chair, in a posture betwixt freedom and respect. The old gentle- man had been remarkably tall in his earlier days, an advan- tage which he now lost by stooping to such a degree that at a meeting, where there was some dispute concerning the sort of arch which should be thrown over a considerable brook, a facetious neighbor proposed to offer Milnwood a handsome sum for his curved backbone, alleging that he would sell anything that belonged to him. Splay feet of unusual size, long thin hands garnished with nails which seldom felt the steel, a wrinkled and puckered visage, the length of which corresponded with that of his person, together with a pair of little sharp bargain-making gray eyes that seemed eternally looking out for their advantage, completed the highly un- 50 WAVERLEY NOVELS promising exterior of Mr. Moi*ton of Milnwood. As it would have been very injudicious to have lodged a liberal or benevo- lent disposition in such an unworthy cabinet, nature had suited his person with a mind exactly in conformity with it — that is to say, mean, selfish, and covetous. When this amiable personage was aware of the presence of his nephew he hastened, before addressing him, to swallow the spoonful of porridge which he was in the act of conveying to his mouth, and as it chanced to be scalding hot, the pain occasioned by its descent down his throat and into his stomach inflamed the ill-humor with which he was already prepared to meet his kinsman. '^ The deil take them that made them ! " was his first ejac- ulation, apostrophizing his mess of porridge. ''They're gude parritch eneugh,'' said Mrs. Wilson, ''if ye wad but take time to sup them. I made them mysell ; but if folk winna hae patience they should get their thrapples causewayed." " Hand your peace, Alison ! I was speaking to my nevoy. How is this, sir ? And what sort o' scampering gates are these o' going on ? Ye were not at hame last night till near mid- night. '^ " Thereabouts, sir, I believe," answered Morton, in an in- different tone. " Thereabouts, sir ! What sort of an answer is that, sir ? Why came ye na hame when other folk left the grund ? " " I suppose you know the reason very well, sir," said Mor- ton : " I had the fortune to be the best marksman of the day, and remained, as is usual, to give some little entertainment to the other young men." " The deevil ye did, sir ! And ye come to tell me that to my face ? Vou pretend to gie entertainments that canna come by a dinner except by sorning on a caref u' man like me ? But if ye put me to charges I'se work it out o' ye. I seena why ye shouldna hand the pleugh now that the pleughman has left us ; it wad set ye better than wearing thae green duds and wasting your siller on powther and lead ; it wad put ye in an honest calling, and wad keep ye in bread without be- ing behadden to ony ane." " I am very ambitious of learning such a calling, sir, but I don't understand driving- the plough." " And what for no ? It's easier than your gunning and archery that ye like sae weel. Auld Davie is ca'ing it e'en now, and ye may be goadsmanfor the first twa or three days ; ftud tak tent ye dinna o'erdrive the owsen, and then ye will OLD MORTALITY 51 be fit to gang between the stilts. Ye'll ne'er learn younger, I'll be your caution. Haggle Holm is heavy land, and Davie is ower auld to keep the coulter down now." '' I beg pardon for interrupting you, sir, but I have formed a scheme for myself which will have the same effect of reliev- ing you of the burden and charge attending my company." * * Ay ! Indeed ! a scheme o' yours ! that must be a denty ane ! " said the uncle, with a very peculiar sneer. '' Let's hear about it, lad." " It is said in two words, sir. I intend to leave this coun- try and serve abroad as my father did before these unhappy troubles broke out at home. His name will not be so entirely forgotten in the countries where he served but that it will procure his son at least the opportunity of trying his fortune as a soldier." *^Gude be gracious to us !" exclaimed the housekeeper; '^ our young Mr. Harry gang abroad ? Na, na ! eh, na ! that maun never be." Milnwood, entertaining no thought or purpose of parting with his nephew, who was, moreover, very useful to him in many respects, was thunderstruck at this abrupt declaration of independence from a person whose deference to him had hitherto been unlimited. He recovered himself, however, im- mediately. '^ And wha do you think is to give you the means, young man, for such a wild-goose chase ? Not I, I am sure. I can hardly support you at hame. And ye wad be marrying, I'se warrant, as your father did afore ye, too, and sending your uncle hame a pack o' weans to be fighting and skirling through the house in my auld days, and to take wing and flee aff like yoursell whenever they were asked to serve a turn about the town?" '* I have no thoughts of ever marrying," answered Henry. ''Hear till him now !" said the housekeeper. ''It's a shame to hear a douce young lad speak in that way, since a' the warld kens that they maun either marry or do waur." " Hand your peace, Alison," said her master ; " and you, Harry (he added more mildly), put this nonsense out o' your head. This comes o' letting ye gang a-sodgering for a day ; mind, ye hae nae siller, lad, for ony sic nonsense plans." " I beg you pardon, sir, my wants shall be very few ; and would you please to give me the gold chain which the mar- grave gave to my father after the battle of Lutzeu " " Mercy on us ! the gowd chain ! " exclaimed his uncle. 62 WAVERLEY NOVELS " The chain of gowd ! " re-echoed the housekeeper — both aghast with astonishment at the audacity of the proposal. " I will keep a few links, to remind me of him by whom it was won, and the place where he won it/' continued Mor- ton ; "the rest shall furnish me the means of following the same career in which my father obtained that mark of dis- tinction/' *' Mercifu' powers ! " exclaimed the governante, " my mas- ter wears it every Sunday/' " Sunday and Saturday/' added old Milnwood, ^^ when- ever I put on my black velvet coat ; and Wylie Mactrickit is partly of opinion it's a kind of heirloom that rather belangs to the head of fche house than to the immediate descendant. It has three thousand links ; I have counted them a thousand times. It's worth three hundred pounds sterling." *' That is more than I want, sir ; if you choose to give me the third part of the money and five links of the chain it will amply serve my purpose, and the rest will be some slight atonement for the expense and trouble I have put you to." " The laddie's in a creel ! " exclaimed his uncle. ** 0, sirs, what will become o' the rigs o' Milnwood when I am dead and gane ! He would fling the crown of Scotland awa if he had it." " Hout, sir," said the old housekeeper, " I maun e'en say it's partly your ain faut. Ye maunna curb his head ower sair in neither ; and, to be sure, since he has gane doun to the Howff, ye maun just e'en pay the lawing." " If it be not abune twa dollars, Alison," said the old gentleman, very reluctantly. " I'll settle it my sell wi' Niel Blane the first time I gang down to theclachan," said Alison, *' cheaper than your honor or Mr. Harry can do ; " and then whispered to Henry, " Dinna vex him ony mair ; I'll pay the lave out o' the but- ter siller, and nae mair words about it/' Then proceeding aloud, "And ye maunna speak o' the young gentleman handing the pleugh ; there's puir distressed Whigs enow about the country will be glad to do that for a bite and a soup ; it sets thena far better than the like o' him." "And then we'll hae the dragoons on us/' said Milnwood, " for comforting and entertaining intercoramuned rebels ; a bonny strait ye wad put us in ! But take your breakfast, Harry, and then lay by your new green coat and put on your raploch-gray, it's a mair mensfu' and thrifty dress, and a mair seemly sight than thae dandling slops and ribbands/' Morton left the room, perceiving plainly that he had at OLD MORTALITY 5S present no chance of gaining his purpose, and perhaps not altogether displeased at the obstacles which seemed to present themselves to his leaving the neighborhood of Tillietudlem. The housekeeper followed him into the next room, patting him on the back and bidding him '^ be a gude bairn and pit by his braw things/' " And I'll loop doun your hat and lay by the band and rib- band/' said the officious dame ; '* and ye maun never at no hand speak o' leaving the land or of selling the gowd chain, for your uncle has an unco pleasure in looking on you, and in counting the links of the chainzie ; and ye ken auld folk canna last forever, sae the chain and the lands and a' will be your ain ae day ; and ye may marry ony leddy in the coun- try-side ye like, and keep a braw house at Milnwood, for there's enow o' means ; and is not that worth waiting for, my dow ? '' There was something in the latter part of the prognostic which sounded so agreeably in the ears of Morton that he shook the old dame cordially by the hand, and assured her he was much obliged by her good advice, and would weigh it carefully before he proceeded to act upon his former resolu- tion. CHAPTER VII From seventeen years till now, almost fourscore, Here lived I, but now live here no more. At seventeen years many their fortunes seek, But at fourscore it is too late a week. As You Like It, We must conduct our readers to the Tower of Tillietudlem, to which Lady Margaret Bellenden had returned, in romantic phrase, malcontent and full of heaviness at the unexpected, and, as she deemed it, indelible affront which had been brought upon her dignity by the public miscarriage of Goose Gibbio, That unfortunate man-at-arms was forthwith commanded to drive his feathered charge to the most remote parts of the common moor, and on no account to awaken the grief or re- sentment of his lady by appearing in her presence while the sense of the affront was yet recent. The next proceeding of Lady Margaret was to hold a solemn court of justice, to which Harrison and the butler were admitted, partly on the footing of witnesses, partly as assess- ors, to inquire into the recusancy of Cuddie Headrigg the ploughman, and the abetment which he had received from his mother — these being regarded as the original causes of the disaster which had befallen the chivalry of Tillietudlem. The charge being fully made out and substantiated. Lady Mar- garet resolved to reprimand the culprits in person, and, if she found them impenitent, to extend the censure into a sentence of expulsion from the barony. Miss Bellenden alone ven- tured to say anything in behalf of the accused ; but her countenance did not profit them, as it might have done on an;; other occasion. For so soon as Edith had heard it ascertained that the unfortunate cavalier had not suffered in his person, his disaster had affected her with an irresistible disposition to laugh, which, in spite of Lady Margaret's indignation, or rather irritated, as usual, by restraint, had broken out repeat- edly on her return homeward, until her grandmother, in no shape imposed upon by the several fictitious causes which the young lady assigned for her ill-timed risibility, upbraided her in very bitter terms with being insensible to the honor of her OLD MORTALITY 65 family. Miss Bellenden's intercession, therefore, had on this occasion little or no chance to be listened to. As if to evince the rigor of her disposition. Lady Mar- garet on this solemn occasion exchanged the ivory-headed cane with which she commonly walked for an immense gold- headed staff which had belonged to her father, the deceased Earl of Torwood, and which, like a sort of mace of office, she only made use of on occasions of special solemnity. Sup- ported by this awful baton of command. Lady Margaret Bel- lenden entered the cottage of the delinquents. There was an air of consciousness about old Manse as she rose from her wicker chair in the chimney-nook, not with the cordial alertness of visage which used on other occasions to express the honor she felt in the visit of her lady, but with a certain solemnity and embarrassment, like an accused party on his first appearance in presence of his judge, before whom he is nevertheless determined to assert his innocence. Her arms were folded, her mouth primmed into an expression of respect mingled with obstinacy, her whole mind apparently bent up to the solemn interview. With her best courtesy to the ground, and a mute motion of reverence, Mause pointed to the chair which on former occasions Lady Margaret (for the good lady was somewhat of a gossip) had deigned to occupy for half an hour sometimes at a time, hearing the news of the county and of the borough. But at present her mistress was far too indignant for such condescension. She rejected the mute invitation with a haughty wave of her hand, and, drawing herself up as she spoke, she uttered the following interrogatory in a tone cal- culated to overwhelm the culprit. '^Is it true, Mause, as I am informed by Harrison, Gudyill, and others of my people, that you hae taen it upon you, contrary to the faith you owe to God and the king and to me, your natural lady and mis- tress, to keep back your son frae the wappenschaw, held by the order of the sheriff, and to return his armor and abulyie- ments at a moment wlien it was impossible to find a suitable delegate in his stead, whereby the barony of Tillietudlem, baith in the person of its mistress and indwellers, has in- curred sic a disgrace and dishonor as hasna bef a'en the family since the days of Malcolm Canmore ? " Mause's habitual respect for her mistress was extreme ; she hesitated, and one or two short coughs expressed the dif- ficulty she had in defending herself. " I am sure, my leddy — hem, hem ! I am sure I am sorry, very sorry, that ony 56 WAVERLEY NOVELS cause of displeasure should hae occurred ; but my son's ill ness " '' Dinna tell me of your son^s illness, Mause ! Had he been sincerely unweel, ye would hae been at the Tower by daylight to get something that wad do him gude ; there are few ail- ments that I havena medical recipes for, and that ye ken fu' weel/' '^ ay, my leddy ! I am sure ye hae wrought wonderful cures ; the last thing ye sent Cuddie, when he had the batts, e'en wrought like a charm/' ii Why, then, woman, did ye not apply to me, if there was ony real need ? But there was none, ye fause-hearted vassal that ye are ! " " Your leddyship never ca'd me sic a word as that before. Ohon ! that I suldlive to be ca'dsae," she continued, bursting into tears, " and me a born servant o' the house o' Tillietudlem! I am sure they belie baith Ouddie and me sair, if they said he wadna fight ower the boots in blu id for your leddyship and Miss Edith and the auld Tower — ay suld he, and I would rather see him buried beneath it than he suld gie way ; but thir ridings and wappenschawings, my leddy, I hae nae broo o' them ava. I can fiad nae warrant for them whatsoever/' " Nae warrant for them ! " cried the high-born dame. '' Do ye na ken, woman, that ye are bound to be liege vassals in all hunting, hosting, watching and warding, when lawfully sum- moned thereto in my name ? Your service is not gratuitous. I trow ye hae land for it. Ye're kindly tenants, hae a cot- house, a kale-yard, and a cow's grass on the common. Few hae been brought farther ben, and ye grudge your son suld gie me a day's service in the field ? " "Na, my leddy — na, my leddy, it's no that V* exclaimed Mause, greatly embarrassed, *^ but ane canna serve twa maisters; and, if the truth maun e'en come out, there's Aneabune whase commands I maun obey before your leddyship's. lam sure I would put neither king's nor kaisar's nor ony earthly creature's afore them." " How mean ye by that, ye auld fule woman ? D'ye think that I order onything against conscience ? " '* I dinna pretend to say that, my leddy, in regard o'your leddyship's conscience, which has been brought up, as it were, wi' prelatic principles ; but ilka ane maun walk by the light o' their ain, and mine/' said Mause, waxing bolder as the conference became animated, '* tells me that f suld leave a' — cot, kale-yard, and cow's grass — and suffer a', rather than that I or mine should put on harness in an nnlawfu* cause." OLD MORTALITY 57 " Unlawful ! "exclaimed her mistress ; " the cause to which you are called by your lawful leddy and mistress, by the com- mand of the king, by the writ of the privy council, by the order of the lord-lieutenant, by the warrant of the sheriff ! " ^' Ay, my leddy, nae doubt ; but, no to displeasure your leddyship, ye'll mind that there was ance a king in Scripture they ca^d Nebuchadnezzar, and he set up a golden image in the plain o' Dura, as it might be in the haugh yonder by the water-side, where the array were warned to meet yesterday, and the princes, and the governors, and the captains, and the judges themsells, forbye the treasurers, the counsellors, and the sheriffs, were warned to the dedication thereof, and com- manded to fall down and worship at the sound of the cornet,, flute, harp, sackbut, psaltery, and all kinds of music." '^ And what o' a' this, ye fule wife ? Or what had Nebu- chadnezzar to do with the wappenschaw of tlie Upper Ward of Clydesdale?" ^' Only just thus far, my leddy," continued Mause, firmly, ''^that prelacy is like the great golden image in the plain of Dura, and that as Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were borne out in refusing to bow down and worship, so neither shall Cuddie Headrigg, your leddyship's poor pleughman, at least wi' his auld mither s consent, make murgeons or jenny- flections, as they ca* them, in the house of the prelates and curates, nor gird him wi' armor to fight in their cause, either at the sound of kettle-drums, organs, bagpipes, or ony other kind of music whatever." Lady Margaret Bellenden heard this exposition of Scrip- ture with the greatest possible indignation as well as surprise. "I see which way the windblaws," she exclaimed, after a pause of astonishment ; *' the vile spirit of .the year 1642 is at wark again as merrily as ever, and ilka auld wife in the chim- ley-neuk will be for knapping doctrine wi' doctors o' divinity and the godly fathers o' the church." " If your leddyship means the bishops and curates, I'm sure they hae been but stepfathers to the Kirk o' Scotland. And since your leddyship is pleased to speak o' parting wi' us, I am free to tell you a piece o' my mind in another article. Your leddyship and the steward hae been pleased to propose that my son Cuddie suld work in the barn wi' a newfangled machine* for dighting the corn frae the chaff, thus impiously thwarting the will of Divine Providence by raising wind for your leddyship's ain particular use by human art, instead of soliciting it by prayer, or waiting patiently for whatever dis- ♦ See Winnovring Machine. Note 11. 58 WAVERLEY NOVELS pensation of wind Providence was pleased to send upon the sheeling-hill. Now, my leddy " " The woman would drive ony reasonable being daft \'* said Lady Margaret ; then resuming her tone of authority and indifference, she concluded, *' Weel, Mause, Fll just end where I suld hae begun. Ye're ower learned and ower godly for me to dispute wi' ; sae I have just this to say — either Ouddie must attend musters when he's lawfully warned by the ground- officer, or the sooner he and you flit and quit my bounds the better. There's nae scarcity o' auld wives or ploughmen ; but if there were, I had rather that the rigs of Tillietudlem bare naething but windlestraes and sandy lavrocks than that they were ploughed by rebels to the king." *' Aweel, my leddy," said Mause, "I was born here, and thought to die where my father died ; and your leddyship has been a kind mistress, I'll ne'er deny that, and I'se ne'er cease to pray for you and for Miss Edith, and that ye may be brought to see the error of your ways. But still " *' The error of my ways ! " interrupted Lady Margaret, much incensed — *' the error of my ways, ye uncivil woman ! " " Ou, ay, my leddy, we are blinded that live in this valley of tears and darkness, and hae a' ower mony errors, grit folks as weel as sma' ; but, as I said, my puir bennison will rest wi' you and yours wherever I am. I will be wae to hear o' your affliction and blithe to hear o' your prosperity, temporal and spiritual. But I canna prefer the commands of an earthly mistress to those of a Heavenly Master, and sae I am e'en ready to suffer for righteousness' sake." ''It is very well," said Lady Margaret, turning her back in great displeasure ; ^' ye ken my will, Mause, in the matter. I'll hae nae Whiggery in the barony of Tillietudlem ; the next thing wad be to set up a conventicle in my very withdra wing- room." Having said this she departed with an air of great dignity ; and Mause, giving way to feelings which she had suppressed during the interview — for she, like her mistress, had her own feeling of pride — now lifted up her voice and wept aloud. Ouddie, whose malady, real or pretended, still detained him in bed, lay perdue during all this conference, snugly ensconced within his boarded bedstead, and terrified to death lest Lady Margaret, whom he held in hereditary reverence, should have detected his presence and bestowed on him personally some of those bitter reproaches with which she loaded his mother. But as soon as he thought her ladyship fairly out of hearing he bounced up in his nest. OLD MORTALITY 59 • " The fonl fa' ye, that I suld say sae," he cried out to his mother, " for a lang-tongued clavering wife, as my father, honest man, aye ca'd ye ! Couldna ye let the leddy alane wi* your Whiggery ? And I was e'en as great a gomeral to let ye persuade me to lie up here amang the blamkets like a hurcheon instead o' gaun to the wappenschawlike other folk. Odd, but I put a trick on ye, for I was out at the window-bole when your auld back was turned, and awa down by to hae a baff at the popinjay, and I shot within twa on't. I cheated the leddy for your clavers, but I wasna gaun to cheat my jo. But she may marry whae she likes now, for I'm clean dung ower. This is a waur dirdum than we got f rae Mr. Gudyill when ye garr'd me refuse to eat the plum-porridge on Yule Eve, as if it were ony matter to God or man whether a pleughman had suppit on minched pies or sour sowens." ** 0, whisht, my bairn, whisht," replied Mause ; *' thou kensna about thae things. It was forbidden meat, things dedicated to set days and holidays, which are inhibited to the use of Protestant Christians." " And now," continued her son, "ye hae brought the leddy hersell on our hands ! An I could but hae gotten some decent claes in, I wad hae spanged out o' bed and tauld her I wad ride where she liked, night or day, an she wad but leave us the free house and the yaird, that grew the best early kale in the haill country, and the cow's grass." '^ wow ! my winsome bairn, Cuddie," continued the old dame, " murmur not at the dispensation ; never grudge suf- fering in the gude cause." '* But what ken I if the cause is gude or no, mither," re- joined Cuddie, " for a' ye bloeze out sae muckle doctrine about it ? It's clean beyond my comprehension a'thegither. I see nae sae muckle difference atween the twa ways o't as a' the folk pretend. It's very true the curates read aye the same words ower again ; and if they be right words, what for no ? A gude tale's no the waur o' being twice tauld, I trow ; and a body has aye the better chance to understand it. Every- body's no sae gleg at the uptake as ye are yoursell, mither." '^ 0, my dear Cuddie, this is the sairest distress of a'," said the anxious mother. " 0, how aften have I shown ye the difference between a pure evangelical doctrine and ane that's corrupt wi' human inventions ? 0, my bairn, if no for your ain Saul's sake, yet for my gray hairs " *'Weel, mither," said Cuddie, interrupting her, "what need ye mak sae muckle din about it ? I hae aye dune what- e'er ye bade me, and gaed to kirk whare'er ye likit on the 60 WAVERLEY NOVELS Sundays, and fended weel for ye in the ilka days besides. And that's what vexes me mair than a' the rest, when I think how I am to fend for ye now in thae brickie times. I am no clear if I can pleugli ony place but the mains and Muckle- whame, at least I never tried ony other grund, and it wadna come natural to me. And nae neighboring heritors will danr to take us after being turned aff thae bounds for non-enor- mity." '* Non-conformity, hinnie," sighed Mause, " is the name that thae warldly men gie us." " Weel, aweel, we'll liae to gang to a far country, maybe twall or fifteen miles aff. I could be a dragoon, nae doubt, for I can ride and play wi' the broadsword a bit, but ye wad be roaring about your blessing and your gray hairs." Here Mause's exclamations became extreme. ^^ Weel, weel, I but spoke o't ; besides, ye're ower auld to be sitting cocked up on a baggage- wagon wi' Eppie Dumblane, the corporal's wife. Sae what's to come o' us I canna weel see. I doubt I'll hae to tak the hills wi' the wild Whigs, as they ca' them, and then it will be my lot to be shot down likea mawkin at some dike-side, or to be sent to heaven wi' a Saint Johnstone's tippit about my hause." *'0, my bonnie Cuddie," said the zealous Mause, '^ for- bear sic carnal, self-seeking language, whilk is just a mis- doubting o' Providence. I have not seen the son of the right- eous begging his bread, sae says the text ; and your father was a douce, honest man, though somewhat warldly in his dealings, and cumbered about earthly things, e'en like your- sell, my jo ! " " Aweel," said Cuddie, after a little consideration, "I see but ae gate for't, and that's a cauld coal to blaw at, mither. Howsomever, mither, ye hae some guess o' a wee bit kindness that's atween Miss Edith and young Mr. Henry Morton, that suld be ca'd young Milnwood, and that I hae whiles carried a bit book, or maybe a bit letter, quietly atween them, and made believe never to ken wha it cam f rae, though I kenn'd brawly. There's whiles convenience in a body looking a wee stupid ; and I have aften seen them walking at e'en on the little path by Dinglewood burn ; but naebody ever kenn'd a word about it frae Cuddie. I ken I'm gay thick in the head ; but I'm as honest as our auld fore-hand ox, puir fallow, that I'll ne'er work ony mair. I hope they'll be as kind to him that come ahint me as I hae been. But, as I was saying, we'll awa down to Miln- wood and tell Mr. Harry our distress. They want a pleugh- mar;, and the grund's no unlike our ain. I am sure Mr. OLD MORTALITY 61 Harry will stand my part, for he's a kind-hearted gentleman, ril get but little penny-fee, for his uncle, auld Nippie Miln- wood, has as close a grip as the deil himsell. But we'll aye win a bit bread and a drap kale, and a fireside and theeking ower our heads, and that's a' we'll want for a season. Sae get up, mither, and sort your things to gang away ; for since sae it is that gang we maun, I wad like ill to wait till Mr. Harrison and auld Gudyill cam to pu' us out by the lug and the horn," wcmI CHAPTER VIII The devil a puritan, or anything else he is, but a time-server. Twelfth Night. It was evening when Mr. Henry Morton perceived an old woman wrapped in her tartan plaid, supported by a stout, stupid-looking fellow in hodden-gray, approach the house of Milnwood. Old Mause made her courtesy, but Cuddie took the lead in addressing Morton. Indeed, he had previously stipulated with his mother that he was to manage matters his own way ; for though he readily allowed his general inferi- ority of understanding, and filially submitted to the guidance of his motlier on most ordinary occasions, yet he said, *' For getting a service or getting forward in the warld he could somegate gar the wee pickle sense he had gang muckle far- ther than hers, though she could crack like ony minister o' them a'.'' Accordingly, he thus opened the conversation with young Morton . '^ A braw night this for the rye, your honor ; the west park will be breering bravely this e'en." **I do not doubt it, Cuddie ; but what can have brought your mother — this is your mother, is it not ? [Cuddie nod- ded] — what can have brought your mother and you down the water so late ? " "Troth, stir, just what gars the auld wives trot — neshes- sity, stir. I'm seeking for service, stir." " For service, Cuddie, and at this time of the year ? how comes that ? " Mause could forbear no longer. Proud alike of her cause and her sufferings, she commenced with an affected humility of tone, " It has pleased Heaven, an it like your honor, to distinguish us by a visitation " " Deil's in the wife and nae gude \" whispered Cuddie to his mother, "an ye come out wi' your Whiggery they'll no daur open a door to us through the haill country ! " Then aloud and addressing Morton, " My mother's auld, stir, and she has rather forgotten hersell in speaking to my leddy, that OLD MORTALITY eS canna wecl bide to be contradickit — as I ken naebody likes it if they could help themsells — especially by her ain folk ; and Mr. Harrison the steward, and Gudyill the butler, they're no very fond o' us, and it's ill sitting at Rome and striving wi' the Pope. Sae I thought it best to flit before ill came to waur ; and here's a wee bit line to your honor frae a friend will maybe say some mair about it." Morton took the billet, and, crimsoning up to the ears be- tween joy and surprise, read these words : ** If you can serve these poor helpless people, you will oblige E. B." It was a few instants before he could attain composure enough to ask, '* And what is your object, Cuddie ? and how can I be of use to you ?" " Wark, stir, wark and a service is my object, a bit beild for my mither ^nd mysell ; we hae gude plenishing o' our ain, if Ave had the cast o' a cart to bring it down, and milk and meal and greens enow, for I'm gay gleg at meal-time, and sae is my mither, lang may it be sae ! And for the penny-fee and a' that I'll just leave it to the laird and you. I ken ye'll no see a poor lad wranged if ye can help it." Morton shook his head. ** For the meat and lodging, Cuddie, I think I can promise something ; but the penny-fee will be a hard chapter, I doubt." " I'll take my chance o't, stir," replied the candidate for service, '* rather than gang down about Hamilton or ony sic far country." '' Well, step into the kitchen, Cuddie, and I'll do what I can for you." The negotiation was not without difficulties. Morton had first to bring over the housekeeper, who made a thousand objections, as usual, in order to have the pleasure of being be- sought and entreated ; but when she was gained over, it was comparatively easy to induce old Milnwood to accept of a servant whose wages were to be in his own option. An out- house was therefore assigned to Mause and her son for their habitation, and it was settled that they were for the time to be admitted to eat of the frugal fare provided for the family, until their own establishment should be completed. As for Morton, he exhausted his own very slender stock of money in order to make Cuddie such a present, under the name of *^arles," as might show his sense of the value of the recom- mendation delivered to him. *' And now we're settled ance mair," said Cuddie to his mother, ^^and if we're no saebien and comfortable as we were up yonder, yet life's life ony gate, and we're wi' decent kirk- 64 WAVERLEY NOVELS ganging folk o' your ain persuasion, mither ; there will benae quarrel Tin g about that. " '^ Of my persuasion, hinnie !'' said the too-enlightened Mause ; " wae's me for thy blindness and theirs. 0, Cuddie, they are but in the court of the Gentiles, and will ne'er win farther ben, I doubt ; they are but little better than the Prel- atists themsells. They wait on the ministry of^ that blinded man, Peter Poundtext, ance a precious teacher of the Word, but now a backsliding pastor that has, for the sake of stipend and family maintenance, forsaken the strict path^and gane astray after the Black Indulgence. 0, my son, had ye but profited by the gospel doctrines ye hae heard in the Glen of Bengonnar frae the dear Richard Rumbleberry, that sweet youth who suffered martyrdom in the Grassmarket afore Candlemas ! Didna ye hear him say that Erastianism was as bad as Prelacy, and that the Indulgence was as bad as Erastianism ?" ^' Heard' ever onybody the like o' this V interrupted Cud- die. *^ We^ll be driven out o' house and ha' again afore we ken where to turn oursells. Weel, mither, I hae just ae word mair. An I hear ony mair o' your din — afore folk, that is, for I dinna mind your clavers mysell, they aye set me sleep- ing — but if I hear ony mair din afore folk, as I was say- ing, about Poundtexts and Rumbleberries, and doctrines and malignants, I'se e'en turn a single sodger mysell, or maybe a sergeant or a captain, if ye plague me the mair, and let Rumbleberry and you gang to the deil thegither. I ne'er gat ony gude by his doctrine, as ye ca't, but a sour fit o' the batts wi' sitting amang the wat moss-hags for four hours at a yoking, and the leddy cured me wi' some hickery-pickery ; mair by token, an she had kenn'd how I came by the dis- order, she wadna hae been in sic a hurry to mend it." Although groaning in spirit over the obdurate and impen- itent state, as she thought it, of her son Cuddie, Mause durst neither urge him further on the topic, nor altogether neglect the warning he had given her. She knew the disposition of her deceased helpmate, whom this surviving pledge of their union greatly resembled, and remembered that, although sub- mitting implicitly in most things to her boast of superior acuteness, he used on certain occasions, when driven to ex- tremity, to be seized with fits of obstinacy, which neither remonstrance, flattery, nor threats were capable of overpow- ering. Trembling, therefore, at the very possibility of Cud- dip's fulfilling his threat, she put a guard over her tongue, and even when Poundtext was commended in her presence as OLD MORTALITY 66 an able and fructifying preacher, she had the good sense to suppress the contradiction which thrilled upon her tongue, and to express her sentiments no otherwise than by deep groans, which the hearers charitably construed to flow from a vivid recollection of the more pathetic parts of his homilies. How long she could have repressed her feelings it is difficult to say. An unexpected accident relieved her from the ne- cessity. The Laird of Milnwood kept up all old fashions which were co^^nected with economy. It was therefore still the cus- tom in his house, as it had been universal in Scotland about fifty years before, that the domestics, after having. placed the dinner on the table, sat down at the lower end of the board and partook of the share which was assigned to them in com- pany with their masters. On the day, therefore, after Cud- die's arrival, being the third from the opening of this narra- tive, old Kobin, who was butler, valet-de-chamlre, footman, gardener, and what not, in the house of Milnwood, placed on the table, an immense charger of broth thickened with oat- meal and colewort, in which ocean of liquid were indistinctly discovered by close observers two or three short ribs of lean mutton sailing to and fro. Two huge baskets, one of bread made of barley and pease and one of oat-cakes, flanked this standing dish. A large boiled salmon would nowadays have indicated more liberal housekeeping; but at that period salmon was caught in such plenty in the considerable rivers in Scotland that, instead of being accounted a delicacy, it was generally applied to feed the servants, who are said some- times to have stipulated that they should not be required to eat a food so luscious and surfeiting in its quality above five times a week. The large black-jack, filled with very small beer of Milnwood's own brewing, was allowed to the company at discretion, as were the bannocks, cakes, and broth ; but the mutton was reserved for the heads of the family, Mrs. Wilson included ; and a measure of ale, somewhat deserving the name, was set apart in a silver tankard for their exclusive use. A huge kebbock — a cheese, that is, made with ewe-milk mixed with cow's milk — and a jar of salt butter were in com- mon to the company. To enjoy this exquisite cheer was placed at the head of the table the old Laird himself, with his nephew on the one side and the favorite housekeeper on the other. At a long interval, and beneath the salt, of course, sat old Robin, 3 meagre, half-starved serving-man, rendered cross and cripple by rheumatism, and a dirty drab of a housemaid, whom 66 WAVERLEY NOVELS use had rendered callous to the daily exercitations which her temper underwent at the hands of her master and Mrs. Wilson. A barnsman, a white-headed cowherd boy, with Cuddie the new ploughman and his mother, completed the party. The other laborers belonging to the property re- sided in their own houses, happy at least in this, that if their cheer was not more delicate than that which we have described, they could eat their fill unwatched by the sharp, envious gray eyes of Milnwood, which seemed to measure the quantity that each of his dependants swallowed as closely as if their glances attended each mouthful in its progress from the lips to the stomach. This close inspection was unfavorable to Cuddie, who sustained much prejudice in his new master's opinion by the silent celerity with which he caused the victuals to disappear before him. And ever and anon Milnwood turned his eyes from the huge feeder to cast indignant glances upon his nephew, whose repugnance to rustic labor was the principal cause of his, needing a plough- man, and who had been the direct means of his hiring this very cormorant. ''Pay thee wages, quotha !'' said Milnwood to himself. '' Thou wilt eat in a week the value of mair than thou canst work for in a month.'* These disagreeable ruminations were interrupted by a loud knocking at the outer gate. It was a universal custom in Scotland that, when the family was at dinner, the outer gate of the courtyard, if there was one, and if not, the door of the house itself, was always shut and locked, and only guests of importance, or persons upon urgent business, sought or re- ceived admittance at that time.* The family of Milnwood were therefore surprised and, in the unsettled state of the times, something alarmed at the earnest and repeated knock- ing with which the gate was now assailed. Mrs. Wilson ran in person to the door, and having reconnoitred those who were so clamorous for admittance, through some secret aper- ture with which most Scottish doorways were furnished for the express purpose, she returned wringing her hands in great dismay, exclaiming, " The redcoats ! the redcoats ! " '' Robin — ploughman, what ca' they ye ? — barnsman — nevoy Harry — open the door — open the door ! " exclaimed old Milnwood, snatching up and slipping into his pocket the two or three silver spoons with which the upper end of the* table was garnished, those beneath the salt being of goodly horn. •'Speak them fair, sirs — Lord love ye, speak them fair* * See Locking the Door during Dinner. Note 12. OLD MORTALITY W they winua bide thrawing ; we're a' harried — we're a' har- ried ! " While the servants admitted the troopers., whose oaths and threats already indicated resentment at the delay they had been put to, Ouddie took the opportunity to whisper to his mother, ^'^ Now, ye daft auld carline, mak yoursell deaf — ye hae made us a' deaf ere now — and let me speak for ye. I wad like ill to get my neck raxed for an auld wife's clashes, though ye be our mither." " hinny, ay ; I'se be silent or thou sail come to ill," was the corresponding whisper of Mause ; ** but bethink ye, my dear, them that deny the Word, the Word will deny " Her admonition was cut short by the entrance of the Life Guardsmen, a party of four troopers commanded by Both- well. In they tramped, making a tremendous clatter upon the stone floor with the iron-shod heels of their large iack-boots and the clash and clang of their long, heavy, basket-hilted broadswords. Milnwood and his housekeeper trembled from well-grounded apprehensions of the system of exaction and plunder carried on during these domiciliary visits. Henry Morton was discomposed with more special cause, for he re- membered that he stood answerable to the laws for having harbored Burley. The widow, Mause Headrigg, between fear for her son's life and an overstrained and enthusiastic zeal which reproached her for consenting even tacitly to belie her religious sentiments, was iir a strange quandary. The other servants quaked for they knew not well what. Cuddie alone, with the look of supreme indifference and stupidity which a Scottish peasant can at times assume as a mask for consider- able shrewdness and craft, continued to swallow large spoon- fuls of his broth, to command which he had drawn within his sphere the large vessel that contained it, and helped him- self amid the confusion to a sevenfold portion. *' What is your pleasure here, gentlemen ?" said Milnwood, humbling himself before the satellites of power. " We come in behalf of the King," answered Both well. '' Why the devil did you keep us so long standing at the door?" '* We were at dinner," answered Milnwood, '^ and the door was locked, as is usual in land wart towns* in this country. I am sure, gentlemen, if I had kenn'd ony servants of our gude King had stood at the door But wad ye please to drink some ale — or some brandy — or a cup of canary sack, or claret ♦ See Landward Town. Note 13. 68 WAVERLEY NOVELS wine ?'' making a pause between each offer as long as a stingy bidder at an auction, who is loath to advance his offer for u favorite lot. '^ Claret for me/^ said one fellow. "I like ale better/' said another, "provided it is right juice of John Barleycorn/' "Better never was malted," said Milnwood. "I can hardly say sae muckle for the claret; it's thin and cauld, gentlemen." " Brandy will cure that," said a third fellow ; " a glass of brandy to three glasses of wine prevents the curmurring in the stomach." " Brandy, ale, sack, and claret — we'll try them all," said Both well, " and stick to that which is best. JThare^s-good sense in that if the damn'dest Whig in Scotland had said it." Hastily, yet with a reluctant quiver of his muscles, Miln- wood lugged out two ponderous keys, and delivered them to the governante. "The housekeeper," said Bothwell, taking a seat and throwing himself upon it, " is neither so young nor so hand- some as to tempt a man to follow her to the gauntrees, and devil a one here is there worth sending in her place. What's this ? meat ? " searching with a fork among the broth, and fishing up a cutlet of mutton. " I think I could eat a bit ; why, it's as tough as if the devil's dam had hatched it." "If there is anything better in the house, sir," said Miln- wood, alarmed at 'these symptoms«of disapprobation "No, no," said Bothwell, "it's not worth while; I must proceed to business. You attend Poundtext, the Presbyte- rian parson, I understand, Mr. Morton ? " Mr. Morton hastened to slide in a confession and apology. " By the indulgence of his gracious Majesty and the gov- ernment, for I wad do nothing out of law. I hae nae objec- tion whatever to the establishment of a moderate episcopacy, but only that I am a country-bred man and the ministers are a hamelier kind of folk, and I can follow their doctrine better ; and, with reverence, sir, it's a mair frugal establishment for the country." " Well, I care nothing about that," said Bothwell ; "they are indulged, and there's an end of it ; but, for my part, if I were to give the law, never a crop-ear'd cur of the whole pack should bark in a Scotch pulpit. However, I am to obey commands. There comes the liquor ; put it down, my good old lady." OLD MORTALITY 6d He decanted about one-half of a quart bottle of claret into a wooden quaigli or bicker, and took it oil at a draught. '* You did your good wine injustice, my friend ; it's bet- ter than your brandy, though that's good too. Will you pledge me to the King's health ? " ^' With pleasure," said Milnwood, " in ale ; but I never drink claret, and keep only a very little for some honored friends." *' Like me, I suppose," said Both well ; and then pushing the bottle to Henry, he said, '^ Here, young man, pledge you the King's health." Henry filled a moderate glass in silence, regardless of the hints and pushes of his uncle, which seemed to indicate that he ought to have followed his example in preferring beer to wine. *^Well," said Bothwell, ''have ye all drank the toast? What is that old wife about ? Give her a glass of brandy ; she shall drink the King's health, by " "If your honor pleases," said Cuddie, with great stolidity of aspect, ''this is my mither, stir; and.,sh^'» fts deaf as Corra Linn. We canna mak her hear day nor door ; but if your honor pleases, I am ready to drink the King's health for her in as mony glasses of brandy as ye think neshessary." " I dare swear you are," answered Bothwell ; " you look like a fellow that would stick to brandy. Help thyself, man ; all's free where'er I come. Tom, help the maid to a com- fortable cup, though she's but a dirty jilt neither. Fill round once more. Here's to our noble commander, Colonel Grahame of Claverhouse ! What the devil is the old woman groaning for ? She looks as very a Whig as ever sat on a hillside. Do you renounce the Covenant, good woman ? " " Whilk Covenant is your honor meaning ? Is it the Covenant of Works or the Covenant of Grace ? " said Cuddie, interposing. " Any covenant ; all covenants that ever were, hatched,'* answered the trooper. " Mither," cried Cuddie, affecting to speak as to a deaf Serson, " the gentleman wants to ken if ye will renunce the ovenant of Works ?" "With all my heart, Cuddie," said Mause, "and pray that my feet may be delivered from the snare thereof." " Come," said Bothwell, "the old dame has come more frankly off than I expected. Another cup round, and then we'll proceed to business. You have all heard, I suppose, of the horrid and barbarous murder committed upon the person 70 WAVERLEY NOVELS of the Archbishop of St. Andrews, by ten or eleven armed fanatics ?" All started and looked at each other ; at length Milnwood himself answered, " They had heard of some such misfortune, but were in hopes it had not been true/^ ** There is the relation published by government, old gen- tleman ; what do you think of it ? " " Think, sir ? Wh — wh — whatever the council please to think of it,'' stammered Milnwood. " I desire to have your opinion more explicitly, my friend,'' said the dragoon, authoritatively. Milnwood's eyes hastily glanced through the paper to pick out the strongest expressions of censure with which it abounded, in gleaning which he was greatly aided by their being printed in italics. " I think it a — bloody and execrable — murder and parricide— devised by hellish and implacable cruelty — utterly abominable, and a scandal to the land." "Well said, old gentleman !" said the querist. " Here's to thee, and I wish you joy of your good principles. You owe me a cup of thanks for having taught you them ; nay, thou shalt pledge me in thine own sack, sour ale sits ill upon a loyal stomach. Now comes your turn, young man ; what think you of the matter in hand ? " '' I should have little objection to answer you," said Henry, ''if I knew what right you had to put the question." " The Lord preserve us ! " said the old housekeeper, '' to ask the like o' that at a trooper, when a' folk ken they do whatever they like through the haill country wi' man "and woman, beast and body." The old gentleman exclaimed in the same horror at his nephew's audacity, " Hold your peace, sir, or answer the gentleman discreetly. Do you mean to affront the King's authority in the person of a sergeant of the Life Guards ? " "Silence, all of you!" exclaimed Bothwell, striking his hand fiercely on the table — "silence, every one of you, and hear me ! You ask me for my right to examine you, sir (to Henry^. My cockade and my broadsword are my commission, and a oetter one than ever Old Nol gave to his Roundheads ; and if you want to know more about it you may look at the act of council empowering his Majesty's officers and sol- diers to search for, examine, and apprehend suspicious per- sons ; and therefore once more I ask you your opinion of the death of Archbishop Sharp. It's a new touchstone we have got for trying people's metal." Henry haS oy this time reflected upon the useless risk to OLD MORTALITY 71 which he would expose the family by resisting the tyrannical power which was delegated to such rude hands ; he therefore read the narrative over, and replied composedly, '* I have no hesitation to say that the perpetrators of this assassination have committed, in my opinion, a rash and wicked action, which I regret the more as I foresee it will be made the cause of proceedings against many who are both innocent of the deed and as far from approving it as myself." While Henry thus expressed himself, Bothwell, who bent his eyes keenly upon him, seemed suddenly to recollect his features. '* Aha ! my friend. Captain Popinjay, I think I have seen you before, and in very suspicious company." ''I saw you once," answered Henry, *'in the public-house of the town of " *^ And with whom did you leave that public-house, young- ster ? Was it not with John Balfour of Burley, one of the murderers of the Archbishop ? " '^ I did leave the house with the person you have named/* answered Henry, " I scorn to deny it ; but so far from know- ing him to be a murderer of the primate, I did not even know at the time that such a crime had been committed." " Lord have mercy on me, I am ruined ! — utterly ruined and undone ! " exclaimed Milnwood. ** That callant's tongue will rin the head aff his ain shoulders, and waste my gudes to the very gray cloak on my back ! " " But you knew Burley," continued Bothwell, still ad- dressing Henry, and regardless of his uncle's interruption, " to be an intercommuned rebel and traitor, and you knew the prohibition to deal with such persons. You knew that as a loyal subject you were prohibited to reset, supply, or inter- commune with this attainted traitor, to correspond with him by word, writ, or message, or to supply him with meat, drink, house, harbor, or victual, under the highest pains — you knew all this, and yet you broke the law. [Henry was silent.] Where did you part from him ?" continued Bothwell ; ^' was it in the highway, or did you give him harborage in this very house ? " *'In this house !" said his uncle ; '^he dared not for his neck bring ony traitor into a house of mine." *^Dare he deny that he did so ?" said Bothwell. ''As you charge it to me as a crime," said Henry, ''you will excuse my saying anything that will criminate myself." " 0, the lands of Milnwood ! the bonny lands of Milnwood, that have been in the name^ of Morton twa hundred years I*' 73 WAVERLEY NOVELS exclaimed his uncle. " They are barking and fleeing, outfield and infield, haugh and holme ! " ** No, sir," said Henry, '^ you shall not suffer on my account. I own," he continued, addressing Both well, *'I did give this man a night's lodging, as to an old military comrade of my father. But it was not only without my uncle's knowledge, but contrary to his express general orders. I trust, if my evi- dence is considered as good against myself, it will have some weight in proving my uncle's innocence." " Come, young man," said the soldier, in a somewhat milder tone, "you're a smart spark enough, and I am sorry for you ; and your uncle here is a fine old Trojan, kinder, I see, to his guests than himself, for he gives us wine and drinks his own thin alQ. Tell me all you know about this Burley, what he said when you parted from him, where he went, and where he is likely now to be found ; and, d — n it, I'll wink as hard on your share of the business as my duty will permit. There's a thousand merks on the murdering Whigamore's head an I could but light on it. Come, out with it ; where did you part with him?" "You will excuse my answering that question, sir," said Morton. " The same cogent reasons which induced me to afford him hospitality at considerable risk to myself aijd my friends would command me to respect his secret, if indeed he had trusted me with any." "So you refuse to give me an answer ?" said Bothwell. " I have none to give," returned Henry. " Perhaps I could teach you to find one by tying a piece of lighted match betwixt your fingers," answered Bothwell. " 0, for pity's sake, sir," said old Alison apart to her master, "gie them siller ; it's siller they're seeking. They'll murder Mr. Henry, and yoursell next ! " Milnwood groaned in perplexity and bitterness of spirit, and, with a tone as if he was giving up the ghost, exclaimed, " If twenty p — p — ^punds would make up this unhappy mat- ter " " My master," insinuated Alison to the sergeant, " would gie twenty punds sterling " " Punds Scotch, ye b — h ! " interrupted Milnwood ; for the agony of his avarice overcame alike his Puritanic pre- cision and the habitual respect he entertained for his house- keeper. " Punds sterling," insisted the housekeeper, " if ye wad ixae the gudeness to look ower the lad's misconduct. He's that dour ye might tear him to pieces and ye wad ne'er get a OLD MORTALITY 73 word out o' him ; and it wad do ye little gnde, Fm sure, to bnrn his bonny finger-ends/-* ^' Why/^ said Bothwell, hesitating, ^' I don^t know. Most of my cloth would have the money, and take off the prisoner too ;"but I bear a conscience, and if your master will stand to your offer, and enter into a bond to produce his nephew, and if all in the house will take the test-oath, I do not know but " '^ ay, ay, sir,^^ cried Mrs. Wilson, '^ ony test, ony oaths ye please ! '' And' then aside to her master, ** Haste ye away, sir, and get the siller, or thev will burn the house about our lugs.^^ Old Milnwood cast a rueful look upon his adviser, and moved off like a piece of Dutch clockwork to set at liberty his imprisoned angels in this dire emergency. Meanwhile Sergeant Bothwell began to put the test-oath with such a degree of solemn reverence as might have been expected, being just about the same which is used to this day in his Majesty's cus- tom-house. '^ You — what's your name, woman ? " " Alison Wilson, sir.'' *' You, Alison Wilson, solemnly swear, certify, and declare that you judge it unlawful for subjects, under pretext of ref- ormation or any other pretext whatsoever, to enter into Leagues and Covenants " Here the ceremony was interrupted by a strife between Cuddie and his mother, which, long conducted in whispers,now became audible. '' Oh, whisht, mither, whisht ! they're upon a communing. Oh ! whisht, and they'll agree weel eneugh e'enow." *'I will not whisht, Cuddie," replied his mother; ''I will uplift my voice and spare not. I will confound the man of sin, even the scarlet man, and through my voice shall Mr. Henry be freed from the net of the fowler." *' She has her leg ower the harrows now," said Cuddie, " stop her wha can. I see her cocked up. behint a dragoon on her way to the tolbooth. I find my ain legs tied below a horse's belly. Ay, she has just mustered up her sermon, and there, wi' that grane, out it comes, and we are a' ruined, horse and foot!" " And div ye think to come here," said Mause, her with- ered hand shaking in concert with her keen though wrinkled visage, animated by zealous wrath, and emancipated, by the very mention of the test, from the restraints of her own pru- dence and Cuddle's admonition — ^' div ye think to come here 74 WAVEELEY NOVELS wi* your soul-killing, saint-seducing, conscience-confounding oaths and tests and bands, your snares and your traps and your gins ? Surely it is in vain that a net is spread in the sight of any bird." " Eh ! what, good dame ?" said the soldier. *' Here's a Whig miracle, egad ! the old wife has got both her ears and tongue, and we are like to be driven deaf in our turn. Go to, hold your peace, and remember whom you talk to, you old idiot." " Whae do I talk to ! Eh, sirs, owerweel may the sorrow- ing land ken what ye are. Malignant adherents ye are to the prelates, foul props to a feeble and filthy cause, bloody beasts of prey and burdens to the earth." " Upon my soul," said Both well, astonished as a mastiff dog might be should a hen-partridge fly at him in defence of her young, " this is the finest language I ever heard ! Can't you give us some more of it ?" '* Gie ye some mair o't ?" said Mause, clearing her voice with a preliminary cough. '^ I will take up my testimony against you ance and again. Philistines ye are, and Edom- ites ; leopards are ye, and foxes ; evening wolves that gnaw not the bones till the morrow ; wicked dogs that compass about the chosen ; thrusting kine, and pushing bulls of Bashan ; piercing serpents ye are, and allied baith in name and nature with the great Ked Dragon — Revelations, twalfth chapter, third and fourth verses." Here the old lady stopped, apparently much more from lack of breath than of matter. " Curse the old hag ! " said one of the dragoons ; '' gag her and take her to headquarters." '' For shame, Andrews ! " said Both well ; *' remember the good lady belongs to the fair sex, and uses only the privilege of her tongue. But hark ye, good woman, every bull of Bashan and Red Dragon will not be so civil as I am, or be contented to leave you to the charge of the constable and ducking-stool. In the meantime I must necessarily carry off this young man to headquarters. I cannot answer to my commanding officer to leave him in a house where I have heard so much treason and fanaticism." " See now, mither, what ye hae dune," whispered Cuddie ; " there's the Philistines, as ye ca' them, are gaun to whirry awa* Mr. Henry, and a' wi' your naah-gab, deil be on't I " *' Hand ye re tongue, ye cowardly loon," said the mother, *' and layna the wyte on me ; if you and thae thowless glut- tons, that are sitting staring like cows bursting on clover. OLD MORTALITY 75 wad testify wi' your hands as I have testified wi' my tongue, they should never harle the precious young lad awa' to cap- tivity/' While this dialogue passed the soldiers had already bound and secured their prisoner. Milnwood returned at this in- stant, and, alarmed at the preparations he beheld, hastened to proffer to Bothwell, though with many a grievous groan, the purse of gold which he had been obliged to rummage out as ransom for his nephew. The trooper took the purse with an air of indifference, weighed it in his hand, chucked it up into the air, and caught it as it fell, then shook his head and said, ''There's many a merry night in this nest of yellow, boys, but d — n me if I dare venture for them ; that old woman has spoken too loud, and before all the men too. Hark ye, old gentleman,'' to Milnwood, *'Imust take your nephew to head- quarters, so I cannot in conscience keep more than is my due as civility-money ; " then opening the purse he gave a gold piece to each of the soldiers and took three to himself. *'Now," said he, ''you have the comfort to know that your kinsman, young Captain Popinjay, will be carefully looked after and civilly used ; and the rest of the money I return to you." Milnwood eagerly extended his hand. " Only you know," said Bothwell, still playing with the purse, " that every landholder is answerable for the conformity and loyalty of his household, and that these fellows of mine are not obliged to be silent on the subject of the fine sermon we have had from that old Puritan in the tartan plaid there; and I presume you are aware that the consequences of dela- tion will be a heavy fine before the council." "Good sergeant ! worthy captain !" exclaimed the terri- fied miser, " I am sure there is no person in my house, to my knowledge, would give cause of offence." " Nay," answered Bothwell, " you shall hear her give her testimony, as she calls it, herself. You, fellow [to Ouddie], stand back and let your mother speak her mind. I see she s primed and loaded again since her first discharge." " Lord ! noble sir," said Cuddie, " an auld wife's tongue's but a feckless matter to mak sic a fash about. Neither my father nor me ever minded muckle what our mither said." " Hold your peace, my lad, while you are well," said Bothwell ; " I promise you I think you are slyer than you would like to be supposed. Come, good dame, you see your master will not believe that you can give us so bright a testi- mony," 76 WA VERLEY NOVELS Manse's zeal did not require tliis spur to set her again on full career. " Woe to the compilers and carnal self-seekers/' she said, "that daub over and drown their consciences by complying with wicked exactions, and giving mammon of unrighteousness to the sons of Belial that it may make their peace with them ! It is a sinful compliance, a base con- federacy with the Enemy. It is the evil that Menahan did in the sight of the Lord when he gave a thousand talents to Peel, King of Assyria, that his hand might be with him — Second Kings, feif teen chapter, nineteen verse. It is the evil deed of Ahab when he sent money to Tiglath-Peleser — see the saame Second Kings, saxteen and aught. And if it was accounted a backsliding even in godly Hezekiah that he com- plied with Sennacherib, giving him money and offering to bear that which was put upon him — see the saame Second Kings, aughteen chapter, fourteen and feif teen verses — even so it is with them that in this contumacious and backsliding generation pays localities and fees, and cess and fines, to greedy and unrighteous publicans, and extortions and stipends to hireling curates — dumb dogs which bark not, sleeping, lying down, loving to slumber — and gives gifts to be helps and hires to our oppressors and destroyers. Tliey are all like the casters of a lot with them, like the preparing of a table for the troop and the furnishing a drink-offering to the number.'' *' There's a fine sound of doctrine for you, Mr. Morton I How like you that ? " said Both well ; '^^ or how do you think the council will like it ? I think we can carry the greatest part of it in our heads without a keelyvine pen and a pair of tablets, such as you bring to conventicles. She denies paying cess, I think, Andrews ?" ''Yes, by G — ," said Andrews ; "and she swore it was a sin to give a trooper a pot of ale, or ask him to sit down to a table." " You hear," said Both well, addressing Milnwood ; " but it's your own affair ; " and he proffered back the purse with its diminished contents with an air of indifference. Milnwood, whose head seemed stunned by the accumula- tion of his misfortunes, extended his hand mechanically to take the purse. *' Are ye mad ? " said his housekeeper, in a whisper. " Tell them to 'keep it ; they will keep it either by fair means or foul, and it's our only chance to make them quiet." " I canna do it, Ailie — I canna do it," said Milnwood, in the bitterness of his heart. " I canna part wi' the siller I hao counted sae often ower to thae blackguards." OLD MORTALITY Tl '* Then I mann do it mysell, Milnwood," said the house- keeper, *^ or see a' gang wrang thegither. My master, sir,'' she said, addressing Both well, " canna think o' taking back onything at the hand of an honorable gentleman like you ; he implores ye to pit up the siller and be as kind to his nephew as ye can, and be favorable in reporting our dispositions to government, and let us tak nae wrang for the daft speeches of anauld jaud [here she turned fiercely upon Mause, to indulge herself for the effort which it cost her to assume a mild de- meanor to the soldiers], a daft auld Whig randy, that ne'er was in the house, foul fa' her ! till yesterday afternoon, and that sail ne'er cross the door-stane again an anes I had her out o't." '^Ay, ay," whispered Guddie to his parent, "e'en sae ! I kenn'd we wad be put to our travels again whene'er ye suld get three words spoken to an end. I was sure that wad be the upshot o't, mither." " Whisht, my bairn," said she, " and dinna murmur at the cross. Cross their door-stane ! weel I wot I'll ne'er cross their door-stane. There's nae mark on their threshold for a signal that the destrojdng angel should pass by. They'll get a back- cast o' his hand yet that think sae muckle o' the creature and sae little o' the Creator ; sae muckle o' warld^s gear and sae little o' a broken Covenant ; sae muckle about thae wheen pieces o' yellow muck and sae little about the pure gold o'the Scripture ; sae muckle about their ain friend and kinsman and sae little about the elect that are tried wi' homings, harassings, huntings, searchings, chasings, catchings, imprisonments, torturings, banishments, headings, hangings, dismemberings, and quarterings quick, forbye the hundreds forged from their ain habitations to the deserts, mountains, muirs, mosses, moss-flows, and peat-hags, there to hear the Word like bread eaten in secret." " She's at the Covenant now, sergeant, shall we not have her away ? " said one of the soldiers. " You be d — d ! " said Both well aside to him ; " cannot you ' see she's better where she is, so long as there is a respectable, sponsible, money-broking heritor like Mr. Morton of Miln- wood, who has the means of atoning her trespasses ? Let the old mother fly to raise another brood, ^he's too tough to be \ mad^__anything__oLJiersell. Here," he cried, "one ether round toMilnwood and his roof-tree, and to our next merry meeting with him, which I think will not be far distant if he keeps such a fanatical family." He then ordered the party to take their horses, and pressef" 78 WAVERLEY NOVELS the best in Milnwood^s stable into the king^s service to carry the prisoner. Mrs. Wilson^ with weeping eyes, made up a small parcel of necessaries for Henry's compelled journey, and as she bustled about, took an opportunity, unseen by the party, to slip into his hand a small sum of money. Both well and his troopers in other respects kept their promise and were civil. They did not bind their prisoner, but contented them- selves with leading his horse between a file of men. They then mounted and marched off with much mirth and laughter among themselves, leaving the Milnwood family in great con- fusion. The old Laird himself, overpowered by the loss of his nephew, and the unavailing outlay of twenty pounds ster- ling, did nothing the whole evening but rock himself back- wards and forwards in his great leathern easy-chair, repeat- ing the same lamentation of *^^Euined on a' sides — ruined on a' sides ; harried and undone — harried and undone, body and gudes — body and gudes ! " Mrs. Alison Wilson's grief was partly indulged and partly relieved by the torrent of invecti^ es with which she accom- panied Mause and Cuddle's expulsion from Milnwood. *^'I11 luck be in the graning corse o' thee ! The prettiest lad in Clydesdale this day maun be a sufferer, and a' for you and your daft Whiggery ! " " Gae wa'," replied Mause ; '* I trow ye are yet in the bonds of sin and in the gall of iniquity, to grudge your bonniest and best in the cause of Him that gave ye a' ye hae. I promise I hae dune as muckle for Mr. Harry as I wad do for my ain ; for if Cuddle was found worthy to bear testimony in the Grass- market " ''And there's gude hope o't," said Alison, *' unless yon and he change your courses. " " And if," continued Mause, disregarding the interrup- tion, ''the bloody Doegs and the flattering Ziphites were to seek to ensnare me with a proffer of his remission upon sin- ful compliances, I wad persevere, natheless, in lifting my testimony against Popery, Prelacy, Antinomianism, Erastian- ism, Lapsarianism, Sublapsarianism, and the sins and snares of the times ; I wad cry as a woman in labor against the Black Indulgence that has been a stumbling-block to profes- sors ; I wad uplift my voice as a powerful preacher." " Hout tout, mither," cried Cuddie, interfering and drag- ging her off forcibly, "dinna deave the gentlewoman wi' your testimony ! ye hae preached eneugh for sax days. Ye preached us out o our canny free-house and gude kale-yard, and out o' this new city o' refuge afore our hinder end wa« OLD MORTALITY 7« weel haf ted in it ; and ye hae preached Mr. Harry awa' to the prison ; and ye hae preached twenty punds out o' the Laird's pocket that he likes as ill to quit wi' ; and sae ye may haud sae for ae wee while, without preaching me up a ladder and down a tow. Sae comeawa' — come awa"*; the family hae had eneugh o' your testimony to mind it for ae while.'' So saying he dragged off Mause, the words '^Testimony, Covenant, malignants, indulgence '' still thrilling upon her tongue, to make preparations for instantly renewing their travels in quest of an asylum. "Ill-faur'd, crazy, crack-brained gowk that she is!" ex- claimed the hous3keeper, as she saw them depart, '*to set up to be sae muckle better than ither folk, the auld besom, and to bring sae muckle distress on a douce quiet family ! If it hadna been that I am mair than half a gentlewoman by my station, I wad hae tried my ten nails in the wizen'd hide o' her!" CHAPTER IX I am a son of Mars, who have been in many wars, And show my cuts and scars wherever I come ; This here was for a wench, and that other in a trench, When welcoming the French at the somid of the drum. Burns. " Don't be too much cast down/' said Sergeant Both well to his prisoner as they journeyed on towards the headquarters ; " you are a smart pretty lad, and well connected ; the worst that will happen will be strapping up for it, and that is many an honest fellow's lot. I tell you fairly your life's within the compass of the law, unless you make submission and get off by a round fine upon your uncle's estate ; he can well afford it." "That vexes me more than the rest," said Henry. " He parts with his money with regret ; and, as he had no concern whatever with my having given this person shelter for a night, I wish to Heaven, if I escape a capital punishment, that the penalty may be of a kind I could bear in my own person." "Why, perhaps," said Bothwell, "they will propose to you to go into one of the Scotch regiments that are serving abroad. It's no bad line of service ; if your friends are active, and there are any knocks going, you may soon get a commis- sion." " I am by no means sure," answered Morton, "that such a sentence is not the best thing that can happen to me." "Why, then, you are no real Whig after all ?" said the sergeant. " I have hitherto meddled with no party in the state," said Henry, " but have remained quietly at home ; and sometimes I have had serious thoughts of joining one of our foreign regi- ments." " Have you ? " replied Bothwell. " Why, I honor you for it ; I have served in the Scotch French guards myself many a long day ; it's the place for learning discipline, d — n me. They never mind what you do when you are off duty ; but miss you the roll-call, and see how they'll arrange you. I) — n me, if old Captain Montgomery didn't make me mount guard upon the arsenal in >iv steel back and breast, plate-sleeves and 99 OLD MORTALITY 81 head-piece_, for six hours at once, under so burning a sun that gad I was baked like a turtle at Port RoyaJ. I swore never to miss answering to Francis Stewart again, though I should leave my hand of cards upon the drum-head. Ah T discipline is a capital thing." '^ In other respects you liked the service ?" said Morton. ^' Par excellence" said Both well ; ''women, wine, and wassail, all to be had for little but the asking ; and if you find it in your conscience to let a fat priest think he has some chance to convert you, gad lie^'U help you to these comforts himself, just to gain a little ground in your good affection. Where will you find a crop-eared Whig parson will be so civil?" ''Why, nowhere, I agree with you," said Henry; "but what was your chief duty ?" " To guard the king's person," said Bothwell, " to look after the safety of Louis le Grand, my boy, and now and then to take a turn among the Huguenots — Protestants, that is. And there we had fine scope ; it brought my hand pretty well in for the service in this country. But, come, as you are to be a hon earner ado, as the Spaniards say, I must put you in cash with some of your old uncle's broad-pieces. This is cut- ter's law : we must not see a pretty fellow want if we have cash ourselves." Thus speaking, he pulled out his purse, took out some of the contents, and offered them to Henry without counting them. Young Morton declined the favor ; and not judging it prudent to acquaint the sergeant, notwithstanding his ap- parent generosity, that he was actually in possession of some money, he assured him he should have no difficulty in getting a supply from his uncle. '* Well," said Bothwell, " in that case these yellow rascals must serve to ballast my purse a little longer. I always make it a rule never to quit the tavern — unless ordered on duty — while my purse is so weighty that I can chuck it over the sign-post.* When it is so light that the wind blows it back, then, boot and saddle, we must fall on some way of replen- ishing. But what tower is that before us, rising so high upon the steep bank out of the woods that surround it on every side?" " It is the Tower of Tillietudlem," said one of the sol- diers. " Old Lady Margaret Bellenden lives there. She's one of the best affected women m the country, and one that's a soldier's friend. When I was hurt by one of the d — d Whig * See Throwing the Purse over the Gate. Note 14. 82 WAVERLEY NOVELS dogs that shot at me from behind a fauld-dike, I lay a month there, and would stand such another wound to be in as good quarters again," '' If that be the case/' said Bothwell, '* I will pay my re- spects to her as we pass, and request some refreshment for men and horses ; I am as thirsty already as if I had drunk nothing at Milnwood. But it is a good thing in these times,'" he continued, addressing himself to Henry, ** that the King's soldier cannot pass a house without getting a refreshment. In such houses as Tillie what d'ye call it ? you are served for love ; in the houses of the avowed fanatics you help your- self by force ; and among the moderate Presbyterians and other suspicious persons you are well treated from fear ; so your thirst is always quenched on some terms or other." ^^ And you propose," said Henry, anxiously, "to go upon that errand up to the Tower yonder ? " " To be sure I do," answered Both well. " How should I be able to report favorably to my officers of the worthy lady's sound principles unless I know the taste of her sack, for sack she will produce, that I take for granted ; it is the favorite consoler of your old dowager of quality, as small claret is the potation of your country laird." " Then, for Heaven'3 sake," said Henry," if you are deter- mined to go there, do not mention my name, or expose me to a family that I am acquainted with. Let me be muffled up for the time in one of your soldier's cloaks, and only mention me generally as a prisoner under your charge." " With all my heart," said Both well ; " I promised to use you civilly, and I scorn to break my word. Here, Andrews, wrap a cloak round the prisoner, and do not mention his name nor where we caught him, unless you would have a trot on a horse of wood." * They were at this moment at an arched gateway, battle- men ted and flanked with turrets, one whereof was totallj ruinous,' excepting the lower story, which served as a coW' house to the peasant whose family inliabited the turret that remained entire. The gate had been broken down by Monk's soldiers during the Civil War, and had never been replaced, therefore presented no obstacle to Bothwell and his party. The avenue, very steep and narrow, and causewayed with large round stones, ascended the side of the precipitous bank in an oblique and zigzag course, now showing, now hiding, a view of the towe^r and its exterior bulwarks, which seemed to rise almost perpendicularly above their heads. The frag- ♦ See Wooden Mam Note 16. I OLD MORTALITY 88 ments of Gothic defences which it exhibited were upon such, a scale of strength as induced Both well to exclaim, ""Its well this place is in honest and loyal hands. Egad, if the enemy had it, a dozen of old Whigamore wives with their dis- tafis might keep it against a troop of dragoons, at least if they had half the spunk of the old girl we left at Milnwood. Upon my life," he continued, as they came in front of the large double tower and its surrounding defences and flankers, " it is a superb place, founded, says the worn inscription over the gate — unless the remnant of my Latin has given me the slip — by Sir Ralph de Bellenden in 1350, a respectable antiquity. I must greet the old lady with due honor, thougli it sKould put me to the labor of recalling some of the compliments that I used to dabble in when I was wont to keep that sort of com- pany/' As he thus communed with himself, the butler, who had reconnoitred the soldiers from an arrow- slit in the wall, an- nounced to his lady that a commanded party of dragoons, or, as he thought. Life Guardsmen, waited at the gate with a prisoner under their charge. ''I am certain,'^ said Gudyill, " and positive, that the sixth man is a prisoner ; for his horse is led, and the two dragoons that are before have their carabines out of their budgets, and rested upon their thighs. It was aye the way we guarded pris- oners in the days of the Great Marquis. '^ *' King's soldiers \" said the lady ; ''^ probably in want of refreshment. Go, Gudyill, make them welcome, and let them be accommodated with what provision and forage the Tower can afford. And stay, tell my gentlewoman to bring my black scarf and manteau. I will go down myself to receive them ; one cannot show the King's Life Guards too much respect in times when they are doing so much for royal authority. And d'ye hear, Gudyill, let Jenny Dennison slip on her pearlings to walk before my niece and me, and the three women to walk behind ; and bid my niece attend me instantly." Fully accoutred, and attended according to her directions. Lady Margaret now sailed out into the courtyard of her tower with great courtesy and dignity. Sergeant Both well saluted the grave and reverend lady of the manor with an assurance which had something of the light and careless address of the dissipated men of fashion in Charles the Second's time, and did not at all savor of the awkward or rude manners of a non- commissioned officer of dragoons. His language, as well as his manners, seemed also to be refined for the time and occasion; though the truth was that, in the fluctuations of an adventurous 84 WAVERLEY NOVELS and profligate life, LB£iiili:^ell had sometimes kept company much better suited to his ancestry than to his present situation of life. To the lady's request to know whether she could be of service to them he answered, with a suitable bow, ''That as they had to march some miles farther that night, they would be much accommodated by permission to rest their horses for an hour before continuing their journey." *' With the greatest pleasure,^' answered Lady Margaret ; "and I trust that my people will see that neither horse nor men want suitable refresh ment.^' ''We are well aware, madam,'' continued Bothwell, "that such has always been the reception, within the walls of Tillie- tudlem, of those who served the king." " We have studied to discharge our duty faithfully'^and loyally on all occasions, sir," answered Lady Margaret, pleased with the compliment, " both to our monarchs and to their followers, particularly to their faithful soldiers. It is not long ago, and it probably has not escaped the recollection of his sacred Majesty now on the throne, since he himself hon- ored my poor house with his presence, and breakfasted in a room in this castle, Mr. Sergeant, which my waiting-gentle- woman shall show you ; we still call it the King's room." Bothwell had by this time dismounted his party and com- mitted the horses to the charge of one file and the prisoner to that of another ; so that he himself was at liberty to con- tinue the conversation which the lady had so condescendingly opened. " Since the King, my master, had the honor to experience your hospitality, I cannot wonder that it is extended to those that serve him, and whose principal merit is doing it with fidelity. And yet I have a nearer relation to his Majesty than this coarse red coat would seem to indicate." " Indeed, sir ? Probably," said Lady Margaret, " you have belonged to his household ? " " Not exactly, madam, to his household, but rather to his house ; a connection through which I may claim kindred with most of the best families in Scotland, not, I believe, exclusive of that of Tillietudlem." ^ " Sir ! " said the old lady, drawing herself up with dignity at hearing what she conceived an impertinent jest, " I, do not understand you." " It's but a foolish subject for one in my situation to talk of, madam," answered the trooper ; " but you must have heard of the history and misfortunes of my grandfather Francia Stewart, to whom James I., his cousin-german, gave OLD MORTALITY » the title of Both well, as my comrades give me the nickname. It was not in the long-run more advantageous to him than it is to me." " Indeed ! " said Lady Margaret, with much sympathy and surprise. " I have indeed always understood that the grand- son of the last earl was in necessitous circumstances, but I should never have expected to see him so low in the service. With such connections, what ill fortune could have reduced you " ^' Nothing much out of the ordinary course, I believe, madam," said Bothwell, interrupting and anticipating the question. *^ I have had my moments of good luck like my neighbors, have drunk my bottle with Eochester, thrown a merry main with Buckingham, and fought at Tangiers side by side with Sheffield. But my luck never lasted ; I could not make useful friends out of my jolly companions. Per- haps I was not sufficiently aware," he continued, with some bitterness, '*'how much the descendant of the Scottish Stew- arts was honored by being admitted into the convivialities of Wilmot and Villiers." " But your Scottish friends, Mr. Stewart, your relations here, so numerous and so powerful ?" " Why, ay, my lady," reiDlied the sergeant, '' I believe some of them might have made me their gamekeeper, for I am a tolerable shot ; some of them would have entertained me as their bravo, for I can use my sword well ; and here and there was one who, when better company was not to be had, would have made me his companion, since I can drink my three bottles of wine. But I don't know how it is, between service and service among my kinsmen, I prefer that of my cousin Charles as the mbst creditable of them all, although the pay is but poor and the livery far from- splendid." *' It is a shame, it is a burning scandal ! " said Lady Mar- garet. ** Why do you not apply to his most sacred Majesty r fie cannot but be surprised to hear that a scion of his august family " " I beg your pardon, madam," interrupted the sergeant, ** I am but a blunt soldier, and I trust you will excuse me when I say, his most sacred Majesty is more busy in grafting scions of his own than with nourishing those which were planted by his grandfather's grandfather." "Well, Mr. Stewart,'* said Lady Margaret, "one thing you must promise me, remain at Tillietudlem to-night ; to- morrow I expect your commanding officer, the gallant Claver- house, to whom king and country are so much obliged for his l^ 8« WAVERLEY NOVELS exertions against those who would turn the world upside down. I will speak to him on the subject of your speedy promotion ; and I am certain he feels too much both what is due to the blood which is in your veins, and to the request of a lady so highly distinguished as myself by his most sacred Majesty, not to make better provision for you than you have yet re- ceived." •'I am much obliged to your ladyship, and I certainly will remain here with my prisoner since you request it, especially as it will be the earliest way of presenting him to Colonel Grahame ^nd obtaining his ultimate orders about the young spark.'' -' Who is your prisoner, pray you ? " said Lady Margaret. •'A young fellow of rather the better class in this neigh- borhood, who has been so incautious as to give countenance to one of the murderers of the primate, and to facilitate the dog's escape." " 0, fie upon him I" said Lady Margaret ; "I am but too apt to forgive the injuries I have received at the hands of these rogues, though some of them, Mr. Stewart, are of a kind not like to be forgotten ; but those who would abet the perpetrators of so cruel and deliberate a homicide on a single man, an old man, and a man of the Archbishop's sacred prof ession-^0, fie upon hfm ! If you wish to make him secure with little trouble to your people, I will cause Harrison or Gudyill look for the key of our pit, or principal dungeon. It has not been open since the week after the victory of Kilsyth, when my poor Sir Arthur Bellenden put twenty Whigs into it ; but it is not more than two stories beneath ground, so it cannot be un- wholesome, especially as I rather believe there is somewhere an opening to the outer air." " I beg your pardon, madam," answered the sergeant ; "I dare say the dungeon is a most admirable one ; but I have promised to be civil to the lad, and I will take care he is watched so as to render escape impossible. I'll set those to look after him shall keep him as fast as if his legs were in the boots, or his fingers in the thumbikins." *' Well, Mr, St ewart, " rejoined the lady, " you best know your own duty. "T'heartily wish you good evening, and com- mit you to the care of my steward, Harrison. I would ask you to keep ourselves company, but a — a — a " " 0, madam, it requires no apology ; I am sensible the coarse red coat of King Charles II. does and ought to annihi- late the privileges of the red blood of King James V." *' Not with me, I do assure you, Mr. Stewart ; you do mo OLD MORTALITY 87 injustice if you think so. I will speak to your officer to-mor- row ; and I trust you shall soon find yourself in a rank where there shall be no anomalies to be reconciled/' "I believe, madam," said Both well, *^'your goodness will find itself deceived ; but I am obliged to you for your inten- tion, and, at all events, I will have a merry night with Mr. Harrison/' Lady Margaret took a ceremonious leave, with all the re- spect which she owed to royal blood, even when flowing iil the veius of a sergeant of the Life Guards, again assuring Mr. Stewart that whatever was in the Tower of Tillietudleni was heartily at his service and that of his attendants. Sergeant Bothwell did not fail to take the lady at her word, and readily forgot the height from which hi's family "had de- scended in a joyous carousal, during which Mr. Harrison exerted himself to produce the best wine in the cellar, and to excite his guest to be merry by that seducing example which, in matters of conviviality, goes further than precept. Old Gudy ill. associated himself with a party so much to his tt^ste, pretty much as DaYy^inJlie Second Part GiRenry^ili&EQurth, mingles in tlie revels of his master, Justice Shallow. He ran down to the cellar at the risk of breaking his neck to ransack some private catacomb known, as he boasted, only to himself, and which never either had or should, during his superintend- ence, render forth a bottle of its contents to any one but a real king's friend. *^ When the Duke dined here," said the butler, seating him- self at a distance from the table, being somewhat^yerawed by Bothwell's genealogy, but yet hitchingliis seat half a yard nearer at every clause of his speech, '* my leddy was importunate to have a bottle of that Burgundy [here he advanced his seat a little] ; but I dinna ken how it was, Mr. Stewart, I misdoubted him. I jaloused him, sir, no to be the friend to government he pretends : the family are not to lippen to. That auld Duke James lost his heart before he lost his head ; and the Worcester man was but wersh parritch, neither gude to fry, boil, nor sup cauld." With this witty observation, he completed his first parallel, and commenced a zigzag after the manner of an ex- perienced engineer, in order to continue his approaches to the table. ^^ Sae, sir, the faster my leddy cried, ^ Burgundy to his Grace — the auld Burgundy — the choice Burgundy — the Bur- gundy that came ower in the thirty-nine,' the mair did I say to mysell, ' Deil a drap gangs down his hause unless I was mair sensible o' his principles : sack and claret may serve him.' Na, na, gentlemen, as lang as I hae the trust o' butler in this house 88 WAVERLEY NOVELS o' Tillietudlem, 1^11 tak it upon me to see that nae disloyal oi doubtfu' person is the better o' our binns. But when I can find a true friend to the king and his cause, and a moderate episcopacy ; when I find a man, as I say, that will stand by Churcli and Crown as I did mysell in my master^s life, and all through Montrose's time, I think there's naething in the cel- lar ower gude to be spared on him/' By this tims he had completed a lodgement in the body of the place, or, in other words, advanced his seat close to the table. " And now, Mr. Francis Stewart of Bothwell, I have the honor to drink your gude health and a commission t'y^ and much luck may ye have in raking this country clear o' Whigs and Roundheads, fanatics and Covenanters. '' Bd^well, who, it may well be believed, had long ceased to be very scrupulous in point of society, which he regulated more by his convenience and station in life than his ancestry, readily answered the butler's pledge, acknowledging, at the same time, the excellence of the wine ; and Mr. Gudyill, thus adopted a regular member of the company, continued to fur- nish them with the means of mirth until an early hour in the next morning. CHAPTER X ' Did I but purpose to embark with thee On the smootn surface of a summer sea, And would forsake the skiff and make the shore When the winds whistle and the tempests roar ? Prior. y While Lady Margaret held, with the high-descended sergeant of dragooxis, the conference which we have detailed in the preceding pages, her granddaughter, partaking in a less de- gree her ladyship^s enthusiasm for all who were sprung of the blood royal, did not honor Sergeant Bothwell with more atten- tion than a single glance, which showed her a tall powerful person and a set of hardy weather-beaten features, fo Which pride and dissipation had given an air where discontent min- gled with the reckless gayety of desperation. The other soldiers offered still less to detach her consideration ; but from the prisoner, muffled and disguised as he was, she found it impossible to withdraw her eyes. Yet she blamed herself for Indulging a curiosity which seemed obviously to give pain to him who was its object. " I wish," she said to Jenny Dennison, who was the im- mediate attendant on her person — " I wish we knew who that poor fellow is." '' I was just thinking sae mysell. Miss Edith," said the Waiting woman ; "but it canna be Cuddie Headrigg, because he's taller and no sae stout." "Yet," continued Miss Bellenden, " it may be some poor neighbor for whom we might have cause to interest ourselves." " I can sune learn wha he is," said the enterprising Jenny, " if the sodgers were anes settled and at leisure, for I ken ane o' them very weel — the best-looking and the youngest o' them." " I think you know all the idle young fellows about the country," answered her mistress. " Na, Miss Edith, I am no sae free o' my acquaintance as that," answered the fille-de-chambre. " To be sure, folk canna help kenning the folk by head-mark that they see aye glow- ring and looking at them at kirk and market ; but I ken few lads to speak to unless it be them o'' the family, and the three 90 WAVEELEY NOVELS Steinsons, and Tarn Rand, and the young miller, and the five Howisons in Nethersheils, and lang Tarn Gilry, and " " Pray cut short a list of exceptions which threatens to be a long one, and tell me how you come to know this young soldier," said Miss Bellenden. "" " Lord, Miss Edith, it's Tarn Halliday, Trooper Tam, as ' they ca' him, that was wounded by the hill-folk at the con- venticle at Outerside Muir, and lay here while he was under cure. I can ask him ony thing, and Tam will no refuse to answer me, I'll be caution for him." " Try, then," said Miss Edith, ^' if you can find an oppor- tunity to ask him the name of his prisoner, and come to my room and tell me what he says." Jenny Dennison proceeded on her errand, but soon returned with such a face of surprise and dismay as evinced a deep in- terest in the fate of the prisoner. *' What is the matter ?" said Edith, anxiously ; *' does it prove to be Cuddie, after all, poor fellow ?" " Cuddie, Miss Edith ! Na ! na ! it's nae Cuddie," blub- bered out the faithful fiUe-de-chambre, sensible of the pain which her news were about to inflict on her young mistress. *' dear. Miss Edith, it's young Milnwood himsell ! " "• Young Milnwood !" exclaimed Edith, aghast in her turn; " it is i!npo33ible — totally impossible ! His uncle attends the clergyman indulged by law, and has no connection whatever with the refractory people ; and he himself has never inter- fered in this unhappy dissension. He must be totally inno- cent, unless he has been standing up for some invaded right." /^ *^ 0, my dear Miss Edith," said her attendant, '' these are Ijiot days to ask what's right or what's wrang ; if he were as innocent as the new-born infant, they would find some way of making him guilty if they liked ; but Tam Halliday says it will touch his life, for he has been resetting ane o' the Fife gentlemen that killed that auld carle of an archbishop." '' His life ! " exclaimed Edith, starting hastily up, and speaking with a hurried and tremulous accent ; " they can- not, they shall not ; I will speak for him ; they shall not hurt him !" "0, my dear young leddy, think on your grandmother ; think on the danger and the difficulty," added Jenny ; "for he's kept under close confinement till Claverhouse comes up in the morning, and if he doesna gie him full satisfaction, Tam Halliday says there will be brief wark wi' him. Kneel down — mak ready — ^present — fire — ^just as they did wi' auld OLD MORTALITY 91 deaf John MaclDriar that never understood a single question they pat till him, and sae lost his life for lack o^ hearing/' " Jenny," said the young lady, ''if he should die I will die with him. There is no time to talk of danger or diffi- culty ; I will put on a plaid and slip down with you to the place where they have kept him ; I will throw myself at the feet of the sentinel and entreat him, as he has a soul to be saved " " Eh, guide us ! " interrupted the maid, *' our young leddy at the feet o' Trooper Tam, and speaking to him about his soul, when the puir chield hardly kens whether he has ane or no, unless that he whiles swears by it ! That will never do ; but what maun be maun be, and I'll never desert a true-love cause. And sae if ye maun see young Milnwood, though I ken nae gude it will do but to make baith your hearts the sairer, Fll e'en tak the risk o't, and try to manage Tam Halli- day. But ye maun let me hae my ain gate and no speak ae word ; he's keeping guard o'er Milnwood in the easter round of the Tower." " (xo, go, fetch me a plaid," said Edith. *' Let me but see him, and I will find some remedy for his danger. Haste ye, Jenny, as ever ye hope to have good at my hands." Jenny hastened, and soon returned with a plaid, in which Edith muffled herself so as completely to screen her face, and in part to disguise her person. This was a mode of arrang- ing the plaid very common among the ladies of that century and the earlier part of the succeeding one ; so much so, indeed, that the venerable sages of the Kirk, conceiving that the mode gave tempting facilities for intrigue, directed more than one act of Assembly against this use of the mantle. But fashion, as usual, proved too strong for authority, and while plaids continued to be worn, women of all ranks occasionally em- ployed them as a sort of muffler or veil.* Her face and figure thus concealed, Edith, holding by her attendant's arm, hastened with trembling steps to the place of Morton's con- finement. This was a small study or closet in one of the turrets, opening upon a gallery in which the sentinel was pacing to and fro ; for Sergeant Bothwell, scrupulous in observing his word, and perhaps touched with some compassion for the prisoner's youth and genteel demeanor, had waived the in- dignity of putting his guard into the same apartment with him. Halliday, therefore, with his carabine on his arm, walked up and down the gallery, occasionally solacing him- ♦ See Concealing the Face. Note 16, 92 WAVERLEY NOVELS Belf with a draught of ale, a huge flagon of which stood upon the table at one end of the apartment, and at other times humming the lively Scottish air — ** Between Saint Johnstone and Bonny Dundee, I'll gar ye be fain to follow me." Jenny Dennison cautioned her mistress once more to let her take her own way. *' I can manage the trooper weel eneugh,^' she said, ^* for as rough as he is ; I ken their nature weel ; but ye maunna say a single word."" She accordingly opened the door of the gallery just as the sentinel had turned his back from it, and taking up the tune which he hummed, she sung in a coquettish tone of rustic raillery — " If I were to follow a poor sodger lad, My friends wad be angry, my minnie be mad ; A laird, or a lord, they were fitter for me, Sae I'll never be fain to follow thee. " " A fair challenge, by Jove," cried the sentinel, turning round, ^' and from two at once. But it's not easy to bang the soldier with his bandoleers ; " then taking up the song where the damsel had stopped — " To follow me ye weel may be glad, A share of my supper, a share of my bed. To the sound of the drum to range fearless and free, I'll gar ye be fain to follow me. Come, my pretty lass, and kiss me for my song."' '* I should not have thought of that, Mr. Halliday,"" an- swered Jenny, with a look and tone expressing just the neces- sary degree of contempt at the proposal, * ' and I"se assure ye, yell hae but little o" my company unless ye show gentler havings. It wasna to hear that sort o' nonsense that brought me here wi" my friend, and ye should think shame o" yoursell, 'at should ye."" '' Umph ! and what sort of nonsense did bring you here, then, Mrs. Dennison ? "" " My kinswoman has some particular business with your prisoner, young Mr. Harry Morton, and I am come wi' her to speak till him.°" *' The devil you are ! " answered the sentinel ; " and pray, Mrs. Dennison, how do your kinswoman and you propose to OLD MORTALITY 93 get in ? You are rather too plump to whisk through a key- hole, and opening the door is a thing not to be spoke of/" "It^s no a thing to be spoken o', but a thing to be dune/' replied the persevering damsel. '^ We'll see about that, my bonny Jenny ; " and the soldier resumed his march, humming as he walked to and fro along the gallery — ** Keek into the draw-well, Janet, Janet, Then ye'll see your bonny sell, My jo Janet." '' So ye're no thinking to let us in, Mr. Halliday ? Weel, weel ; gude e'en to you ; ye hae seen the last o' me, and o' this bonny die too,'' said Jenny, holding between her finger and thumb a splendid silver dollar. " Give him gold, give him gold," whispered the agitated young lady. '* Silver's e'en ower gude for the like o' him," replied Jenny, '^ that disna care for the blink o' a bonny lassie's ee ; and what's waur, he wad think there was something mair in't than a kinswoman o' mine. My certy ! siller's no sae plenty wi' us, let alane gowd." Having addressed this advice aside to her mistress, she raised her voice, and said, " My cousin winna stay ony langer, Mr. Halliday ; sae, if ye please, gude e'en t'ye." " Halt a bit — halt a bit," said the trooper ; ** rein up and parley, Jenny. If I let your kinswoman in to speak to my jsrisoner, you must stay here and keep me company till she come out again, and then we'll all be well pleased, you know." "The fiend be in my feet, then," said Jenny; *M'ye think my kinswoman and me are gaun to lose our gude name wi' cracking clavers wi' the like o' you or your prisoner either, without somebody by to see fair play ? Hegh, hegh, sirs, to see sic a difference between folks' promises and performance ! Ye were aye willing to slight puir Cuddie ; but an I had asked him to oblige me in a thing, though it had been to cost his hanging, he wadna hae stude twice about it." " D — n Cuddie ! " retorted the dragoon, " he'll be hanged in good earnest, I hope. I saw him to-day at Milnwood with his old Puritanical b- of a mother, and if I had thought I was to have had him cast in my dish, I would have brought him up at my horse's tail ; we had law enough to bear us out." *' Very weel — very weel. See if Cuddie winna hae a lang shot at you ane o' thae days^ if ye gar him tak the muir wr 94 WAVERLEY NOVELS sae many honest folk. He can hit a mark brawly ; he was third at the popinjay ; and he's as true of his promise as of ee and hand, though he disna mak sic a phrase about it as some acquaintance o' yours. But it's a' ane to me. Come, cousin, we'll awa'." " Stay, Jenny ; d — n me if I hang fire more than another when I have said a thing," said the soldier, in a hesitating tone. '''Where is the sergeant ?" "Drinking and driving ower," quoth Jenny, '^wi' the steward and John Gudyill." '• So, so, he's safe enough ; and where are my comrades ? " asked Halliday. " Birling the brown bowl wi' the fowler and the falconer and some o' the serving folk." " Have they plenty of ale ?" " Sax gallons as gude as e'er was masked," said the maid. " Well, then, my pretty Jenny," said the relenting senti- nel, " they are fast till the hour of relieving guard, and per- haps something later ; and so if you will promise to come alone the next time-— — " '•Maybe I will and maybe I winna," said Jenny ; ''but if ye get the dollar, ye'll like that just as weel." "I'll be d — d if I do," said Halliday, taking the money, however; "but it's always something for my risk, for if Claverhouse hears what I have done he will build me a horse as high as the Tower of Tillietudlem. But every- one in the regiment takes what they can come by ; I am sure Both well and his blood royal shows us a good example. And if I were trustiag to you, you little jilting devil, I should lose both pains and powder ; whereas this fellow," looking at the piece, "will be .good as far as he goes. So, come, there is the door open for you ; do not stay groaning and praying with the young Whig now, but be ready, when I call at the door, to start as if they were sounding ' Horse and away.'" So speaking, Halliday unlocked the door of the closet, ad- mitted Jenny and her pretended kinswoman, locked it behind them, and hastily reassumed the indifferent measured step and time-killing whistle of a sentinel upon his regular duty. The door, which slowly opened, discovered Morton with both arms reclined upon a table, and his head resting upon them in a posture of deep dejection. He raised his face as the door opened, and perceiving the female figures which it ad- mitted, started up in great surprise. Edith, as if modesty had quelled the courage which despair had bestowed, stood about a yard from the door without having either the powei OLD MORTALITY 95 to speak or to advance. All the plans of aid, relief, or comfort which she had proposed to lay before her lover seemed at once to have vanished from her recollection, and left only a painful chaos of ideas, with which was mingled a fear that she had degraded herself in the eyes of Morton by a step which might appear precipitate and unfeminine. She hung motionless and almost powerless upon the arm of her attendant, who in vain endeavored to reassure and inspire her with courage by whisper- ing, ^' We are in now, madam, and we maun mak the best o' our time ; for doubtless the corporal or the sergeant will gang the rounds, and it wad be a pity to hae the poor lad Halliday punished for his civility." Morton in the meantime was timidly advancing, suspecting the truth ; for what other female in the house excepting Edith herself was likely to take an interest in his misfortunes ? and yet afraid, owing to the doubtful twilight and the muffled dress, of making some mistake which might be prejudicial to the object of his affections. Jenny, whose ready wit and forward manners well quali- fied her for such an office, hastened to break the ice. ** Mr. Morton, Miss Edith's very sorry for your present situation, and " It was needless to say more ; he was at her side, almost at her feet, pressing her unresisting hands and loading her with a profusion of thanks and gratitude which would be hardly intelligible from the mere broken words, unless we could de- scribe the tone, the gesture, the impassioned and hurried in- dications of deep and tumultuous feeling with which they were accompanied. For two or three minutes Edith stood as motionless as the statue of a saint which receives the adoration of a worshipper ; and when she recovered herself sufficiently to withdraw her hands from Henry's grasp she could at first only faintly artic- ulate, "I have taken a strange step, Mr. Morton — a step," she continued, with more coherence, as her ideas arranged them- selves in consequence of a strong effort, *' that perhaps may expose me to censure in your eyes. But I have long permitted you to use the language of friendship — perhaps I might say more — too long to leave you when the world seems to have left you. How or why is this imprisonment ? what can be done ? Can my uncle, who thinks so highly of you — can your own kinsman, Milnwood, be of no use ? are there no means ? and what is likely to be the event ? " ^' Be what it will," answered Henry, contriving to make himself master of the hand that had escaped from him, but 96 WAVERLEY NOVELS which was now again abandoned to his clasp — ^' be what it will, it is to me from this moment the most welcome incident of a weary life. To you, dearest Edith — forgive me, I should have said Miss Bellenden, but misfortune claims strange privi- leges — to you I have owed the few happy moments which have gilded a gloomy existence ; and if I am now to lay it down, the recollection of this honor will be my happiness in the last hour of suffering/^ '* But is it even thus, Mr. Morton ? " said Miss Bellenden. *' Have you, who used to mix so little in these unhappy feuds, become so suddenly and deeply implicated that nothing short of " She paused, unable to bring out the word which should have come next. '^ Nothing short of my life, you would say ? " replied Mor- ton, in a calm but melancholy tone ; '^ I believe that will be entirely in the bosoms of my judges. My guards spoke of a possibility of exchanging the penalty for entry into foreign service. I thought I could have embraced the alternative ; and yet. Miss Bellenden, since I have seen you once more I feel that exile would be more galling than death.''' '^ And it is then true,'' said Edith, '' that you have been so desperately rash as to entertain communication with any of those cruel wretches who assassinated the primate ? " ^' I knew not even that such a crime had been committed,'' replied Morton, ''when I gave unhappily a night's lodging and concealment to one of those rash and cruel men, the an- cient friend and comrade of my father. But my ignorance will avail me little ; for who. Miss Bellenden, save you will believe it ? And what is worse, I am at least uncertain whether, even if I had known the crime, I could have brought my mind, under all the circumstances, to refuse a tempo- rary refuge to the fugitive." "And by whom," said Edith, anxiously, ''or under what authority will the investigation of your conduct take place ? " "Under that of Colonel Grahame of Claverhouse, I am given to understand," said Morton ; " one of the military commission, to whom it has pleased our king, our privy coun- cil, and our parliament, that used to be more tenacious of our liberties, to commit the sole charge of our goods and of our lives." "To Claverhouse?" said Edith, faintly ; "merciful Heaven, you are lost ere you are tried ! He wrote to my grandmother that he was to be here to-morrow morning on is road to the head of the county, where some desperate man, animated bvthe presence of two or three of the actors OLD MORTALITY 97 in the primate's murder, are said to have assembled for the purpose of making a stand against the government. His ex- pressions made me shudder even when I could not guess that — that — a friend '' *' Do not be too much alarmed on my account, my dearest Edith/' said Henry, as he supported her in his arms ; ^' Claver- ^ •i-yi house, though stern and relentless, is, by all accounts, brave, ^f^^Yjt fair, and honorable. I am a soldier's son, and will plead my ^^Jc^ftixfl cause like a soldier. He will perhaps listen more favorably to ,^ x^' a blunt and unvarnished defence than a truckling and time- ,^.^^5^ serving judge might do. And, indeed, in a time when justice Y*1[™1 is in all its branches so completely corrupted, I would rather f^^f^^^ lose my life by open military violence than be conjured out of ^ '^^"'f*^ it by the hocus-pocus of some arbitrary lawyer, who lends the '^ jTj^ knowledge he has of the statutes, made^fox pur pnoteotion, to ^ ^^ wrest them to our destruction." ^ ^ *^ You are lost — you are lost, if you are to plead your cause V^^^/^^ with Claverhouse ! " sighed Edith ; *^ root and branch-work v*^**^* is the mildest of his expressions. The unhappy primate was j^ ^^**^ his intimate friend and early patron. ' 'No excuse, no sub- terfuge/ said his letter, ^ shall save either those connected with the deed, or such as have given them countenance and shelter, from the ample and bitter penalty of the law, until I shall have taken as many lives in vengeance of this atrocious murder as the old man had gray hairs upon his venerable head.' There is neither ruth nor favor to be found with him." Jenny Dennison, who had hitherto remained silent, now ventured, in the extremity of distress which the lovers felt, but for which they were unable to devise a remedy, to offer her own advice. *' Wi'your leddyship's pardon. Miss Edith, and young Mr. Morton's, we maunna waste time. Let Milnwood take my plaid and gown ; I'll slip them aff in the dark corner if he'll promise no to look about, and he may walk past Tam Halli- day, who is half blind with his ale, and I can tell him a canny way to get out o' the Tower, and your leddyship will gang quietly to your ain room, and I'll row mysell in his gray cloak and pit on his hat, and play the prisoner till the coast's clear, and then I'll cry in Tam Halliday and gar him let me out." ^' Let you out!" said Morton; "they'll make your life answer it." " Ne'er a bit," replied Jenny. " Tam daurna tell he let onybody in, for his ain sake ; and I'll gar him find some other gate to account for the escape." 96 WAVERLEY NOVELS ''Will you, by G — ?"said the sentinel, suddenly opening the door of the apartment ; "if I am half blind I am not deaf, and you should not plan an escape quite so loud if you expect to go through with it. Come, come, Mrs. Janet — march, troop — quick time — trot, d — n me ! And you, madam kinswoman ; I won't ask your real name, though you were going to play me so rascally a trick, but I must make a clear garrison ; so beat a retreat, unless you would have me turn out the guard. ^' "I hope,^' said Morton, very anxiously, ''you will not mention this circumstance, my good friend, and trust to my honor to acknowledge your civility in keeping the secret. If you overheard our conversation, you must have observed that we did not accept of, or enter into, the hasty proposal made by this good-natured girl.'' '^ Oh, devilish good-natured to be sure,'' said Halliday. " As for the rest, I guess how it is, and I scorn to bear malice or tell tales as much as another ; but no thanks to that little jilting devil Jenny Dennison, who deserves a tight skelping for trying to lead an honest lad into a scrape, just because he was so silly as to like her good-for-little chit face." Jenny had no better means of justification than the last apology to which her sex trust, and usually not in vain : she pressed her handkerchief to her face, sobbed with great vehe- mence, and either wept or managed, as Halliday might have said, to go through the motions wonderfully well. " And now," continued the soldier, somewhat mollified, "if you have anything to say, say it in two minutes, and let me see your backs turned ; for, if Bothwell take it into his drunken head to make the rounds half an hour too soon, it will be a black business to us all." " Farewell, Edith," whispered Morton, assuming a firm- ness he was far from possessing ; " do not remain here ; leave me to my fate ; it cannot be beyond endurance since you are interested in it. Good-night — good-night ! Do not remain here till you are discovered." Thus saying, he resigned her to her attendant, by whom she was partly led and partly supported out of the apart- ment. " Every one has his taste, to be sure," said Halliday ; " but d — n me if I would have vexed so sweet a girl as that is for all the Whigs that ever swore the Covenant." When Edith had regained her apartment she gave way to a burst of grief which alarmed Jenny Dennison, wlio hastened to administer such scraps of consolation as occurred to her. OLD MORTALITY M *' Dinna vex yoursell sae muckle, Miss Edith/^ said that faithful attendant ; " wha kens what may happen to help young Milnwood ? He's a brave lad and a bonny, and a gentlenjan of a good fortune, and they winna string the like o' him up as they do the puir Whig bodies that they catch in the niuirs like straps o' onions. Maybe his uncle will bring him aff, or may- be your ain grand-uncle will speak a gude word for him ; he's weel acquent wi' a' the redcoat gentlemen/' " You are right, Jenny — you are right," said Edith, re- covering herself from the stupor into which she had sunk ; *Hhis is no time for despair, but for exertion. You must finds ome one to ride this very night to my uncle's with a letter." " To Charnwood, madam ? It's unco late, and it's sax miles an' a bittock doun the water ; I doubt if we can find man and horse the night, mair especially as they hae mounted a sentinel before the gate. Puir Cuddie ! he's gane, puii fallow, that wad hae dune aught in the warld I bade him, and ne'er asked a reason ; an' I've had nae time to draw up wi' the new pleugh-lad yet ; forbye that, they say he's gaun to be married to Meg Murdieson, ill-faur'd cuttie as she is." " You must find some one to go, Jenny ; life and death depend upon it." " I wad gang mysell, my leddy, for I could creep out at the window o' the pantry, and speel down by the auld yew-tree weel eneugh ; I hae played that trick ere now. But the road's unco wild, and sae mony redcoats about, forbye the Whigs, that are no muckle better — the young lads o' them — if they meet a fraim body their lane in the muirs. I wadna stand for the walk ; I can walk ten miles by moonlight weel eneugh.'^ "Is there no one you can think of that, for money or favor, would serve me so far ?" asked Edith, in great anxiety. " I dinna ken," said Jenny, after a moment's consider- ation, " unless it be Guse Gibbie ; and he'll maybe no ken the way, though it's no sae difficult to hit if he keep the horse-road and mind the turn at the Cappercleugh, and dinna drown himsell in the Whomlekirn pule, or fa' ower the scaur at the Deil's Loaning, or miss ony o' the kittle steps at the Pass o' Walkwary, or be carried to the hills by the Whigs, or be taen to the tolbooth by the redcoats." *^ All ventures must be run," said Edith, cutting short the list of chances against Goose Gibbie's safe arrival at the end of his pilgrimage — " all risks must be run, unless you can find a better messenger. Go, bid the boy get ready, and get him out of the Tower as secretly as you can. If he meets 100 WAVERLE'k NOVELS any one, let him say he is carrying a letter to Major Bellen- den of Cham wood, but without mentioning any names/^ "I understand, madam," said Jenny Dennison. ^^ I war- rant the callant will do weel eneugh, and Tib the hen-wife will tak care o' the geese for a word o"* my mouth ; and I'll tell Gibbie your leddyship will mak his peace wi' Lady Margaret, and we'll gie him a dollar/' '' Two if he does his errand well," said Edith. Jenny departed to rouse Goose Gibbie out of his slumbers, to which he was usually consigned at sundown or shortly after, he keeping the hours of the birds under his charge. During her absence Edith took her writing materials and prepared against her return the following letter, super- scribed — For the hands of Major Bellenden of Charnwood, my much honored uncle. These : " My dear Ui^"CLE — This will serve to inform you I am de- girous to know how your gout is, as we did not see you at the wappenschaw, which made both my grandmother and myself very uneasy. And if it will permit you to travel, we shall be happy to see you at our poor house to-morrow at the hour of breakfast, as Colonel Grahame of Claverhouse is to pass this way on his march, and we would willingly have your assistance to receive and entertain a military man of such distinction, who probably will not be much delighted with the company of women. Also, my dear uncle, I pray you to let Mrs. Carefor't, your housekeeper, send me my double- trimmed paduasoy with the hanging sleeves, which she Avill find in the third drawer of the walnut press in the green room, which you are so kind as to call mine. Also, my dear uncle, I pray you to send me the second volume of the Grand CyruSy as I have only read as far as the imprisonment of Philidaspes upon the seven hundredth and thirty-third page ; but, above all, I entreat you to come to us to-morrow before eight of the clock, which, as your pacing nag is so good, you may well do without rising before your usual hour. So pray- ing to God to preserve your health, I rest your dutiful and loving niece, " Edith Bellei^ dbn". " Postscriptum, — A party of soldiers have last night brought your friend, young Mr. Henry Morton of Milnwood, hither as a prisoner. I conclude you will be sorry for the young gentleman, and, therefore, let you know this im OLD MORTALITY li)J you may think of speaking to Colonel Grahame m nis behalf. I have not mentioned his name to my grandmother, knowing her prejudice against the family/' This epistle being duly sealed and delivered to Jenny, that faithful confidante hastened to put the same in the charge of Goose Gibbie, whom she found in readiness to start from the castle. She then gave him various instructions touching the road, which she apprehended he was likely to mistake, not having travelled it above five or six times, and possessing only the same slender proportion of memory as of judgment. Lastly, she smuggled him out of the garrison through the pantry window into the branchy yew-tree which grew close beside it, and had the satisfaction to see him reach the bot- tom in safety and take the right turn at the commencement of his journey. She then returned to persuade her young mistress to go to bed, and to lull her to rest, if possible, with assurances of Gibbie's success in his embassy, only qualified by a passing regret that the trusty Cuddie, with whom the com- mission might have been more safely reposed, was no longer within reach of serving her. More fortunate as a messenger than as a cavalier, it was Gibbie's good hap rather than his good management which, after he had gone astray not oftener than nine times, and given his garments a taste of the variation of each bog, brook, arud slough between Tillietudlem and Chamwood, placed him about daybreak before the gate of Major Bellenden s mansion, having completed a walk of ten miles — for the bittock, as usual, amounted to four — in little more than the same number of hours. CHAPTER XI jlt last comes the troop, by the word of command Drawn up in our court, where the Captain cries, Stand I Swift. Major Bellendejs^'s ancient valet, Gideon Pike, as he ad- justed his master^s clothes by his bedside, preparatory to the worthy veteran's toilet, acquainted him, as an apology for disturbing him an hour earlier than his usual time of rising, that there was an express from Tillietudlem. '*From Tillietudlem ? '^ said the old gentleman, rising hastily in his bed and sitting bolt upright. *^ Open the shut- ters. Pike. I hope my sister-in-law is well ; furl up the bed-curtain. What have we all here ? [glancing at E9.ith's note] . The gout ! why, she knows I have not had a fit since Candlemas. The wappenschaw ! I told her a month since I was not to be there. Paduasoy and hanging sleeves ! why, hang the gypsy herself ! Grand Cyrus and Philipdastus ! Philip Devil ! is the wench gone crazy all at once ? was it worth while to send an express and wake me at five in the morning for all this trash ? But what says her postscriptum ? Mercy on us \" he exclaimed, on perusing it. *'Pike, saddle old Kilsyth instantly, and another horse for yourself.^' '* I hope nae ill news frae the Tower, sir ? " said Pike, as- tonished at his master's sudden emotion. " Yes — no — yes — that is, I must meet Claverhouse there on some express business ; so boot and saddle. Pike, as fast as you can. Lord ! what times are these ! The poor lad, my old cronie's son ! and the silly wench sticks it into her post- scriptum, as she calls it, at the tail of all this trumpery about old gowns and new romances ! " In a few minutes the good old officer was fully equipped ; and, having mounted upon his arm-gaunt charger as so- berly as Mark Antony himself could have done, he paced forth his way to the Tower of Tillietudlem. On the road he formed the prudent resolution to say nothing to the old lady (whose dislike to Presbyterians of all kinds he knew to be inveterate) of the quality and rank of the prisoner OLD MORTALITY 108 ucuoiued within her walls, but to try his own influence with Claverhouse to obtain Morton's liberation. '^ Being so loyal as he is, he must do something for so old a Cavalier as I am,'' said the veteran to himself ; '' and if he is so good a soldier as the world speaks of, why, he will be glad to serve an old soldier's son. I never knew a real soldier that was not a frank-hearted, honest fellow ; and I think the execu- tion of the laws — though it's a pity they find it necessary to make them so severe — may be a thousand times better intrust- ed with them than with peddling lawyers and thick-skulled country gentlemen." Such were the ruminations of Major Miles Bellenden, which were terminated by John Gudyill (not more than half drunk) taking hold of his bridle, and assisting him to dismount in the rough-paved court of Tillietudlem. " Why, John," said the veteran, '^ what devil of a discipline is this you have been keeping ? You have been reading Geneva print * this morning already." *^ I have been reading the Litany," said John, shaking his head with a look of drunken gravity, and having only caught one word of the Major's address to him. '* Life is short, sir ; we are flowers of the field, sir — hiccup — and lilies of the valley." " Flowers and lilies ! Why, man, such carles as thou and I can hardly be called better than old hemlocks, decayed nettles, or withered ragweed ; but I suppose you think that we are still worth watering." " I am an old soldier, sir, I thank Heaven — hiccup — ^ — " " An old skinker, you mean, John. But come, never mind, show me the way to your mistress, old lad." John Gudyill led the way to the stone hall, where Lady Margaret was fidgeting about, superintending, arranging, and re-forming the preparations made for the reception of the cele- brated Claverhouse, whom one party honored and extolled as a hero, and another execrated as a bloodthirsty oppressor. '' Did I not tell you," said Lady Margaret to her principal female attendant — '''did I not tell you, Mysie, that it was my especial pleasure on this occasion to have everything in the Erecise order wherein it was upon that famous morning when is most sacred Majesty partook of his disjune at Tillie- tudlem?" *' Doubtless such were your led dyship's commands, and to the best of my remembrance " w^as Mysie answering, when her ladyship broke in with, " Then wherefore is the ♦ The Geneva Book of Discipline, adopted by the Scottish E*resby teriaiis (jAung). 104 WAVERLEY NOVELS yenison pasty placed on the left side of the throne, and the stoup of claret upon the right, when ye may right weel re- member, Mysie, that his most sacred Majesty with his ain hand shifted the pasty to the same side with the flagon, and said they were too good friends to be parted ? " *' I mind that weel, madam,'^ said Mysie ; ''and if I had forgot, I have heard your leddyship often speak about that grand morning sin' syne ; but I thought everything was to be placed just as it was when his Majesty, Grod bless him ! came into this room, looking mair like an angel than a man if he hadnabeen sae black-a- vised/' " Then ye thought nonsense, Mysie ; for in whatever way his most sacred Majesty ordered the position of the trenchers and flagons, that, as weel as his royal pleasure in greater matters, should be a law to his subjects, and shall ever be to those of the house of Tillietudlem/' ^' Weel, madam,'' said Mysie, making the alterations re- quired, ''it's easy mending the error; but if everything is just to be as his Majesty left it there should be an unco hole in the venison pasty." At this moment the door opened. "Who is that, John Gudyill ?" exclaimed the old lady. " I can speak to no one just now. Is it you, my dear brother ? " she continued, in some surprise, as the Major entered; " this is a right early visit." " Not more early than welcome, I hope," replied Major Bellenden, as he saluted the widow of his deceased brother ; " but I heard by a note which Edith sent to Charnwood about some of her equipage and books that you were to have Claver'se here this morning, so I thought, like an old firelock as I am, that I should like to have a chat with this rising sol- dier. I caused Pike saddle Kilsyth, and here we both are." " And most kindly welcome you are," said the old lady ; "it 13 just what I should have prayed you to do if I had thought there was time. You see I am busy in preparation. All is to be in the same order as when " " The King breakfasted at Tillietudlem," said the Major, who, like all Lady Margaret's friends, dreaded the commence- ment of that narrative, and was desirous to cut it short. "I remember it well , you know I was waiting on his Majesty." *' 'You were, biothei," said Lady Margaret ; " and perhaps yoQ can help me to remember the 'order of the entertain ment.'' '* Nay^ sood sooth, ' said the Major, " the damnable din- aQi that Not gave us at Worcester h few days atterwaids drove OLD MORTALITY 105 all yoar good cheer out of my memory. But how's this ? you have even the great Turkey-leather elbow-chair with the tap- estry cushions placed in state/'' " The throne, brother, if you please/^ said Lady Margaret, gravely. "Well, the throne be it, then,'' continued the Major, '' Is that to be Claver'se's post in the attack upon the pasty ?" " No, brother," said the lady; *'as these cusliions liave been once honored by accommodating the person of our most sacred monarch, they shall never, please Heaven, during my lifetime, be pressed by any less dignified weight." " You should not, then," said the old soldier, " put them in the way of an honest old Cavalier who has ridden ten miles before breakfast ; for, to confess the truth, they look very in- viting. But where is Edith ? " *' On the battlements of the warder's turret,"' answered the old lady, " looking out for the approach of our guests." "Why, I'll go there too ; and so should you. Lady Mar- garet, as soon as you have your line of battle properly formed in the hall here. It's a pretty thing, I can tell you, to see a regiment of horse upon the march." w-i Thus speaking, he offered liis arm with an air of old-fash- . jJ^ ioned gallantry, which Lady Margaret accepted with such a ^