-' below 
 
 SOUTHERN BRANCH, 
 
 ^UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, 
 LIBRAR'
 
 C 
 
 WILSON'S 
 
 AND OF SCOTLAND.
 
 WILSON'S 
 
 TALES OF THE BORDERS, 
 
 AND OF SCOTLAND 
 
 HISTORICAL, TRADITIONARY, AND IMAGINATIVE. 
 WITH A OLOSSARY 
 
 REVISED BY ALEXANDER LETGHTON, 
 
 ONE OF THE ORIGINAL EDITORS AND CONTRIBUTOBS. 
 
 NEW EDITION. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 MANCHESTER: 
 JAMES AINSWORTH, 93, PICCADILLY. 
 
 WARD AND LOCK, 153, FLEET-STREET, LONDON. 
 
 W. P. NIMMO. 2, ST. DAVID-STREET, EDINBURGH; AND 6, ADAMS 
 
 COURT LANE, GLA8COW 
 
 1 r: 
 l *)
 
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 5 B 
 
 d 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 THE VACANT CHAIR (John Mackay Wilson), 1 
 
 4 THE FAA'S REVENGE (John Mackay Wilson), 18 
 
 rs; KATE KENNEDY (Alexander Leighton), 50 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF FERGUSON (Hugh Miller), 83 
 
 THE DISASTERS OF JOHNNY ARMSTRONG... (Alexander Campbell), 128 
 
 'NJJ THE PROFESSOR'S TALES (Professor Thomas Gillespie) 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN STORM 160 
 
 THE FAIR MAID OF CELLARDYKES 172 
 
 PRESCRIPTION; OK THE 29in OF SEPTEMBER (Alexander Leighton), 193 
 
 THE COUNTESS OF WISTONBURY (Alexander Campbell), 225 
 
 v MIDSIDE MAGGY ; OR, THE BANNOCK o' TOLLISHILL (J. M. Wilson), 257
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THIS series of Tales, now so well known in this country 
 and also in America, was begun by JOHN MACKAY WILSON, 
 originally a printer, and who subsequently betook himself 
 to literature. In the beginning of the undertaking he was 
 inspired by a success probably greater than he had ever 
 anticipated, and a sudden and wide-spread reputation 
 induced him to overtask his energies, in a manner incon- 
 sistent with the care due to a delicate constitution. After 
 having carried on the work, almost single-handed, for a 
 period of more than a year furnishing a tale every week 
 he took ill, and died. Subsequently, the charge of con- 
 ducting the work devolved upon the present Editor, who was 
 fortunate enough to secure the assistance of certain writers 
 well qualified to sustain the reputation which the first part 
 of the series had acquired. Among these were the late 
 Hugh Miller, the late Professor Thomas Gillespie of St. 
 Andrew's, Alexander Campbell, Alexander and John 
 Bethune, and John Howell, all of whom possessed those 
 natural gifts, enabling them to succeed in a species of 
 literature which, while in one sense it may be called the 
 most easy, is, in another, perhaps among the most difficult 
 of any.
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 The only condition by which the natural promptings of 
 their genius might have been restrained was, that the 
 contributions should be genuine stories, not the ordinary 
 mixture of narrative, didactic essay, and fanciful prolusion, 
 but tales in the proper every-day sense, with such an 
 objectiveness as would portray, graphically and naturally, 
 the men and women of the times, acting on the stage 
 where they were destined to perform their strange parts, 
 and would exclude all false colourings of a sentimental 
 fiction, belonging to mere subjective moods of the writer's 
 iancy or feeling. The greatest care was also taken 
 with the moral aspect of the Tales, with the view that 
 parents and guardians might feel a confidence that, in 
 committing them into the hands of their children and 
 wards, they would be imparting the means of instruction, 
 and at the same time securing a guarantee for the growth 
 of moral convictions. By such means, the Tales were 
 kept true to history, legend, morality, and man's nature, 
 and, at the same time, made acceptable to the great class 
 of readers who had declared their predilection in favour 
 of the manner of the early examples. 
 
 The Tales in this series have been carefully selected and 
 revised ; and the reader will be pleased to be informed 
 that, in the course of the publication, there will, for the 
 purpose of imparting to it a fresh interest, be inserted 
 New Tales, written by authors deemed capable of attain- 
 ing the mark of the Orginal Series. 
 
 YORK LODGE, TRINITY, 
 March, 1857. 

 
 WILSON'S 
 TALES OF THE BORDERS, 
 
 AND OF SCOTLAND. 
 
 THE VACANT CHAIE.* 
 
 You have all heard of the Cheviot mountains. They are 
 a rough, rugged, majestic chain of hills, which a poet 
 might term the Roman wall of nature; crowned with snow, 
 belted with storms, surrounded by pastures and fruitful 
 fields, and still dividing the northern portion of Great 
 Britain from the southern. With their proud summits 
 piercing the clouds, and their dark rocky declivities frown- 
 ing upon the glens below, they appear symbolical of the 
 wild and untamable spirits of the Borderers who once in- 
 habited their sides. We say, you have all heard of the 
 Cheviots, and know them to be very high hills, like a huge 
 clasp riveting England and Scotland together ; but we are 
 not aware that you may have heard of Marchlaw, an old, 
 gray-looking farm-house, substantial as a modern fortress, 
 recently, and, for aught we know to the contrary, still in- 
 habited by Peter Elliot, the proprietor of some five hundred 
 surrounding acres. The boundaries of Peter's farm, indeed, 
 were defined neither by fields, hedges, nor stone walls. A 
 wooden stake here, and a stone there, at considerable dis- 
 tances from each other, were the general landmarks ; but 
 neither Peter nor his neighbours considered a few acres 
 
 * Our commencement with " The Vacant Chair" the first written of the Tales 
 of the Borders is not inconsistent with our principle of selection in this edition, 
 which is to distribute the contributions of the authors, so as to secure variety, 
 without any view to an early exhaustion of the best of the Tales Ed. 
 
 VOL. I. A.
 
 2 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 worth quarrelling about ; and their sheep frequently 
 visited each other's pastures in a friendly way, harmonioiisly 
 sharing a family dinner, in the same spirit as their masters 
 made themselves free at each other's tables. 
 
 Peter was placed in very unpleasant circumstances, owing 
 to the situation of Marchlaw House, which, unfortunately, 
 was built immediately across the "ideal line," dividing the 
 two kingdoms ; and his misfortune was, that, being born 
 within it, he knew not whether he was an Englishman or a 
 Scotchman. He could trace his ancestral line no farther 
 back than his great-grandfather, who, it appeared from the 
 family Bible, had, together with his grandfather and father, 
 claimed Marchlaw as their birth-place. They, however, 
 were not involved in the same perplexities as their descen- 
 dant. The parlour was distinctly acknowledged to be in 
 Scotland, and two-thirds of the kitchen Avere as certainly 
 allowed to be in England : his three ancestors were born 
 in the room over the parlour, and, therefore, were Scotch- 
 men beyond question ; but Peter, unluckily, being brought 
 into the world before the death of his grandfather, his 
 parents occupied a room immediately over the debatable 
 boundary line which crossed the kitchen. The room, 
 though scarcely eight feet square, was evidently situated 
 between the two countries ; but, no one being able to 
 ascertain what portion belonged to each, Peter, after many 
 arguments and altercations upon the subject, was driven lo 
 the disagreeable alternative of confessing he knew not what 
 countryman he was. What rendered the confession the 
 more painful was, that it was Peter's highest ambition to 
 be thought a Scotchman. All his arable land lay on the 
 Scotch side ; his mother was collaterally related to the 
 Stuarts ; and few families won.' more ancient or respectable 
 than the Elliot?. Peter's speech, indeed, bewrayed him to 
 be a walking pnrlition between the two kingdoms, a livin;: 
 representation of the Union ; for in one word he pronounced
 
 THE VACANT CHAIR. 3 
 
 the letter r with the broad, masculine sound of the North 
 Briton, and in the next with the liquid burr of the Nor- 
 thumbrians. 
 
 Peter, or, if you prefer it, Peter Elliot, Esquire of March- 
 law, in the counties of Northumberland and Roxburgh, 
 was, for many years, the best runner, leaper, and wrestler 
 between Wooler and Jedburgh. Whirled from his hand, 
 the ponderous bullet whizzed through the air like a pigeon 
 on the wing ; and the best putter on the Borders quailed 
 from competition. As a feather in his grasp, he seized the 
 unwieldy hammer, swept it round and round his head, ac- 
 companying with agile limb its evolutions, swiftly as swal- 
 lows play around a circle, and hurled it from his hands like 
 a shot from a rifle, till antagonists shrunk back, and the 
 spectators burst into a shout. " TVell done, Squire ! the 
 Squire for ever !" once exclaimed a servile observer of titles. 
 " Squire ! wha are ye squiring at ?' ? returned Peter. 
 " Confound ye ! where was ye when I was christened 
 Squire ? My name's Peter Elliot your man, or onybody's 
 man, at whatever they like !" 
 
 Peter's soul was free, bounding, and buoyant, as the wind 
 that carolled in a zephyr, or shouted in a hurricane, upon 
 his native lulls ; and his body Avas thirteen stone of healthy 
 substantial flesh, steeped in the spirits of life. He had been 
 long married, but marriage had wrought no change upon 
 him. They who suppose that wedlock transforms the lark 
 into an owl, offer an insult to the lovely beings who, 
 brightening our darkest hours with the smiles of affection, 
 teach us that that only is unbecoming in the husband ; 
 which is disgvacofid in the man. Nearly twenty years 
 had passed over them ; but Janet was still as kind, and, in 
 his eyes, as beautiful as when, bestowing on him her hand, 
 she blushed her vows at the altar ; and he was still as 
 happy, as generous, and as free. Nine fair children sat 
 around their domestic hearth, and one, the youngling of
 
 4 TALES OF THE BOliDEUS. 
 
 the flock, smiled xipon its mother's knee. Peter had never 
 known sorrow ; he was blest in his wife, in his children, in 
 his flocks. He had become richer than his fathers. He 
 was beloved by his neighbours, the tillers of his ground, 
 and his herdsmen; yea, no man envied his prosperity. 
 But a blight passed over the harvest of his joys, and gall 
 was rained into the cup of his felioity. 
 
 It was Christmas-day, and a more melancholy-looking 
 sun never rose on the 25th of December. One vast, sable 
 cloud, like a universal pall, overspread the heavens. For 
 Aveeks, the ground had been covered with clear, dazzling 
 snow ; and as, throughout the day, the rain continued its 
 unwearied and monotonous drizzle, the earth assumed a 
 character and appearance melancholy and troubled as the 
 heavens. Like a mastiff that has lost its owner, the wind 
 howled dolefully down the glens, and was re-echoed from 
 the caves of the mountains, as the lamentations of a legion 
 of invisible spirits. The frowning, snow-clad precipices 
 were instinct with motion, as avalanche upon avalanche, 
 the larger burying the less, croAvded downward in their 
 tremendous journey to the plain. The simple mountain 
 rills had assumed the majesty of rivers; the broader streams 
 were swollen into the wild torrent, and, gushing forth as 
 cataracts, in fury and in foam, enveloped the valleys in an 
 angry flood. But, at Marchlaw, the fire blazed blithely ; 
 the kitchen groaned beneath the load of preparations for a 
 joyful feast ; and glad faces glided from room to room. 
 
 Peter Elliot kept Christmas, not so much because it was 
 Christinas, as in honour of its being the birthday of Thomas, 
 his first-born, who, that day, entered his nineteenth year. 
 With a father's love, his heart yearned for all his children ; 
 but Thomas was the pride of his eyes. Cards of apology 
 had not then found their Avay among our Border hills ; and 
 as all kneAV that, although Peter admitted no spirits Avitliin 
 his threshold, nor a drunkard at his table, he was, never-
 
 THE VACANT CHAIR. 5 
 
 theless, no niggard in his hospitality, his invitations were 
 accepted without ceremony. The guests were assembled ; 
 and the kitchen being the only apartment in the building 
 large enough to contain them, the cloth was spread upon a 
 long, clear, oaken table, stretching from England into Scot- 
 land. On the. English end of the board were placed a 
 ponderous plum-pudding, studded with temptation, and a 
 smoking sirloin ; on Scotland, a savoury and well-seasoned 
 haggis, with a sheep's-head and trotters ; while the inter- 
 mediate space was filled with the good things of this life, 
 common to both kingdoms and to the season. 
 
 The guests from the north and from the south were 
 arranged promiscuously. Every seat was filled save one. 
 The chair by Peter's right hand remained unoccupied. He 
 had raised his hands before his eyes, and besought a bless- 
 ing on what was placed before them, ard was preparing to 
 carve for his visitors, when his eyes fell upon the vacant 
 chair. The knife dropped upon the table. Anxiety flashed 
 across his countenance, like an arrow from an unseen hand. 
 
 " Janet, where is Thomas ?" he inquired ; " hae nane o' 
 ye seen him ?" and, without waiting an answer, he con- 
 tinued " How is it possible he can be absent at a time 
 like this ? And on such a day, too ? Excuse me a minute, 
 friends, till I just step out and see if I can find him. Since 
 ever I kept this day, as mony o' ye ken, he has always 
 been at my right hand, in that very chair ; and I canna 
 think o' beginning our dinner while I see it empty." 
 
 " If the filling of the chair be all," said a pert young 
 sheep-farmer, named Johnson, "I will step into it till 
 Master Thomas arrive." 
 
 " Ye're not a faither, young man," said Peter, and walked 
 out of the room. 
 
 Minute succeeded minute, but Peter returned not. The 
 guests became hungry, peevish, and gloomy, while an ex- 
 cellent dinner continued spoiling before them. Mrs. Elliot,
 
 '"> TALES OF THE BOUDEUS. 
 
 whose good-nature was the most prominent feature in her 
 character, strove, by every possible effort, to beguile the 
 unpleasant impressions she perceived gathering upon their 
 countenances. 
 
 " Peter is just as bad as him," she remarked, " to hae 
 gane to seek him when he kenned the dinner wouldna keep. 
 And I'm sure Thomas kenned it would be ready at one 
 o'clock to a minute. It's sae unthinking and unfriendly 
 like to keep folk waiting." And, endeavouring to smile 
 upon a beautiful black -haired girl of seventeen, who sat by 
 her elbow, she continued in an anxious whisper " Did ye 
 see naething o' him, Elizabeth, hinny ?" 
 
 The maiden blushed deeply ; the question evidently gave 
 freedom to a tear, which had, for some time, been an xin- 
 willing prisoner in. the brightest eyes in the room ; and the 
 monosyllable, " No," that trembled from her lips, was 
 audible only to the ear of the inquirer. In vain Mrs. Elliot 
 despatched one of her children after another, in quest of 
 their father and brother ; they came and went, but brought 
 no tidings more cheering than the moaning of the hollow 
 wind. Minutes rolled into hours, yet neither came. She 
 perceived the prouder of her guests preparing to withdraw, 
 and, observing that "Thomas's absence was so singular 
 and unaccountable, and so unlike either him or his father, 
 she didna ken what apology to make to her friends for such 
 treatment ; but it was needless waiting, and begged they 
 would use no ceremony, but just begin." 
 
 No second invitation was necessary. Good humour ap- 
 peared to be restored, and sirloins, pies, pasties, and moor- 
 tbwj began to disappear like the lost son. For a moment, 
 Mrs. Elliot apparently partook in the restoration of cheer- 
 f;'l ness ; but a low sigh at her elbow again drove the colour 
 from her rosy cheeks. Her eye wandered to the farther 
 end of the table, and rested on the unoccupied seat of her 
 husband, and the vacant chair of her first-born. Her heart
 
 THE VACAST CilAlK 7 
 
 fell heavily within her ; all the mother gushed into her 
 bosom ; and, rising from the table, " What in the world 
 can be the meaning o' this ?" said she, as she hurried, with 
 a troubled countenance, towards the door. Her husband 
 met her on the threshold. 
 
 " Where hae ye been, Peter?" said she, eagerly ; " hae 
 ye seen naething o' him ?" 
 
 "Naething ! naething !" replied he ; " is he no cast up 
 yet ?" And, with a melancholy glance, his eyes sought an 
 answer in the deserted chair. His lips quivered, his tongue 
 faltered. 
 
 " Gude forgie me !" said he ; " and such a day for even 
 an enemy to be out in ! I've been up and doun every way 
 that I can think on, but not a living creature has seen or 
 heard tell o' him. Ye'll excuse me, neebors," he added, 
 leaving the house ; " I must awa again, for I canna rest." 
 
 " I ken by mysel', friends," said Adam Bell, a decent- 
 looking Northumbrian, " that a faither's heart is as sensi- 
 tive as the apple o' his e'e ; and I think we would show a 
 want o' natural sympathy and respect for our worthy neigh- 
 bour, if we didna every one get his foot into the stirrup 
 without loss o' tune, and assist him in his search. For, in 
 my rough, country way o' thinking, it must be something 
 particularly out o' the common that would tempt Thomas 
 to be amissing. Indeed, I needna say tempt, for there could 
 be no inclination in the way. And our hills," he conclude^, 
 in a lower tone, " are not ower chancy in other respects, 
 besides the breaking up o' the storm." 
 
 " Oh !" said Mrs. Elliot, wringing her hands, " I have 
 .iad the coming o' this about me for days and days. My 
 head was growing dizzy with happiness, but thoughts came 
 Scaling xipon me like ghosts, and I felt a lonely soughing 
 about my heart, without being able to tell the cause ; but 
 the cause is come at last ! And my dear Thomas the very 
 pride and staff o' my life is lost ! lost to me for ever 1"
 
 8 TALES OP THE BOKDERS. 
 
 " I ken, Mrs. Elliot," replied the Northumbrian, " it is 
 an easy matter to say compose yourself, for them that dinna 
 ken what it is to feel. But, at the same time, in our plain, 
 country way o' thinking, we are always ready to believe 
 the worst. I've often heard my father say, and I've as 
 often remarked it myself, that, before anything happens to 
 a body, there is a something comes ower them, like a cloud 
 before the face o' the sun; a sort o' dumb whispering 
 about the breast from the other world. And though I 
 trust there is naething o' the kind in your case, yet, as you 
 observe, when I find myself growing dizzy, as it were, with 
 happiness, it makes good a saying o' my mother's, poor 
 body! 'Bairns, bairns,' she used to say, 'there is ower 
 muckle singing in your heads to-night ; we will have a 
 shower before bedtime.' And I never, in my born days, 
 saw it fail." 
 
 At any other period, Mr. Bell's dissertation on presenti- 
 ments would have been found a fitting text on which to 
 hang all the dreams, wraiths, warnings, and marvellous 
 circumstances, that had been handed down to the com- 
 pany from the days of their grandfathers ; but, in the 
 present instance, they were too much occupied in con- 
 sultation regarding the different routes to be taken in their 
 search. 
 
 Twelve horsemen, and some half-dozen pedestrians, were 
 seen hurrying in divers directions from Marchlaw, as the 
 last faint lights of a melancholy day were yielding to the 
 heavy darkness which appeared pressing in solid masses 
 down the sides of the mountains. The wives and daugh- 
 ters of the party were alone left with the disconsolate 
 mother, who alternately pressed her weeping children to 
 her heart, and told them to weep not, for their brother 
 would soon return ; while the tears stole down her own 
 cheeks, and the infant in her arms wept because its mother 
 wept. Her friends strove with each other to inspire hope,
 
 THE VACANT CHAIR. 9 
 
 and poured upon her ear their mingled and loquacious 
 consolation. But one remained silent. The daughter ot 
 Adam Bell, who sat by Mrs. Elliot's elbow at table, had 
 shrunk into an obscure corner of the room. Before her 
 face she held a handkerchief wet with tears. Her bosom 
 throbbed convulsively; and, as occasionally her broken 
 sighs burst from their prison-house, a significant whisper 
 passed among the younger part of the company. 
 
 Mrs. Elliot approached her, and taking her hand ten- 
 derly within both of hers " O hinny ! hinny ! " said she, 
 " yer sighs gae through my heart like a knife ! An' what 
 can I do to comfort ye ? Come, Elizabeth, my bonny love, 
 let us hope for the best. Ye see before ye a sorrowin' 
 mother! a mother that fondly hoped to see you an' I 
 canna say it ! an' am ill qualified to gie comfort, when my 
 own heart is like a furnace ! But, oh ! let us try and 
 remember the blessed portion, ' Whom the LORD loveth 
 HE chasteneth,' an' inwardly pray for strength to say, ' His 
 will be done ! ' " 
 
 Time stole on towards midnight, and one by one the 
 unsuccessful party returned. As foot after foot ap- 
 proached, every breath was held to listen. " No, no, no ! " 
 cried the mother again and again, with increasing anguish, 
 " it's no the foot o' my ain bairn ; " while her keen gaze 
 still remained riveted upon the door, and was not with- 
 drawn, nor the hope of despair relinquished, till the indi- 
 vidual entered, and, with a silent and ominous shake of 
 his head, betokened his fruitless efforts. The clock had 
 struck twelve ; all were returned save the father. The 
 wind howled more wildly ; the rain poured upon the 
 windows in ceaseless torrents ; and the roaring of the 
 mountain rivers gave a character of deeper ghostliness to 
 their sepulchral silence ; for they sat, each wrapt in fore- 
 bodings, listening to the storm; and no sounds were heard, 
 save the groans oftlir mother, the weeping of her children,
 
 10 TALES OF THE BOKDKKS. 
 
 tan I the bitter and broken sobs of the bereaved maiden, 
 who leaned her head upon her father's bosom, refusing to 
 be comforted. 
 
 At length the barking of the farm-dog announced foot- 
 steps at a distance. Every ear was raised to listen, every 
 eye turned to the door; but, before the tread was yet audi- 
 ble to the listeners " Oh ! it is only Peter's foot ! " said 
 the miserable mother, and, weeping, rose to meet him. 
 
 " Janet, Janet ! " he exclaimed, as he entered, and 
 threw his arms around her neck, " what's this come upon 
 us at last ? " 
 
 He cast an inquisitive glance around his dwelling, and 
 a convulsive shiver passed over his manly frame, as his 
 eye again full on the vacant chair, which no one had ven- 
 tured to occupy. Hour succeeded hour, but the company 
 separated not ; and low, sorrowful whispers mingled with 
 lamentations of the parents. 
 
 " Neighbours," said Adam Bell, " the morn is a new 
 ilay, and we will wait to see what it may bring forth ; but, 
 in the meantime, let us read a portion o' the Divine word, 
 an' kneel together in prayer, that, whether or not the day- 
 i'awn cause light to shine upon this singular bereavement, 
 tlie Sun o' Righteousness may arise wi' healing on his 
 wings, upon the hearts o' this afilicted family, an' upon the 
 hearts o' all present." 
 
 "Amen!" responded Peter, wringing his hands; and 
 
 his friend, taking down the Ha' Bible, read the chapter 
 
 wherein it is written " It is better to be in the house of 
 
 mourning than in the house of feasting;" and again the 
 
 ni whicli saycth "It is well for me that I have been 
 
 ed, for before I was afflicted I went astray." 
 
 The mor.iing came, but brought no tidings of the lost 
 son. After a solemn farewell, all the visitants, save Adam 
 Bell and his daughter, returned every one to their own 
 house; and the disconsolate father, with his servants, again
 
 THE VACAKT CHAIB. 11 
 
 renewed their search among the hills and surrounding 
 villages. 
 
 Days, weeks, months, and years rolled on. Time had 
 subdued the anguish of the 'parents into a holy calm; but 
 their lost first-born was not forgotten, although no trace 
 of his fate had been discovered. The general belief was,, 
 that he had perished on the breaking up of the snow ; and 
 the few in whose remembrance he still lived, merely spoke 
 of his death as a "very extraordinary. circumstance," re- 
 marking that " he was a wild, venturesome sort o' lad." 
 
 Christmas had succeeded Christmas, and Peter Elliot 
 still kept it in commemoration of the birthday of him who 
 was not. For the first few years after the loss of their son, 
 sadness and silence characterized the party who sat down 
 to dinner at Marchlaw, and still at Peter's right hand was 
 placed the vacant chair. But, as the younger branches of 
 the family advanced in years, the remembrance of their 
 brother became less poignant. Christmas was, with all 
 around them, a day of rejoicing, and they began to make 
 merry with their friends ; while their parents partook in 
 their enjoyment, with a smile, half of approval and half of 
 sorrow. 
 
 Twelve years had passed away; Christmas had again 
 come. It was the counterpart of its fatal predecessor. 
 The hills had not yet cast off their summer verdure ; the 
 sun, although shorn of its heat, had lost none of its bright- 
 ness or glory, and looked down upon the earth as though 
 participating in its gladness ; and the clear blue sky was 
 tranquil as the sea sleeping beneath the moon. Many 
 visitors had again assembled at Marchlaw, The sons of 
 Mr. Elliot, and the young men of the party, were assem- 
 bled xipon a level green near the house, amusing them- 
 selves with throwing the hammer, and other Border 
 games, while himself- and the elder guests stood by as 
 spectators, recounting the deeds of their youth. Johnson,
 
 12 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 the sheep-farmer, whom we have already mentioned, now 
 a brawny and gigantic fellow of two-and-thirty, bore aAvay 
 in every game the palm from all competitors. More than 
 once, as Peter beheld his sons defeated, he felt the spirit 
 of youth glowing in his veins, and, " Oh ! " muttered he, 
 in bitterness, "had my Thomas been spared to me, he 
 would hae thrown his heart's bluid after the hammer, 
 before he would hae been beat by e'er a Johnson in the 
 country 1" 
 
 While he thus soliloquized, and with difficulty re- 
 strained an impulse to compete with the victor himself, a 
 dark, foreign-looking, strong-built seaman, unceremoni- 
 ously approached, and, with kis arms folded, cast a look of 
 contempt upon the boasting conqueror. Every eye was 
 turned with a scrutinizing glance upon the stranger. In 
 height he could not exceed five feet nine, but his whole 
 frame was the model of muscular strength ; his features 
 open and manly, but deeply sunburnt and weather-beaten; 
 his long, glossy, black hair, curled into ringlets by the 
 breeze and the billow, fell thickly over his temples and 
 forehead; and whiskers of a similar hue, more conspicuous 
 for size than elegance, gave a character of fierceness to a 
 coiintenance otherwise possessing a striking impress of 
 manly beauty. Without asking permission, he stepped 
 forward, lifted the hammer, and, swinging it around his 
 head, hurled it upwards of five yards beyond Johnson's 
 most successful throw. " Well done ! " shouted the aston- 
 ished spectators. The heart of Peter Elliot warmed 
 within him, and he was hurrying forward to grasp the 
 stranger by the hand, when the words groaned in his 
 throat, " It was just such a throw as my Thomas would 
 have made ! my own lost Thomas ! " The tears burst 
 into his eyes, and, without speaking, he turned back, and 
 hurried towards the house to conceal his emotion. 
 
 Successively, at every game, the stranger had defeated
 
 THE VACANT CHALK. 13 
 
 all who ventured to oppose him, when a messenger an- 
 nounced that dinner waited their arrival. Some of the 
 guests were already seated, others entering ; and, as here- 
 tofore, placed beside Mrs. Elliot was Elkabeth Bell, still 
 in the noontide of her beauty; but sorrow had passed 
 over her features, like a veil before the countenance of an 
 angel. Johnson, crest-fallen and out of humour at his 
 defeat, seated himself by her side. In early life he had 
 regarded Thomas Elliot as a rival for her affections ; and, 
 stimulated by the knowledge that Adam Bell would be 
 able to bestow several thousands upon his daughter for a 
 dowry, he yet prosecuted his attentions with unabated 
 assiduity, in despite of the daughter's aversion and the 
 coldness of her father. Peter had taken his place at the 
 table ; and still by his side, unoccupied and sacred, 
 appeared the vacant chair, the chair of his first-born, 
 whereon none had sat since his mysterious death or dis- 
 appearance. 
 
 " Bairns," said he, " did nane o' ye ask the sailor to 
 come up and tak a bit o' dinner wi' us ? " 
 
 " We were afraid it might lead to a quarrel with Mr. 
 Johnson," whispered one of the sons. 
 
 " He is come without asking," replied the stranger, 
 entering ; " and the wind shall blow from a new point if I 
 destroy the mirth or happiness of the company." 
 
 " Ye're a stranger, young man," said Peter, " or ye 
 would ken this is no a meeting o' mirth-makers. But, I 
 assure ye, ye are welcome, heartily welcome. Haste ye, 
 lasses," he added to the servants; "'some o' ye get a chair 
 for the gentleman." 
 
 "Gentleman, indeed!" muttered Johnson between his 
 teeth. 
 
 " Never mind about a chair, my hearties," said the sea- 
 man ; " this will do ! " And, before Peter could speak to 
 withhold him, he had thrown himself carelessly into the
 
 li TALES OF THE l'< 
 
 hallowed, the venerated, the twelve-years-tmoccupied chair! 
 The spirit of sacrilege uttering blasphemies from a pulpit 
 coxdd^iot have smitten a congregation of pious worship- 
 pers with deeper horror and consternation, than did this 
 filling of the vacant chair the inhabitants of Marchlaw. 
 
 " Excuse me, sir ! excuse me, sir ! " said Peter, the 
 words trembling upon his tongue; "but ye cannot ye 
 cannot sit there ! " 
 
 " O man ! man ! " cried Mrs. Elliot, " get out o' that ! 
 get out o' that ! take my chair ! take ony chair i' the 
 house ! but dinna, dinna sit there ! It has never been sat 
 in by mortal being since the death o' my dear bairn ! and 
 to see it filled by another is a thing I cauna endure ! " 
 
 " Sir ! sir ! " continued the father, " ye have done it 
 through ignorance, and we excuse ye. But that was my 
 Thomas's seat! Twelve years this very day his birth- 
 day he perished, Heaven kens how ! He went out from 
 o\\r sight, like the cloud that passes over the hills never 
 never to return. And, O sir, spare a fathers feelings ! 
 for to see it filled wrings the blood from my heart ! " 
 
 " Give me your hand, my worthy soxil ! " exclaimed the 
 seaman ; " I revere nay, hang it ! I would die for your 
 feelings! But Tom Elliot was my friend, and I cast an- 
 chor in this chair by special commission. I know that a 
 sudden broadside of joy is a bad thing ; but, as I don't 
 know how to preach a sermon before telJhiir you, all I 
 have to say is that Tom an't dead." 
 
 "Not dead!" said Peter, grasping the hand of the 
 stranger, and speaking wita an eagerness that almost 
 choked his utterance: "Osir! sir! tell- me how! how! 
 Did ye say, living? Is my ain Thomas living? " 
 
 "Not dead, do ye say?" cried Mrs. Elliot, hurrying to- 
 wards him and grasping his other hand " not dead ! 
 And shall I see my bairn again? Oh! may the blessing 
 o' Heaven, and the blessing o' a broken-hearted mother
 
 THE VACANT CHAIE. 15 
 
 be upon the bearer o' the gracious tidings! But tell me 
 tell me, how is it possible ! As ye would expect happiness 
 here or hereafter, dinna, dinna deceive me ! " 
 
 " Deceive you ! " returned the stranger, grasping, with 
 impassioned earnestness, their hands in his "Never! 
 never ! and all I can say is Tom Elliot is alive and 
 hearty." 
 
 ; " No, no ! " said Elizabeth, rising from her seat, " he 
 does not deceive us ; there is that in his countenance 
 which bespeaks a falsehood impossible." And she also 
 endeavoured to move towards him, when Johnson threw 
 his arm around her to withhold her. 
 
 " Hands off, you land-lubber ! " exclaimed the seaman, 
 springing towards them, " or, shiver me ! I'll show day- 
 light through your timbers in the turning of a hand- 
 spike ! " And, clasping the lovely girl in his arms, 
 " Betty ! Betty, my love ! " he cried, " don't you know 
 your own Tom? Father, mother, don't you know me? 
 Have you really forgot your own son? If twelve years 
 have made some change on his face, his heart is sound as 
 ever." 
 
 His father, his mother, and his brothers, clung aroimd 
 him, weeping, smiling, and mingling a Irandred questions 
 together. He threw his arms around the neck of each, 
 and in answer to their inquiries, replied "Well! well! 
 there is time enough to answer questions, but not to-day 
 not to-day ! " 
 
 ; " No, my bairn," said his mother, " we'll ask you no 
 questions nobody shall ask you any ! But how how 
 were ye torn away from us, my love ? And, O ninny ! 
 where where hae you been ? " 
 
 " It's a long story, mother," said he, " and would take 
 a week to tell it. But, hoAvsoever, to make a long story 
 short, you remember when the smugglers were pursued, 
 and wished to conceal their brandy in our house, my
 
 1C TALES OF TIIE BORDERS. 
 
 father prevented them ; they left muttering revenge and 
 they have been revenged. This day twelve years, I went 
 out with the intention of meeting Elizabeth and her father, 
 when I came upon a party of the gang concealed in Hell's 
 Hole. In a moment half a dozen pistols were held to my 
 breast, and, tying my hands to my sides, they dragged me 
 into the cavern. Here I had not been long their prisoner, 
 when the snow, rolling down the mountains, almost totally 
 blocked up its mouth. On the second night they cut 
 through the snow, and, hurrying me along with them, I 
 was bound to a horse between two, and, before daylight, 
 found myself stowed, like a piece of old junk, in the hold 
 of a smuggling lugger. Within a week I was shipped on 
 board a Dutch man-of-war, and for six years was kept 
 dodging about on different stations, till our old yawning 
 hulk received orders to join the fleet, which was to fight 
 against the gallant Duncan at Camperdown. To think of 
 fighting against my own countrymen, my own flesh and 
 blood, was worse than to be cut to pieces by a cat-o'-nine 
 tails ; and, under cover of the smoke of the first broadside, 
 I sprang upon the gunwale, plunged into the sea, and 
 swam for the English fleet. Never, never shall I forget 
 the moment that my feet first trode upon the deck of a 
 British frigate ! My nerves felt as firm as her oak, and 
 my heart free as the pennant that waved defiance from 
 her masthead ! I was as active as any one during the 
 battle ; and when it was over, and I found myself again 
 among my own countrymen, and all speaking my own 
 language, I fancied nay, hang it ! I almost believed I 
 should meet my father, my mother, or my dear Bess, on 
 board of the British frigate. I expected to see you all 
 again in a few weeks at farthest ; but, instead of returning 
 to Old England, before I was aware, I found it was h&lm 
 about with us. As to writing, I never had an opportunity 
 but once. "We were anchored before a French fort; a
 
 THE VACANT CHAIK. 17 
 
 packet was lying alongside ready to sail ; I had half a side 
 written, and was scratching my head to think how I should 
 come over writing about you, Bess, my love, when, as bad 
 luck would have it, our lieutenant comes to me, and says 
 he, ' Elliot,' says he, ' I know you like a little smart 
 service ; come, my lad, take the head oar, while we board 
 some of those French bumb-boats under the batteries ! ' 
 I couldn't say no. We pulled ashore, made a bonfire of 
 one of their craft, and were setting fire to a second, 
 wh'jn a deadly shower of small shot from the garrison 
 scuttled our boat, killed our commanding officer with half 
 of the crew, and the few who were left of us were 
 made prisoners. It is of no use bothering you by telling 
 how we escaped from French prison. We did escape; 
 and Tom will once more fill his vacant chair." 
 
 Should any of our readers wish farther acquaintance 
 Avith our friends, all we can say is, the new year was still 
 young when Adam Bell bestowed his daughter's hand 
 upon the heir of Marchlaw, and Peter beheld the once 
 vacant chair again occupied, and a namesake of the third 
 generation prattling on his knee.
 
 THE FAA'S REVENGE. 
 
 A TALE OF THE BORDER GIPSIES. 
 
 BROWN October was drawing to a close the breeze had 
 acquired a degree of sharpness too strong to be merely 
 termed bracing and the fire, as the saying is, was becom- 
 ing the best flower in the garden for the hardiest and the 
 latest plants had either shed their leaves, or their flowers 
 had shrivelled at the breath of approaching winter when 
 a stranger drew his seat towards the parlour fire of the 
 Thrce-Half-Moons inn, in Rothbury. He had sat for the 
 'space of half an hour when a party entered, who, like him- 
 self (as appeared from their conversation), were strangers, 
 or rather visitors of the scenery, curiosities, and antiquities 
 in the vicinity. One of them having ordered the waiter to 
 bring each of them a glass of brandy and warm water, 
 without appearing to notice the presence of the first men- 
 tioned stranger, after a few remarks on the objects of in- 
 terest in the neighbourhood, the following conversation 
 took place amongst them: 
 
 "Why," said one, "but even Rothbury here, secluded as 
 it is from the world, and shut o\\t from the daily intercourse 
 of men, is a noted place. It was here that the ancient and 
 famous northern bnrd and unrivalled ballad writer, Ber- 
 nard Rumney, was born, bred, and died. Here, too, was 
 born Dr. Brown, who, like Young and Home, united the 
 characters of divine and dramatist, and was the author of 
 * Barbarossa," 1 ' The Cure of Saul,' and other works, of which 
 posterity and his country arc proud. The immediate 
 neighbourhood, also, was the birth-place of the inspired
 
 THE FAAS REVENGE. 1U 
 
 boy, the heaven-taught mathematician, George. Coughran, 
 who knew no rival, and who bade fair to eclipse the glory 
 of Newton, but whom death struck down ere he had reached 
 the years of manhood." 
 
 "Why, I can't tell," said another; "I don't know much 
 about what you've been talking of; but I know, for one 
 thing, that Rothbury was a famous place for every sort of 
 games; and, at Fastren's E'en times, the rule was, every 
 male inhabitant above eight years of age to pay a shilling, 
 or out to the foot-ball. It was noted for its game-cocks, too 
 they were the best breed on the Borders." 
 
 " May be so," said the first speaker; " but though I should 
 be loath to see the foot-ball, or any other innocent game 
 which keeps up a manly spirit, put down, yet I do trust 
 that the brutal practice of cock-fighting will be abolished, 
 not only on the Borders, but throughout every country 
 which professes the name of Christian; and I rejoice that 
 the practice is falling into disrepute. But, although my 
 hairs are not yet honoured with the silver tints of age, I am 
 old enough to remember, that, when a boy at school on the 
 Scottish side of the Border, at every Fastren's E'en which 
 you have spoken of, every schoolboy was expected to pro- 
 vide a cock for the battle, or main, and the teacher or his 
 deputy presided as umpire. The same practice prevailed 
 on the southern Border. It is a very old, savage amuse- 
 ment, even in this country; and perhaps the preceptors of 
 youth, in former days, considered it classical, and that it 
 would instil into their pupils sentiments of emulation; in- 
 asmuch as the practice is said to have taken rise from 
 Themistocles perceiving two cocks tearing at and fighting 
 with each other, while marching his army against the Per- 
 sians, when he called upon his soldiers to observe them, 
 and remarked that they neither fought for territory, defence 
 of country, nor for glory, but they fought because the one 
 would not yield to, or be defeated by the other; and he
 
 20 TAXES OF 'HIE liOHDERS. 
 
 desired his soldiers to take a moral lesson from the barn- 
 door fowls. Cock-fighting thus became among the heathen 
 Greeks a political precept and a religious observance and 
 the Christian inhabitants of Britain, disregarding the reli- 
 gious and political moral, kept up the practice, adding to it 
 more disgusting barbarity, for their amusement" 
 
 " Coom," said a third, who, from his tongue, appeared to 
 be a thorough Northumbrian, " we wur talking about Koth- 
 bury, but you are goin' to give us a regular sarmin on 
 cock-fighting. Let's hae none o' that. You was saying 
 what clever chaps had been born here but none o' ye 
 mentioned Jamie Allan, the gipsy and Northumberland 
 piper, who was born here as weel as the best o' them. But I 
 hae heard that Eothbury, as weel as Yetholm and Tweed- 
 mouth Moor, was a great resort for the Faa or gipsy gangs 
 in former times. Now, I understand that thae folk were a 
 sort o' bastard Egyptians ; and though I am nae scholar, it 
 strikes me forcibly that the meaning o' the word gipsies, 
 is j ust Egypts, or Gypties a contraction and corruption o' 
 QgptianJ" 
 
 " Gipsies," said he who spoke of Kumney and Brown, 
 and abused the practice of cock-fighting, " still do in some 
 , degree, and formerly did in great numbers, infest this 
 county; and I Avill tell you a story concerning them." 
 
 "Do so," said the thorough Northumbrian; "I like a 
 story when it's weel put thegither. The gipsies were queer 
 folk. I've heard my faither tell many a funny thing about 
 them, when he used to whistle 'Felton Loanin,' which was 
 made by awd piper Allan Jamie's faither." And here the 
 speaker struck up a lively air, which, to the stranger by 
 the fire, seemed a sort of parody on the well-known tuno 
 of " Johnny Cope." 
 
 The other then proceeded with his tale, thus : 
 
 You have all heard of the celebrated Johnny Faa, til . 
 Lord r.u'l Earl of Little Ecrypt, who penetrated into Scot-
 
 THE FAA'S REVENGE. 21 
 
 land in the reign of James IV., and with whom that gallant 
 monarch was glad to conclude a treaty. Johnny was not 
 only the king, but the first of the Faa gang of whom we 
 have mention. I am not aware that gipsies get the name 
 of Faas anywhere but upon the Borders; and though it is 
 difficult to account for the name satisfactorily, it is said to 
 have had its origin from a family of the name of Fall or Fa\ 
 who resided here (in Eothbury), and that their superiority 
 in their cunning and desperate profession, gave the same 
 cognomen to all and sundry who followed the same mode 
 of life upon the Borders. One thing is certain, that the 
 name Faa not only was given to individuals whose surname 
 might be Fallout to the Winters and Clarices id genus omne 
 gipsy families well known on the Borders. Since waste 
 lands, which were their hiding-places and resorts, began 
 to be cultivated, and especially since the sun of knowledge 
 snuffed out the taper of superstition and credulity, most of 
 them are beginning to form a part of society, to learn trades 
 of industry, and live with men. Those who still prefer 
 their fathers' vagabond mode of life finding that, in the 
 northern counties, their old trade of fortuna-telling is at a 
 discount, and that thieving has thinned their tribe and is 
 dangerous now follow the more useful and respectable 
 callings of muggers, besom-makers, and tinkers. I do 
 not know whether, in etiquette, I ought to give pre- 
 cedence to the besom-maker or tinker; though, as com- 
 pared with them, I should certainly suppose that the 
 "muggers" of the present day belong to the Faa aristo- 
 cracy; if it be not that they, like others, derive their no- 
 bility from descent of blood rather than weight of pocket 
 and that, after all, the mugger with his encampment, his 
 caravans, horses, crystal, and crockery, is but a mere 
 wealthy plebeian or lourgeois in the vagrant community. 
 But to my tale. 
 
 On a dark and tempestuous night in the December of
 
 22 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 1628, a Faa gang requested shelter in the out-houses of 
 the laird of Clcnnel. The laird himself had retired to rest ; 
 and his domestics being fewer in mimber than the Faa, 
 feared to refuse them their request. 
 
 " Ye shall have up-putting for the night, good neigh- 
 bours," said Andrew Smith, who was a sort of major-domo 
 in the laird's household, and he spoke in a tone of mingled 
 authority and terror. " But, sir," added he, addressing the 
 chief of the tribe " I will trust to your honour that ye will 
 allow none o' your folk to be making free with the kye, or 
 the sheep, or the poultry that is, that ye will not allow them 
 to mistake ony o' them for your own, lest it bring me into 
 trouble. For the laird has been in a fearful rage at some 
 o' your people lately; and if ony thing were to be amissing 
 in the morning, or he kenned that ye had been here, it 
 might be as meiklc as my life is worth." 
 
 " Tush, man!" said Willie Faa, the king of the tribe, " ye 
 dree the death ye'll never die. Willie Faa and his folk 
 maun live as weel as the laird o' Clcnnel. But, there's my 
 thumb, not a four-footed thing, nor the feather o' a bird, 
 shall be touchecl by me or mine. But I see the light is out 
 in the laird's chamber window he is asleep and high up 
 amang the turrets and wherefore should ye set Imman 
 bodies in byres and stables ina night like this, when your I la' 
 fire is bleezing bonnily, and there is room enough around it 
 for us a' ? Gie us a seat by the cheek o' your hearth, and ye 
 shall be uae loser; and I promise ye that we shall be off, 
 bag and baggage, before the skreigh o' day, or the laird 
 kens where his head lies." 
 
 Andrew would fain have refused this request, but he 
 knew that it amounted to a command; and, moreover, 
 while he had been speaking with the chief of the tribe, the 
 maid-servants of the household, who had followed him and 
 the other men-servants to the door, had clivers of them 
 been solicited by the females of the gang to have futurity
 
 THE FAA'S REVENGE. 23 
 
 revealed to them. And whether it indeed be that curiosity 
 is more powerful in woman than in man (as it is generally 
 said to be), I do not profess to determine; but certain it is, 
 that the laird of Clennel's maid-servants, immediately on 
 the hint being given by the gipsies, felt a very ardent de- 
 sire to have a page or two from the sybilline leaves read 
 to them at least that part of them which related to their 
 future husbands, and the time when they should obtain 
 them. Therefore, they backed the petition or command of 
 King Willie, and said to Andrew 
 
 " Really, Mr. Smith, it would be very unchristian-like 
 to put poor wandering folk into cauld out-houses on a 
 night like this; and, as Willie says, there is room enough 
 in the Ha'." 
 
 " That may be a' very true, lasses," returned Andrew, 
 "but only ye think what a dirdum there would be if the 
 laird were to waken or get wit o't !" 
 
 " Fearna the laird," said Elspeth, the wife ot King Willie 
 " I will lay a spell on him that he canna be roused frae 
 sleep, till I, at sunrise, wash my hands in Darden Lough." 
 
 The sybil then raised her arms and waved them fantas- 
 tically in the air, uttering, as she waved them, the follow- 
 ing uncouth rhymes by way of incantation 
 
 " Bonny Queen Mab, bonny Queen Mab, 
 
 Wave ye your wee bits o' poppy wings 
 Ower Clennel's laird, that he may sleep 
 Till I hae washed where Darden springs." 
 
 Thus assured, Andrew yielded to his fears and the wishes 
 of his fellow-servants, and ushered the Faas into his master's 
 hall for the night. But scarce had they taken their seats 
 upon the oaken forms around the fire, when 
 
 " Come," said the Faa king, " the night is cold, pinching 
 cold, Mr. Smith: and, while the fire warms without, is 
 there naething in the cellar that will warm within ? See 
 to it, Andrew, man thou art no churl, or thy face is taue : "
 
 24 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 " Really, sir," replied Andrew and, in spite of all his 
 efforts to appear at ease, his tongue faultered as he spoke 
 " I'm not altogether certain what to say iipon that sub- 
 ject; for ye observe that our laird is really a very singular 
 man; ye might as weel put your head in the fire there as 
 displease him in the smallest; and though Heaven kens 
 that I would gie to you just as freely as I would tak to 
 mysel, yet ye'll observe that the liquor in the cellars is not 
 mine, but his and they are never sae weel plenished but 
 I believe he would miss a thimblefu'. But there is some 
 excellent cold beef in the pantry, if ye could put up AVI' 
 the like o' it, and the home-brewed which we servants 
 use." 
 
 "Andrew," returned the Fa a king, proudly "castle 
 have I none, flocks and herds have I none, neither have I 
 Laughs where the wheat, and the oats, and the barley 
 grow but, like Ishmael, my great forefather, every man's 
 hand is against me, and mine against them yet, when I 
 am hungry, I never lack the flesh-pots o' my native land, 
 where the rnoorfowl and the venison make brown broo 
 together. Cauld meat agrees nae wi' my stomach, and ser- 
 vants' drink was never brewed for the lord o' Little Egypt. 
 Ye comprehend me, Andrew?" 
 
 " Oh, I daresay I do, sir," said the chief domestic of the 
 house of Clennel ; "but only, as I have said, ye will recol- 
 lect that the drink is not mine to give; and if I venture 
 upon a jug, I hope ye winna think o' asking for another." 
 
 " We shall try it," said the royal vagrant. 
 
 Andrew, with trembling and reluctance, proceeded to the 
 cellar, and returned with a large earthen vessel filled Avith 
 the choicest home-brewed, Avhich he placed upon a table 
 in the midst of them. 
 
 " Then each took a smack 
 
 Of the old black jack, 
 While the fire burned in the hall."
 
 THE FAA'S RKVENGE. 25 
 
 The Faa king pronounced the liquor to be palatable, 
 and drank to his better acquaintance with the cellars of 
 the laird of Clennel; and his gang followed his example. 
 
 Now, I should remark that Willie Faa, the chief of his 
 tribe, was a man of gigantic stature; the colour.of his skin 
 was the dingy brown peciiliar to his race; his arms were of 
 remarkable length, and his limbs a union of strength and 
 lightness; his raven hair was mingled with grey; while, in 
 his dark eyes, the impetuosity of youth and the cunning of 
 age seemed blended together. It is in vain to speak of hia 
 dress, for it was changed daily as his circumstances or avo- 
 cations directed. He was erer ready to assume all char- 
 acters, from the courtier down to the mendicant. Like 
 his wife, he was skilled in the reading of no book but the 
 book of fate. Now, Elspeth was a less agreeable personage 
 to look upon than even her husband. The hue of her skin 
 was as dark as his. She was also of his age a woman of 
 full fifty. She was the tallest female in her tribe; but her 
 stoutness took away from her stature. Her eyes were small 
 and piercing, her nose aquiline, and her upper lip was 
 " bearded like the pard." 
 
 While her husband sat at his carousals, and handing the 
 beverage to his followers and the domestics of the house, 
 Elspeth sat examining the lines upon the palms of the hands 
 of the maid-servants pursuing her calling as a spaewife. 
 And ever as she traced the lines of matrimony, the sybil 
 would pause and exclaim 
 
 " Ha ! money ! money ! cross my loof again, hinny. 
 There is fortune before ye! Let me see! A spur! a sword! 
 a shield ! a gowden purse ! Heaven bless ye ! They are 
 there ! there, as plain as a pikestaff; they are a' in your 
 path. But cross my loof again, hinny, for until siller again 
 cross it, I canna see whether they are to be yours or no." 
 
 Thus did Elspeth go on until her "loof had been crossed" 
 by the last coin amongst the domestics of the house of Clen-
 
 26 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 nel; and when these were exhausted, their trinkets were d 
 manded and given to assist the spell of the prophetess. Good 
 fortune was prognosticated to the most of them, and espe- 
 cially to those who crossed the loof of the reader of futurity 
 most freely ; but to others, perils, and sudden deaths, and 
 disappointments in love, and grief in wedlock, were hinted, 
 though to all and each of these forebodings, a something liko 
 hope an undefined way of escape was pended. 
 
 Now, as the voice of Elspeth rose in solemn tones, and as 
 the mystery of her manner increased, not only were the 
 maid-servants stricken with awe and reverence for the won- 
 drous woman, bxit the men-servants also began to inquire 
 into their fate. And as they extended their hands, and 
 Elspeth traced the lines of the past upon them, ever and 
 anon she spoke strange words, which intimated secret facts ; 
 and she spoke also of love-makings and likings; and ever, as 
 she spoke, she would raise her head and grin a ghastly smile, 
 now at the individual whose hand she was examining, and 
 again at a maid-servant Avhose fortune she had read; while 
 the former would smile and the latter blush, and their fel- 
 low domestics exclaim 
 
 "That's wonderfu' ! <- that dings a'! ye are queer folk' 
 hoo in the world do ye ken?" 
 
 Even the curiosity of Mr. Andrew Smith was raised, and 
 his wonder excited; and, after he had quaffed his third cup 
 with the gipsy king, he, too, reverentially approached the 
 bearded princess, extending his hand, and begging to know 
 what futurity had in store for him. 
 
 She raised it before her eyes, she rubbed hers over it. 
 
 "It is a dark and a difficult hand," muttered she: " hero 
 are ships and the sea, and crossing the sea, and great danwr, 
 and. a way to avoid it but the gowd! the gowd that's 
 there! And yet ye may lose it a'! Cross my loof, sir yours 
 is an ill hand to spac for it's set wi' fortune, and dangei ( 
 and adventure."
 
 THE FAA'S REVENGE. 27 
 
 Andrew gave her all the money in his possession. Now 
 it was understood that she was to return the money and the 
 trinkets with which her loof had been crossed; and Andrew's 
 curiosity overcoming his fears, he ventured to intrust his 
 property in her keeping; for, as he thought, it was not every 
 day that people could have everything that was to happen 
 unto them revealed. But when she had again looked upon 
 his hand 
 
 " It winna do," said she " I canna see ower the danger 
 ye hae to encounter, the seas ye hae to cross, and the mounr 
 tains o' gowd that lie before ye yet ye maun cross my 
 loof again." And when, with a woful countenance, he 
 stated that he had crossed it with his last coin 
 
 " Ye hae a chronometer, man," said she "it tells you the 
 minutes now, it may enable me to show ye those that are to 
 come ! " 
 
 Andrew hesitated, and, with doubt and unwillingness, 
 placed the chronometer in her hand. 
 
 Elspeth wore a short cloak of faded crimson; and in a sort 
 of pouch in it, every coin, trinket, and other article of value 
 which was put into her hands were deposited, in order, as 
 she stated, to forward her mystic operations. Now, the chro- 
 nometer had just disappeared in the general receptacle of 
 offerings to the oracle, when heavy footsteps were heard 
 descending the staircase leading to the hall. Poor Andrew, 
 the ruler of the household, gasped the blood forsook his 
 cheeks, his knees involuntarily knocked one against another, 
 and he stammered out 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, gie me my chronometer! Oh, gie 
 me it ! we are a' ruined !" 
 
 " It canna be returned till the spell's completed," rejoined 
 Elspeth, in a solemn and determined tone and her counte- 
 nance betrayed nothing of her dupe's uneasiness; while her 
 husband deliberately placed his right hand upon a sort ol 
 dagger which he wore beneath a large coarse jacket that
 
 28 TALES OF THE BORDERS, 
 
 was loosely flung over his shoulders. The males in his 
 retinue, who were eight in number, followed his example. 
 
 In another moment, the laird, with wrath upon his coun- 
 tenanpe, burst into the hall. 
 
 " Andrew Smith," cried he, sternly, and stamping his foot 
 fiercely on the floor, " what scene is this I see ? Answer 
 me, ye robber, answer me ; ye shall hang for it!" 
 
 "O sir! sir!" groaned Andrew, "mercy! mercy! 
 sir!" and he wrung his hands together and shook exceedingly. 
 
 " Ye fause knave ! " continued the laird, grasping him by 
 the neck and dashing him from him, Andrew fell fiat upon 
 the floor, and his terror had almost shook him from his feet 
 before "Speak, ye fause knave!" resumed the laird; "what 
 means your carousin' wi' sic a gang? Ye robber, speak!" 
 And he kicked him with his foot as he lay upon the ground. 
 
 " O sir 1 mercy, sir !" vociferated Andrew, in the stupor 
 and wildness of terror; "I canna speak! ye hae killed me 
 outright ! I am dead stone dead ! But it wasna my blame 
 they'll a' say that, if tliey speak the truth." 
 
 " Out ! out, ye thieves ! ye gang o' plunderers, born to 
 the gallows ! out o' n?y house !" added the laird, addressing 
 Willie Faa and his followers. 
 
 "Thieves! ye acred loon!" exclaimed the Faa king, start- 
 ing to his feet, and drawing himself up to his full height 
 " wha does the worm that burrows in the lands o' Clennel ca' 
 thieves? Thieves, say ye! speak such words to your equals, 
 but no to me. Your forebears came ower wi' the Norman, 
 invaded the nation, and seized upon land mine invaded it 
 also, and only laid a tax upon the flocks, the cattle, and the 
 poultry and wha ca' ye thieves ? or wi' what grace do ye 
 speak the word?" 
 
 "Away, ye audacious vagrant!" continued the laird; "ken 
 yenot that the king's authority is in my hands? and for your 
 former plundering*, if I again find you setting foot upon 
 ground o' mine, on the nearest tree ye shall find a gibbet."
 
 THE FAA'S REVENGE. 29 
 
 "Boast awa boast awa, man," said Willie; "ye are safe 
 here, for me and mine winna harm ye; and it is a fougie cock 
 indeed that dareria craw in its ain barn-yard. But wait until 
 the day when we may meet upon the wide moor, wi' only 
 twa bits o' steel between us, and see wha shall brag then." 
 
 "Away! instantly away!" exclaimed Clennel, drawing 
 his sword, and Avaving it threateningly over the head of the 
 
 "Proud, cauld-hearted, and unfeeling mortal," said El- 
 speth, " will ye turn fellow-beings from beneath your roof 
 in a night like this, when the fox darena creep frae its hole, 
 and the raven trembles on the tree?" 
 
 "Out! out! ye witch!" rejoined the laird. 
 
 " Farewell, Clennel," said the Faa king ; " we will leave ^ 
 your roof, and seek the shelter o' the hill-side. But ye shall 
 rue ! As I speak, man, ye shall rue it ! " 
 
 "Rue it!" screamed Elspeth, rising and her small dark 
 eyes flashed with indignation " he shall rue it the bairn 
 unborn shah 1 rue it and the bann o' Elspeth Faa shall be on 
 Clennel and his kin, until his hearth be desolate and his spirit 
 howl within him like the tempest which this night rages 
 in the heavens!" 
 
 The servants shrank together into a corner of the hall, to 
 avoid the rage of their master; and they shook the more at 
 the threatening words of the weird woman, lest she should 
 involve them in his doom; but he laughed with scorn at her 
 words. 
 
 "Proud, pitiless fool," resumed Elspeth, more bitterly 
 than before, " repress your scorn. Whom, think ye, ye 
 treat wi' contempt ? Ken ye not that the humble adder 
 which ye tread upon can destroy ye that the very wasp 
 can sting ye, and there is poison in its sting ? Ye laugh, 
 but for your want of humanity this night, sorrow shall 
 turn your head grey, lang before age sit down upon your 
 brow,"
 
 30 TALES OF THE BOKDERS. 
 
 "Off! off! yc wretches!" added the laird; "vent your 
 threats on the wind, if it will hear ye, for I regard them as 
 little as it will. But keep out o' my way for the future, as 
 ye would escape the honours o' a hempen cravat, and the 
 hereditary exaltation o' your race." 
 
 Willie Faa made a sign to his followers, and without 
 speaking they instantly rose and departed ; but, as he him- 
 self reached the door, he turned round, and significantly 
 striking the hilt of his dagger, exclaimed 
 
 " Clennel ! ye shall rue it !" 
 
 And the hoarse voice of Elspeth without, as the sound 
 was borne away on the storm, was heard crying "He shall 
 rue it!" and repeating her imprecations. 
 
 Until now, poor Andrew Smith had lain groaning upon 
 the floor more dead than alive, though not exactly "stono 
 dead" as he expressed it; and ever, as he heard his master's 
 angry voice, he groaned the more, until in his agony he 
 doubted his existence. When, therefore, on the departure 
 of the Faas, the laird dragged him to his feet, and feeling 
 some pity for his terror, spoke to him more mildly, Andrew 
 gazed vacantly around him, his teeth chattering together, 
 and he first placed his hands upon his sides, to feel whether 
 he was still indeed the identical flesh, blood, and bones of 
 Andrew Smith, or his disembodied spirit; and being assured 
 that he was still a man, he put down his hand to feel for his 
 chronometer, and again he groaned bitterly and although 
 he now knew he was not dead, he almost wished he were 
 so. The other servants thought also of their money and 
 their trinkets, which, as well as poor Andrew's chrono- 
 meter, Elspeth, in the hurry in which she was rudely 
 driven from the house, had, by a slip of memory, neglected 
 to return to their lawful owners. 
 
 It is unnecessary to dwell upon the laird's anger at his 
 domestics, or farther to describe Andrew's agitation; but! 
 may say that the laird was not wroth acrainst the Faa gang
 
 THE FAA'S REVENGE. 31 
 
 i ithout reason. They had committed ravages on his flocks 
 they^had earned off the choicest of his oxen they 
 destroyed his deer they plundered him of his poultry 
 and they even made free with the grain that he reared, 
 and which he could spare least of all. But Willie Faa 
 considered every landed proprietor as his enemy, and 
 thought it his duty to quarter on them. Moreover, it was 
 his boisterous laugh, as he pushed round the tankard, 
 which aroused the laird from his slumbers, and broke 
 Elspeth's spell. And the destruction of the charm, by the 
 appearance of their master, before she had washed her 
 hands in Darden Lough, caused those who had parted with 
 their money and trinkets to grieve for them the more, and 
 to doubt the promises of the prophetess, or to 
 " Take all for gospel that the spaefolk say." 
 
 Many weeks, however, had not passed until the laird of 
 Clennel found that Elspeth the gipsy's threat, that he should 
 "me it," meant more than idle words. His cattle sickened 
 nnd died in their stalls, or the choicest of them disappeared; 
 his favourite horses were found maimed in the mornings,' 
 wounded and bleeding in the fields; and, notwithstanding 
 the vigilance of his shepherds, the depredations on his 
 Hocks augmented tenfold. He doubted not but that Willie 
 l''an and his tribe were the authors of all the evils which 
 were besetting him : but he knew also their power and 
 their matchless craft, which rendered it almost impossible 
 either to detect or punish them. He had a favourite steed, 
 which had borne him in boyhood, and in battle when he 
 served in foreign wars, and one morning when he went intt 
 his park, he found it lying bleeding upon the ground. 
 Grief an* indignation strove together in arousing revenge 
 within his bosom. He ordered his sluthhound to be 
 brought, and his dependants to be summoned together, 
 and to bring arms with them. He had previously observed 
 foot-prints on the ground, and he exclaimed
 
 32 TALES OF THE RORDEKS. 
 
 "Now the liend take the Faas, they shall find whose 
 turn it is to rue before the sun gae down." 
 
 The gong was pealed on the turrets of Clennel Hall, and 
 the kempers with their poles bounded in every direction, 
 with the fleetness of mountain stags, to summon all capable 
 of bearing arms to the presence of the laird. The mandate 
 was readily obeyed; and within two hours thirty armed men 
 appeared in the park. The sluthhound was led to the foot- 
 print ; and after following it for many a weary mile over 
 moss, moor, and mountain, it stood and howled, and lashed 
 its lips with its tongue, and again ran as though its prey 
 were at hand, as it approached what might be called a gap 
 in the Avilderness between Keyheugh and Clovencrag. 
 
 Now, in the space between these desolate crags stood 
 some score of peels, or rather half hovels, half encampments 
 and this primitive city in the wilderness was the capital 
 of the Faa king's people. 
 
 "Now for vengeance!" exclaimed Cleunel; and his desire 
 of revenge Avas excited the more from perceiving several of 
 the choicest of his cattle, which had disappeared, grazing 
 before the doors or holes of the gipsy village. 
 
 "Bring whins and heather," he continued "pile them 
 around it, and burn the den of thieves to the ground." 
 
 His order was speedily obeyed, and when he commanded 
 the trumpet to be sounded, that the inmates might defend 
 themselves if they dared, only two or three men and womeu 
 of extreme age, and some half-dozen children, crawled upon 
 their hands and knees from the huts for it was impossible 
 to stand upright in them. 
 
 The aged men and women howled when they beheld the 
 work of destruction that was in preparation, and the chil- 
 dren screamed when they heard them howl. But the laird 
 of Clennel had been injured, and he turned a deaf ear to 
 their misery. A light was struck, and a dozen torches ap- 
 plied at once. The whins crackle!, the- heather Mazed, and
 
 THE FAA'S REVENGE. 33 
 
 the flames overtopped the hovels which they surrounded, 
 and which within an hour became a heap of smouldering 
 ashes. 
 
 Clennel and his dependants returned home, driving the 
 cattle which had been stolen from him before them, and 
 rejoicing in what they had done. On the following day, 
 Willie Faa and a part of his tribe returned to the place of 
 rendezvous their city and home in the mountains and 
 they found it a heap of smoking ruins, and the old men and 
 the old women of the tribe their fathers and their mothers 
 sitting wailing upon the ruins, and warming over them 
 their shivering limbs, while the children wept around them 
 for food. 
 
 " Whose work is this ?" inquired Willie, while anxiety 
 and anger flashed in his eyes. 
 
 "The Laird o' Clennel! the Laird o' Clennel!" answered 
 every voice at the same instant. 
 
 "By this I swear!" exclaimed the king of the Faas, 
 drawing his dagger from beneath his coat, "from this night 
 henceforth he is laird nor man nae langer." And he 
 turned hastily from the ruins, as if to put his threat in 
 execution. 
 
 " Stay, ye madcap !" cried Elspeth, following him, "would 
 ye fling away revenge for half a minute's satisfaction?" 
 
 "No, wife," cried he, "nae mair than I would sacrifice 
 living a free and a fu' life for half an hour's hangin'." 
 
 " Stop, then," returned she, " and let our vengeance fa' 
 upon him, so that it may wring his life away, drap by drap, 
 until his heart be dry ; and grief, shame, and sorrow burn 
 him up, as he has here burned house and home o' Elspc ^h 
 Faa and her kindred." 
 
 " What mean ye, woman ?" said Willie, hastily ; " if I 
 thought ye would come between me and my revenge, I 
 would drive this bit steel through you wi' as goodwill as 
 I shall drive it through him." 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 84 TALES OF Xiili 
 
 " And ye shall be welcome," said Elspcth. She drew 
 kirn aside, and whispered a few minutes in his ear. He 
 listened attentively. At times he seemed to start, and at 
 length, sheathing his dagger and grasping her hand, he ex- 
 claimed" Excellent, Elspeth ! ye have it ! ye have it !" 
 At this period, the laird of Clennel was about thirty years 
 of age, and two years before he had been married to Eleanor 
 
 , de Vere, a lady alike distinguished for her beauty and ac- 
 complishments. They had an infant son, who was the de- 
 light of his mother, and his father's pride. Now, for two 
 years after the conflagration of their little town, Clennel 
 heard nothing of his old enemies the Faas, neither did they 
 molest him, nor had they been seen in the neighbourhood, 
 and he rejoiced in having cleared his estate of such dan- 
 gerous visitors. But the Faa king, listening to the advice 
 uf his wife, only "nursed his wrath to keep it warm," and 
 retired from the neighbourhood, that he might accomplish, 
 in its proper season, his design of vengeance more effec- 
 tually, and with greater cruelty. 
 
 The infant heir of the house of Clennel had been named 
 Henry, and he was about completing his third year an 
 age at which children are, perhaps, most interesting, and 
 when their fondling and their prattling sink deepest into a 
 parent's heart for all is then beheld on childhood's sunny 
 side, and all is innocence and love. Now, it was in a lovely 
 
 ; day in April, when every bird had begun its annual song, 
 and flowers were bursting into beauty, buds into leaves, 
 and the earth resuming its green mantle, when Lady Clen- 
 nel and her infant son, who then, as I have said, was about 
 three years of age, went forth to enjoy the loveliness and 
 the luxuries of nature, in the woods which surrounded 
 their mansion, and Andrew Smith accompanied them as 
 their guide and protector. They had proceeded somewhat 
 more than a mile from the house, and the child, at inter- 
 vals breaking away from them, sometimes ran before his
 
 THE FAA'S REVEtfGE. 35 
 
 mother, and at others sauntered behind her, pulling the wild 
 flowers that strewed their path, when a man, springing 
 from a dark thicket, seized the child in his arms, and again 
 darted into the wood. Lady Clennel screamed aloud, and 
 rushed after him, Andrew, who was coming dreaming 
 behind, got but a glance of the ruffian stranger but that 
 glance was enough to reveal to him the tall, terrible figure 
 of Willie Faa, the Gipsy king. 
 
 There are moments when, and circumstances under which 
 even cowards become courageous, and this was one of those 
 moments and circumstances which suddenly inspired Andrew 
 (who was naturally no hero) with courage. He, indeed, 
 loved the child as though he had been his own ; and fol- 
 lowing the example of Lady Clennel, he drew his sword 
 and rushed into the wood. He possessed considerable speed 
 of foot, and he soon passed the wretched mother, and came 
 in sight of the pursued. The unhappy lady, who ran 
 panting and screaming as she rushed along, unable to keep 
 pace with them, lost all trace of where the robber of her 
 child had fled, and her cries of agony and bereavement 
 rang through the woods. 
 
 Andrew, however, though he did not gain ground upon 
 the gipsy, still kept within sight of him, and shouted to 
 him as he ran, saying that all the dependants of Clennel 
 would soon be on horseback at his heels, and trusting 
 that every moment he would drop the child upon the 
 ground. Still Faa flew forward, bearing the boy in his 
 arm, and disregarding the cries and threats of his pursuer. 
 He knew that Andrew's was not what could be called a 
 heart of steel, but he was aware that he had a powerful 
 arm, and could use a sword as well as a better man; and 
 he knew also that cowards will fight as desperately, when 
 their life is at stake, as the brave. 
 
 The desperate chase continued for four hours, and till 
 after the sun had set, and the gloaming was falling thick on
 
 36 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 the hills. Andrew, being younger and unencumbered, had 
 at length gained ground upon the gipsy, and was within 
 ten yards of him when he reached the Coquet side, about a 
 mile below this town, at the hideous Thrumb, where the 
 deep river, for many yards, rushes through a mere chasm 
 in the rock. The Faa, with the child beneath his arm, 
 leaped across the fearful gulf, and the dark flood gushed 
 between him and Ms pursuer. He turned round, and, with 
 a horrid laugh, looked towards Andrew and unsheathed his 
 dagger. But even at this moment the unwonted courage 
 of the chief servant of Clennel did not fail him, and as he 
 rushed up and down upon one side of the gulf, that he 
 might spring across and avoid the dagger of the gipsy, the 
 other ran in like manner on the other side ; and when 
 Andrew stood as if ready to leap, the Faa king, pointing 
 with his dagger to the dark flood that rolled between them, 
 cried 
 
 " See, fool ! eternity divides us !" 
 
 " And for that bairn's sake, ye wretch, I'll brave it !" 
 exclaimed Andrew, while his teeth gnashed together ; and 
 he stepped back, in order that he might spring across with 
 the greater force and safety. 
 
 " Hold man !" cried the Faa ; " attempt to cross to me, 
 and I will plunge this bonny heir o' Clennel into the flood 
 below." 
 
 " Oh, gracious ! gracious!" cried Andrew, and his resolu- 
 tion and courage forsook him; "ye monster! ye bar- 
 barian! oh, what shall I do now!" 
 
 " Go back whence you came," said the gipsy, or follow 
 me another step and the child dies." 
 
 " Oh, ye butcher ! ye murderer !" continued the other 
 and he tore his hair in agony " hae ye nae mercy ?" 
 
 " Sic mercy as your maister had," returned the Faa, 
 " when he burned our dwellings about the ears o' the aged 
 and infirm, and o' my helpless bairns ! Ye shalllind in me
 
 THE FAA'S REVENGE. 37 
 
 the mercy o' the fasting wolf, o' the tiger when it laps 
 blood!" 
 
 Andrew perceived that to rescue the child was now im- 
 possible, and with a heavy heart he returned to his master's 
 house, in which there was no sound save that of lamenta- 
 tion. 
 
 For many weeks, yea months, the laird of Clennel, his 
 friends and his servants, sought anxiously throughout 
 every part of the country to obtain tidings of his child, but 
 their search was vain. It was long ere his lady was ex- 
 pected to recover the shock, and the affliction sat heavy 
 on his soul, while in his misery he vowed revenge upon all 
 of the gipsy race. .But neither Willie Faa nor any of his 
 tribe were again seen upon his estates, or heard of in their 
 neighbourhood. 
 
 Four years were passed from the time that their son was 
 stolen from them, and an infant daughter smilecl upon the 
 knee of Lady Clennel ; and oft as it smiled in her face, and 
 stretched its little hands towards her, she would burst into 
 tears, as the smile and the infantine fondness of her little 
 daughter reminded her of her lost Henry. They had had 
 other children, but they had died while but a few weeks 
 old. 
 
 For two years there had been a maiden in the household 
 named Susan, and to her care, when the child was not in 
 her own arms, Lady Clennel intrusted her infant daughter; 
 for every one loved Susan, because of her affectionate na- 
 ture and docile manners she was, moreover, an orphan, 
 and they pitied while they loved her. But one evening, 
 when Lady Clennel desired that her daughter might be 
 brought her in order that she might present her to a com- 
 pany who had come to visit them (an excusable, though 
 not always a pleasant vanity in mothers), neither Susan nor 
 the child were to be found. Wild fears seized the bosom of 
 the already bereaved mother, and her husband felt his
 
 38 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 heart throb within him. They sought the woods, the hills, 
 the cottages around ; they wandered by the sides of the 
 rivers and the mountain burns, but no one had seen, no 
 trace could be discovered of either the girl or the child. 
 
 I will not, because I cannot, describe the overwhelming 
 misery of the afflicted parents. Lady Clennel spent her 
 days in tears and her nights in dreams of her children, 
 and her husband sank into a settled melancholy, while his 
 hatred of the Faa race became more implacable, and he 
 burst into frequent exclamations of vengeance against them. 
 
 More than fifteen years had passed, and though the poig- 
 nancy of their grief had abated, yet their sadness was not 
 removed, for they had been able to hear nothing that could 
 throw light upon the fate of their children. About this 
 period, sheep were again missed from the flocks, and, in 
 one night, the hen-roosts were emptied. There needed no 
 other proof that a Faa gang was again in the neighbour- 
 hood. Now, Northumberland at that period was still 
 thickly covered with wood, and abounded with places 
 where thieves might conceal themselves in security. 
 Partly from a desire of vengeance, and partly from the 
 hope of being able to extort from some of the tribe infor- 
 mation respecting his children, Clennel armed his servants, 
 and taking his hounds with him, set out in quest of the 
 plunderers. 
 
 For two days their search was unsuccessful, but on the 
 third the dogs raised their savage cry, and rushed into a 
 thicket in a deep glen amongst the mountains. Clennel 
 and his followers hurried forward, and in a few minutes 
 perceived the fires of the Faa encampment. The hounds 
 had already alarmed the vagrant colony, they had sprung 
 upon many of them and torn their flesh with their tusks ; 
 but the Faas defended themselves against them with their 
 poniards, and, before Clennel's approach, more than half 
 his hounds lay dead upon the ground, and his enemies fled.
 
 THE FAA'S REVENGE. 39 
 
 Yet there was one poor girl amongst them, who had been 
 attacked by a fierce hound, and whom no one attempted 
 to rescue, as she strove to defend herself against it with her 
 bare hands. Her screams for assistance rose louder and 
 more loud ; and as Clennel and his followers drew near, 
 and her companions fled, they turned round, and, with a 
 fiendish laugh, cried 
 
 " Rue it now !" 
 
 Maddened more keenly by the words, he was following 
 on in pursuit, without rescuing the screaming girl from the 
 teeth of the hound, or seeming to perceive her, when a 
 woman, suddenly turning round from amongst the flying 
 gypsies, exclaimed 
 
 "For your sake! for Heaven's sake! Laird Clennel! 
 save my bairn !" 
 
 He turned hastily aside, and, seizing the hound by the 
 throat, tore it from the lacerated girl, who sank, bleed- 
 ing, terrified, and exhausted, upon the ground. Her fea- 
 tores were beautiful, and her yellow hair contrasted ill 
 with the tawny hue of her countenance and the snowy 
 whiteness of her bosom, which in the struggle had been 
 revealed. The elder gipsy woman approached. She knelt 
 by the side of the wounded girl. 
 
 " O my bairn ! " she exclaimed, " what has this day 
 brought upon me ! they have murdered you ! This is 
 rueing, indeed ; and I rue too ! " 
 
 "Susan!" exclaimed Clennel, as he listened to her 
 words, and his eyes had been for several seconds fixed 
 upon her countenance. 
 
 " Yes ! Susan 1 guilty Susan ! " cried the gipsy. 
 
 " Wretch ! " he exclaimed, " my child ! where is my.. 
 
 child? is this" and he gazed on the poor girl, his voice 
 
 failed him, and he burst into tears. 
 
 " Yes ! yes ! " replied she bitterly, " it is her there 
 lies your daughter look upon her
 
 40 TALES OF TUB BORDERS. 
 
 He needed, indeed, but to look upon her countenance 
 disfigured as it was, and dyed with weeds to give it a 
 sallow hue to behold in it every lineament of her 
 mother's, lovely as when they first met his eye and 
 entered his heart. He flung himself on the ground by 
 her side, he raised her head, he kissed her cheek, he 
 exclaimed, " My child I my child ! my lost one ! I have 
 destroyed thee ! " 
 
 He bound up her lacerated arms, and applied a flask 
 of wine, which he carried with him, to her lips, and he 
 supported her on his knee, and again kissing her cheek, 
 sobbed, " My child ! my own ! " 
 
 Andrew Smith also bent over her and said, " Oh, it is 
 her ! there isna the smallest doubt o' that. I could swear 
 to her among a thousand. She's her mother's very pic- 
 ture." And, turning to Susan, he added, "O Susan, 
 woman, but ye hae been a terrible hypocrite ! " 
 
 Clennel having placed his daughter on horseback be- 
 fore him, supporting her with his arm, Susan was set 
 between two of his followers, and conducted to the Hall. 
 
 Before the tidings were made known to Lady Clennel, 
 the wounds of her daughter were carefully dressed, the 
 dye that changed the colour of her countenance was 
 removed, and her gipsy garb was exchanged for more 
 seemly apparel. 
 
 Clennel anxiously entered the apartment of his lady, 
 to reveal to her the tale of joy ; but when he entered, he 
 wist not how to introduce it. He knew that excess of 
 sudden joy was not less dangerous than excess of grief, and 
 his countenance was troubled, though its expression was 
 less sad than it had been for many years. 
 
 " Eleanor," he at length began, " cheer up." 
 
 " "Why, I am not sadder than usual, dear," replied she, 
 in her wonted gentle manner ; " and to be more cheerful 
 would ill become one who has endured my sorrows."
 
 THE FAA'S REVENGE. 41 
 
 " True, true," said he, " but our affliction may not be so 
 severe as we have thought there may be hope there 
 may be joy for us yet." 
 
 "What mean ye, husband?" inquired she, eagerly; 
 "have ye heard aught aught of my children? you 
 have ! you have ! your countenance speaks it." 
 
 "Yes, dear Eleanor," returned he, "I have heard of our 
 daughter." 
 
 " And she lives ? she lives ? tell me that she lives ! " 
 
 " Yes, she lives." 
 
 "And I shall see her I shall embrace my child again?" 
 
 " Yes, love, yes," replied he, and burst into tears. 
 
 " When oh, when ? " she exclaimed, " can you take me 
 to her now?" 
 
 "Be calm, my sweet one. You shall see our child 
 our long-lost child. You shall see her now she is 
 here." 
 
 "Here! my child!" she exclaimed, and sank back 
 upon her seat. 
 
 Words would fail to paint the tender interview the 
 mother's joy the daughter's wonder the long, the pas- 
 sionate embrace the tears of all the looks the words 
 the moments of unutterable feeling. 
 
 I shall next notice the confession of Susan. Clennel 
 promised her forgiveness if she would confess the whole 
 truth ; and he doubted not, that from her he would also 
 obtain tidings of his son, and learn where he might find 
 him, if he yet lived. I shall give her story in her own 
 words. 
 
 " When I came amongst you," she began, " I said that I 
 was an orphan, and I told ye truly, so far as I knew myself. 
 I have been reared amongst the people ye call gipsies from 
 infancy. They fed me before I could provide for myself. 
 I have wandered with them through many lands. They 
 taught me many things ; and, while young, sent me as a
 
 42 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 servant into families, that I might gather information to 
 assist them in upholding their mysteries of fortune-telling, 
 I dared not to disobey them they kept me as their slave 
 and I knew that they would destroy my life for an act of 
 disobedience. I was in London when ye cruelly burned 
 down the bit town between the Keyheugh and Clovencrag. 
 That night would have been your last, but Elspeth Faa 
 vowed more cruel vengeance than death on you and yours. 
 After our king had carried away your son, I was ordered 
 from London to assist in the plot o' revenge. I at length 
 succeeded in getting into your family, and the rest ye know. 
 When ye were a' busy wi' your company, I slipped into 
 the woods wi' the bairn in my arms, where others were 
 ready to meet us ; and long before ye missed us, we were 
 miles across the hills, and frae that day to this your daughter 
 has passed as mine." 
 
 " But tell me all, woman," cried Clennel, "as you hope 
 for either pardon or protection where is my son, my little 
 Harry? Does he live? where shall I find him?" 
 
 "As I live," replied Susan, " I cannot tell. There are 
 but two know concerning him and that is the king and 
 his wife Elspeth; and there is but one way of discover- 
 ing anything respecting him, which is by crossing Elspeth's 
 loof, that she may betray her husband : and she would do 
 it for revenge's sake, for an ill husband has he been to her, 
 and in her old days he has discarded her for another." 
 
 "And where may she be found?" inquired Clennel, 
 earnestly. 
 
 "That," added Susan, " is a question I cannot answer. 
 She was with the people in the glen to-day, and was first 
 to raise the laugh when your dog fastened its teeth in the 
 llcsh of your ain bairn. But she may be far to seek and 
 ill to find now for she is wi' those that travel fast and far, 
 and that will not see her hindmost." 
 
 Deep was the disappointment of the laird when he found
 
 TUB FAA'S REVENGE. 43 
 
 lie could obtain no tidings of his son. But, at the inter- 
 cession of his daughter (whose untutored mind her fond 
 mother had begun to instruct), Susan was freely pardoned, 
 promised protection from her tribe, and again admitted as 
 one of the household. 
 
 I might describe the anxious care of the fond mother, as, 
 day by day, she sat by her new-found and lovely daughter's 
 side, teaching her, and telling her of a hundred things of 
 which she had never heard before, while her father sat 
 gazing and listening near them, rejoicing over both. 
 
 But the ray of sunshine which had penetrated the house 
 of Clennel was not destined to be of long duration. At 
 that period a fearful cloud overhung the whole land, and 
 the fury of civil war seemed about to burst forth. 
 
 The threatening storm did explode; a bigoted king over- 
 stepped his prerogative, set at nought the rights' and the 
 liberties of the subject, and an indignant people stained their 
 Lauds with blood. A political convulsion shook the empire 
 to its centre. Families and individuals became involved in 
 the general catastrophe; and the house of Clennel did not 
 escape. In common with the majority of the English gentry 
 of that period, Clennel was a stanch loyalist, and if not 
 exactly a lover of the king, or an ardent admirer of his acts, 
 yet one who would fight for the crown though it should (as 
 it was expressed about the time) " hang by a bush." When, 
 therefore, the parliament declared war against the king, 
 and the name of Cromwell spread awe throughout the 
 country, and when some said that a prophet and deliverer 
 had risen amongst them, and others an ambitious hypocrite 
 and a tyrant, Clennel armed a body of his dependants, and 
 hastened to the assistance of his sovereign, leaving his wife 
 and his newly-found daughter with the promise of a speedy 
 return. 
 
 It is unnecessary to describe all that he did or encoun- 
 tered during the civil wars. He had been a zealous partizan
 
 44 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 of the first Charles, and he fought for the fortunes of his 
 son to the last. He was present at the battle of Worcester, 
 which Cromwell calls his " crowning mercy," in the Sep- 
 tember of 1651, where the already dispirited royalists 
 were finally routed; and he fought by the side of the king 
 until the streets were heaped with dead; and when Charles 
 fled, he, with others, accompanied him to the borders of 
 Staffordshire. 
 
 Having bid the young prince an affectionate farewell, 
 Clennel turned back, Avith the intention of proceeding on 
 his journey, on the following day, to Northumberland, 
 though he was aware, that, from the part which he had 
 taken in the royal cause, even his person was in danger. 
 Yet the desire again to behold his wife and daughter over- 
 came his fears, and the thought of meeting them in some 
 degree consoled him for the fate of his prh%ce, and the result 
 of the struggle in which he had been engaged. 
 
 But he had not proceeded far when he was met by two 
 men dressed as soldiers of the Parliamentary army the 
 one a veteran with grey hairs, and the other a youth. The 
 shades of night had set in; but the latter he instantly recog- 
 nized as a young soldier whom he had that day wounded 
 in the streets of "Worcester. 
 
 "Stand!" said the old man, as they met him; and the 
 younger drew his sword. 
 
 "If I stand!" exclaimed Clennol, "it shall not be when 
 an old man and a boy command me." And, following 
 their example, he unsheathed his sword. 
 
 "Boy!" exclaimed the youth; "whom call ye boy? 
 think ye, because ye wounded me this morn, that fortune 
 shall aye sit on your arm ? yield or try." 
 
 They made several thrusts at each other, and the old 
 man, as an indifferent spectator, stood looking on. But the 
 youth, by a dexterous blow, shivered the sword in Clennel's 
 hand, and left him at his mercy.
 
 THE FAA'S REVENGE. 45 
 
 "Now yield ye," he exclaimed; "the chance is mine 
 now in the morning it was thine." 
 
 " Ye seem a fair foe," replied Clennel, " and loath am 1 
 to yield, but that I am weaponless." 
 
 " Despatch him at once !" growled the old man. " If he 
 spilled your blood in the morning, there can be no harm 
 in spilling his the night and especially after giein' him a 
 fair chance." 
 
 " Father," returned the youth, " would ye have me to 
 kill a man in cold blood?" 
 
 " Let him submit to be bound then, hands and eyes, or 
 I will," cried the senior. 
 
 The younger, obeyed, and Clennel, finding himself dis- 
 armed, submitted to his fate; and his hands were bound, 
 and his eyes tied up, so that he knew not where they led him. 
 
 After wandering many miles, and having lain upon what 
 appeared the cold earth for a lodging, he was aroused from 
 a comfortless and troubled sleep, by a person tearing the 
 bandage from his eyes, and ordering him to prepare for his 
 trial. He started to his feet. He looked around, and be- 
 held that he stood in the midst of a gipsy encampment. He 
 was not a man given to fear, but a sickness came over his 
 heart when he thought of his wife and daughter, and that, 
 knowing the character of the people in whose power he was, 
 he should never behold them again. 
 
 The males of the Faa tribe began to assemble in a sort of 
 half circle in the area of the encampment, and in the midst 
 of them, towering over the heads of all, he immediately dis- 
 tinguished the tall figure of Willie Faa, in whom he also 
 discovered the grey-haired Parliamentary soldier of the 
 previous night. But the youth with whom he had twice 
 contended and once wounded, and by whom he had been 
 made prisoner, he was unable to single out amongst them. 
 
 He was rudely dragged before them, and Willie Faa 
 cried "Ken ye the culprit?"
 
 46 TALES OF THE liORDERS. 
 
 "Clennel o' Northumberland! our enemy!" exclaimed 
 twenty voices. 
 
 "Yes," continued Willie, "Clennel our enemy the 
 burner o' our humble habitations that left the auld, the 
 sick, the infirm, and the helpless, and the infants o' our 
 kindred, to perish in the flaming ruins. Had we burned 
 his house, the punishment would have been death; and 
 shall we do less to him than he would do to us?" 
 
 "No! no !" they exclaimed with one voice. 
 
 "But," added Willie, "though he would have disgraced 
 us wi' a gallows, as he has been a soldier, I propose that he 
 hae the honour o' a soldier's death, and that Harry Faa be 
 appointed to shoot him." 
 
 "All! all! all!" was the cry. 
 
 "He shall die with the setting sun," said Willie, and 
 again they cried, "Agreed!" 
 
 Such was the form of trial which Clennel underwent, 
 when he was again rudely dragged away, and placed in a 
 tent round which four strong Faas kept guard. He had 
 not been alone an hour, Avhen his judge, the Faa king, 
 entered, and addressed him 
 
 "Now, Laird Clennel, say ye that I haena lived to see 
 day about wi' yc ? When ye turned me frae beneath your 
 roof, when the drift was fierce and the wind howled in tin: 
 moors, was it not tuuld to ye tl.:it ye would rue it! but ye 
 mocked the admonition and the threat, and, after that, 
 cruelly burned us out o' house and ha'. When I came hame, 
 I saw my auld mother, that was within three years o' a 
 hunder, couring ower the reeking ruins, without a wa' to 
 shelter her, and crooning curses on the doer o' the black 
 deed. There were my youngest bairns, too, crouching by 
 their granny's side, starving wi' hunger as weel as wi' cauld, 
 for ye had bunied a', and haudin' their bits o' hands before 
 the burnin' ruins o' the house that they were born in^ to 
 warm them! That night 1 vowed vengeance on you; and 
 even on that night I would have executed it, but I was
 
 THE FAA'S REVENGE. 47 
 
 prevented ; and glad am I now that I was prevented, for my 
 vengeance has been complete or a' but complete. Wi' my 
 nin hand I snatched your son and heir from his mother's 
 side, and a terrible chase I had for it; but revenge lent me 
 baith strength and speed. And when ye had anither bairn 
 that was like to live, I forced a lassie, that some o' our folk 
 had stolen when an infant, to bring it to us. Ye have got 
 your daughter back again, but no before she has cost ye 
 mony a sad heart and mony a saut tear; and that was some 
 revenge. But the substance o ? my satisfaction and revenge 
 lies in what I hae to tell ye. Ye die this night as the sun 
 gaes down ; and, hearken to me now the young soldier 
 whom ye wounded on the streets o' "Worcester, and who 
 last night made you prisoner, was your son your heir 
 your lost son! Ha! ha! Clennel, am I revenged?" 
 
 " My son !" screamed the prisoner " monster, what is it 
 that ye say? Strike me dead, now I am in your power- 
 but torment me not!" 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha!" again laughed the grey-haired savage 
 "man, ye are about to die, and ye know not ye ar.e born. 
 Ye have not heard half I have to tell. I heard that ye had 
 joined the standard o' King Charles. I, a king in my ain 
 right, care for neither your king nor parliament ; but I 
 resolved to wear, for a time, the cloth o' old Noll, and to 
 make your son do the same, that I might hae an oppor- 
 tunity o' meeting you as an enemy, and seeing htm strike 
 you to the heart. That satisfaction I had not ; but I had 
 its equivalent. Yesterday, I saw you shed his blood on the 
 streets o' Worcester, and in the evening he gave you a 
 prisoner into my hands that desired you." 
 
 "Grey-haired monster!" exclaimed Clennel, "have ye 
 no feeling no heart? Speak ye to torment me, or tell me 
 truly, have I seen my son?" 
 
 "Patience, man!" said the Faa, with a smile of sardonic 
 triumph " my story is but half finished. It was the blod 
 o' your son ye shed yesterday at "Worcester it was your
 
 48 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 son who disarmed ye, and gave ye into my power; and, best 
 o' a' ! now, hear me ! hear me ! lose not a word ! it is 
 the hand o' your son that this night, at sunset, shall send 
 you to eternity! Now, tell me, Clennel, am I no revenged? 
 Do ye no rue it ? " 
 
 "Wretch! wretch!" cried the miserable parent, "in 
 mercy strike me dead. If I have raised my sword against 
 my son, let that suffice ye! but spare, oh, spare my child 
 from being an involuntary parricide !" 
 
 "Hush, fool!" said the Faa; "I have waited for this 
 consummation o' my revenge for twenty years, and think 
 ye that I will be deprived o' it now by a few whining 
 words? Remember, sunset!" he added, and left the 
 tent. 
 
 Evening came, and the disk of the sun began to disap- 
 pear behind the western hills. Men and women, the old 
 and the young, amongst the Faas, came out from their 
 encampment to behold the death of their enemy. Clennel 
 was brought forth between two, his hands fastened to his 
 sides, and a bandage round his mouth, to prevent him 
 making himself known to his executioner. A rope was also 
 brought round his body, and he was tied to the trunk of 
 an old ash tree. 'The women of the tribe began a sort of 
 yell or coroaach; and their king, stepping forward, and 
 smiling savagely in the face of his victim, cried aloud 
 
 "Harry Faa! stand forth and perform the duty your 
 tribe, have .imposed on you." 
 
 A young man, reluctantly, and with a slow and trembling 
 step, issued from one of the tents. He carried a musket 
 in his hand, and placed himself in front of the prisoner, at 
 about twenty yards.from him. 
 
 " Make ready!" cried Willie Faa, in a voice like thunder. 
 And the yo\Ah, though his hands shook, levelled the musket 
 at his victim. 
 
 But, at that moment, one who, to appearance, seemed a 
 maniac, sprang from a clump of whins behind the *h tree
 
 THE FAA'S REVENGE. 49 
 
 where the prisoner was bound, and, throwing herself before 
 him, she cried " Hold! would you murder your own 
 father? Harry Clennel! would you murder your father ? 
 Mind ye not when ye was stolen frae your mother's side, as 
 ye gathered wild flowers in the wood?" 
 It was Elspeth Faa. 
 
 The musket dropped from the hands of the intended 
 executioner a thousand recollections, that he had often 
 fancied dreams, rushed across his memory. He again 
 seized the musket, he rushed forward to his father, but, ere 
 he reached, Elspeth had cut the cords that bound the laird, 
 and placed a dagger in his hand for his defence, and, with 
 extended arms, he flew to meet the youth, crying " My 
 son! my son!" 
 
 The old Faa king shook with rage and disappointment, 
 and his first impulse was to poniard his wife but he feared 
 to do so; for although he had injured her, and had not seen 
 her for years, her influence was greater with the tribe than 
 his. 
 
 " Now, Willie," cried she, addressing him, " wha rues it 
 now ? Fareweel for ance and a' and the bairn I brought 
 up will find a shelter for my auld head." 
 
 It were vain to tell how Clennel and his son wept on each 
 other's neck, and how they exchanged forgiveness. But 
 such was the influence of Elspeth, that they departed from 
 the midst of the Faas unmolested, and she accompanied 
 them. 
 
 Imagination must picture the scene when the long-lost 
 son flung himself upon the bosom of his mother, and pressed 
 his sister's hand in his. Clennel Hall rang with the sounds 
 of joy for many days ; and, ere they were ended, Andrew 
 Smith placed a ring upon the finger of Susan, and they 
 became one flesh she a respectable woman. And old 
 Elspeth lived to the age of ninety and seven years beneath 
 its roof.
 
 50 TALKS OJP THE BORDERS. 
 
 
 
 KATE KENNEDY; 
 OR, THE MAID OF INNERKEPPLE. 
 
 IXNKRKEPPLE was, some three hundred years ago, as com- 
 plete, a fortification as could be seen along the Borders 
 presenting its bastions, its turrets and donjon, and all the 
 appurtenances of a military strength, in the face of a 
 Border riever, with that solemn air of defiance that be- 
 longs to the style of the old castles. Many a blow of a 
 mangonel it had received; and Scotch and English en- 
 gines of war had, with equal force and address, poured 
 into its old grey ribs their destructive bolts ; every wound 
 was an acquisition of glory; and, unless where a breach 
 demanded a repair for the sake of security, the scars on 
 the old warrior wcie allowed to remain as a proof of his 
 prowess.' Indeed, these very wounds appearing on the 
 walls had their names being christened after the leaders 
 of the sieges that had been in vain directed against it; 
 and, among the number, the kings of England might have 
 been seen indicated by the futile instruments of vengeance 
 they had iluug into the rough ribs of old Innerkepple. 
 lint let us proceed. The proprietor, good Walter Ken- 
 nedy, better known by the appellative of Innerkepple, 
 was not unlike the old strength which lie inhabited ; 
 being an old, rough, burly baron, on whose face Time had 
 succeeded in making many impressions, notwithstanding 
 of all the opposing energies of a soul that gloried, in all 
 manner of ways, of cheating the old greybeard of his 
 riulits and clearing ofF7's scores. As a good spirit is said 
 to be like good old wine, getting softer and more balmy
 
 KATE KENNEDY. 51 
 
 as it increases in age, old Innerkepple proved, by his good 
 humour and jovial manners, the sterling qualities of his 
 heart, which seemed, as he progressed in years, to swell in 
 proportion as that organ in others shrivelled and de- 
 creased, lie saw nothing in age but the necessity it 
 imposes of having more frequent recourse to its great 
 enemy, the grape ; and that power he delighted to bow 
 to, as he bent his head to empty the flagon which his 
 forebear, Kenneth, got from the first King James, as a 
 reward for his services against the house of Albany. Yet 
 the good humour of the old baron was not that of the 
 toper, which, produced by the bowl, would not exist but 
 for its inspiring draught ; the feeling of happiness and 
 universal good-will lay at the bottom of the heart itself, 
 and was only swelled into a state of glorious ebullition by 
 the charm of the magic of the vine branch the true 
 Mercurial caduceits, the only true magic wand upon 
 earth. 
 
 Though the spirit of antiquarianism is seldom associated 
 with the swelling affections of the heart that is dedicated 
 to Momus, old Innerkepple had, notwithstanding, been 
 able to combine the two qualities or powers. Sitting in 
 his old wainscotted hall, over a goblet of spiced Tokay, 
 there were three old subjects he loved to speculate upon ; 
 and these were his old castle, with its chronicled wounds, 
 where the Genius of War sat alongside of the " auld carle" 
 Time, in grim companionship ; secondly, the family tree of 
 the Innerkepples with himself, a good old branch, kept 
 green by good humour and Tokay, at the further verge ; 
 and a small green twig, as slender as a lily stalk, issuing 
 from the old branch no other than the daughter of Inner- 
 kepple, the fair Kate Kennedy, a buxom damsel, of goodly 
 proportions, and as merry, with the aid of health and 
 young sparkling blood, as the old baron was with the spiced 
 wine of Tokay ; and, in the third place, there was the true
 
 52 TALES OF TIIE BOKDEKS. 
 
 legitimate study of the antiquary, the ancient wine itself, 
 the mortal years of which he counted with an eye as 
 bright as Cocker's over a triumphant solution. As this 
 last subject grew upon him, he became inspired, like the 
 old poet of Teos, and the rafters of Innerkepple rang to 
 the sound of his voice, tuned to the air of " Tne Guidwife 
 o' Tullybody," and fraught with the deeds, active and 
 passive, of the barons of Innerkepple and their castle. 
 
 The fair Katherine Kennedy inherited her father's good 
 humour, and, maugre all the polishing and freezing influ- 
 ences of high birth, retained her inborn freedom of thought 
 and action, heedless whether the contortion of the buccos 
 in a broad laugh were consistent with the placidity of 
 beauty, or the scream of the heart-excited risibility were 
 in accordance with the formula of high breeding. Buxom 
 in her person, and gay in her manners, she formed the 
 most enchanting baggage of all the care-killing damsels of 
 her day the most exquisite ronion that ever chased Me- 
 lancholy from her yellow throne on the face of Hypochon- 
 dria, or threw the cracker of her 'persiflage into the midst 
 of the crew of blue devils that bind down care-worn mor- 
 tals by the bonds of ennui. She was no antiquary, even in 
 the limited sense of her father's study of the science of 
 cobwebs ; being rather given to neoterics, or the science 
 which teaches the qualities of things of to-day or yester- 
 day. Age in all things she hated with a very good femi- 
 nine spirit of detestation ; and, following up her prin- 
 ciples, she arrived at the conclusion that youth and beauty 
 wer,c two of the very best qualities that could be possessed 
 by a lover. Her father's impassioned praises of the old 
 branches of the tree of the Innerkepples comprehending 
 the brave Ludovick, who fell at Homildon, and the me- 
 morable Walter, who sold his life at the price of a score of 
 fat Englishmen at the red Flodden produced only her 
 best and loudest laugh, as she figured to herself the folly
 
 KATE KENNEDY. 53 
 
 of preferring the nigged trunk to the green branches that 
 suspend at their points the red-cheeked apple full of 
 sweetness and juice. Neither cared the hilarious damsel 
 much for the reverend turrets of Innerkepple. Her 
 father's description, full of good humour as it was, of the 
 various perils they had passed, and the service they had 
 done their country, seemed to her, as she stood on the old 
 walls, listening to the narrative, like the croak of the old 
 corbies that sat on the pinnacles ; and her laugh came 
 again full of glee through the loopholes, or echoed from 
 the battered curtain or recesses of the ballium. 
 
 That such a person as merry old Innerkepple should 
 have a bitter and relentless foe in the proprietor of the old 
 strength called Otterstone, in the neighbourhood, is one of 
 the most instructive facts connected with the system of 
 war and pillage that prevailed on the Borders, principally 
 during the reign of Henry VIH. of England and James V. 
 of Scotland, when the spirit of religion furnished a cause 
 of aggression that could not have been afforded by the 
 pugnacious temperaments of the victims of attack. Mag- 
 nus Fotheringham of Otterstone had had a deadly feud 
 with Kenneth Kennedy, the father of the good old Inner- 
 kepple, and ever since had nourished against his neigh- 
 bour a deadly spite, which he had taken many means of 
 gratifying. His opponent had acted merely on the de- 
 fensive ; but his plea had been so well vindicated by hi? 
 retainers, who loved him with the affection of children, 
 that the splenetic aggressor had been twice repulsed with 
 great slaughter. Most readily would the jovial baron, 
 who had never given any cause of offence, have seized 
 upon the demon of Enmity, and, obtorto collo, forced the 
 fiend into the smoking flagon of spiced wine, while he held 
 cmb the hand of friendship to his hereditary foe ; but such 
 was Otterstone's inveteracy, that he would not meet him 
 but with arms in his hands, so that all the endeavours of
 
 54 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 the waTm.-heo.rtcd and jolly Innerkepple to overcome the 
 hostility of his neighbour, were looked upon as secret 
 modes of wishing to entrap him, and take vengeance on 
 him for his repeated attacks upon the old castle. 
 
 Some short time previous to the period about which we 
 shall become more interested, Innerkepple, with twenty 
 rangers, was riding the marches of his property, when he 
 was set upon by his enemy, who had nearly twice that 
 number of retainers. Taking up with great spirit the plea 
 of their lord, the men who were attacked rallied round the 
 old chief, and fought for him like lions, drowning (perhaps 
 purposely) in the noise of the battle the cries of Inner- 
 kepple, who roared, at the top of his voice 
 
 "Otterstone, man hear me! A pint o' my auld Canary 
 will do baith you and me mair guid than a' that bluid o' 
 your men and mine. Stop the fecht, man. I hac nae feud 
 ivj-aiiist you, an' I'm no answerable for the wrangs o' thy 
 father Kenneth." 
 
 These peaceful words were lost amidst the sounds of the 
 battle, and Otterstone construed the contortions of the 
 peacemaker into indications of revenge, and his bawling 
 was set down as his mode of inspiriting his followers. The 
 fight accordingly progressed, old Innerkepple at intervals 
 holding up a white handkerchief as a sign of peace; but 
 which, having been used by him in .stopping 1 lit' wounds 
 of one of his men, was received with its blood-mark 
 signal of revenge, both by his men and those of the ag- 
 gressor. The strifi. 1 . accordingly inciv.ivd, .''.ml all was 
 oon mixed up in the confusion of the melee. 
 
 " Has feud ran awa wi' yer senses, Otterstone ? " again 
 roared the good old baron. " I'll gic yer son, wha's at St. 
 Omcrs, the hand o' my dochter Kate. Do you hear me, 
 man ? If you will mix the bluids o' oor twa houses, let it 
 be dune by Haly Kirk." 
 
 His words never reached Otterstone. ; but his own men,
 
 KATE KENNEDY. 55 
 
 who adored and idolized their beautiful young mistress, 
 whose unvaried cheerfulness and kindness had won their 
 hearts, heard the proposition of their jnaster with astonish- 
 ment and dissatisfaction. They were still sorely pressed 
 by their enemy, who, seeing the stained handkerchief in 
 the hands of Innerkepple, were revised to stronger effort?. 
 At this moment an extraordinary vision met their eyes. A 
 detachment of retainers from the castle came forward in 
 the most regular warlike array, having at their head their 
 young mistress, armed with a hebnet and a light jerkin, 
 and bearing in her hand a sword of suitable proportions. 
 A loud shout from the worsted combatants expressed their 
 satisfaction and surprise, and 'in a moment the assistant 
 corps joined their friends, and commenced to fight. The 
 unusual vision relaxed for a moment the energies of Otter- 
 stone's men ; but a cry from their chief, that they would 
 that day be ten times vanquished if they were defeated by 
 a female leader, again inspired them, and instigated them 
 to the fight. 
 
 " Press forward, brave vassals of Innerkepple ! " cried 
 Katherine. " Your foes have no fair damsel to inspire 
 them ; and who shall resist those whose arms are nerved 
 iu defence of an old chief and a young mistress 'i He who 
 kills the greatest number of Otterstone's men shall have 
 the privilege of demanding a woman's guerdon from 
 Katherine Kennedy. If this be not enough to mak<> yc- 
 light like lions, ye deserve to be hung in chains on tin 
 lowers of Otterstone." 
 
 Smiling as she uttered her strange speech, she hurried 
 to her father, who was still making all the efforts in hi* 
 power to bring about a parley. He had got within a few 
 yards of Otterstone, and it required all the energies ol 
 Katherine to keep him back and defend him from insidi- 
 ous blows an office she executed with great agility, by 
 keeping her light sword whirling round her head, and
 
 56 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 inflicting wounds not perhaps of great depth on those 
 who were ungallant and temerarious enough to approach 
 her parent. 
 
 " See, Otterstone, man," cried the laird, still intent on 
 peace, and sorry for the deadly work that was going on 
 around him. " Is she no fit to mak heirs to Otterstone ? 
 Up wi' yer helm, Kate, and show him yer fair face. Ha ! 
 man, stop this bluidy work, and let us mend a' by a 
 carousal. Deil's in the heart and stamack o' the man that 
 prefers warring to wassailing!" 
 
 " He does not hear you, father," cried Kate. " We 
 must defend ourselves. On, brave followers! Ye know 
 your guerdon. Gallant knights have kneeled for it and 
 been refused it. You are to fight for it, and to receive it. 
 Hurrah for Innerkepple ! " And she swung her light fal- 
 chion round her head, while the war-cry of the family, 
 "Fcstina lente!" arose in answer to her inspiriting appeal, 
 and the men rushed forward with new ardour on their 
 foes. 
 
 "You are as bluid-thirsty as he is, Kate," cried the 
 baron. " What mean ye, woman ? Haste ye up to Otter- 
 stone, and fling yer arms round his neck, and greet a -guid 
 greet, according to the fashion o' womankind. Awa! haste 
 ye, and say, mairower, that ye'll be the wife o' his son, and 
 join the twa baronies that are gaping for ane anither. 
 Quick, woman ; tears are mere water thin aneuch, Glide 
 kens ! but thae men's bluid is thicker than my vintage o' 
 the year '90." 
 
 " Katherine Kennedy never yet wept either to friend or 
 foe, unless in the wild glee of her frolics," replied the 
 maiden. " By the bones of Camilla ! I thought I was 
 only fit for sewing battle scenes on satin, and laughing as 
 I killed a knight with my needle ; but I find I have the 
 Innerkepple blood in my veins, and ray cheek is glowing 
 like a blood-red rose. Take care of yourself, good father,
 
 KATE KENNEDY. 57 
 
 and leave the affair to me. A single glance of my eye has 
 more power in it than the command of the proudest baron 
 of the Borders. On, good hearts ! " And she again rode 
 among the men, and inspired them with her voice and 
 looks. 
 
 The effect of the silvery tones of the voice of Katherine 
 on the hearts of her father's retainers was electric ; they 
 fought like lions, and it soon became apparent to Otter- 
 stone that a woman is a more dangerous enemy than 
 a man. The cry, " For the fair maid of Innerkepple ! " 
 resounded among the combatants, and soon exhibited 
 greater virtue than the war-cry of the house. Against 
 men actuated by the chivalrous feelings that naturally 
 arose out of the defence of a beautiful woman, all resis- 
 tance was vain; the ranks of Otterstone's men were 
 broken, and this advantage having been seized by their 
 opponents, whose energies were rising every moment, as 
 the sound of Katherine's voice saluted their ears, a route 
 ensued, and the usual consequences of that last resource 
 of the vanquished flight were soon apparent in the 
 wounded victims, who fell ingloriously with wounds on 
 their backs. The pursuers were inclined to continue the 
 pursuit even to the walls of Otterstone, but Katherine 
 called them back. 
 
 "To slay the flying," said she, with a laugh, as the 
 tisual hilarity of her spirits returned upon her, " is what 
 I call effeminate warfare. When men flee, women pur- 
 sue ; and what get they for their pains more than the 
 wench got from Theseus, whom she hunted for his heart, 
 and got, as our hunters do, the kick of his heel ? Away, 
 and carry in our disabled, that I may, with woman's art, 
 cure the wounds that have been received in defence of a 
 woman." 
 
 The men obeyed with alacrity, and Innerkepple himself 
 stared in amazement at his daughter, who had always before
 
 58 TALKS OP THE BORDEKS. 
 
 appeared to him as a wild romp, fit only for killing men 
 with her beauty, or tormenting them with the elfin tricks 
 or bewitching waggeries of her restless salient spirit. 
 
 "I'll hao ye in the wainscotted ha', Kate," said the 
 father, as he entered his private chamber, leaning on the 
 arm of his daughter, "painted wi' helm, habergeon, and 
 halberd, and placed alongside o' Lewie o' Homildon and 
 Watt o' Flodden." 
 
 "I care not, father," replied Katherine, "if you give the 
 painter instructions to paint me laughing at those famous 
 progenitors of our house, who were foolish enough to give 
 their lives for that glory I can purchase for nothing, and 
 get the lives of my enemies to boot; but I must go and 
 minister to the gallant men who have been wounded." 
 
 "Minister first to your father, Kate," replied Innerkepplc, 
 with a knowing look. 
 
 "And to your father's daughter, you would add," replied 
 she, with a smile. "A bridal and a battle lack wine." And, 
 hastening to a cupboard, she took out and placed on the 
 table a flagon and two cups, the latter of which she filled. 
 
 "Rest to the souls of the men I have slain!" said she, 
 laughing, as she lifted the wine cup to her head, while her 
 father was performing the same act. 
 
 "What! did ye kill ony o' Ottcrstone's men?" saidlnner- 
 kepple. 
 
 "Every time I lifted up my visor," replied she, "I 
 scattered death around mr. Ha! ha! what fools men arc! 
 Their bodies are tenantless; AVC women are the sonls tlmt 
 live outside of them, and take up our residence within their 
 clayey precincts only when we have an object to serve. 
 The tourney has taught me the power of our sex; and 
 there I have thrown my spirit into the man I hated, to 
 gratify my humour by seeing him, poor caitiff! as he caught 
 my hazel eye, writhe and wring, and contort himself into 
 all the attitudes of Proteus."
 
 KATE KBNNEDY. 59 
 
 "Wicked imp!" said Innerkepple, laughing. 
 
 "And when he had sufficiently twisted himself," con- 
 tinued she, "I have, with a grave face given the same hazel 
 eye to his opponent, and set his body in motion in the same 
 way. The serpent-charmer is nothjbg to a woman. By 
 this art, I to-day gained the victory ; and I'll stake my 
 auburn toupee against thy grey wig, that I beat, in the same 
 way, the boldest baron of the Borders." 
 
 "By the faith o' Innerkepple, ye're no blate, Kate!" said 
 the old baron, still laughing; "but come, let us see our 
 wounded men" taking his daughter's arm. 
 
 "Leave their wounds to me, father," said she. "The 
 sting of the tarantula is cured by an old song. We women 
 are the true leeches ; doctors are quacks and medicasters to 
 us. We kill and cure like the Delphic sword, which makes 
 wounds and heals them by alternate strokes." 
 
 "Ever at your quips, roisterer," said Innerkepple, as 
 they arrived at the court. , 
 
 The wounded men had been brought in, and were con^ 
 signed to the care of one of the retainers, skilled in medi- 
 cine, Katherine's medicaments her looks and tones being 
 reserved for a balsamic application, after the wounds were 
 cicatrized. The other retainers were, meanwhile, busy in 
 consultation, as might have been seen by their congregating 
 into parties, talking low, and throwing looks at Innerkepple 
 and his fair daughter, as they stood on the steps of the 
 inner door of the castle. 
 
 "The guerdon! the guerdon!" at last said one of the 
 vassals, advancing and throwing himself at the feet of Kate. 
 
 "Ha! ha! I forgot," replied she laughing; "but turn 
 up thy face art thou the man?" 
 
 "So say my companions, fair leddy," replied he. "I 
 brocht doon wi' this arm five o' Otterstone's men." 
 
 "With that arm!" replied she, "and what spirit nerved 
 the dead lumber, thinkest thou?"
 
 60 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 "Bootless yours, fair leddy," answered he, smiling know- 
 ingly; "but, though the spirit was borrowed, I'm no the 
 less entitled to my reward." 
 
 "A good stickler for the rights of your sex," answered 
 she, keeping up the humour; "but what guerdon demandest 
 thou?" 
 
 "That whilk knights hae sued in vain for at your fair 
 feet," answered the man, smiling, as he uttered nearly the 
 words she had used at the battle. 
 
 "Caught in my own snare," replied she, laughing loudly. 
 
 "Ah, Kate, Kate!" said the baron, joining in the humour, 
 "hoo mony gallant barons, and knights, and gentlemen hae 
 ye tormented by thae fair lips o' yours, which carry in their 
 cunnin' words a defence o' themsels sae weel contrived that 
 nane daur approach them! Ye're caught at last. 'Stand 
 to yer richts, man. A kiss was promised ye, and by the 
 honour o' Innerkepple, a kiss ye'll hae, if I should haud her 
 head by a grip o' her bonny auburn locks." 
 
 "Hold! hold!" cried Katherine ; "this matter dependeth 
 on the answer to a question. Art thou married, sirrah?" 
 
 The man hesitated, fearful of being caught by his clever 
 adversary 
 
 "Have a care o' yoursel, Gregory," said Innerkepple, 
 "ye're on dangerous ground." 
 
 "What if I am or am not?" said the man, cautiously, 
 turning up his eye into the face of the wicked querist. 
 
 "If thou art not," said she, "then would a kiss of so fair 
 a damsel be to thee beyond the value of a croft of the best 
 land o' the barony o' Innerkepple; but if thou art, then 
 would the guerdon be as nothing to the kiss of thy wife, 
 and as the weight of a feather in the scale against an oxen- 
 gate of good land." 
 
 "I'm no married," replied the man; "but, an't please 
 yer leddyship, I'll take the oxengate." 
 
 "Audacious varlet !" cried Kate, rejoicing in the adroit-
 
 KATE KENNEDY. Cl 
 
 ness she exhibited ; " wouldst thou prefer a piece of earth to 
 a kiss of Kate Kennedy a boon which the gayest knights 
 of the Borders have sued for in vain! But 'tis well thou 
 hast refused the guerdon. Ha! ha! Men of Innerkepple, 
 ye are witnesses to the fact. This man hath spurned my 
 guerdon, and sought dull earth for my rosy lips." 
 
 " We are witnesses," cried the retainers ; and the court- 
 yard rang with the laugh which the cleverness of their fair 
 mistress had elicited from those who envied Gregory of his 
 privilege. 
 
 " Kate, Kate !" said the old baron, joining in the laugh, 
 "will ever mortal be able to seize what are sae weel guarded? 
 I believe ye will be able to argue yer husband oot o' his 
 richts o' proving whether thae little traitors be made of 
 mortal flesh or ripe cherries. But wine is better than 
 women's lips ; and since Kate has sae cleverly got quit o' 
 her obligation, I'll mak amends by gieing ye a surro- 
 gatwn." 
 
 Several measures of good old wine were served out to the 
 men by the hands of Katherine, who rejoiced in the contra- 
 diction of refusing one thing to give a better. Her health, 
 and that of Innerkepple, were drunk with loud shonts of 
 approbation; and the wassail was kept up till a late hour of 
 the night. 
 
 Meanwhile, Otterstone was struggling with his disap- 
 pointment, and nourishing a deep spirit of revenge. The 
 shame of his defeat, accomplished by a girl, was insuffer- 
 able ; and the gnawing pain of the loss of honour and men, 
 in a cause where he had calculated securely on crushing his 
 supposed enemy, affected him so severely, that he sent, it 
 was reported, for his son, who had lived from his infancy at 
 St. Omers, to come over to administer to him consolation. 
 When Innerkepple heard of these things, he marvelled 
 greatly at the stubbornness of his neighbour, whom he 
 wished, above all things, to drag, nolente volente, into a deep
 
 G2 TALES OP THIO BORDERS. 
 
 wassail in the old wainscotted hall of his castle, whereby he 
 might drown, with reason itself, all their hereditary grudges, 
 and transform a foe into a friend. These feelings were also 
 participated in by the warlike Kate, who acknowledged that 
 she did not, on that memorable day, fight for anything on 
 earth that she knew of, but the safety of her father, and the 
 sheer glory of victory. She entertained the best possible 
 feelings -towards Otterstone, though she admitted, with a 
 laugh, that if his men had not that day run for their lives, 
 she would have fought till they and their lord lay all dead 
 upon the field, and the glory of Otterstone was extinguished 
 for ever. 
 
 A considerable period that passed in quietness, seemed to 
 indicate that the anger of the vanquished baron had escaped 
 by the valv r es appointed by nature for freeing the liver of its 
 redundant bile. Meanwhile, Innerkepple's universal love 
 of mankind increased, as his friendship for the juice of the 
 grape grew stronger and stronger, and his potations waxed 
 deeper and deeper ; so that he was represented, all over 
 the Borders, as being the most jovial baron of his time. 
 The fame of Kate also went abroad like fire-naughts ; but 
 no one knew what to make of her whether to set her down 
 as a beautiful virago, or as a merry imp of sportive devilry, 
 who fought her father's enemy with the same good-will 
 she felt towards the lovers whom she delighted with her 
 beauty and gaiety, and tormented by her cruel waggeries 
 and wiles. 
 
 This apparent quietness, and the consequent freedom from 
 all danger, induced the old baron to comply with a request 
 made to him by King James, to lend him forty of his 
 followers, to aid in suppressing some disturbances caused 
 by a number of outlawed reivers at that time ravaging 
 the Borders. Katherine gave her consent to the measure ; 
 but she wisely exacted the condition that the men should 
 not be removed to a greater distance from the castle than
 
 KATE KENNEDY. 63 
 
 ten miles. When James' emissary asked her why she ad- 
 jected this condition to her father's agreement, she answered, 
 with that waggish mystery in which she often loved to 
 indulge, that she had such a universal love for his the 
 emissary's sex, that she could not suffer the idea of her 
 gallant men being further removed from her than the dis- 
 tance on which she had condescended. A question for ex- 
 planation only produced another wicked quodlilet; so that 
 the royal messenger was obliged to be contented with a 
 reason that sounded in his ears very like a contempt of 
 royal authority a circumstance for which she cared no 
 more than she did for the mute expression of admiration 
 of her beauty, that her quick eye detected on the face of 
 the deptity. . . 
 
 The men having been detached from the castle for the 
 service of the king, there remained only a small number, 
 not more than sufficient for occupying the more important 
 stations on the walls of the strength. There was, however, 
 no cause for alarm ; and old Innerkepple continued to specu- 
 late over his spiced Tokay, on his three grand subjects of 
 antiquarian research; while Katherine followed her various 
 occupations of listening to and laughing at his reveries, 
 sewing battle scenes on satin, and killing her knights with 
 her needle, in as many grotesque ways as her inventive 
 fancy could devise. One day the sound of a horn cut right 
 through the middle a long pull of Canary in the act of being 
 perfected by the old baron's powers of swallow ; and, in 
 a short time, the warder came in and said that a wine 
 merchant, with sumpter mules and panniers, was at 
 the end of the drawbridge, and had expressed a strong 
 desire to submit his commodity to the test of such a 
 famous judge of the spirit of the grape as the baron of 
 Innerkepple, whose name had gone forth as transcending 
 that of all modern wine-drinkers. 
 
 "A wine merchant!" ejaculated Innerkepple, smacking
 
 64 TALES OF THE BOKDERS. 
 
 his lips after his interrupted draught of vintage '90. " What 
 species o' sma' potation does he deal in? Ha! ha! It 
 suits my humour to see the quack's een reel, as he finds his 
 tongue and palate glued thegither wi' what I ca' wine, and 
 gets them loosed again by his ain coloured water. Show 
 him in, George." 
 
 "Whar is my leddy, yer Honour?" said the seneschal, 
 looking bluntly. "Will she consent to the drawbridge 
 bein' raised at a time when the castle's nearly empty?" 
 
 " She has just gane into the green parlour in the Avest 
 tower," said the baron. "But I'll tak Kate in my ain 
 hands. She likes fun as weel as her auld father, and 
 will laugh to see this quack beaten wi' his ain bowls." 
 
 The senesckal withdrew, though reluctantly, and casting 
 his eyes about for the indispensable Katherine ; but she was 
 not within his reach, and he felt himself compelled, by the 
 impatience of the old baron, to admit the merchant. The 
 creaking hinges of the bridge resounded through the castle, 
 uud the merchant and his mules were seen by Katherine, 
 looking through a loophole, slowly making their way into 
 the castle. It was too late for her now to consider of the 
 propriety of the permission to enter ; so she leant her chin 
 on her hand, and quietly scanned the stranger, as he crossed 
 the bridge, driving his mules before him wilh a large stick, 
 which he brought down with a loud thwack on then- 
 backs accompanying his act with a loud "Whoop, ho!" 
 and occasionally throwing his eyes over the walls u.> he 
 proceeded. 
 
 "Whom have we here?" said she, as she communed with 
 herself, and nodded her head, still apparent through the 
 loophole. "By'r Lady! neither Gascon nor Fleming, or 
 my eyes arc no better than my father's, when he looks at 
 antiques through the red medium of his vintage of '90. 
 Perchance, a lover come to run away with Kate Kennedy, 
 llcv! the thoiv l;i tickles my wild wits, and sends me on
 
 KATE KENNEDY. 65 
 
 the wings of fancy into the regions of romance. Yet I have 
 not read that the catching and carrying off of Tartars hath 
 anything to do with the themes of romantic love-errantry. 
 I'm witty at the expense of this poor packman; but, seri- 
 ously, Katherine Kennedy must carry off her lover. True 
 to the difference that opposes me to the rest of my sex, I 
 could not love a man whom I did not vanquish and abduct, 
 as a riever does the chattels of the farmer." 
 
 Continuing her gaze, as she laughed at her own strange 
 thoughts, she saw the merchant bind his mules to a ring 
 fixed in the inside of the wall, and take out of his panniers 
 a vessel, with which he proceeded in the direction of the 
 door that led to the hall. When the merchant had disap- 
 peared, she saw one of the retainers of the castle examining 
 intently the mules and their panniers. He looked up and 
 caught her eye; and placing his finger on his forehead, 
 made a sign for her to come down. She obeyed with her 
 usual alacrity, and in a moment was at the side of the re- 
 tainer, who, slipping gently under the shade of the castle, 
 so as to be out of the view of those within the hall, com- 
 municated to the ear of Katherine some intelligence of an 
 important nature. The man looked grave ; Kate snapped 
 her fingers; the fire of her eyes glanced from the balls like 
 the sparks of struck flint, and the expression of her coun- 
 tenance indicated that she had formed a purpose which 
 she gloried in executing. 
 
 "Hark ye, Gregory," said she; "I am still your debtor, 
 but I require again your services." And, looking carefully 
 around her, she whispered some words into the ear of the 
 man ; and, upon receiving his nod of intelligence and 
 assent, sprung up the steps that led to the hall. 
 
 The wine merchant was, as she entered, sitting at the 
 oaken table, opposite to the old baron, who was holding 
 up in his hand a species of -glass jug, and looking through 
 
 it with that peculiar expression which is only to be found 
 YOL. i. c
 
 66 TAJLE3 OF SHE BORDERS. 
 
 
 in the face of a luxurious vrine-toper in the act of passing 
 sentence. 
 
 " Wha, in G-od's name, are ye, man ? " cried the baron, 
 under the cover of whose speech Kate slipped cleverly up 
 to the window, and sat down, with her cheek resting on 
 her hand, in apparent listlessness, but eyeing intently the 
 stranger. " I could have wad the picture o' my ancestor, 
 "Watt o' Flodden, or King Henry's turret, in the east wing 
 o' Innerkepple, wi' its twenty wounds, mair precious than 
 goold, that there wasna a cup o' vintage '90 in Scotland 
 except what I had mysel. Whar got ye't, man ? Are ye 
 the Devil? Hae ye brocht it frae my ain cellars ? Speak, 
 Satan ! " 
 
 " Vy, mon cher Innerkepple," replied the merchant, "did 
 I not know that you were one grand biberon I mean 
 drinker of vin? It is known all over the marches I 
 mean the Bordures. Aha ! no one Frenchman could 
 cheat the famous Innerkepple ; so I brought the best that 
 was in all my celliers. Is it not grand and magnifique ? " 
 
 " Grand an' magnifique, man ! " replied Innerkepple, as 
 he sipped the wine with the gravity of a judge. " It's 
 mair than a' that, man, if my tongue could coin a word to 
 express its ain sense o' what it is at this moment enjoying. 
 But the organ's stupified wi' sheer delight, and forgets its 
 very mither's tongue ; an' nae wonder, for my very een, 
 that didna taste it, reel and get drunk wi' the sight." And 
 the delighted baron took another pull of the goblet. 
 
 " Aha! Innerkepple, yoii are von of the grandest biberons 
 I have ever seen in all this contree," said the merchant. 
 " It is one great pleasir to trafique vit von so learned in 
 the science of bon gout. That grand smack of your lips 
 would tempt me to ruin myself, and drink mine own 
 commpdity." 
 
 " Hae ye a stock o' the treasure ? w said the baron ; " I 
 canna suppose it,"
 
 KATE KENNEDY. G7 
 
 11 Just five barrils in my celliers at Berwick," answered 
 the merchant, " containing quatre hundred pints de Paris 
 in each one of them." 
 
 " I could walk on my bare feet to Berwick to see it and 
 taste it," said the baron ; " but what clatter o' a horse's feet 
 is that in the court, Kate ? " 
 
 " Ha ! sure it is my mules," said the Frenchman, start- 
 ing to his feet in alarm. 
 
 " Oh ! keep your seat, Monsieur Merchant," cried Kate, 
 laughing and looking out of the windoAV. " Can a lady 
 not despatch her servitor to Selkirk for a pair of sandals, 
 that should this day have been on my feet in place of in 
 Gilbert Skinner's hands, without raising folks from their 
 wine ? " 
 
 The Frenchman was satisfied, and retook his seat ; but 
 the baron looked at Kate, as if at a loss to know what 
 freak had now come into her inventive head. The letting 
 down of the drawbridge, and the sound of the horse's feet 
 passing along the sounding wood, verified her statement, 
 but carried 110 conviction to the mind of Innerkepple. He 
 had long ceased, however, the vain effort to understand 
 the workings of his daughter's mind, and on the present 
 occasion he was occupied about too important a subject to 
 be interested in the vagaries of a madcap Avench. 
 
 " By the Virgin ! " she said again, " my jennet Avill lose 
 her own sandals in going for mine, if Gregory thus strikes 
 the rowels into her sides." 
 
 Covering, by these words, the rapid departure of the 
 messenger, she turned her eyes to continue the study of 1 
 the merchant, whom she watched with feline assiduity. 
 The conversation was again resumed. 
 
 " Five barrels, said ye, Monsieur ? " resumed Innerkep- 
 ple. " Let me see that, wi' what I hae mysel, may see 
 me out ; but it will be a guid heir-loom to Kate's husband. 
 What is the price ? "
 
 6d TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 " One raerk the gallon of four pints de Paris," answered 
 the merchant. 
 
 (" Yet I see no marks of Otterstone about him," mut- 
 tered Kate to herself. " How beautiful he is, maugre his 
 disguise ! Had he come on a message of love, in place of 
 war, I would have taken him prisoner, and bound him 
 with the rays of light that come from my languishing 
 eyes.") 
 
 " That's dear, man," said Innerkepple. " But ye're a 
 cunning rogue ; if I keep drinking at this rate, the price 
 will sink as the flavour rises, and ye'll catch me, as men 
 do gudgeons, by the tongue." 
 
 " Aha 1 mon clier Innerkepple," said the merchant, " you 
 have von excellent humour of fun about ye. If I vere not 
 un pauvre merchand, I would have one grand plaisir in get- 
 ting mouille- I mean drunk vit you." 
 
 (" Ha ! my treacherous Adonis, art on that tack, with 
 a foul wind in thy fair face ? " was Kate's mental ejacula- 
 tion. " If thou nearest thy haven, I am a worse pilot 
 than Palinurus.") 
 
 " Wi' wine like that before ane," responded the baron, 
 " the topers alongside o' ye may be Frenchmen or Dutch- 
 men, warriors or warlocks, wraiths or wassailers, merchants 
 or mahouns a's alike. It will put a soul into a ghaist, a 
 yearning heart into a gowl, and a spirit o' nobility in the 
 breast o' ane wha never quartered arms but wi' the fair 
 anes o' flesh an' bluid that belang to his wife. I'll be 
 oblivious o' a' warldly things before Kate's sandals come 
 frae Selkirk ; but yer price, man, I fear, will stick to mo 
 to the end." 
 
 "I cannot make one deduction," said the merchant, 
 " but I vill give to the men in the base-court one jolly 
 debauch of very good vin, vich is in my hampers." 
 
 (" The kaim of chanticleer is in the wind's eye," mut- 
 tered Katherine. " Thou pointest nobly for the direction
 
 KATE KENNEDY. 69 
 
 of treachery ; but my sandals will be back from Selkirk 
 long before I am obliged to march with thee to the prison 
 of Otterstone.") 
 
 "Weel, mak it a merk," said Innerkepple, "for five 
 pints, an' a bouse to my retainers, wha are as muckle be- 
 loved by me as if they were my bairns ; an' I will close 
 wi' ye." 
 
 " Veil, that is one covenant inter nous," said the mer- 
 chant ; " but I cannot return to Berwick until demain I 
 mean the morrow; and we vill have the long night for 
 one jolly carousal. I vill go sans delai, and give the poor 
 fellows, in the meantime, one leetle tasting of the grand 
 cheer." 
 
 (" Then I am too long here," muttered Kate. " Alex- 
 ander told his men that the Persian stream was poisonous, 
 to prevent them from stopping to drink, whereby they 
 would have fallen into the hands of the enemy. One not 
 less than he ha! ha! will save her men, by telling them 
 there is treachery in the cup.") 
 
 She descended instantly to the base-court, and, passing 
 from one guard to another, she whispered in their ears 
 certain instructions, which, by the nodding of their heads, 
 they seemed to understand, while those she had not time 
 to visit received from their neighbours the communication 
 at second-hand, and thus, in a short space of time, she pre- 
 pared the whole retainers for the part they were destined 
 to play. She had scarcely finished this part of her opera- 
 tions, and got out of the court, when the Avine merchant 
 made his appearance on the steps leading to the hall. He 
 nodded pleasantly to the men, and, proceeding to his 
 mules, took out of one of the panniers a large vessel filled 
 with wine. This he laid on the flagstones of the base- 
 court, and alongside of it he placed a large cup. He then 
 called out to the retainers to approach, and seemed pleased 
 with the rradiness with which they complied with his request.
 
 70 TALES OF THE KCK0ERS. 
 
 " Mine very good fellows," said he, " I have sold your 
 master, Innerkepple, one grand quantity of vine ; and he 
 says I am under one obligation to treat you vit a hamper, 
 for the sake of the grand affection he bears to you. You 
 may drink as much as ever you vill please ; and ven this 
 is brought to one termination, I will supply you vit 
 more." 
 
 " We're a' under a suitable obligation to ye, sir," replied 
 the oldest of the retainers, a sly, pawky Scotchman " and 
 winna fail to do credit to the present ye've sae nobly pre- 
 sented to us *, but do ye no hear Innerkepple callin' for ye 
 frae the ha' ? Awa, sir, to the guid baron, and leave us to 
 our carouse." 
 
 " Ay," said another ; " we'll inform ye when this is 
 finished." 
 
 " Finished 1 " said a third ; " we'll be a' on oor backs 
 before we see the end o't." 
 
 "Aha! excellent jolly troupl" cried the merchant, 
 delighted with this company. 
 
 The voice of Katherine, who appeared on the steps 
 leading to the hall, now arrested their attention. 
 " My father is impatient for thee, good merchant," said 
 she. 
 
 " Ma chere leddy," replied he, " I will be there a pre- 
 sent" And, looking up to see that she had again disap- 
 peared " Drink, my jolly mates," he continued. " It is 
 the grand matiere, the Ion stuff, the excellent good liqueur. 
 Aha ! you will be so merry, and you know you have the 
 consent of Innerkepple." 
 
 "We'll be a' as drunk as bats," said he who spoke first, 
 v> ith a sly leer. 
 
 " The Deil tak him wha has the beddin' o' us I " said 
 another. 
 
 "So say I," added half-a-dozen of voices. 
 
 "Then I am the Deil's property," said the warder, "un-
 
 KLA.TK KBWNEDT. 71 
 
 less I am fared by the power o' the wine ; and, bj my 
 faith, I'll no spare't." 
 
 " Aha ! very good ! excellent joke ! " cried the delighted 
 merchant. " Drink, and shame the Diable, as we say in 
 France. Wine comes from the gods, and is the grand 
 poison of Beelzebub." 
 
 And, after enjoying deep potations, the merchant re- 
 turned to the hall, amidst the laughter and pretended 
 applause of the men. The moment he had disappeared, 
 Katherine got carried to the spot a measure filled with 
 wine and water ; and, having emptied in another vessel 
 the contents of the merchant's hamper, the thin and inno- 
 cuous potation was poured in to supply its place. The 
 men assisted in the operation; ana, all being finished, 
 they began to carouse with great glee and jollity. 
 
 " I said, my leddy, to the merchant, that we would be 
 a' as drunk as bats," said one of the humorists ; " and sure 
 this is a fair beginning ; for wha could stand drink o 1 this 
 fearfu' strength ? " 
 
 " The Deil tak him wha has the beddin' o' us ! " said 
 the other, laughing, as he drank off a glass of the thin 
 mixture. 
 
 " Then I am the Deil's property," said the warder, " un- 
 less I am saved by the power o' this strong drink." 
 
 And thus the men, encouraged by the smiles of Kate, 
 who was, with great activity, conducting the ceremonies, 
 seemed to be getting boisterous on the strength of J;he 
 merchant's wine. Their jokes raised real laughter; and 
 the noise of their mirth went up and entered into the 
 hall, falling like incense on the heart of the merchant. 
 Katherine, meanwhile, again betook herself to her station 
 at the hall window, using assiduously both her eyes and 
 ears ; the former being directed to a dark fir plantation 
 that stood to the left of the castle, and the latter occupied 
 by the conversations of her father and the merchant.
 
 72 TALES OF THE BORDKIIS. 
 
 " My men," said Innerkepple," seem to be following the 
 example o' their master. They are gettin' noisy. I hope, 
 Monsieur, ye were moderate in yer present. A castle- 
 fu' o' drunk men is as bad as a headfu' o' intoxicated 
 notions." 
 
 (" Hurrah for the French merchant ! Long life to him! 
 May he continue as strong as his liquor ! ") 
 
 "Aha! the jolly good fellows are feeling the sting of the * 
 spirit," said the merchant, with sparkling eyes. 
 
 " Ungratefu' dogs ! " rejoined Innerkepple ; " I treat 
 them as if they were my sons, and hear hoo they praise a 
 stranger for a bellyfu' o' wine ! My beer never produced 
 sae muckle froth o' flattery. But this wine o' yours, Mon- 
 sieur, drowns a' my indignation." 
 
 (" Long life to Innerkepple and the fair Katherine ! ") 
 
 "Now you are getting the grand adulation," said the 
 Frenchman. " Ha ! they are a jovial troup of good chaps, 
 and deserve one grand potation ; but I gave them only one 
 leetle hamper, for fear they should get mouille." 
 
 " Very considerate, Monsieur, very prudent and land," 
 said the baron ; " for twa-thirds o' my men are fechtin for 
 Jamie, and we hae a kittle neebor in Otterstone, whase 
 son I hear has come hame frae St. Omers. By-tthe-by, saw 
 ye the callant in France ? They say he's sair ashamed o' 
 the defeat o' his father by the generalship o' my dochter 
 Kate." 
 
 " Ha ! did ma chere leddy combattre Otterstone ? " 
 ejaculated the Frenchman, laughing. " Very good ! ha ! 
 ha ! ha ! I did not know that, ven I sold him one quan- 
 tity of vin yesterday ; but I assure you, mon cher Inner- 
 kepple, he is not at all your enemy, and his son did praise 
 ma chere leddy as the most magnificent vench in all the 
 contree." 
 
 ("Excellently, sustained," muttered Katherine to herself. 
 " How I do love the roll of that dark eye, and the curl of
 
 KATE KENNEDY. 73 
 
 that lip covered with the black moustache ! Can so much 
 beauty conceal a deadly purpose ? But the ' magnificent 
 vench ' shall earn yet a better title to the soubriquet out 
 of thy discomfiture, fair, deceitful, sweet devil.") 
 
 "I only wish I had Otterstone whar you are, man," 
 said Innerkepple, " wi' the liquor as sweet an' my bile nae 
 bitterer. I would conquer him in better style than did 
 my dochter, though, I confess, she manoeuvred him beauti- 
 fully." 
 
 (" Perdition to the faes o 1 Innerkepple ! and, chief o' 
 them, the fause Otterstone, the leddy-licked loon ! ") 
 
 " Helas ! The master and the men have the very differ- 
 ent creeds," said the Frenchman, shrugging his shoulders ; 
 " but my via is making the bon companions choleric. Ha! 
 ha!" 
 
 (" It is it is ! " muttered Katherine, as she strained her 
 eyes to catch the signal of a white handkerchief, that 
 floated on the top of one of the trees in the fir-wood.) 
 
 She now abruptly left the hall, and proceeded to the 
 place in the court occupied by those who were wassailing 
 on the coloured water she had brewed for them with her 
 fair hands. They were busily occupied by the manifesta- 
 tions of their mirth, which Avas not altogether simulated. 
 A cessation of the noise evinced the effect of her presence 
 among those who deified her. 
 
 " Up with the merry strain, my jolly revellers ! " said 
 she, smiling, and immediately " Bertram the Archer," in 
 loud notes, rung in the ballium : 
 
 " And Bertram held aloft the horn, 
 Filled wi' the bluid-red wyne-, 
 And three times has he loudly sworn 
 His luve he winna tyne. 
 
 ' My Anne sits on yon eastern tower, 
 
 An' greets baith day and night, 
 An' sorrows for her luver lost, 
 An' right turned into might.
 
 74: TALES OF THB BORDERS. 
 
 44 ' Then hie ye all, my merry mu, 
 
 To yonder lordly ha' ! 
 An if they winna ope the gate, 
 We'll scale the burly wa'.' 
 
 44 ' Hurra ! ' then shouted Bertram's en, 
 
 And loudly they hae sworn, 
 That they will right their gallant knigh 
 Before the opening morn."* 
 
 Under the cover of the noise of the song, which was 
 sung with bacchanalian glee, Katherine communicated 
 her farther instructions to the man who had assumed the 
 principal direction ; and, retreating quickly, lest the wine 
 merchant should come out and surprise her, she left the 
 revellers to continue their work. She was soon again at 
 her post at the window. The boon companions within 
 the hall were still busy \vith their conversation and their 
 wine ; and by this time the shades of evening had begun 
 to darken the view from the castle, and envelop the 
 towers in gloom ; the rooks had retired to rest, the owls 
 had taken up the screech note which pains the sensitive 
 ear of night, and the bats were beginning to flap their 
 leathern wings on the rough sides of the old walls. 
 
 The sounds of the revellers in the court-yard began 
 gradually to die away, and the strains of " Bertram tl^ 
 Archer" were limited to a weak repetition of the last lines, 
 somewhat curtailed of their legitimate syllables : 
 
 " And wo will right our gallant knight 
 Before the opening morn." 
 
 These indications of the effect of the wine increased, till, 
 by-and-by, all seemed to be muffled up in silence. The 
 circumstance seemed to be noticed at once by the wine 
 merchant ; but he took no notice of it to Innerkepple, 
 whom he still continued to ply with the rich vintage '90. 
 
 * Pinkertpn gives only one verse of " Bertram the Archer," but Innerkepple's 
 men did not require to be antiquaries.
 
 KATE KENNEDY. 75 
 
 Kate's senses were all on the alert, and she watched every 
 scene of the acting drama, set agoing by her own master 
 mind. A noise was now heard at the door of the hall, as 
 if some one wished to get in, but could not effect an 
 opening. 
 
 " Who's there ? " cried Kate, as she proceeded to open 
 the door. 
 
 " It's me, your Leddy ship's Honour," answered George, 
 the seneschal, as he staggered, apparently in the last stage 
 of drunkenness, into the hall. 
 
 "What means thie?" cried Innerkepple, rising up, and 
 not very well able to stand himself. " The warder o' my 
 castle in that condition, an' a' our lives dependin' on his 
 prudence ! " 
 
 " Your Honour's maist forgiving pardon," said the 
 warder. " I am come here, maist lordly Innerkepple" 
 hiccup " to inform your Highness that a' the men o' the 
 castle are lying in the base-court like swine. I am the 
 only sober man in the hale menyie" hie hie. "But 
 whar's the ferly ? The strength o' the Frenchman's wine 
 would have floored the strongest hensure o' the Borders " 
 hiccup " an' I would hae been like the rest, if I hadna 
 been the keeper o' the keys o' Innerkepple." 
 
 (" As well as Eoscius, George," muttered Kate, as she, 
 with a smile, contemplated the actor.) 
 
 " George, George, man," said the baron, " ye're just as 
 bad as the rest. You've been ower guid to them, Mon- 
 sieur ; but this mooliness, as ye ca' it, has a' its dangers in 
 thae times, when castles are surprised an' taen like sleepin' 
 mawkins in bushes o' broom. Awa to yer bed ahint the 
 gratin', man, an' sleep aff the wine, as fast as it is possible 
 for a drunk man to do." 
 
 George bowed, and staggered out of the hall, to betake 
 himself to his couch. 
 
 " Aha 1 this is one sad misadventure," said the merchant.
 
 76 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 " I did not know there vas half so much strength in this 
 vin. Let us see the jolly topers, mon noble Innerkepple. 
 It is one grand vision to a vendeur of good vin to see the 
 biberons lying on the ground, all mouille. Helas ! I was 
 very wrong ; but mon noble baron will forgive the grand 
 fault of liberality." 
 
 The merchant rose, and, giving his arm to Innerkepple, 
 who had some difficulty in steadying himself, proceeded 
 towards the court, where they saw verified the report of 
 the warder. The men were lying about the yard, appar- 
 ently in a state of perfect insensibility. The wine measure 
 was empty and overturned; several drinking horns lay 
 scattered around; and everything betokened a deep de- 
 bauch. 
 
 " This maun hae been potent liquor," said the baron, 
 taking up one of the cups, in which a few drops remained, 
 and drinking it. " Ha ! man, puir gear after a'. A man 
 mieht drink three gallons o't, and dance to the tune o' 
 Gilquhisker after he has finished. What's the meaning o' 
 this ? " 
 
 " Alia ! your tongue is mouille, mon noble Innerkepple, " 
 said the merchant. 
 
 " It may be sae," replied the baron ; " but it wasna 
 made mooly, as ye denominate it, by drink like that. I 
 canna understand it, Monsieur." 
 
 As he stood musing on the strange circumstance, he 
 caught, by the light of a torch, the eye of Kate at the window, 
 and felt his bewilderment increased by a leer in that dark 
 bewitching orb, whose language appeared to him often 
 arid never more so than at present like Greek. His 
 attention was ne'xt claimed by the merchant, who proposed 
 that the men should be allowed to sleep out their inebriety 
 where they lay. This proposition was reasonable ; and it 
 \vould, besides, operate as a proper punishment for their 
 exceeding the limits of that prudence which their duty to
 
 KATE KENNEDY. 77 
 
 their master required them to observe. The baron agreed 
 to it, and, seeking again the support of the Frenchman's 
 arm, he returned to the hall. 
 
 The night was now fast closing in. An old female 
 domestic had placed lamps in the hall, and some supper 
 was served up to the baron and the merchant. Kate re- 
 tired, as she said, to her couch ; but it may be surmised 
 that an antechamber received her fair person, where she 
 had something else to do than to sleep. The loud snoring 
 of the men in the court-yard was heard distinctly, mixing 
 with the screams of the owls that perched on the turrets. 
 The two biberons sat down to partake of the supper, and 
 prepare their stomachs, as Innerkepple said, for anpther 
 bouse of the grand liquor. The conduct of the two 
 carousers now assumed aspects very different from each 
 other. The baron was gradually getting more easy and 
 comfortable, while the merchant displayed an extreme 
 restlessness and anxiety. The praises of his wine fell 
 dead upon his ear, and the jokes of the good Innerkepple 
 seemed to have become vapid and tiresome to him. 
 
 " That's a grand chorus in the court-yard, Monsieur," 
 said the baron. " Singing, snoring, groaning, are the 
 three successive acts o' the wassailers. They would have 
 been better engaged eating their supper. Yah ! I'm 
 gettin' sleepy, Monsieur." 
 
 " Helas ! helas!" ejaculated the merchant. " You prick 
 my memory, mon noble -Innerkepple. My poor mules ! 
 They have got no souper. Ah! cruel master that I am to 
 forget the pauvre animals that have got no language to tell 
 their wants." 
 
 (" So, so the time approaches," ejaculated Kate, men- 
 tally, as she watched behind the door.) 
 
 " Pardon me, mon cher baron," he continued, " I vill 
 go and give them one leetle feed, and return to you a 
 present. I have got beans in my hampers."
 
 78 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 " Humanity needs nae pardon, man," replied the baron, 
 nodding with sleep. " Awa and feed the puir creatures ; 
 but tak care an' no tramp on an' kill ony o' my brave men 
 in yer effort to save the lives o' yer mules." 
 
 " Never fear," said the other, taking from his pocket a 
 small lantern, which he lighted. " Travellers stand in 
 grand need of this machine," he continued. " I will re- 
 turn on the instant." 
 
 He now left the baron to his sleep, and crept stealthily 
 along the passage to the door leading to the court. He 
 was followed, unseen, by Katherine, who watched every 
 motion. He felt some difficulty -in avoiding the men, who 
 still lay on the ground; but with careful steps he reached 
 the wall, and suddenly sprung on the parapet. 
 
 " Prepare !" whispered Katherine into the ears of the 
 prostrate letainers; "the time approaches." 
 
 Wliile thus engaged, she kept her eye upon the dark 
 shadow of the merchant, and saw with surprise a blue 
 light flash up from the top of the wall, and throw its 
 ominous glare on the surrounding objects. A scream of 
 the birds on the castle walls announced their wonder at 
 the strange vision, and Katherine concluded that the 
 merchant had thus produced his signal from some phos- 
 phorescent mixture, which he had ignited by the aid of 
 the lantern. The light was followed instantly by a shrill 
 blast of a horn. With abound he reached the floor of the 
 court, and, hastening to the warder's post, threw off the. 
 guard of the wheel, and, with all the art and rapidity of a 
 seneschal, prepared for letting down the bridge. All was still 
 as death ; there seemed to be no interraption to his proceed- 
 ings ; but he started as he saw the rays of a lamp thrown 
 from a loophole over his head, upon that part of the moat 
 which the bridge covered. He had gone too far to recede; 
 the creaking of the hinges grated, and down came the 
 bridge with a hollow sound. A rush was now heard as of
 
 KATB KEMNBDT. 79 
 
 a body of men pressing forward to take possession of the 
 passage ; and tramp, tramp came the sounds of the march- 
 ing invaders over the hollow-sounding wood. All was still 
 silent within the castle, and the sound of the procession con- 
 tinued. In an instant, a dense, dark body issued from the 
 fir-wood, and rushed with heavy impetuous force on the 
 i rear of the corps that were passing into the castle; and, 
 simultaneously with that movement, the whole body of the 
 men within the castle pressed forward to the end of the 
 bridge, and met the front of the intruders, who were thus 
 hedged in by two forces that had taken them by surprise, 
 in both front and rear. 
 
 " Caught in our own snare ! " cried the voice of old 
 Otterstone. 
 
 " Disarm them," sounded shrilly from the lips of Kathe- 
 rine Kennedy. 
 
 And a scuffle of wrestling men sent its fearful, death- 
 like sound through the dark ballium. The strife was short 
 and comparatively silent. The men who had rushed from 
 the wood, and who were no other than the absent retain- 
 ers of Innerkepple, coming from behind, and those within 
 the strength meeting them in front, produced such an 
 alarm in the enclosed troops, that the arms were taken 
 from their hands as if they had been struck with palsy. 
 Every two men seized their prisoner, while some hold- 
 ing burning torches came running forward, to show the 
 revengeful baron the full extent of his shame. Ranged 
 along the court, the spectacle presented by the prisoners 
 was striking and grotesque. Their eyes sought in surprise 
 the form of a female, who, with a sword in one hand and 
 a torch in the other, stood in front of them, as the genius 
 of their misfortune. 
 
 The hall door was now opened, where the old baron 
 still sat sound asleep in his chair, unconscious of all these 
 proceedings. The prisoners were led into the spacious
 
 80 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 apartment, and ranged along the sides in long ranks. 
 Innerkcpple rubbed his eyes, stared, rubbed them again, 
 and seemed lost in perfect bewilderment. All was con- 
 ducted in dumb show. The proud and revengeful Otter- 
 stone was placed alongside of the good baron, his enemy ; 
 and Kate smiled as she contemplated the strange looks 
 which the two rivals threw upon each other. 
 
 " Eight happy am I," said Katherine, coming forward in 
 the midst of the assembly, " to meet my good friends, the 
 noble Otterstone and his men, in my father's hall, under 
 the auspices of a healing friendship. Father, I offer thee 
 the hand of Otterstone. Otterstone, I offer thee the hand 
 of Innerkepple. Ye have long been separated by strife 
 and war, though, on the one side, there was always a good 
 feeling of generous kindliness, opposed to a bitterness that 
 had no cause, and a revenge that knew no excuse. Born 
 nobles and neighbours, educated civilized men, and bap- 
 tized Christians, why should ye be foes ? but, above all, 
 why should the one strike with the sword of war the hand 
 that has held out to him the wine-cup ? My father has 
 ever been thy friend, noble Otterstone, and thou hast ever 
 been his foe. How is this ? Ah ! I know it. Thou wert 
 ignorant, noble guest, of my good father's generous and 
 friendly feelings, and I have taken this opportunity of 
 introducing you to each other, that ye may mutually come 
 to the knowledge of each other's better qualities and in- 
 tentions." 
 
 " What, in the name o' heaven, means a' this, Kate ? " 
 ejaculated Innerkepple, in still unsubdued amazement. 
 " Am I dreamin', or am I betrayed ? Whar is the wine 
 merchant? Hoo cam ye here, Otterstone? Am I a 
 prisoner in my ain castle, and my ain men and dochter 
 laughing at my misfortune ? But ye spoke o' friendship, 
 Kate. Is it possible, Otterstone, ye hae repented o' yer 
 ill-will, and come to mak amends for past grievances?"
 
 KATE KENNEDY. 81 
 
 " Thou hast heard him, Otterstone," said Kate. " Wilt 
 thou still refuse the hand?" 
 
 The chief hesitated; but the good-humoured looks of 
 Inuerkepple melted him, and he held out the right hand 
 of good-fellowship to the old baron, who seized it cordially, 
 and shook it heartily. 
 
 " Now," said Kate, " we must seal this friendship with a 
 cup of wine. Bring in the wine merchant." 
 
 The Frenchman was produced by the warder, along 
 with the remaining hampers of the wine that had been left 
 in the court-yard. As may have been already surmised, 
 he was no other than the son of old Otterstone. Surprised 
 and confounded by all these proceedings, he stood in the 
 midst of the company, looking first at his father, and then 
 at Innerkepple, without forgetting Kate, who stood like a 
 majestic queen, enjoying the triumph of her spirit and 
 ingenuity. Above all things, he wondered at the smile of 
 good humour in the face of his father ; and his surprise 
 knew no bounds Avhen he saw every one around as well 
 pleased as if they had been convened for the ends of 
 friendship. 
 
 " Hector," said old Otterstone, looking at his son, " the 
 game is up. This maiden has outwitted us, and we are 
 caught in our own snare. OIF with thy disguise, and 
 show this noble damsel that thou art worthy of her best 
 smiles." 
 
 Hector obeyed, and took off his wig, and the clumsy 
 habiliments that covered his armour, and stood in the 
 midst of the assembly, a young man of exquisite beauty. 
 
 " The wine merchant, Hector Fotheringham ! " cried 
 Innerkepple. " Ah, Kate, Kate ! is this the way ye bring 
 yer lovers to Innerkepple ha'? in the shape o' a wine 
 merchant the only form o' the Deevil I wad like to see on 
 this earth V Ha ! ye baggage, weel do ye ken hoo to get 
 at the heart o' your fuither. But whar was the use. o'
 
 82 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 secresy, woman? And you, Hector, man, I needed nae 
 bribe o' Tokay to be friendly to the lover o' my dochter. 
 A fine youth a fine youth. Surely, surely, this man was 
 made for my dochter Kate." 
 
 " And thy daughter Kate was made for him," cried 
 Otterstone. 
 
 The retainers of both houses shouted applause, and the 
 hall rang Avith the noise. The wine, which was intended 
 for deception and treachery, was circulated freely, and 
 opened the hearts of the company. Innerkepple was 
 ready again for his Tokay, and, lifting a large goblet to his 
 head 
 
 " To the union o' the twa hooses ! " cried he. " And I 
 wish -I had twenty dochters, and Otterstone as mony sons, 
 that they micht a' be married thegither ; but, on this con- 
 ilj'ion, that the bridegrooms should a' come in the shape o' 
 wine merchants." 
 
 " Hurra, hurra !" shouted the retainers. The night was 
 spent in good humour and revelry. All was restored; and, 
 in a short time, the two houses were united by the marriage 
 of Hector Fotheringham and Katherine Kennedy.
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF FERGUSON. 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF FERGUSON* 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 * Of Ferguson, the bauld and slee." BUKNS. 
 
 I HAVE, I believe, as little of the egotist in my composition 
 as most men; nor would I deem the story of my life, though 
 by no means unvaried by incident, of interest enough to 
 repay the trouble of either writing or perusing it, were it 
 the story of my own life only, but, though an obscure man 
 myself, I have been singularly fortunate in my friends. The 
 party-coloured tissue of my recollections is strangely inter- 
 woven, if I may so speak, with pieces of the domestic his- 
 tory of men whose names have become as familiar to our 
 ears as that of our country itself; and I have been induced 
 to struggle with the delicacy which renders one unwilling 
 to speak much of one's self, and to overcome the dread of 
 exertion natural to a period of life greatly advanced, 
 through a desire of preserving to my countrymen a few 
 notices, which would otherwise be lost to them, of two of 
 their greatest favourites. I could once reckon among my 
 dearest and most familiar friends, Robert Burns and Robert 
 Ferguson. 
 
 It is now rather more than sixty years since I studied 
 
 * The perusal of this paper, written at an early period by the lamented 
 Hugh Miller, cannot fail to suggest some reflections on the fate of the author 
 himself and that of the poet he describes. It would be simply fanciful to draw 
 from his choice of subject, and the sympathy he manifests for the victim of 
 insanity, any conclusion of a felt affinity of mental type on his part. We would 
 presently get into the obscure subject of presentiments. It is true that Hugh 
 Miller wrote poetry, and was thus subject to the Nemesis; but we insist for no 
 more than a case of coincidence, leaving to psychologists to settle the question of 
 the alleged connection between certain poetical types of mind and eventual 
 madness cases of which are so plentifully recorded in Germany. E<i.
 
 84 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 for a few weeks at the University of St. Andrew's. I was 
 the son of very poor parents, who resided in a seaport 
 town on the western coast of Scotland. My father was a 
 house-carpenter, a quiet, serious man, of industrious habits 
 and great simplicity of character, but miserably depressed 
 in his circumstances, through a sickly habit of body : my 
 mother was a warm-hearted, excellent woman, endowed 
 with no ordinary share of shrewd good sense and sound 
 feeling, and indefatigable in her exertions for my father 
 and the family. I was taught to read at a very early age, 
 by an old woman in the neighbourhood such a person as 
 Shenstone describes in his "Schoolmistress;" and, being 
 naturally of a reflective turn, I had begun, long ere I had 
 attained my tenth year, to derive almost my sole amuse- 
 ment from books. I read incessantly; and after exhausting 
 the shelves of all the neighbours, and reading every variety 
 of work that fell in my way from " The Pilgrim's Progress" 
 of Bunyan, and the Gospel Sonnets of Erskine, to a treatise 
 on fortification by Vauban, and the "History of the Heavens" 
 by the Abb Pluche I would have pined away for lack 
 of my accustomed exercise, had not a benevolent baronet 
 in the neighbourhood, for whom my father occasionally 
 wrought, taken a faiicy to me, and thrown open to my 
 perusal a large and well-selected library. Nor did his 
 i kindness terminate until, after having secured to me all of 
 learning that the parish school aiforded, he had settled me, 
 now in my seventeenth year, at the University. 
 
 Youth is the season of warm friendships and romantic 
 wishes and hopes. We say of the child, in its first attempts 
 to totter along the wall, or when it has first learned to rise 
 beside its mother's knee, that it is yet too weak to stand 
 alone; and we may employ the same language in describ- 
 ing a young and ardent mind. It is, like the child, too 
 weak to stand alone, and anxioiisly seeks out some kindred 
 mind on which to lean. I had had my intimates at school,
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF FERGUSON. 85 
 
 who, though of no very superior cast, had served me, if I 
 may so speak, as resting-places, when wearied with my 
 studies, or when I had exhausted my lighter reading; and 
 now, at St. Andrew's, where I knew no one, I began to 
 experience the unhappiness of an unsatisfied sociality. My 
 schoolfellows were mostly stiff, illiterate lads, who, with a 
 little bad Latin and worse Greek, plumed themselves- 
 mightily on their scholarship; and I had little induce- 
 ment to form any intimacies among them ; for, of all men, 
 the ignorant scholar is the least amusing. Among the 
 students of the upper classes, however, there was at least 
 one individual with whom I longed to be acquainted. He 
 was apparently much about my own age, rather below than 
 above the middle size, and rather delicately than robustly 
 formed; but I have rarely seen a more elegant figure or 
 more interesting face. His features were small, and there 
 was what might perhaps be deemed a too feminine delicacy 
 in the whole contour; but there was a broad and very high 
 expansion of forehead, which, even in those days, when we 
 were acquainted with only the phrenology taught by Plato, 
 might be regarded as the index of a capacious and power- 
 ful mind; and the brilliant light of his large black eyes, 
 seemed to give earnest of its activity. 
 
 " Who, in the name of wonder, is that ? " I inquired of 
 a class-fellow, as this interesting-looking young man passed 
 me for the first time. 
 
 " A clever, but very unsettled fellow from Edinburgh," 
 replied the lad; " a capital linguist, for he gained our first 
 bursary three years ago; but our Professor says he is cer- 
 tain he will never do any good. He cares nothing for the 
 company of scholars like himself; and employs himself 
 though he excels, I believe, in English composition in 
 writing vulgar Scotch rhymes, like Allan Ramsay. His 
 name is Robert Ferguson." 
 
 I felt, from this moment, a strong desire to rank among
 
 86 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 the friends of one who cared nothing for the company of 
 such men as my class-fellow, and who, though acquaint^] 
 with the literature of England and Rome, could dwell with 
 interest on the simple poetry of his native country. 
 
 There is no place in the neighbourhood of St. Andrew's 
 where a leisure hour may be spent more agreeably than 
 among the ruins of the Cathedral. I was not slow in dis- 
 covering the eligibilities of the spot; and it soon became one 
 of my favourite haunts. One evening, a few weeks after I 
 had entered on my .course at college, I had seated myself 
 among the ruins in a little ivied nook fronting the setting 
 sun, and was deeply engaged with the melancholy Jaques 
 in the forest of Ardennes, when, on hearing a light footstep, 
 I looked up, and saw the Edinburgh student whose appear- 
 ance had so interested me, not four yards away. He was 
 busied with his pencil and his tablets, and muttering, as he 
 went, in a half audible voice, what, from the inflection of 
 the tones, seemed to be verse. On seeing me, he started, 
 and apologizing, in a few hurried but courteous words, 
 for what he termed the involuntary intrusion, would have 
 passed; but, on my rising and stepping up to him, he 
 stood. 
 
 " I am afraid, Mr. Ferguson," I said, " 'tis I who owe 
 you an apology; the ruins have long been yours, and I am 
 but an intruder. But you must pardon me ; I have often 
 heard of them in the west, where they are hallowed, even 
 more than they are here, from their connection with the 
 history of some of our noblest Reformers ; and, besides, I 
 see no place in the neighbourhood where Shakspeare can 
 be read to more advantage." 
 
 "All," said he, taking the volume out of my hand, "a 
 reader of Shakspeare and an admirer of Knox. I question 
 whether the heresiarch and the poet had much in common." 
 
 " Nay, now, Mr. Ferguson," I replied, " you are too true 
 a Scot to question that. They had much, very much in 
 
 II
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF FERGUSON. 87 
 
 common. Knox was no rude Jack Cade, but a great and 
 powerful-minded man ; decidedly as much so as any of the 
 nobler conceptions of the dramatist his Csesars, Brutuses, 
 or Othellos. Buchanan could have told you that he had 
 even much of the spirit of the poet in him, and wanted 
 only the art ; and just remember how Milton speaks of him 
 in his " Areopagitica." Had the poet of " Paradise Lost" 
 thought regarding him as it has become fashionable to 
 think and speak now, he would hardly have apostrophized 
 him as Knox, the reformer of a nation a great man ani- 
 mated by the spirit of God." 
 
 " Pardon me," said the young man, "I am little acquainted 
 with the prose writings of Milton ; and have, indeed, picked 
 up most of my opinions of Knox at second-hand. But I have 
 read his merry account of the murder of Beaton, and found 
 nothing to alter my preconceived notions of him, from either 
 the matter or manner of the narrative. Now that I think 
 of it, however, my opinion of Bacon would be no very ade- 
 quate one, were it formed solely from the extract of hi* 
 history of Henry VII., given by Kaimes in his late publica- 
 tion. Wiii you not extend your walk ? " 
 
 "We quitted the ruins together, and went sauntering along 
 the shore. There was a rich sunset glow on the water, and 
 the hills that rise on the opposite side of the Frith stretched 
 their undulating line of azure under a gorgeous canopy of 
 crimson and gold. My companion pointed to the scene: 
 " These glorious clouds," he said, " are but wreaths of 
 vapour ; and these lovely hills, accumulations of earth and 
 stone. And it is thus with all the past with the past of 
 our own little histories, that borrows so much of its golden 
 beauty from the medium through which we survey it with 
 the past, too, of all history. There is poetry in the remote 
 the bleak hill seems a darker firmament, and the chill 
 wreath of vapour a river of fire. And you, sir, seem to 
 have contemplated the history of our stern Reformers
 
 88 TALKS OF TIIK 
 
 through this poetical medium, till you forget that tho 
 poetry was not in them, but in that through which you 
 surveyed them." 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Ferguson," I replied, "you must permit me to 
 make a distinction. I acquiesce fully in the justice of your 
 remark ; the analogy, too, is nice and striking, but I would 
 fain carry it a little further. Every eye can see the beauty 
 of the remote ; but there is a beauty in the near an interest, 
 at least which every eye cannot see. Each of the thousand 
 little plants that spring up* at our feet, has an interest and 
 beauty to the botanist ; the mineralogist would find some- 
 thing to engage him in every little stone. And it is thus 
 with the poetry of life all have a sense of it in the remote 
 and the distant; but it is only the men who stand high in 
 the art its men of profound science that can discover it 
 in the near. The mediocre poet shares but the commoner 
 gift, and so ho seeks his themes in ages or countries far 
 removed from his own; while the man of nobler powers, 
 knowing that all nature is instinct with poetry, seeks and 
 finds it in the men and scenes in his immediate neighbour- 
 hood^ As to our Reformers" 
 
 " Pardon me," said the young poet ; " the remark strikes 
 me, and, ere we lose it in something else, I must furnish 
 you with an illustration. There is an acquaintance of mine, 
 a lad much about my own age, greatly addicted to the study 
 of poetry. He has been making verses all his life-long; 
 he began ere he had learned to write them even ; and his 
 judgment lias been gradually overgrowing his earlier com- 
 positions, as you see the advancing tide rising on the beach 
 and obliterating the prints on the sand. Now, I have 
 observed, that, in all his earlier compositions, he went far 
 from home ; he could not attempt a pastoral without first 
 transporting himself to the vales of Arcady; or an ode to 
 Pity or Hope, without losing the warm living sentiment in 
 the dead, cold, personifications of the Greek. The Hope
 
 KECOLLECTIONS OB' FERGUSON. 89 
 
 jmd Pity he addressed were, not the undying attendants of 
 human nature, but the shadowy spectres of a remote age. 
 Now, however, I feel that a change has come over me. I 
 seek for poetry among the fields and cottages of my own 
 
 land. I a a the friend of whom I speak But I 
 
 interrupted your remark on the Reformers." 
 
 " Nay," I replied, " if you go on so, I would much rather 
 listen than speak. I only meant to say that the Knoxes 
 and Melvilles of our country have been robbed of the 
 admiration and sympathy of mSiy a kindred spirit, by the 
 strangely erroneous notions that have been abroad regard- 
 ing them for at least the last two ages. Knox, I am con- 
 vinced, would have been as great as Jeremy Taylor, had he 
 not been greater." 
 
 We sauntered along the shore till the evening had dark- 
 ened into night, lost in an agreeable interchange of thought. 
 "Ah !" at length exclaimed my companion, "I had almost 
 forgotten my engagement, Mr. Lindsay; but it must not 
 part us. You are a stranger here, and I must introduce 
 you to some of my acquaintance. There are a few of us 
 choice spirits, of course who meet every Saturday evening 
 at John Hogg's ; and I must just bring you to see them. 
 There may be much less wit than mirth among us; but you 
 will find us all sober when at the gayest; and old John will 
 be quite a study for you."
 
 90 TALES OF THE BOKDERS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 M Say, ye red gowns that aften here 
 Hae toasted cakes to Katie's beer, 
 Gin e'er thir days hae had their peer, 
 Sae blythe, sac daft ' 
 Yc'll ne'er again in life's career 
 
 Sit half sae aft." 
 
 Elegy on John Hogg. 
 
 We returned to town; and, after threading a few of the 
 narrower lanes, entered by a low door into a long dark 
 room, dimly lighted by a fire. A tall thin woman was 
 employed in skinning a bundle of dried fish at a table in a 
 corner. 
 
 "Where's the guidman, Kate?" said my companion, 
 changing the sweet pure English in which he had hitherto 
 spoken for his mother tongue. 
 
 " John's ben in the spence," replied the woman. " Little 
 Andrew, the wratch, has been makin' a totum wi' his faither's 
 ae razor, an' the puir man's trying to shave himsel yonder, 
 an' girnan like a sheep's head on the tangs." 
 
 "Oh, the wratch! the ill-deedie wratch 1" said John, 
 stalking into the room in a towering passion, his face 
 covered with suds and scratches " I might as weel shave 
 mysel wi' a mussel shillet. Rob Ferguson, man, is that 
 you!" 
 
 ; "Wearie warld, John," said the poet, "for a' oor 
 philosophy." 
 
 "Philosophy! it's but a snare, Eob just vanity an' 
 vexation o' speerit, as Solomon says. An' isna it clear 
 heterodox besides ? Ye study an' study till your brains 
 gang about like a whirligig; an' then, like bairns in a boat 
 that see the land sailin', ye think it's the solid yearth that's 
 turnin' roun'. An' this ye ca' philosophy; as if David
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF FERGUSON. 91 
 
 hadna tauld us that the warld sits coshly on the waters, 
 an' canna be moved." 
 
 " Hoot, John," rejoined my companion, " it's no me, but 
 Jamie Brown, that differs wi' you on these matters. I'm a 
 Hoggonian, ye ken. The auld Jews were, doubtless, gran' 
 Christians, an' wherefore no guid philosophers too ? But it 
 was cruel o' you to unkennel me this mornin' afore six, an' 
 I up sae lang at my studies the nicht afore." 
 
 " Ah, Rob, Rob !" said John" studying in Tarn Dun's 
 kirk. Ye'll be a minister, like V the lave." 
 
 "Mendin' fast, John," rejoined the poet. " Iwas in your 
 kirk on Sabbath last, hearing worthy Mr. Corkindale ; 
 whatever else he may hae to fear, he's in nae danger o' 
 ' thinking his am thoughts? honest man." 
 
 "In oor kirk 1" said John ; "ye're dune, then, wi' pre- 
 centin' in yer ain an' troth nae wonder. What could hae 
 possessed ye to gie up the puir chield's name i' the prayer, 
 an' him sittin' at yer lug ?" 
 
 I was unacquainted with the circumstance to which he 
 alluded, and requested an explanation. "Oh, ye see," said 
 John, "Rob, amang a' the ither gifts that he misguide?, 
 has the gift o' a sweet voice ; an' naething else would ser' 
 some o' oor Professors than to hae him for their precentor. 
 They micht as weel hae thocht o' an organ it wad be just 
 as devout ; but the soun's everything now, laddie, ye ken, 
 an' the heart naething. Weel, Rob, as ye may think, was 
 less than pleased wi' the job, an' tauld them he could whistle 
 better than sing ; but it wasna that they wanted, and sae 
 it behoved him to tak his seat in the box. An' lest the 
 folk should no be pleased wi' ae key to ae tune, he gied 
 them, for the first twa or three days, a hale bunch to each ; 
 an' there was never sic singing in St. Andrew's afore. Weel, 
 but for a' that it behoved him still to precent ; though he 
 has got rid o' it at last for what did he do twa Sabbaths 
 agone, but out up drucken Tarn Moffat's name in the prayer
 
 92 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 the very chield that was sittin' at his elbow, though the 
 minister couldna see him. An' when the puir stibbler was 
 prayin' for the reprobate as weel's he could, ae half o' the 
 kirk was needcessitated to come oot, that they micht keep 
 decent, an' the ither half to swallow their pocket napkins. 
 But what think ye" 
 
 " Hoot, John, now, leave oot the moral," said the poet. 
 "Here's a' the lads." 
 
 Half a dozen young students entered as he spoke ; and, 
 after a hearty greeting, and when he had introduced me to 
 them one by one, as a choice fellow of immense reading, 
 the door was barred, and we sat down to half a dozen of 
 home brewed, and a huge platter of dried fish. There was 
 much mirth and no little humour. Ferguson sat at the 
 head of the table, and old John Hogg at the foot. I thought 
 of Eastcheap, and the revels of Prince Henry ; but our 
 Falstaff was an old Scotch Seceder, and our Prince a gifted 
 young fellow, who owed all his influence over his fellows to 
 the force of his genius alone. 
 
 " Prithee, Hal," I said, " let us drink to Sir John." 
 
 " Why, yes," said the poet, " with all my heart. Not 
 quite so fine a fellow, though, 'bating his Scotch honesty. 
 Half Sir John's genius would have served for an epic poet 
 half his courage for a hero." 
 
 " His courage !" exclaimed one of the lads. 
 
 " Yes, WilHe, his courage, man. Do you think a coward 
 could have run away with half the coolness ? With a tithe 
 of the courage necessary for such a retreat, a man would 
 have stood and fought till he died. Sir John must have 
 been a fine fellow in his youth." 
 
 " In mony a droll way may a man fa' on the drap drink,'' 
 remarked John ; " an' meikle ill, dootless, does it do in 
 takin' affthe edge o' the speerit the mair if the edge be a 
 fine razor edge, an' no the edge o' a whittle. I mind about 
 fifty years ago, when I was a slip o' a callant,"
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF FERGUSON. 93 
 
 "Losh, John!" exclaimed one of the lads, "hae ye been 
 fechtin wi' the cats? sic a scrapit face !" 
 
 " Wheesht," said Ferguson ; "we owe the illustration to 
 that, but dinna interrupt the story." 
 
 " Fifty years ago, when I was a slip o' a callant," con- 
 tinued John, "unco curious, an' fondo' kennin everything, 
 as callants will be," 
 
 " Hoot, John," said one of the students, interrupting him, 
 " can ye no cut short, man? Rob promised last Saturday 
 to gie us, ' Fie, let us a' to the bridal,' an' ye see the ale 
 an' the nicht's baith wearin' dune." 
 
 " The song, Eob, the song!" exclaimed half a dozen voices 
 at once ; and John's story was lost in the clamour. 
 
 " Nay, now," said the good-natured poet, " that's less 
 than kind ; the auld man's stories are aye worth the hear- 
 ing, an' he can relish the auld-warld fisher-sang wi' the best 
 o' ye. But we maun hae the story yet." 
 
 He struck up the old Scotch ditty, " Fie let us a' to the 
 bridal," which he sung with great power and brilliancy ; 
 for his voice was a richly modulated one, and there was a 
 fulness of meaning imparted to the words which wonder- 
 fully heightened the effect. " How strange it is," he re- 
 marked to me when he had finished, " that our English 
 neighbours deny us humour ! The songs of no country 
 equal our Scotch ones in that quality. Are you acquainted 
 with ' The Guidwife of Auchtermuchty ? ' " 
 
 " "Well," I replied ; "but so are not the English. It strikes 
 me that, with the exception of Smollet's novels, all our 
 Scotch humour is locked up in our native tongue. No man 
 can employ in works of humour any language of which he 
 is not a thorough master ; and few of our Scotch writers, 
 with all their elegance, have attained the necessary com- 
 mand of that colloquial English which Addison and Swift 
 employed when they were merry." 
 
 " A braw redd delivery," said John, addressing me. "Are 
 ye gaun to be a minister tae ?"
 
 94 TALES OF THE BORDERS 
 
 " Not quite sure yet," I replied. 
 
 "Ah," rejoined the old man, " 'twas better for the Kirk 
 when the minister just made himsel ready for it, an' then 
 waited till he kent whether it wanted him. There's young 
 Rob Ferguson beside you,"- 
 
 " Setting oot for the Kirk," said the young poet, inter- 
 rupting him, " an' yet drinkin' ale on Saturday at e'en wi' 
 old John Hogg." 
 
 " Weel, weel, laddie, it's easier for the best o' us to find 
 fault wi' ithers than to mend oorsels. Ye have the head, 
 onyhow ; but Jamie Brown tells me it's a doctor ye're 
 gaun to be, after a'." 
 
 " Nonsense, John Hogg I wonder how a man o' your 
 standing" 
 
 " Nonsense, I grant you," said one of the students ; " but 
 true enough for a' that, Bob. Ye see, John, Bob an' I were 
 at the King's Muirs last Saturday, an ca'ed at the pendicle, 
 in the passing, for a cup o' whey ; when the guidwife tellt 
 us there was ane o' the callants, who had broken into the 
 milk-house twa nichts afore, lyin' ill o' a surfeit. 'Danger- 
 ous case,' said Bob ; ' but let me see him ; I have studied 
 to small purpose if I know nothing o' medicine, my good 
 woman.' Weel, the woman was just glad enough to bring 
 him to the bedside ; an' no wonder ye never saw a wiser 
 phiz in your lives Dr. Dumpie's was naething till't ; an', 
 after he had sucked the head o' his stick for ten minutes, 
 an' fand the loon's pulse, an' asked mair questions than the 
 guidwife liked to answer, he prescribed. But, losh ! sic a 
 prescription ! A day's fasting an' twa ladles o' nettle kail 
 was the gist o't ; but then there went mair Latin to the tail 
 o' that, than oor neebor the Doctor ever had to lose." 
 
 But I dwell too long on the conversation of this evening. 
 I feel, however, a deep interest in recalling it to memory. 
 The education of Ferguson was of a twofold character he 
 studied in the schools and amon? the people ; but it was
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF FERGUSON. 95 
 
 in the latter tract alone that he acquired the materials of 
 all his better poetry ; and I feel as if, for at least one brief 
 evening, I was admitted to the privileges of a class-fellow, 
 and sat \\ith him on the same form. The company broke 
 up a little after ten ; and I did not again hear of John 
 Hogg till I read his elegy, about four years after, among 
 the poems of my friend. It is by no means one of the 
 happiest pieces in the volume, nor, it strikes me, highly 
 characteristic ; but I have often perused it with an interest 
 very independent of its merits. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " But he is weak both man and boy 
 Has been an idler in the land." WOBOSWOBTH. 
 
 I was attempting to listen, on the evening of the follow- 
 ing Sunday, to a dull, listless discourse one of the dis- 
 courses so common at this period, in which there was fine 
 writing without genius, and fine religion without Chris- 
 tianity when a person who had just taken his place beside 
 me, tapped me on the shoulder, and thrust a letter into my 
 hand. It was my newly-acquired friend of the previous 
 evening ; and we shook hands heartily under the pew. 
 
 "That letter has just been handed me by an acquaintance 
 from your part of the country," he whispered ; " I trust it 
 contains nothing unpleasant." 
 
 I raised it to the light, and on ascertaining that it was 
 sealed and edged with black, rose and quitted the church, 
 followed by my friend. It intimated, in two brief lines, 
 that my patron, the baronet, had been killed by a fall from 
 his horse a few evenings before ; and that, dying intestate, 
 the allowance which had hitherto enabled me to prosecute
 
 96 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 my studies necessarily dropped. I crumpled up the paper 
 in my hand. 
 
 "You have learned something very unpleasant," said 
 Ferguson. " Pardon me I have no wish to intrude ; but, 
 if at all agreeable, I would fain spend the evening with 
 you." 
 
 My heart filled, and grasping his hand, I briefly inti- 
 mated the purport of the communication, and we walked 
 out together in the direction of the ruins. 
 
 "It is, perhaps, as hard, Mr. Ferguson," I said, " to fall 
 from one's hopes as from the place to which they pointed. 
 I was ambitious too ambitious, it may be to rise from 
 that level on which man acts the part of a machine, and 
 tasks merely his body, to that higher level on which he 
 performs the proper part of a rational creature, and em- 
 ploys only his mind. But that ambition need influence me 
 no longer. My poor mother, too I had trusted to be of 
 use to her." 
 
 "Ah, my friend," said Ferguson, "I can tell you of a 
 case quite as hopeless as your own perhaps more so. But 
 it will make you deem my sympathy the result of mere 
 selfishness. In scarce any respect do our circumstances 
 differ. 
 
 We had reached the ruins : the evening was calm and 
 mild as when I had walked out on the preceding one ; but 
 the hour was earlier, and the sun hung higher over the 
 hill. A newly-formed grave occupied the level spot in 
 front of the little ivied corner. 
 
 "Let us seat ourselves here/' said my companion, "and 
 I will tell you a story I am afraid a rather tame one ; for 
 there is nothing of adventure in it, and nothing of incident; 
 but it may at least show you that I am not unfitted to be 
 your friend. It is now nearly two years since I lost my 
 father. He was no common man common neither in 
 intellect nor in sentiment; but though he once fondly hoped
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF FERGUSON. 97 
 
 it should be otherwise for in early youth he indulged in 
 all the dreams of the poet he now fills a grave as name- 
 less as the one before us. He was a native of Aberdeen- 
 shire ; but held, latterly, an inferior situation in the office 
 of the British Linen Company in Edinburgh, where I was 
 born. Ever since I remember him, he had awakened too 
 fully to the realities of life, and they pressed too hard on 
 his spirits, to leave him space for the indulgence of his 
 earlier fancies ; but he could dream for his children, though 
 not for himself; or, as I should perhaps rather say, his 
 children fell heir to all his more juvenile hopes of fortune, 
 and influence, and space in the world's eye ; and, for him- 
 self, he indulged in hopes of a later growth and firmer tex- 
 ture, which pointed from the present scene of things to the 
 future. I have an only brother, my senior by several years, 
 a lad of much energy, both physical and mental ; in brief, 
 one of those mixtures of reflection and activity which seem 
 best formed for rising in the world. My father deemed 
 him most fitted for commerce, and had influence enough to 
 get him introduced into the counting-house of a respectable 
 Edinburgh merchant. I was always of a graver turn in part, 
 perhaps, the effect of less robust health and me he intended 
 for the Church. I have been a dreamer, Mr. Lindsay, from 
 my earliest years prone to melancholy, and fond of books 
 and of solitude ; and the peculiarities of this temperament 
 the sanguine old man, though no mean judge of character, 
 had mistaken for a serious and reflective disposition. You 
 are acquainted with literature, and know something, from 
 books at least, of the lives of literary men. Judge, then, 
 of his prospect of usefulness in any profession, who has 
 lived, ever since he knew himself, among the poets. My 
 hopes, from my earliest years, have been hopes of celebrity 
 as a writer not of wealth, or of influence, or of accomplish- 
 ing any of the thousand aims which furnish the great bulk 
 of mankind with motives. You will laugh at me. There 
 
 VOL. I D
 
 i)6 TALES OF THE BOKDEUS. 
 
 is something so emphatically shadowy and unreal in the 
 object of this ambition, that even the full attainment of it 
 provokes a smile. For who does not know 
 
 How vain that second life in others' breath, 
 The estate which wits inherit after death ! ' 
 
 And what can be more fraught with the ludicrous than a 
 union of this shadowy ambition with mediocre parts and 
 attainments ! But I digress. 
 
 " It is now rather more than three years since I entered 
 the classes here. I competed for a bursary, and was fortu- 
 nate enough to secure one. Believe me, Mr. Lindsay, I am 
 little ambitious of the fame of mere scholarship, and yet I 
 cannot express to you the triumph of that day. I had seen 
 my poor father labouring, far, far beyond his strength, for 
 my brother and myself closely engaged during the day 
 with his duties in the bank, and copying at night in a 
 lawyer's office. I had seen, with a throbbing heart, his tall 
 wasted frame becoming tremulous and bent, and the grey 
 hair thinning on his temples ; and I now felt that I could 
 ease him of at least part of the burden. In the excite- 
 ment of the moment, I could hope that I was destined to 
 rise in the world to gain a name in it, and something more. 
 You know how a slight success grows in importance when 
 we can deem it the earnest of future good fortune. I met, 
 too, with a kind and influential friend in one of the pro- 
 fessors, the late Dr. Wilkie. Alas! good, benevolent man! 
 you may see his tomb yonder beside the wall ; and, on my 
 return from St. Andrew's, at the close of the session, I 
 found my father on his deathbed. My brother Henry 
 who had been unfortunate, and, I am afraid, something 
 worse had quitted the counting-house and entered aboard 
 of a man-of-war as a common sailor; and the poor old man, 
 whose heart had been bound up in him, never held up his 
 head after.
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF ITKRGUSON. 99 
 
 " On the evening of my father's funeral, I could have lain 
 down and died. I never before felt how thoroughly I am 
 unfitted for the world how totally I want strength. My 
 father, I have said, had intended me for the Church ; and, 
 in my progress onward from class to class, and from school 
 to college, I had thought but little of each particular step, as 
 it engaged me for the time, and nothing of the ultimate ob- 
 jects to which it led. All my more vigorous aspirations were 
 directed to a remote future and an unsubstantial shadow. 
 But I had witnessed, beside my father's bed, what ha,d led 
 me seriously to reflect on the ostensible aim for which I 
 lived and studied ; and the more carefully I weighed my- 
 self in the balance, the more did I find myself awanting. 
 You have heard of Mr. Brown of the Secession, the author 
 of the " Dictionary of the Bible." He was an old acquaint- 
 ance of my father's ; and, on hearing of his illness, had 
 come all the way from Haddington to see him. I felt, for 
 the first time, as kneeling beside his bed, I heard my 
 father's breathings becoming every moment shorter and 
 more difficult, and listened to the prayers of the clergyman, 
 that I had no business in the Church. And thus I still 
 continue to feel. Twere an easy matter to produce such 
 things as pass for sermons among us, and to go respectably 
 enough through the mere routine of the profession ; but I 
 cannot help feeling that, though I might do all this and 
 more, my duty, as a clergyman, would be still left undone. 
 I want singleness of aim I want earnestness of heart. I 
 cannot teach men effectually how to live well ; I cannot 
 show them, with aught of confidence, how they may die 
 safe. I cannot enter the Church without acting the part 
 of a hypocrite ; and the miserable part of the hypocrite it 
 shall never be mine to act. Heaven help me ! I am too 
 little a practical moralist myself to attempt^teaching morals 
 to others. 
 
 "But I must conclude my story, if story it may be called:
 
 100 TALKS OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 I saw my poor mother and my little sister deprived, by my 
 father's death, of their sole stay, and strove to exert myself 
 in their behalf. In the daytime I copied in a lawyer's 
 office; my nights were spent among the poets. You will 
 deem it the very madness of vanity, Mr. Lindsay ; but I 
 could not live without my dreams of literary eminence. I 
 felt that life would be a blank waste without them; and 
 I feel so still. Do not laugh at my weakness, when I say I 
 would rather live in the memory of my country than enjoy 
 her fairest lands that I dread a nameless grave many times 
 more than the grave itself. But, I am afraid, the life of the 
 literary aspirant is rarely a happy one; and I, alas! am one 
 of the weakest of the class. It is of importance that the 
 means of living be not disjoined from the end for which we 
 live; and I feel that, in my case, the disunion is complete. 
 The wants and evils of life are around me; but the energies 
 through which those should be provided for, and these 
 warded off, are otherwise employed. I am like a man 
 pressing onward through a hot and bloody fight, his breast 
 open to every blow, and tremblingly alive to the sense of 
 injury and the feeling of pain, but totally unprepared 
 either to attack or defend. And then those miserable 
 depressions of spirits to which all men who draw largely on 
 their imagination are so subject; and that wavering irregu- 
 larity of effort which seems so unavoidably the effect of 
 pursuing a distant and doubtful aim, and which proves so 
 hostile to the formation of every better habit alas! to a 
 steady morality itself. But I weary you, Mr. Lindsay; 
 besides, my story is told. I am groping onward, I know 
 not whither; and, in a few months hence, when my last 
 session shall have closed, I shall be exactly where you are 
 at present." 
 
 He ceased speaking, and there was a pause of several 
 minutes. I felt soothed and gratified. There was a sweet 
 melancholy music in the tones of his voice, that sunk to my
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF FERGUSON. 101 
 
 very heart; and the confidence he reposed in me flattered 
 my pride. " How was it," I at length said, "that you were 
 the gayest in the party of last night?" 
 
 "I do not know that I can better answer you," he 
 replied, "than by telling you a singular dream which I had 
 about the time of my father's death. I dreamed that I had 
 suddenly quitted the world, and was journeying, by a long 
 and dreary passage, to the place of final punishment. A 
 blue, dismal light glimmered along the lower wall of the 
 vault; and, from the darkness above, where there flickered 
 a thousand undefined shapes things without form or out- 
 line I could hear deeply-drawn sighs, and long hollow 
 groans and convulsive sobbings, and the prolonged moan- 
 ings of an unceasing anguish. I was aware, however, 
 though I knew not how, that these were but the expressions 
 of a lesser misery, and that the seats of severer torment 
 were still before me. I went on and on, and the vault 
 widened, and the light increased, and the sounds changed. 
 There were loud laughters and low mutterings, in the tone 
 of ridicule ; and shouts of triumph and exultation ; and, in 
 brief, all the thousand mingled tones of a gay and joyous 
 revel. Can these, I exclaimed, be the sounds of misery 
 when at the deepest ? ' Bethink thee,' said a shadowy form 
 beside me ' bethink thee if it be not so on earth.' And 
 as I remembered that it was so, and bethought me of the 
 mad revels of shipwrecked seamen and of plague-stricken 
 cities, I awoke. But on this subject you must spare me." 
 
 "Forgive me," I said; "to-morrow I leave college, and 
 not with the less reluctance that I must part from you. 
 But I shall yet find you occupying a place among the 
 literati of our country, and shall remember, with pride, 
 that you were my friend." 
 
 He sighed deeply. " My hopes rise and fall with my 
 spirits," he said; "and to-night I ain melancholy. Do you 
 ever go to buffets with yourself, Mr. Lindsay? Do you
 
 102 TALKS OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 ever mock, in your sadder moods, the hopes which render 
 you happiest when you are gay? Ah ! 'tis bitter warfare 
 when a man contends with Hope! when he sees her, with 
 little aid from the personifying influence, as a thing distinct 
 from himself a lying spirit that comes to flatter and deceive 
 him. It is thus I see her to-night. 
 
 " See'st thou that grave? does mortal know 
 Aught of the dust that lies below ? 
 'Tis foul, 'tis damp, 'tis void of form 
 A bed where winds the loathsome worm; 
 A little heap, mouldering and brown, 
 Like that on flowerless meadow thrown 
 By mossy stream, when winter reigns 
 O'er leafless woods and wasted plains : 
 And yet that brown, damp, formless heap 
 Once glowed with feelings keen and deep ; 
 Once eyed the light, once heard each sound 
 Of earth, air, wave, that murmurs round. 
 But now, ah ! now, the name it bore, 
 Sex, age, or form, is known no more. 
 This, this alone, Hope ! I know, 
 That once the dust that lies below, 
 Was, like myself, of human race, 
 And made this world its dwelling-place. 
 Ah! this, when death has swept away 
 The myriads of life's present day, 
 Though bright the visions raised by thee, 
 Will all my fame, my history be!" 
 
 We quitted the ruins and returned to town. 
 
 "Have you yet formed," inquired my companion, "any 
 plan for the future?" 
 
 " I quit St. Andrew's," I replied, "to-morrow morning. 
 I have an uncle, the master of a West Indiaman, now in 
 the Clyde. Some years ago I had a fancy for the life of a 
 sailor, which has evaporated, however, with many of my 
 other boyish fancies and predilections ; but I am strong 
 and active, and it strikes me there is less competition on
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OP FERGUSON. 103 
 
 sea at present than on land. A man of tolerable steadiness 
 and intelligence has a better chance of rising as a sailor 
 than as a mechanic. I shall set out, therefore, with my 
 uncle on his first voyage." 
 
 CHAPTEB IV. 
 
 "At first, I thought the swankie didna ill 
 Again I glowr'd, to hear him hetter still; 
 
 Bauld, elee, an' sweet, his lines mair glorious grew, 
 Glow'd round the heart, an' glanc'd the soul out throitgli." 
 
 ALEXANDER WILSOW. 
 
 I had seen both the Indies and traversed the wide Pacific, 
 ere I again set foot on the Eastern coast of Scotland. My 
 uncle, the shipmaster, was dead, and I was still a common 
 sailor; but I was light-hearted and skilful in my profession, 
 and as much inclined to hope as ever. Besides, I had 
 begun to doubt, and there cannot be a more consoling doubt 
 when one is unfortunate, whether a man may not enjoy as 
 much happiness in the lower walks of life as in the upper. 
 In one of my later voyages, the vessel in which I sailed had 
 lain for several weeks at Boston in North America then 
 a scene of those fierce and angry contentions which eventu- 
 ally separated the "colonies from the mother country; and 
 when in this place, I had become acquainted, by the merest 
 accident in the world, with the brother of my friend the 
 poet. I was "passing through one of the meaner lanes, 
 when I saw my old college friend, as I thought, looking 
 out at me from the window of a crazy wooden building a 
 sort of fencing academy, much frequented, I was told, by 
 the Federalists of Boston. I crossed the lane in two huge 
 strides.
 
 104 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 "Mr. Ferguson," I said "Mr. Ferguson," for he was 
 withdrawing his head, "do you not remember me?" 
 
 "Not quite sure," he replied; "I have met with many 
 sailors in my time; but I must just see." 
 
 He had stepped down to the door ere I had discovered 
 my mistake. He was a taller and stronger-looking man 
 than my friend, and his senior apparently by six or eight 
 years; but nothing could be more striking than the resem- 
 blance which he bore to him, both in face and figure. I 
 apologized. 
 
 " But have you not a brother, a native of Edinburgh," I 
 inquired, " who studied at St. Andrew's about four yeSrs 
 ago ? never before, certainly, did I see so remarkable a 
 likeness." 
 
 " As that which I bear to Eobert ?" he said. " Happy 
 to hear it. Eobert is a brother of whom a man may well 
 be proud, and I am glad to resemble him in any way. But 
 you must go in with me, and tell me all you know regard- 
 ing him. He was a thin pale slip of a boy when I left 
 Scotland a mighty reader, and fond of sauntering into 
 by-holes and corners ; I scarcely knew what to make of 
 him ; but he has made much of himself. His name has 
 been blown far and wide within the last two years." 
 
 He showed me through a large waste apartment, fur- 
 nished with a few deal seats, and with here and there a 
 fencing foil leaning against the wall, into a sort of closet at 
 the upper end, separated from the main room by a partition 
 of undressed slabs. There was a charcoal stove in the one 
 corner, and a truckle bed in the other; a few shelves laden 
 with books ran along the wall ; there was a small chest 
 raised on a stool immediately below the window, to serve 
 as a writing desk, and another stool standing beside it. A 
 few cooking utensils scattered round the room, and a 
 corner cupboard, completed the entire furniture of the 
 place.
 
 BECOLLECTIONS OP FERGUSON. 105 
 
 "There is a certain limited number born to be rich, Jack," 
 said my new companion, "and I just don't happen to be 
 among them; but I have one stool for myself, you see, 
 and, now that I have unshipped my desk, another for a 
 visitor, and so get on well enough." 
 
 I related briefly the story of my intimacy with his 
 brother ; and we were soon on such terms as to be in a 
 fair way of emptying a bottle of rum together. 
 
 " You remind me of old times," said my new acquaint- 
 ance. "I am weary of these illiterate, boisterous, longsided 
 Americans, who talk only of politics and dollars. And yet 
 there are first-rate men among them too. I met, some 
 years since, with a Philadelphia printer, whom I cannot 
 help regarding as one of the ablest, best-informed men I 
 ever conversed with. But there is nothing like general 
 knowledge among the average class; a mighty privilege of 
 conceit, however." 
 
 " They are just in that stage," I remarked, " in which it 
 needs all the vigour of an able man to bring his mind into 
 anything like cultivation. There must be many more 
 facilities of improvement ere the mediocritist can develop 
 himself. He is in the egg still in America, and must sleep 
 there till the next age. But when last heard you. of your 
 brother ?" 
 
 " Why," he replied, " when all the world heard of him 
 with the last number of Euddimari's Magazine. Where 
 can you have been bottled up from literature of late ? 
 Why, man, Robert stands first among our Scotch poets." 
 
 "Ah! 'tis long since I have anticipated something like 
 that for him," I said; "but, for the last two years, I have 
 eeen only two books, Shakspeare and 'The Spectator.' 
 Pray, do show me some of the magazines." 
 
 The magazines were produced ; and I heard, for the first 
 time, in a foreign land and from the recitation of the poet's 
 brother, some of the most national and most highly-finished
 
 106 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 of his productions. My eyes filled and my heart wandered 
 to Scotland and her cottage homes, as, shutting the book, 
 he repeated to me, in a voice faltering with emotion, stanza 
 after stanza of the " Farmer's Ingle." 
 
 " Do you not see it? do you not see it all ?" exclaimed 
 my companion ; " the wide smoky room, with the bright 
 turf fire, the blackened rafters shining above, the straw- 
 wrought settle below, the farmer and the farmer's wife, 
 and auld grannie and the bairns. Never was there truer 
 painting ; and, oh, how it works on a Scotch heart ! But 
 hear this other piece." 
 
 He read "Sandy and Willie." 
 
 "Far, far ahead of Ramsay," I exclaimed. "More ima- 
 gination, more spirit, more intellect, and as much truth 
 and nature. Robert has gained his end already. Hurra 
 for poor old Scotland I these pieces must live for ever. 
 But do repeat to me the ' Farmer's Ingle ' once more." 
 
 We read, one by one, all the poems in the magazine, 
 dwelling on each stanza, and expatiating on every recol- 
 lection of home which the images awakened. My com- 
 panion was, like his brother, a kind, open-hearted man, of 
 superior intellect ; much less prone to despondency, how- 
 ever, and of a more equal temperament. Ere we parted, 
 which was not until next morning, he had communicated to 
 me all his plans for the future, and all his fondly cherished 
 hopes of returning to Scotland with wealth enough to be of 
 use to his friends. He seemed to be one of those universal 
 geniuses who do a thousand things well, but want steadiness 
 enough to turn any of them to good account. He showed 
 me a treatise on the use of the sword, which he had just 
 prepared for the press; and a series of letters on the stamp 
 act, which had appeared, from time to time, in one of the 
 Boston newspapers, and in which he had taken part with 
 the Americans. 
 
 " I make a good many dollars in these stirring times,"
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF FERGUSON. 107 
 
 he said. " All the Yankees seem to be of opinion that 
 they will be best heard across the water when they have 
 got arms in their hands, and have learned how to use 
 them; and I know a little of both the sword and the 
 musket. But the warlike spirit is frightfully thirsty, 
 somehow, and consumes a world of rum ; and so I have 
 not yet begun to make rich." 
 
 He shared with me his supper and bed for the night ; 
 and, after rising in the morning ere I awoke, and writing a 
 long letter for Robert, which he gave me in the hope I 
 might soon meet with him, he accompanied me to the 
 vessel, then on the eve of sailing, and we parted, as it 
 proved, for ever. I know nothing of his after life, or how 
 or where it terminated ; but I have learned that, shortly 
 before the death of his gifted brother, his circumstances 
 enabled him to send his mother a small remittance for the 
 use of the family. He was evidently one of the kind- 
 hearted, improvident few, who can share a very little, and 
 whose destiny it is to have only a very little to share. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 
 
 "O Ferguson! thy glorious part* 
 HI suited law'8 dry, musty arts ! 
 My curse upon your whunstane hearts, 
 
 Ye Embrugh gentry ! 
 
 f The tithe o' what ye waste at cartes 
 Wad stow'd his pantry !" 
 
 BURNS. 
 
 I visited Edinburgh, for the first time, in the latter part 
 of the autumn of 1773, about two months after I had 
 sailed from Boston. It was on a fine calm morning one of 
 those clear sunshiny mornings of October, when the gossa-
 
 108 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 mer goes sailing about in long cottony threads, eo light 
 and fleecy that they seem the skeleton remains of extinct 
 cloudlets ; and when the distant hills, with their covering 
 of grey frost rime, seem, through the clear cold atmosphere, 
 as if chiselled in marble. The sun was rising over the 
 town through a deep blood-coloured haze the smoke of a 
 thousand fires ; and the huge fantastic piles of masonry 
 that stretched along the ridge, looked dim and spectral 
 through the cloud, like the ghosts of an army of giants. I 
 felt half a foot taller as I strode on towards the town. It 
 was Edinburgh I was approaching the scene of so many 
 proud associations to a lover of Scotland ; and I was going 
 to meet as an early friend one of the first of Scottish poets. 
 I entered the town. There was a book stall in a corner of 
 the street ; and I turned aside for half a minute to glance 
 my eye over the books. 
 
 "Ferguson's Poems!" I exclaimed, taking up a little 
 volume. " I was not aware they had appeared in a sepa- 
 rate form. How do you sell this ? " 
 
 " Just like a' the ither booksellers," said the man who 
 kept the stall " that's nane o' the buiks that come doun in 
 a hurry just for the marked selling price." I threw down 
 the money. 
 
 " Could you tell me anything of the writer?" I said. 
 1 have a letter for him from America." 
 
 " Oh, that'll be frao his brither Henry, I'll wad; a clever 
 chield too, but ower fond o' the drap drink, maybe, like 
 Hob himsel'. Baith o' them fine humane chields, though, 
 without a grain o' pride. Rob takes a stan' wi' ime some- 
 times o' half an hour at a time, an' we clatter ower the 
 bulks ; an', if I'm no mista'en, yon's him just yonder the 
 thin, pale slip o' a lad wi' the broad brow. Ay, an' he's 
 just comin' this way." 
 
 " Anything new to-day, Thomas ? " said the young man, 
 coming up to the stall. " I want a cheap second-hand
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF FERGUSON. 109 
 
 copy of Ramsay's ' Evergreen ; ' and, like a good man as 
 you are, you must just try and find it for me." 
 
 Though considerably altered for he was taller and 
 thinner than when at college, and his complexion had 
 assumed a deep sallow hue I recognised him at once, 
 and presented him with the letter. 
 
 " Ah ! from brother Henry," said he, breaking it open, 
 and glancing his eye over the contents. " What : old 
 college chum, Mr. Lindsay!" he exclaimed, turning to me. 
 "Yes, sure enough; how happy I am we shoxild have met! 
 Come this way let us get out of the streets." 
 
 We passed hurriedly through the Canongate and along 
 the front of Holyrood-house, and were soon in the King's 
 Park, which seemed this morning as if left to ourselves. 
 
 "Dear me, and this is you yourself! and we have 
 again met, Mr. Lindsay ! " said Ferguson ; " I thought we 
 were never to meet more. Nothing, for a Icmg time, has 
 made me half so glad. And so you have been a sailor 
 for the last four years. Do let us sit down here in the 
 warm sunshine, beside St. Anthony's Well, and tell me all 
 your story, and how you happened to meet with brother 
 Henry." 
 
 We sat down, and I briefly related, at his bidding, all 
 that had befallen me since we had parted at St. Andrew's, 
 and how I was still a common sailor ? but, in the main^ 
 perhaps, not less kappy than many who commanded a 
 fleet. 
 
 " Ah, you have been a fortunate fellow," he said ; " you 
 have seen much and enjoyed much; and I have been rust- 
 ing in unhappiness at home. Would that I had gone to 
 sea along with you ! " 
 
 " Nay, now, that won't do," I replied. " But you are 
 merely taking Bacon's method of blunting the edge of 
 envy. You have scarcely yet attained the years of mature 
 manhood, and yet your name has gone abroad over the
 
 110 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 whole length and breadth of the land, and over many 
 other lands besides. I have cried over your poems three 
 thousand miles away, and felt all the prouder of my coun- 
 try for the sake of my friend. And yet you would fain 
 persuade me that you wish the charm reversed, and that 
 you were just such an obscure salt-water man as myself! " 
 
 " You remember," said my companion, " the story of 
 the half-man, half-marble prince of the Arabian tale. One 
 part was a living creature, one part a stone ; but the parts 
 were incorporated, and the mixture was misery. I am 
 just such a poor unhappy creature as the enchanted prince 
 of the story." 
 
 "You surprise and distress me," I rejoined. "Have 
 you not accomplished all you so fondly purposed realized 
 even your warmest wishes ? And this, too, in early life. 
 Your most sanguine hopes pointed but to a name, which 
 you yourself perhaps was never to hear, but which was to 
 dwell on men's tongues when the grave had closed over 
 you. And now the name is gained, and you live to enjoy 
 it. I see the living part of your lot, and it seems instinct 
 with happiness ; but in what does the dead, the stony part, 
 consist ? " 
 
 He shook his head, and looked up mournfully in my 
 face ; there was a pause of a few seconds. " You, Mr. 
 Lindsay," he at length replied, " you who are of an 
 equable steady temperament, can know little, from expe- 
 rience, of the unhappiness of the man who lives only in 
 extremes, who is either madly gay or miserably depressed. 
 Try and realize the feelings of one whose mind is like a 
 broken harp all the medium tones gone, and only the 
 higher and lower left ; of one, too, whose circumstances 
 seem of a piece with his mind, who can enjoy the exercise 
 of his better powers, and yet can only live by the monoto- 
 nous drudgery of copying page after page in a clerk's 
 office ; of one who is continually either groping his way
 
 KECOLLECTIONS OF FERGUSON. Ill 
 
 ainid a chill melancholy fog of nervous depression, or car- 
 ried headlong, by a wild gaiety, to all which his better 
 judgment would instruct him to avoid ; of one who, when 
 he indulges most in the pride of superior intellect, cannot 
 away with the thought that that intellect is on the eve of 
 breaking up, and that he must yet rate infinitely lower in 
 the scale of rationality than any of the nameless thousands 
 who carry on the ordinary concerns of life around him." 
 
 I was grieved and astonished, and knew not what to 
 answer. " You are in a gloomy mood to-day," I at length 
 said ; " you are immersed in one of the fogs you describe ; 
 and all the surrounding objects take a tinge of darkness 
 from the medium through which you survey them. Come, 
 now, you must make an exertion, and shake off your 
 melancholy. I have told you all my story, as I best could, 
 and you must tell me all yours in return." 
 
 "Well," he replied, "I shall, though it mayn't be the 
 best way in the world of dissipating my melancholy. I 
 think I must have told you, when at college, that I had a 
 maternal uncle of considerable wealth, and, as the world 
 goes, respectability, who resided in Aberdeenshire. He 
 was placed on what one may term the table-land of so- 
 ciety; and my poor mother, whose recollections of him 
 were limited to a period when there is warmth in the feel- 
 ings of the most ordinary minds, had hoped that he would 
 willingly exert his influence in my behalf. Much, doubt- 
 less, depends on one's setting out in life ; and it would 
 have been something to have been enabled to step into it 
 from a level like that occupied by my relative. I paid 
 him a visit shortly after leaving college, and met with 
 apparent kindness. But I can see beyond the surface, Mr. 
 Lindsay, and I soon saw that my uncle was entirely a dif- 
 ferent man from the brother whom my mother remembered. 
 He had risen, by a course of slow industry, from compara- 
 tive poverty, and his feelk^s had worn out in the process.
 
 112 TALES OF TUB BORDERS. 
 
 The character was case-hardened all over ; and the polish 
 it bore for I have rarely met a smoother man seemed 
 no improvement. He was, in brief, one of the class con- 
 tent to dwell for ever in mere decencies, with consciences 
 made up of the conventional moralities, who think by pre- 
 cedent, bow to public opinion as their god, and estimate 
 merit by its weight in guineas." 
 
 " And so your visit," I said, " was a very brief one ? " 
 
 " You distress me," he replied. " It should have been 
 so ; but it was not. But what could I do ? Ever since 
 my father's death I had been taught to consider this man 
 as my natural guardian, and I was now unwilling to part 
 with my last hope. But this is not all. Under much 
 apparent activity, my friend, there is a substratum of apa- 
 thetical indolence in my disposition: I move rapidly when 
 in motion, but when at rest there is a dull inertness in the 
 character, which the will, when unassisted by passion, is 
 too feeble to overcome. Poor, weak creature that I am ! I 
 had sitten down by my uncle's fireside, and felt unwilling 
 to rise. Pity me, my friend I deserve your pity but, 
 oh, do not despise me ! " 
 
 " Forgive me, Mr. Ferguson," I said ; " I have given 
 you pain but surely most unwittingly," 
 
 " I am ever a fool," he continued ; " but my story lags; 
 and, surely, there is little in it on which it were pleasure 
 to dwell. I sat at this man's table for six months, and 
 saw, day after day, his manner towards me becoming more 
 constrained and his politeness more cold ; and yet I staid 
 on, till at last my clothes were worn threadbare, and he 
 began to feel that the shabbiness of the nephew affected 
 the respectability of the uncle. His friend the soap- 
 boiler, and his friend the oil-merchant, and his friend the 
 manager of the. hemp manufactory, Avith their wives and 
 daughters all people of high standing in the world occa- 
 sionally honoured his table with their presence, and how
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OP FERGUSON. 113 
 
 could he be other than ashamed of mine ? It vexes me 
 that I cannot even yet be cool on the subject it vexes 
 me that a creature so sordid should have so much the 
 power to move me but I cannot, I cannot master my 
 feelings. He he told me and with whom should the 
 blame rest, but with the weak, spiritless thing who 
 lingered on in mean, bitter dependence, to hear what he 
 had to tell ? he told me that all his friends were respect- 
 able, and that my appearance was no longer that of a 
 person whom he could wish to see at his table, or introduce 
 to any one as his nephew. And I had staid to hear all this! 
 " I can hardly tell you how I got home. I travelled, 
 stage after stage, along the rough dusty roads, with a weak 
 and feverish body, and almost despairing mind. On meet- 
 ing with my mother, I could have laid my head on her 
 bosom and cried like a child. I took to my bed in a high 
 fever, and trusted that all my troubles were soon to ter- 
 minate; but, when the die was cast, it turned up life. I 
 resumed my old miserable employments for what could I 
 else ? and, that I might be less unhappy in the prosecu- 
 tion of them, my old amusements too. I copied during 
 the day in a clerk's office that I might live, and wrote dur- 
 ing the night that I might be known. And I have in part, 
 perhaps, attained my object. I have pursued and caught 
 hold of the shadow on which my heart had been so long 
 set ; and if it prove empty, and untangible, and unsatisfac- 
 tory, like every other shadow, the blame surely must rest 
 with the pursuer, not with the thing pursued. I weary 
 you, Mr. Lindsay ; but one word more. There are hours 
 when the mind, weakened by exertion, or by the teazing 
 monotony of an employment which tasks without exercis- 
 ing it, can no longer exert its powers, and when, feeling 
 that sociality is a law of our nature, we seek the society of 
 our fellow-men. With a creature so much the sport of 
 impulse as I am, it is of these hours of weakness that
 
 114 TALKS OF Till-: BORDERS. 
 
 conscience 1 takes .most note. God help me ! I have been 
 told that life is short; but it stretches on, and on, and 
 on before me ; and I know not how it is to be passed 
 through/' 
 
 spirits had so sunk during this singular conversa- 
 tion, that I had no heart to reply. 
 
 " You are silent, Mr. Lindsay," said the poet ; " I have 
 made you as melancholy as myself; but look around you, 
 and say if ever you have seen a lovelier spot. See how 
 richly the yellow sunshine slants along the green sides of 
 Arthur's Seat, and how the thin blue smoke, that has come 
 floating from the town, fills the bottom of yonder grassy 
 dell, as if it were a little lake. Mark, too, how boldly the 
 cliffs stand out along its sides, each with its little patch of 
 shadow. And here, beside us, is St. Anthony's Well, so 
 famous iu song, coming gushing out to the sunshine, and 
 then gliding away through the grass like a snake. Had 
 the Deity purposed that man should be miserable, he 
 would surely never have placed him in so fair a world. 
 Perhaps much of our unhappiness originates in our mis- 
 taking our proper scope, and thus setting out from the 
 rirst with a false aim." 
 
 "Unquestionably," I replied, "there is no man who 
 has not some part to' perform; and, if it be a great and 
 uncommon part, and the powers which fit him for it pro- 
 portionably great and uncommon, nature would be in 
 error could he slight it with impunity. See, there is a 
 wild bee bending the flower beside you. Even that little 
 creature has a capacity of happiness and misery ; it de- 
 rives its sense of pleasure from whatever runs 'in the line 
 of its instincts, its experience of unhappiness from what- 
 ever thwarts and opposes them ; and can it be supposed 
 that so wise a law should regulate the instincts of only 
 inferior creatures ? No, my friend, it is surely a law of 
 our nature also."
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF FEUCiCSOX. 115 
 
 "And have you not something else to infer? " said the 
 poet. 
 
 "Yes," I replied, "that you are occupied differently 
 from what the scope and constitution of your mind de- 
 mand ; differently both in your hours of employment and 
 of relaxation. But do take heart, you will yet find your 
 proper place, and all shall be well." 
 
 " Alas ! no, my friend," said he, rising from the sward. 
 " I could once entertain such a hope ; but I cannot now. 
 My mind is no longer what it was to me hi my happier 
 days, a sort of terra incognita, without bounds or limits. I 
 can see over and beyond it, and have fallen from all my 
 hopes regarding it. It is not so much the gloom of pre- 
 sent circumstances that disheartens me, as a depressing 
 knowledge of myself, an abiding conviction that I am a 
 weak dreamer, unfitted for every occupation of life, and 
 not less so for the greater employments of literature than 
 for any of the others. I feel that I am a little man and a 
 little poet, with barely vigour enough to make one half 
 effort at a time, but wholly devoid of the sustaining will, 
 that highest faculty of the highest order of minds, which 
 can direct a thousand vigorous efforts to the accomplish- 
 ment of one important object. Would that I could ex- 
 change my half celebrity and it can never be other than 
 a half celebrity for a temper as equable and a fortitude 
 as unshrinking as yours ! But I weary you with my com- 
 plaints ; I am a very coward ; and you will deem me as 
 selfish as I am weak." 
 
 " We parted. The poet, sadly and unwillingly, went to 
 copy deeds in the office of the commissary clerk, and I, 
 almost reconciled to obscurity and hard labour, to assist in 
 unloading a Baltic trader in the harbour of Leith.
 
 11G TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 "Speech without aim and without end employ." CRABBE. 
 
 After the lapse of nine months, I again returned to 
 Edinburgh. During that period, I had been so shut out 
 from literature and the world, that I had heard nothing of 
 my friend the poet ; and it was with a beating heart I left 
 the vessel, on my first leisure evening, to pay him a visit- 
 It was about the middle of July ; the day had been close 
 and sultry, and the heavens overcharged with grey pon- 
 derous clouds ; and, as I passed hurriedly along the walk 
 which leads from Leith to Edinburgh, I could hear the 
 newly awakened thunder, bellowing far in the south, peal 
 after peal, like the artillery of two hostile armies. I reached 
 the door of the poet's humble domicile, and had raised my 
 hand to the knocker, when I heard some one singing from 
 within, in a voice by far the most touchingly mournful I 
 had ever listened to. The tones struck on my heart ; and 
 a frightful suspicion crossed my mind, as I set down the 
 knocker, that the singer was no other than my friend. 
 But in what wretched circumstances ! what fearful state 
 of mind! I shuddered as I listened, and heard the strain 
 waxing louder and yet more mournful, and could dis- 
 tinguish that the words were those of a simple old 
 
 ballad : 
 
 " Marti'mas wind, when wilt thou blaw, 
 
 An' shake the green leaves aff the tree ? 
 gentle death, when wilt thou come, 
 An' tak a life that wearies me?" 
 
 listen no longer, but raised the latch and went 
 in. The evening was gloomy, and the apartment HI 
 lighted; but I could see the singer, a spectral-looking 
 figure, sitting on a bed in the corner, with the bedclothes 
 wrapped round his shoulders, and a napkin deeply stained
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF FERGUSON. 117 
 
 with blood on his head. An elderly female, who stood 
 beside him, was striving to soothe him, and busied from 
 time to time in adjusting the clothes, which were ever' and 
 anon falling off, as he nodded his head in time to the 
 music. A young girl of great beauty sat weeping at the 
 bedfoot. 
 
 "O dearest Robert," said the woman, "you will destroy 
 your poor head ; and Margaret your sister, Avhom you used 
 to love so much, will break her heart. Do lie down, 
 dearest, and take a little rest. Your head is fearfully 
 gashed, and if the bandages loose a second time, you will 
 bleed to death. Do, dearest Robert, for your poor old 
 mother, to whom you were always so kind and dutiful a 
 son till now for your poor old mother's sake, do lie 
 down." 
 
 The song' ceased for a moment, and the tears came 
 bursting from my eyes as the tune changed, and he again 
 
 sang : 
 
 " mither dear, make ye my bed, 
 
 For my heart it's flichterin' sair ; 
 An' oh, gin I've vexed ye, mither dear, 
 
 I'll never vex ye mair. 
 I've staid ar'out the lang dark nicht, 
 
 F the sleet an' the plashy rain ; 
 
 But, mither dear, make ye my hed, 
 
 An' I'll ne'er gang out again." 
 
 "Dearest, dearest Robert," continued the poor, heart- 
 broken woman, " do lie down ; for your poor old mother's 
 sake, do lie down." 
 
 " No, no," he exclaimed, in a hurried voice, " not just 
 now, mother, not just now. Here is my friend, Mr. 
 Lindsay, come to see me my true friend, Mr. Lindsay, 
 the sailor, who has sailed all round and round the world; 
 and I have much, much to ask him. A chair, Margaret, for 
 Mr. Lindsay. I must be a preacher like John Knox, yo v 
 know like the great John Knox, the reformer of a n~
 
 118 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 and Mr. Lindsay knows all about him. A chair, Mar- 
 garet, for Mr. Lindsay." 
 
 I am not ashamed to say it was with tears, and in a 
 voice faltering with emotion, that I apologized to the poor 
 woman for my intrusion at such a time. Were it other- 
 wise, I might well conclude my heart had grown hard ;;s 
 a piece of the nether millstone. 
 
 " I had known Eobert at College," I said "had loved 
 and respected him ; and had now come to pay him a visit, 
 after an absence of several months, wholly unprepared for 
 finding him in his present condition." And it would seem 
 that my tears pled for me, and proved to the poor afflicted 
 woman and her daughter, by far the most efficient part of 
 my apology. 
 
 " All my friends have left me now, Mr. Lindsay," said 
 the unfortunate poet "they have all left me now; they 
 love this present world. We were all going down, down, 
 down ; there was the roll of a river behind us ; it came 
 bursting over the high rocks, roaring, rolling, foaming 
 down upon us ; and though the fog was thick and dark 
 below far below, in the place to which we were going I 
 could see the red fire shining through the red, hot, un- 
 quenchable fire; and we were all going down, down, down. 
 Mother, mother, tell Mr. Lindsay I am going to be put on 
 my trials to-morrow. Careless creature that I am life is 
 short, and I have lost much time ; but I am going to be 
 put on my trials to-morrow, and shall come forth a preacher 
 of the word." 
 
 The thunder which had hitherto been muttering at a 
 distance each peal, however, nearer and louder than the 
 preceding one now began to roll overhead, and the 
 lightning, as it passed the window, to illumine every 
 object within. The hapless poet stretched out his thin 
 wasted arm, as if addressing a congregation from the 
 pulpit :
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF FERGUSON. 119 
 
 " There were the flashings of lightning," he said, " and 
 the roll of thunder ; and the trumpet waxed louder and 
 louder. And around the summit of the mountain -were 
 the foldings of thick clouds, and the shadow fell brown 
 and dark over the wide expanse of the desert. And the 
 wild beasts lay trembling in their dens. But, lo ! where 
 the sun breaks through the opening of the cloud, there is 
 the glitt'er of tents the glitter of ten thousand tents that 
 rise over the sandy waste, thick as waves of the sea. 
 And there, there is the voice of the dance and of the revel, 
 and the winding of horns and the clash of cymbals. Oh, 
 sit nearer me, dearest mother, for the room is growing 
 dark, dark ; and, oh, my poor head ! 
 
 ' The lady sat on the castle wa', 
 
 Look'd ower baith dale and down, 
 And then she spied Gil-Morice head 
 
 Come steering through the town.' 
 
 Do, dearest mother, put your cool hand on my brow, and 
 do hold it fast ere it part. How fearfully oh, how fear- 
 fully it aches! and oh, how it thunders!" He sunk 
 backward on the pillow, apparently exhausted. "Gone, 
 gone, gone," he muttered ; " my mind gone for ever. But 
 God's will be done." 
 
 I rose to leave the room ; for I could restrain my feel- 
 ings no longer. 
 
 " Stay, Mr. Lindsay," said the poet, in a feeble voice ; 
 " I hear the rain dashing on the pavement ; you must not 
 go till it abates. Would that you could pray beside me ! 
 but, no you are not like the dissolute companions who 
 have now all left me, but you are not yet fitted for that ; 
 and, alas ! I cannot pray for myself. Mother, mother, see 
 that there be prayers at my lykewake ; for 
 'Her lykewake, it was piously spent 
 
 In social prayer and praise, 
 Performed by judicious men, 
 Who stricken were in days.
 
 120 TALES OF THE BORDEKS. 
 
 'And many a heavy, heavy heart 
 
 Was in that mournful place ; 
 And many a weary, weary thought 
 
 On her who slept in peace.' 
 
 They will come all to my lykewake, mother, won't they ? 
 yes, all, though they have left me now. Yes, and they 
 will come far to see my grave. I was poor, very poor, 
 you know, and they looked down upon me ; and I was no 
 son or cousin of -theirs, and so they could do nothing for 
 me. Oh, but they might have looked less coldly ! But 
 they will all come to my grave, mother ; they will come 
 all to my grave ; and they will say ' Would he were 
 living now to know how kind we are!' But they will 
 look as coldly as ever on the living poet beside them yes, 
 till they have broken his heart ; and then they will go to 
 his grave too. O dearest mother, do lay your cool hand 
 on my brow." 
 
 He lay silent and exhausted, and, in a few minutes, I 
 could hope, from the hardness of his breathing, that ho 
 had fallen asleep. 
 
 " How long," I inquired of his sister, in a low whisper, 
 " has Mr. Ferguson been so unwell, and what has injured 
 his head?" 
 
 "Alas!" said the girl, "my brother has been unsettled 
 in mind for nearly the last six months. We first knew it 
 one evening on his coming home from the country, where 
 he had been for a few days with a friend. He burnt a 
 large heap of papers that he had been employed on for 
 weeks before songs and poems that his friends say wero 
 the finest things he ever wrote ; but he burnt them all, for 
 he was going to be a preacher of the word, he said, and it 
 did not become a preacher of the word to be a writer of 
 light rhymes. And, O sir! his mind has been carried 
 ever since ; but he has been always gentle and affectionate, 
 and his sole delight has lain in reading the Bible. Good
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF FERGUSON. 121 
 
 Dr. Erskine, of the Greyfriars, often comes to our house, 
 and sits Avith him for hours together; for there are times 
 when his mind seems stronger than ever, and he says 
 wonderful things, that seem to hover, the minister says, 
 between the extravagance natural to his present sad con- 
 dition, and the higher nights of a philosophic genius. And 
 we had hoped that he was getting better ; but, O sir, our 
 hopes have had a sad ending. He went out, a few evenings 
 ago, to call on an old acquaintance ; and, in descending a 
 stair, missed footing, and fell to the bottom; and his head has 
 been fearfully injured by the stones. He has been just as 
 you have seen him ever since ; and, oh ! I much fear he 
 cannot now recover. Alas ! my poor brother ! never, 
 never was there a more affectionate heart." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " A lowly muse ! 
 She sings of reptiles yet in song unknown." 
 
 I returned to the vessel with a heavy heart ; and it was 
 nearly three months from this time ere I again set foot in 
 Edinburgh. Alas ! for my unfortunate friend ! He was 
 now an inmate of the asylum, and on the verge of dissolu- 
 tion. I was thrown, by accident, shortly after my arrival 
 at this time, into the company of one of his boon com- 
 panions. I had gone into a tavern with a brother sailor 
 a shrewd, honest skipper, from the north country ; and, 
 finding the place occupied by half a dozen young fellows, 
 who were growing noisy over their liquor, I would have 
 immediately gone out again, had I not caught, in the pass- 
 ing, a few words regarding my friend. And so, drawing 
 to a side-table, I sat down. 
 
 " Believe me," said one of the topers, a dissolute-looking
 
 122 TALES OF THK BORLM 
 
 young njan, " it's all over with Bob Ferguson all over ; 
 and I knew it from the moment he grew religious. Had 
 old Brown tried to convert me, I would have broken his 
 face." 
 
 " What Brown ? " inquired one of his companions. 
 
 "Is that all you know?" rejoined the other. "Why, 
 John Brown of Haddington, the Seceder. Bob was at 
 Haddington last year, at the election ; and, one morning, 
 when in the horrors, after holding a rum night of it, who 
 should he meet in the churchyard but old John Brown? 
 he writes, you know, a big book on the Bible. Well, ho 
 lectured Bob at a pretty rate, about election and the call, 
 I suppose ; and the poor fellow has been mad ever since. 
 Your health, Jamie. For my own part, I'm a freewill 
 man, and detest all cant and humbug." 
 
 "And what has come of Ferguson now?" asked one of 
 the others. 
 
 " Oh, mad, sir, mad," rejoined the toper " reading the 
 Bible all day, and cooped up in the asylum yonder. T\vas 
 I who brought him to it. But, lads, the glass has been 
 standing for the last half-hour. 'Twas I and Jack Robinson 
 who brought him to it, as I say. Ho was getting wild ; 
 and so we got a sedan for him, and trumped up a slory < !' 
 an invitation for tea from a lady, and lie came with us as 
 quietly as a lamb. But, if you could have heard I lie- 
 shriek he gave when the chair stopped, and he saw where 
 we had brought him ! I never heard anything half so 
 horrible it rung in my ears for a Aveek after; and then, 
 how the mad people in the upper rooms howled and 
 gibbered in reply, till the very roof echoed ! People say 
 he is getting better; but, when I last saw him, he was as 
 religious as ever, and spoke so much about heaven, that 
 it was uncomfortable to hear him. Great loss to his 
 friends, after all the expense they have been at with his 
 education."
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF FERGUSON. 123 
 
 " Yon seem to hare been intimate with Mr. Ferguson," 
 I said. 
 
 " Oh, intimate with Bob !" he rejoined; "we were hand 
 and glove, man. I have sat with him in Lucky Middle- 
 mass's, almost every evening, for two years ; and I have 
 given him hints for some of the best things in his book. 
 'Twas I who tumbled down the cage in the Meadows, and 
 began breaking the lamps. 
 
 ' Ye who oft finish care in Lethe's cup, 
 Who love to swear and roar, and keep it up, 
 List 'to a brother's voice, whose sole delight 
 Is sleep all day, and riot all the night.' 
 
 There's spirit for you ! But Bob was never sound at bot- 
 tom ; and I have told him so. ' Bob,' I have said, ' Bob, 
 you're but a hypocrite after all, man without half the 
 spunk you pretend to. Why don't you take a pattern by 
 me, who fear nothing, and believe only the agreeable? 
 But, poor fellow, he had weak nerves, and a church-going 
 propensity that did him no good ; and you see the effects. 
 'Twas all nonsense, Tom, of his throwing the squib into 
 the Glassite meeting-house. Between you and I, that was 
 a cut far beyond him in his best days, poet as he was. 
 Twas I who did it, man, and never was there a cleaner 
 row in auld Reekie." 
 
 " Heartless, contemptible puppy!" said my comrade, the 
 sailor, as we left the room. " Your poor friend must be 
 ill, indeed, if he be but half as insane as his quondam 
 companion. But he cannot : there is no madness like that 
 of the heart. What could have induced a man of genius 
 to associate with a thing so thoroughly despicable?" 
 
 " The same misery, Miller," I said, " that brings a man 
 acquainted with strange bedfellows. 1 "
 
 124 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " thou, my elder brother in misfortune, 
 By far my elder brother in the muses, 
 "With tears I pity thy unhappy fate !" BURNS. 
 
 The asylum in which my unfortunate friend was confined, 
 at this time the only one in Edinburgh, was situated in an 
 angle of the city Avail. It was a dismal-looking mansion, 
 shut in on every side, by the neighbouring houses, from 
 the view of the surrounding country; and so effectually 
 covered up from the nearer street, by a large building in 
 front, that it seemed possible enough to pass a lifetime in 
 Edinburgh without coming to the knowledge of its exist- 
 ence. I shuddered as I looked up to its blackened Avails, 
 thinly sprinkled with miserable-looking windows, barred 
 Avith iron, and thought of it as a sort of burial-place of dead 
 minds. But it was a Golgotha, Avhich, with more than the 
 horrors of the grave, had neither its rest nor its silence. I 
 Avas startled, as I entered the cell of the hapless poet, by a 
 shout of laughter from a neighbouring room, Avhich was 
 answered from a dark recess behind me, by a fearfully pro- 
 longed shriek, and the clanking of chains. The mother and 
 sister of Ferguson Avere sitting beside his pallet, on a sort 
 of stone settle Avhich stood out from the Avail; and the poet 
 himself, Aveak and exhausted, and worn to a shadoAV, but 
 apparently in his right mind, lay extended on the straAv. 
 He made an attempt to rise as I entered; but the effort 
 Avas above his strength, aad, again lying down, he extended 
 liis hand. 
 
 " This is kind, Mr. Lindsay," he said ; " it is ill for me to 
 be alone in these days; and yet I have few visitors, save 
 my poor old mother and Margaret. But Avho cares for the 
 unhappy ? "
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF FERGUSON. 125 
 
 I sat down on the settle beside him, still retaining his 
 hand. " I have been at sea, and in foreign countries," I 
 said, " since I last saw you, Mr. Ferguson, and it was only 
 this morning I returned; but believe me there are many, 
 many of your countrymen who sympathize sincerely in 
 your affliction, and take a warm interest in your recovery." 
 
 He sighed deeply. " Ah," he replied, " I know too well 
 the nature of that sympathy. You never find it at the 
 bedside of the sufferer it evaporates in a few barren 
 expressions of idle pity; and yet, after all, it is but a paying 
 the poet in kind. He calls so often on the world to sympa- 
 thize over fictitious misfortune, that the feeling wears out, 
 and becomes a mere mood of the imagination ; and, with 
 this light, attenuated pity of his own weaving, it regards 
 his own real sorrows. Dearest mother, the evening is 
 damp and chill do gather the bedclothes round me, and 
 sit on my feet; they are so very cold and so dead, that they 
 cannot be colder a week hence." 
 
 " Robert, why do you speak so ? " said the poor woman, 
 as she gathered the clothes round him, and sat on his feet. 
 * You know you are coming home to-morrow." 
 
 " To-morrow ! " he said " if I see to-morrow, I shall have 
 completed my twenty-fourth year a small part, surely, of 
 the threescore and ten; but what matters it when 'tis past ? " 
 
 " You were ever, my friend, of a melancholy tempera- 
 ment," I said, " and too little disposed to hope. Indulge 
 in brighter views of the future, and all shall yet be well." 
 
 " I can now hope that it shall," he said. " Yes, all shall 
 be well with me and that very soon. But, oh, how this 
 nature of ours shrinks from dissolution ! yes, and all the 
 lower natures too. You remember, mother, the poor star- 
 ling that was killed in the room beside us ? Oh, how it 
 struggled with its ruthless enemy, and filled the whole 
 place with its shrieks of terror and agony. And yet, poor 
 little thing ! it had been true, all life long, to the laws of
 
 12 G TALES OF THE liORDEKS. 
 
 its nature, and had no sins to account for, and no judge to 
 meet. There is a shrinking of heart as I look before me, 
 and yet I can hope that all shall yet be well with me and 
 that very soon. "Would that I had been wise in time ! 
 Would that I had thought more and earlier of the things 
 \vhich pertain to my eternal peace ! more of a living soul, 
 and less of a dying name ! But, oh, 'tis a glorious provi- 
 sion, through which a way of return is opened up even at 
 the eleventh hour ! " 
 
 We sat rouud him in silence; an indescribable feeling ot 
 awe pervaded my whole mind, and his sister was affected 
 to tears. 
 
 " Margaret," he said, in a feeble voice " Margaret, you 
 will find my Bible in yonder little recess; 'tis all I have 
 to leave you; but keep it, dearest sister, and use it, and, 
 in times of sorrow and suffering that come to all, you will 
 know how to prize the legacy of your poor brother. Many, 
 many books do well enough for life; but there is only one 
 of any value when we come to die. 
 
 "You have been a voyager of late, Mr. Lindsay," he 
 continued, " and I have been a voyager too. I have been 
 journeying in darkness and discomfort, amid strange un- 
 earthly shapes of dread and horror, with no reason to direct 
 and no will to govern. Oh, the unspeakable unhappiness 
 of these wanderings! these dreams of suspicion, and' fear, 
 and hatred, in which shadow and substance, the true and 
 the false, were so wrought up and mingled together, that 
 they formed but one fantastic and miserable whole. And, 
 oh ! the unutterable horror of every momentary return to 
 a recollection of what I had been once, and a sense of what 
 I had become ! Oh, when I awoke amid the terrors of the 
 night when I turned me on the rustling straAV, and heard 
 the wild wail and yet wilder laugh when I heard and 
 shuddered, and then felt the demon in all his might coming 
 over me, till I laughed and wailed with the others oh
 
 KECOLLECXIONS OF FERGUSON. 127 
 
 the misery! the utter misery! But 'tis over, my friend 
 'tis all over; a few, few tedious days, a few, few weary- 
 nights, and all my sufferings shall be over." 
 
 I had covered my face with my hands, but the tears 
 came bursting through my fingers; the mother and sister 
 of the poet sobbed aloud. 
 
 " Why sorrow for me, sirs ?" he said ; " why grieve for 
 me? I am well, quite well, and want for nothing. But 
 'tis cold; oh, 'tis very cold, and the blood seems freezing 
 at my heart. Ah, but there is neither pain nor cold where 
 I am going, and I trust it shall be well with my soul. 
 Dearest, dearest mother, I always told you it would come 
 to this at last." 
 
 The keeper had entered to intimate to us that the hour 
 for locking up the cells was already past, and we now rose 
 to leave the place. I stretched out my hand to my unfor- 
 tunate friend; he took it in silence, and his thin attenuated 
 fingers felt cold within my grasp, like those of a corpse. 
 His mother stooped down to embrace him. 
 
 ' Oh, do not go yet, mother," he said " do not go yet 
 do not leave me ; but it must be so, and I only distress you. 
 Pray for me, dearest mother, and, oh, forgive me ; I have 
 been a grief and a burden to you all life-long; but I ever 
 loved you, mother ; and, oh, you have been kind, kind and 
 forgiving and now your task is over. May God bless 
 and reward you ! Margaret, dearest Margaret, farewell ! " 
 
 We parted, and, as it proved, for ever. Kobert Ferguson 
 expired during the night; and when the keeper entered 
 the cell next morning, to prepare him for quitting the 
 asylum, all that remained of this most hapless of the chil- 
 dren of genius, was a pallid and wasted corpse, that lay 
 stiffening on the straw. I am now a very old man, and the 
 feelings wear out; but I find that my heart is even yet 
 susceptible of emotion, and that the source of tears is not 
 yet dried up.
 
 128 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 THE DISASTERS 
 OF JOHNNY ARMSTRONG. 
 
 JOHNNY ARMSTRONG, the hero of our tale, was, and, for 
 aught we know to the contrary, still is, an inhabitant of 
 the town of Carlisle. He was a stout, thickset, little man, 
 with a round, good-humoured, ruddy countenance, and 
 somewhere aboiit fifty years of age at the period to which 
 our story refers. Although possessed of a good deal of 
 natural shrewdness, Johnny was, on the whole, rather a 
 simple sort of person. His character, in short, was that of 
 an honest, well-meaning, inoffensive man, but with parts 
 that certainly did not shine with a very dazzling lustre, 
 Johnny was, to business, an ironmonger, and had, by patient 
 industry and upright dealing, acquired a small indepen- 
 dency. He had stuck to the counter of his little dingy 
 shop for upwards of twenty years, and used to boast that, 
 during all that time, he had opened and shut his shop with 
 his own hands every day, not even excepting one. The 
 result of this steadiness and attention to business was, as 
 has been already said, a competency. 
 
 Fortunately for Johnny, this propensity to stick fast 
 which he did like a limpet was natural to him. It was a 
 part of his constitution. He had no desire whatever to 
 travel, or, rather, he had a positive dislike to it a dislike, 
 indeed, which was so great that, for an entire quarter of a 
 century, he had never been three miles out of Carlisle. 
 But when Johnny had waxed pretty rich, somewhat corpu- 
 lent, and rather oldish, he was suddenly struck, one fine 
 summer afternoon, as he stood at the door of his shop with 
 his hands in his breeches pockets, (a favourite attitude,) 
 with an amiable and ardent desire to see certain of his
 
 DISASTERS OP JOHNNY ARMSTRONG. 129 
 
 relations who lived at Brechin, in the north of Scotland; 
 and there is no accounting for these things on that after- 
 noon Johnny came to the extraordinary resolution of 
 paving them a visit of performing a journey of upwards 
 of a hundred miles, even as the crow flies. It was a strange 
 and a desperate resolution for a man of Johnny's peculiar 
 temperament and habits ; but so it was. Travel he would, 
 and travel he did. On the third day after the doughty 
 determination just alluded to had been formed, Johnny, 
 swathed in an ample brown greatcoat, with a red comforter 
 about his neck, appeared in the stable yard of the inn 
 where most of the stage coaches that passed through Car- 
 lisle put up. Of these there were three : one for Dumfries, 
 one for Glasgow, and one for Edinburgh the latter being 
 Johnny's coach ; for his route was by the metropolis. We 
 had almost forgotten to say that Johnny, who was a 
 widower, was accompanied on this occasion by his son, 
 Johnny junior, an only child, whom it was his intention to 
 take along with him. The boy was about fourteen years 
 of age, and though, upon the whole, a shreAvd enough lad 
 for his time of life, did not promise to be a much brighter 
 genius than his father. In fact he was rather lumpish. 
 
 On arriving at the inn yard it was about eight o'clock 
 at night, and pretty dark, being the latter end of Septem- 
 ber Johnny Armstrong found the coach apparently about 
 to start, the horses being all yoked ; but the vehicle 
 happened, at the moment he entered the yard, to be in 
 charge of an ostler not of either the guard or driver, who 
 had both gone out of the way for an instant. Desirous of 
 securing a good seat for his son, Johnny Armstrong opened 
 the coach door, thrust the lad in, and was about to follow 
 himself, when he discovered that he had forgotten his watch. 
 On making this discovery, he banged too the coach door 
 without saying a word, and hurried home as fast as his 
 little, thick, short legs would allow him, to recover his 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 130 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 time-piece. On his return, which was in less than five 
 minutes, Johnny himself stepped into the vehicle, which 
 was now crowded with passengers, and, in a few seconds, 
 was rattling away at a rapid rate towards Edinburgh. The 
 night was pitch dark, not a star twinkled ; and it was not 
 until Johnny arrived at his journey's end that is, at Edin- 
 burgh that he discovered his son was not in the coach, 
 and had never been there at all. We will not attempt to 
 describe Johnny's amazement and distress of mind on 
 making this most extraordinary and most alarming dis- 
 covery. They were dreadful. In great agitation, he 
 inquired at every one of the passengers if they had not 
 seen his son, and one and all denied they ever had. The 
 thing was mysterious and perfectly inexplicable. 
 
 "I put the boy into the coach with my own hands," 
 said Johnny Armstrong, in great perturbation, to the mard 
 and half crying as he spoke. 
 
 " Very odd," said the guard. 
 
 " Very odd, indeed," said Johnny. 
 
 "Are you sure it was our coach, Mr. Armstrong?" in- 
 quired the guard. 
 
 The emphasis on the word our was startling. It evi- 
 dently meant more than met the ear ; and Johnny felt that 
 it did so, and he was startled accordingly. 
 
 " Your coach ?" he replied, but now with some hesitation 
 of manner. " It surely was. What other coach could it 
 be?" 
 
 " Why, it may have been the Glasgow coach." said the 
 guard ; " and I rather think it must have been. You have 
 made a mistake, sir, be assured, and put the boy into the 
 om. . tbf , saws ; plapo, and. : n*, |fre 
 or ,ao i n <-M- < >ver." f 
 
 tf fjggftafqitfUjiiigfi nay W& 
 3fttw4l55o$Sf#t<fhei .fJi 
 ihfetan*ly)triMk,hin| dnffik r.Jt jv [ggfd him, indped, from
 
 DISASTERS OF JOHNNY ARMSTRONG. 131 
 
 the misery arising from a dread of some terrible accident 
 having happened the lad, but threw him into great tribu- 
 lation as to his fate in Glasgow, without money or friends. 
 But this being, after all, comparatively but a small affair, 
 Johnny was now, what he had not been before, able to pay 
 attention to minor things. 
 
 " Be sae guid," said Johnny to the guard, who was on 
 the top of the coach, busy unloosing packages, " as haun 
 me doun my trunk." 
 
 " No trunk of yours here, sir," said the guard. " You'll 
 have sent it away to Glasgow with the boy." 
 
 " No, no," replied Johnny, sadly perplexed by this new 
 misfortune. " I sent it wi' the lass to the inn half an hour 
 before I gaed mysel." 
 
 " Oh, then, in that case," said the guard, " ten to one it's 
 away to Dumfries, and not to Glasgow." 
 
 And truly such was tiie fact. The girl, a fresh-caught 
 country lass, had thrown it on the first coach she found, 
 saying her master would immediately follow and that 
 happened to be the Dumfries one. Here, then, was Johnny 
 safely arrived himself, indeed, at Edinburgh ; but his son 
 was gone to Glasgow, and his trunk to Dumfries all with 
 the greatest precision imaginable. Next day, Johnny Arm- 
 strong, being extremely uneasy about his boy, started for 
 Glasgow on board of one of the canal passage boats; while 
 the lad, being equally uneasy about his father, and, more- 
 over, ill at ease on sundry other accounts, did precisely the 
 same thing with the difference of direction that is, he 
 started for Edinburgh by a similar conveyance ; and so' 
 wclltimed had 
 that, without 
 
 the two cities. On arriving at Gla?;j-<nv, . 
 Jdhmry Armstrong certlld not, for a long while, discover 
 a$y trace of* his B&n; but at length succeeded in tracking 
 him to the < v anal boat which led him ri<rht1v to conclude
 
 132 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 that he had proceeded to Edinburgh. On coming to this 
 conclusion, Johnny again started for the metropolis, where 
 he safely arrived about two hours after his son had left it 
 for home, whither, finding no trace of his father in Edin- 
 burgh, he had wisely directed his steps. Johnny Arm- 
 strong, now greatly distressed about the object of his 
 paternal solicitude, whom he vainly sought up and down 
 the city, at last also bent his way homewards, thinking, 
 what was true, that the boy might have gone home ; and 
 there indeed he found him. Thus nearly a week had 
 been spent, and that in almost constant travel, and Johnny 
 found himself precisely at the point from which he had set 
 out. However, in three days, after having, in the mean- 
 time, recovered his trunk, he again set out on his travels 
 to Brechin ; for his courage was not in the least abated by 
 what had happened ; but on this occasion xinaccompanied 
 by his son, as he would not again run the risk of losing 
 him, or of exposing himself to that distress of mind on his 
 account, of Avhich he had been before a victim. In the 
 case of Johnny's second progress, there was "no mistake" 
 whatever, of any kind at least at starting. Both himself 
 and his trunk arrived in perfect safety, and in due time, 
 at Edinburgh. 
 
 Johnny's next route was to steam it to Kirkaldy from 
 Newhaven. The boat started at six a.m. ; and, having 
 informed himself of this particular, he determined to be 
 at the point of embarkation in good time. But he was 
 rather late, and, on finding this, he ran every foot of 
 the way from Edinburgh to the steam-boat, and was in a 
 dreadful state of exhaustion when he reached it; but, by 
 his exertions, he saved his distance, thereby exhibiting 
 another proof that all is not lost that's in danger. An 
 ' instant longer, however, and. he would have been too late, 
 for the vessel was just on the. eve of starting. Johnny leapt 
 ou board, or rather was bundled on board; for Johnny, as
 
 DISASTERS OF JOHNS* ARMSTRONG. 133 
 
 already hinted, was in what is called good bodily con- 
 dition rather extra, indeed and was, moreover, waxing 
 a little stiff about the joints; so that he could not get over 
 the side of the boat so cleverly as he would have done 
 some twenty years before. Over and above all this, he j 
 was quite exhausted with the race against time which he 
 had just run. Seeing his distressed condition, and that 
 the boat was on the point of sailing, two of the hands 
 leapt on the pier, when the one seizing him by the waist- 
 band of the breeches, and the other by the breast, they 
 fairly pitched him into the vessel, throwing his trunk after 
 him, As it was pouring rain, Johnny, on recovering his 
 perpendicular, immediately descended into the cabin, and, in 
 the next instant, the boat was ploughing her way through the 
 deep. For two hours after he had embarked, it continued 
 to rain without intermission; and for these two hours he 
 remained snug below without stirring. At the end of this 
 period, however, it cleared up a little, and, in a short while 
 thereafter, became perfectly fair. Having discovered this 
 he ascended to the deck, to see what was going on. The 
 captain of the vessel was himself at the helm; he, therefore, 
 sidled towards him, and, after making some remarks on the 
 weather and the scenery, asked the captain, in the blandest 
 and civilest tones imaginable, when he expected they would 
 be at Kirkaldy. The man stared at Johnny with a look 
 of astonishment, not unmingled with displeasure; but at 
 length said 
 
 "Kirkaldy, sir! What do you mean by asking me 
 that question? I don't know when you expect to be at 
 Kirkaldy, but I don't expect to be there for a twelvemonth 
 at least." 
 
 "No! od, that's queer!" quoth Johnny, amazed in his 
 turn; but thinking, after a moment, that the captain meant 
 to be facetious, he merely added-" I wad think, captain, 
 that we wad be there much about the same time."
 
 134 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 "Ay, ay, may be; but, I say, none of your gammon, 
 friend," said the latter, gruffly, and now getting really 
 angry at what he conceived to be some attempt to play 
 iipon him, though he could not see the drift of the joke. 
 " Mind your own business, friend, and I'll mind mine." 
 
 This he said with an air that conveyed very plainly a 
 hint that Johnny should take himself off, which, without 
 saying any more, he accordingly did. Much perplexed by 
 the captain's conduct, he now sauntered towards the fore 
 part of the vessel, where he caught the engineer just as h'e 
 was about to descend into the engine-room. Johnny tapped 
 him gently on the shoulder, and the man, wiping his drip- 
 ping face with a handful of tow, looked up to him, while 
 Johnny, afraid to put the question, but anxious to know 
 when he really would be at Kirkaldy, lowered himself 
 down, by placing his hands on his knees, so as to bring 
 his face on a level with the person he was addressing, and, 
 in the mildest accents, and with a countenance beaming 
 with gentleness, he popped the question in a low, soft 
 whisper, as if to deprecate the man's wrath. On the fatal 
 inquiry being made at him, the engineer, as the captain 
 had done before him, stared at Johnny Armstrong, in 
 amazement, for a second or two, then burst into a hoarse 
 laugh, and, without vouchsafing any other reply, plunged 
 down into his den. 
 
 "What in a' the earth can be the meanin' o' this?" 
 quoth Johnny to himself, now ten times more perplexed 
 than ever. " What can there be in my simple, natural, 
 and reasonable question, to astonish folk sae muckle?" 
 
 This was an inquiry which Johnny might put to himself, 
 but it was one which he could by no means answer. Being, 
 however, an easy, good-natured man, and seeing how much 
 offence in one instance, and subject for mirth hi another, 
 he had unwittingly given, by putting it, he resolved to 
 make no further inquiries into the matter, but to await in
 
 DISASTERS OF JOHNNY ARMSTRONG. 135 
 
 patience the arrival of the boat at her destination an event 
 which he had the sense to perceive would be neither for- 
 warded nor retarded by his obtaining or being refused the 
 information he had desired to be possessed of. The boat 
 arrived in due time at the wished-for haven, and Johnny 
 landed with the other passengers; the captain giving him 
 a wipe, as he stepped on the plank that was to convey him 
 ashore, about his Kirkaldy inquiries, by asking him, though 
 now in perfect good humour, if he knew the precise length 
 of that celebrated town; but Johnny merely smiled and 
 passed on. 
 
 On landing, Johnny Armstrong proceeded to what had 
 the appearance of, and really was, a respectable inn. Here, 
 as it was now pretty far in the day, he had some dinner, 
 and afterwards treated himself to a tumbler of toddy and a 
 peep at the papers. While thus comfortably enjoying him- 
 self, the waiter having chanced to pop into the room, 
 Johnny raised his eye from the paper he was reading, and, 
 looking the lad in the face 
 
 " Can ye tell me, friend," he said, " when the coach for 
 Dundee starts ? " 
 
 " There's no ceach at all from this to Dundee, sir," replied 
 the waiter. 
 
 " No !" said Johnny, a little nonplused by this informa- 
 tion. " That's odd." The waiter saw nothing odd in it. 
 
 " I was told," continued Johnny, " that there were twa 
 or three coaches daily from this to Dundee." 
 
 " Oh, no, sir," said the lad, coolly, " you have been 
 misinformed; but if you wish to go to Dundee, sir," he 
 added desirous of being as obliging as possible " your 
 best way is to go by steam from this to Newhaven, and 
 from that cross over to Kirkaldy!!! " 
 
 At this fatal word, which seemed doomed to work Johnny 
 much wo, the glass which he was about to raise to his lips 
 fell on the floor, and went into a thousand pieces.
 
 136 i.ES OF THK BORDERS. 
 
 "Kirkaldy, laddie!" exclaimed Johnny Armstrong, with 
 an expression of consternation in his face which it would 
 require Cruikshank's art and skill to do justice to "Gude 
 hae a care o' me, is this no Kirkaldy ?" 
 
 " Kirkaldy, sir !" replied the waiter, no less amazed than 
 Johnny, though in his case it was at the absurdity of the 
 inquiry " oh, no, sir," with a smile " this is Alloa ! ! ! " 
 
 Allo.a it was, to be sure ; for Johnny had taken the wrong 
 boat, and that was all. On embarking, he had made no 
 inquiries at those belonging to the vessel, and, of course, 
 those in the vessel had put none to him and this was the 
 result. He was comfortably planted at Alloa, instead of 
 Kirkaldy, which all our readers know lies in a very different 
 direction; and this denouement also explains the captain's 
 displeasure with his passenger, and the engineer's mirth. 
 At the moment this extraordinary eclaircissement took place 
 between Johnny Armstrong and the waiter of the King's 
 Arms, there happened to be a ship captain in the room for 
 it was the public one ; and this person, who was a good- 
 natured fellow, at once amused by, and pitying Johnny's 
 dilemma, turned towards him, and inquired if it was his 
 intention to go any further than Dundee. 
 
 Johnny said that it was he intended going to Brechin. 
 
 "Oh, in that case," said the captain, "you had better 
 j ust go with me. In an hour after this I sail for Montrose, 
 which is within eight miles of Brechin, and I'll be very glad 
 to give you a cast so far, and we shan't differ about the 
 terms. Fine, smart little vessel mine, and, with a spank- 
 ing breeze from the west or sou'-west, which we'll very 
 likely catch about Queensferry, I'll land you in a jiffcy 
 within a trifle of your journey's end a devilish sight 
 cleverer, I warrant you, than your round-about way of 
 steaming and coaching it, and at half the money too." 
 
 Johnny Armstrong was all gratitude for this very op- 
 portune piece of kindness, and gladly closed with the offer
 
 DISASTERS OF JOHNNY ARMSTRONG. 137 
 
 the captain and he taking a couple of additional tumblers 
 each, on the head of it, to begin with. We say to begin 
 with ; for it by no means ended with the quantity named. 
 The cap tain was a jolly dog, and loved his liquor, and was, 
 withal, so facetious a companion, that he prevailed on his 
 new friend to swallow a great deal more than did him any 
 good. To tell a truth, which, however, we would not have 
 known at Carlisle, Johnny Armstrong, who had the char- 
 acter of a sober man, got, on this occasion, into a rather 
 discreditable condition, and. in this state, he was escorted 
 by the captain who stood liquor like a water-cask to the 
 vsssel, and was once more embarked ; but it was now on 
 board the Fifteen Sisters of Skatehaven. On getting him 
 on board, the captain, seeing the state he was in, prudently 
 bundled him down into the cabin, and thrust him into his 
 own bed, where he immediately fell into a profound sleep 
 that extended over twelve mortal hours. At the end of 
 this period, however, Johnny awoke ; but it was not by 
 any means of his own accord, for he was awakened by a 
 variety of stimulants, or rousers, if we may be allowed to 
 coin a word for the occasion, all operating at once. These 
 were, a tremendous uproar on the deck, a fearful rolling 
 of the vessel, the roaring of wind, and the splashing, 
 dashing, and gurling of waves ; and, to crown all, a feeling 
 of deadly sickness. When he first opened his eyes, he 
 could not conceive where he was, or what was the mean- 
 ing of the furious motion that he felt, and of the tremendous 
 sounds that he heard. A few minutes' cogitation with him- 
 self, however, solved the mystery, and exposed to him his 
 true position. In great alarm for he thought the vessel 
 was on the eve of going down Johnny Armstrong rolled 
 himself out of his bed, and crawled in his shirt up the 
 cabin ladder. On gaining the summit, he .found himself 
 confronted by the captain, who, with a very serious face, 
 was standing by the helm.
 
 138 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 "Are are are we near Mon trose, captain?" in- 
 quired Johnny, in a voice rendered so feeble by sickness 
 and terror, that it was impossible to hear him a yard off, 
 amidst the roaring of the winds and waves ; for we sup- 
 pose we need not more explicitly state, that he was in the 
 midst of a storm, and as pretty a one it was as the most 
 devoted admirer of the picturesque could desire to see. 
 
 "What?" roared the captain, in a voice of thunder, at 
 the same time stooping down to catch his feeble interroga- 
 tory. Johnny repeated it ; but, ere he could obtain an 
 answer, a raking wave, which came in at the stern, took 
 him full on the breast as he stood on the companion lad- 
 der, with his bust just above the level of the deck, sent 
 him down, heels over head, into the cabin, and, in a twink- 
 'ling, buried him in a foot and a half of water on the floor, 
 where he lay for some tune at full length, sprawling and 
 floundering amidst the wreck which the sudden and violent 
 influx of water had occasioned. On recovering from the 
 stunning effects of his descent for he had, amongst other 
 small matters, received a violent contusion on the head 
 Johnny for an instant imagined that he had somehow or 
 other got to the bottom of the sea. Finding, however, at 
 length, that this was not precisely the case, he arose, though 
 dripping with wet, yet not very like a sea god, and having 
 denuded himself of his only garment, his shirt, crawled into 
 his bed, where he now determined to await quietly and 
 patiently the fate that might be intended for him ; and this 
 fate, he had no doubt, was suffocation by drowning. 
 
 "Very extraordinar this," said Johnny Armstrong to 
 himself, as he lay musing in bed on the perilous situation 
 into which he had so simply and innocently got " very 
 extraordiiiar, that I couldna get the length o' Brechin 
 without a' this uproar, and confusion, and difficulty, and 
 danger; this knocking about frae place to place, half 
 drooned and half murdered. Here have I been now for
 
 DISASTERS OP JOHNNY ABMSTKONG. 139 
 
 rnair than a week at it, and it's my opinion I'm no twenty 
 mile nearer't yet than I was, for a' this kick up. Dear me," 
 he went on soliloquizing, " I'm sure Brechin's no sic an out 
 o' the way place. The road's straught, and the distance no 
 great. Then, how, in the name o' wonder, is it that I cann;i 
 mak' it out like ither folk, let me do as I like ?" 
 
 Thus cogitated Johnny Armstrong as he lay on his bed 
 of sickness, sorrow, and danger. But his cogitations could 
 in no way mend the matter, nor, though they could, was he 
 long permitted to indulge in them ; for that mortal sickness 
 under which he had been before suffering, but which the 
 little incident of the visit from the wave, with its conse- 
 quences, had temporarily banished, again returned with 
 tenfold vigour, making him regardless of all sublunary 
 things even of life itself. In this state of supineness and 
 suffering did Johnny lie for three entire days and nights 
 for so long did the storm continue with unabated fury 
 the vessel having, for some four-and-twenty hours pre- 
 viously, been quite unmanageable, and driving at the 
 mercy of the winds and waves. A dreadful crash, how- 
 ever, at length announced that some horrible crisis was at 
 hand. The vessel had struck, and, in a few seconds more, 
 she was in a thousand pieces, and her unfortunate crew, 
 including Johnny Armstrong, were struggling in the 
 waves. From this instant he lost all consciousness ; and, 
 when he again awoke to life, he found himself lying on the 
 sea-beach; but how he had come there he never could 
 tell, nor could he at all conjecture by what accident his 
 life had been saved, when all the rest in the ill-fated ves- 
 sel had perished ; for Johnny was indeed the only person 
 that had escaped. On coming to himself he started to his 
 feet, and gazed around him, with a bewildered look, to see 
 if any object would present itself that might help him to 
 guess where he \vas. But his survey affording him no 
 such aid to recognition, he began to move inland, in the
 
 140 TALES OF THE BORDERS 
 
 hope of meeting with somebody who could give him the 
 information desired ; and in this he was not disappointed, 
 that is, he did meet somebody; but the appearance of 
 that somebody surprised Johnny " pretty considerably." 
 He had a high-crowned hat on, such as Johnny had never 
 seen in his life before ; an enormous pair of breeches ; and 
 a pipe a yard long in his mouth. His tout ensemble, in 
 short, was exceeding strange in Johnny Armstrong's eyes. 
 Nevertheless, he accosted him. 
 
 "Can ye tell me, freen, how far I may be frae Brechiu? " 
 he inquired. 
 
 The stranger shook his head, but made no reply. 
 " I'm sayin', freen," repeated Johnny, in a louder tone, 
 thinking that his friend, as he called him, might possibly 
 be dull of hearing, " can ye tell me if I'm ony thing near 
 Brechin?" 
 
 The stranger again shook his head, but still said no- 
 thing. Johnny was confounded. At length, however, after 
 puffing away for some seconds with a suddenly-increased 
 energy, he slowly withdrew his pipe from his mouth, and 
 delivered himself of what sounded to Johnny's ears very 
 much like this, spoken with great rapidity. 
 
 "Futra butara rap a ruara dutera muttera purra murra 
 footra den, Preekin, humph." 
 
 Of this Johnny of course could make nothing, no more 
 than the reader can, further than recognising in the word 
 "Preekin" a resemblance to the name of the town he so 
 anxiously inquired after ; and he was sorely perplexed 
 thereat. Neither could he at all comprehend what sort of 
 a being he had fallen in with. 
 
 " I dinna understan' a word o' what ye say, freen," at 
 length said Johnny, staring hard at the stranger with open 
 mouth. 
 
 " Umph ! " said the latter ; and he again withdrew hia 
 pipe from his mouth, and again sent a volley of his " dutera
 
 DISASTERS OF JOHNNY ABMSTRONG. 141 
 
 mutteras " about Johnny's ears, to precisely the same pur- 
 pose as before. 
 
 Finding that it was of no use making any further at- 
 tempt at conversation, Johnny passed on, not doubting 
 that he had met either with a dummy or a madman. But 
 what was Johnny's amazement when, shortly afterwards, 
 meeting a woman, whose dress, in its own way, was equally, 
 odd and strange with that of the person he had just left, 
 he was answered (that is, to his queries again about 
 Brechin), in the same gibberish in which the former had 
 responded to him. 
 
 "What can be the meanin' o' this?" said Johnny to 
 himself, in great perplexity of mind, as he jogged on, after 
 leaving the lady in the same unsatisfactory way as he had 
 left the gentleman. " Whar in a' the earth can I hae got- 
 ten to, that naebody I meet wi' can understan' a word o' 
 plain English, or can speak themsels onything like an in- 
 telligible language ? " 
 
 He now began to think that he had probably got into 
 the Highlands ; but, although this supposition might ac- 
 count for the strangeness of the language he had heard, it 
 would not, he perceived, tally very well with the enor- 
 mous breeches which the gentleman he had met with 
 wore, and which he had seen from a distance others wear- 
 ing, knowing, as he did very well, that the national dress 
 of the Highlanders was the kilt, of which the trousers in 
 question were the very antipodes. There was another 
 circumstance, too, that appeared to Johnny at variance 
 with his first conjecture, namely, that he might have got 
 into the Highlands. Where he was there were no high 
 'lands, not an eminence the height of a mole-lull. On the 
 contrary, the whole country, as far as his eye could reach, 
 seemed one vast plain. Though gfe'atly puzzled by these 
 reflections, Johnny jogged on, and his progress at length 
 brought him to a respectable-looking farm-house.
 
 142 TALES OF THE BORDERS, 
 
 "'Od," said Johnny, "I'll surely get a mouthfu' o' 
 sense frae somebody here, an' fin' out whar I am." 
 
 In this Johnny certainly did succeed ; but not much to 
 his comfort, as the sequel will show. The first person he 
 addressed, on approaching the house, was a little girl, who, 
 when he spoke, stared at him in the greatest amazement, 
 then rushed screaming into the house. This proceeding 
 brought out several young men and women, to whom 
 Johnny now addressed himself; but the only answer he 
 obtained was a stare of astonishment similar to the child's, 
 and then a general burst of laughter. At length one of 
 the girls went into the house and brought out a jolly-look- 
 ing elderly man, who, from certain parts of his dress, 
 seemed to be in the seafaring way. 
 
 " Veil, mine freend, vat you vant ? " said this person, 
 who spoke broken English " vere you come from ? " 
 
 " I cam last frae AUoa," said Johnny, " and I want to 
 ken, sir, if I'm onything near to Brechin ? " 
 
 " Preekin ! vere dat ? " 
 
 " 'Od, I thocht everbody in Scotland kent that," said 
 Johnny, smiling. 
 
 " Ah ! maybe Scotlan', mine freend, but no Hollands," 
 ivplied he of the broken English. 
 
 " I dinna ken whether they ken't it in Holland or no," 
 said Johnny; "that's a country I'm no in the least acquaint 
 wi' ; but I'm sure it's weel aneuch kent in Scotland." 
 
 "Ah! maybe Scotlan', but no Hollands, my freend," 
 repeated the man, smiling in his turn ; " but you vas in 
 Hollands." 
 
 "Never in my life," said Johnny, earnestly. 
 
 "No, no," replied tli" man, impatiently, "you vas no in 
 !: ( ,ilands-lmtyouva<m Holland. 
 
 Johnny could make nothing of this; but it was soon 
 cleared up by the person adding, " You vas in Hollands 
 nfto-dis moment."
 
 DISASTERS OF JOHNNY ARMSTRONG. 143 
 
 We will not even attempt to describe Johnny's amaze- 
 ment, horror, and consternation, on this announcement 
 being made to him, for we feel how vain it would" be, and 
 how far short any idea we could convey woxild be of the 
 reality. 
 
 " Holland ! " said Johnny. " Heaven hae a care o' 
 me ! Ye surely dinna mean to say that I'm in Holland 
 the noo ? " 
 
 " To be sure I vas," said the Dutchman, smiling at 
 Johnny's ludicrous perturbation. " Mine Got, did you not 
 know you vas in Hollands ? Vere you come from, in all 
 de vorlds, you not know dat ? " 
 
 " I tell't ye already," replied Johnny, with a most rue- 
 ful countenance, " that I cam last frae Alloa. But ye'f e 
 surely no in earnest, freen," he added, in a desperate hope, 
 that it might, after all, be but a joke, " when ye say that 
 I'm in Holland ? " 
 
 " Ah ! sure earneest no doubt true," said the Dutch- 
 man, now laughing outright at Johnny's perplexity. 
 
 As in the former case, we presume we need not be more 
 explicit in saying that Johnny had actually been wrecked 
 on the coast of Holland. 
 
 " "Weel, weel," said the Brechin voyager, with an air 
 expressive of more calmness and resignation than might 
 have been expected, " this does cowe the gowan ! How, 
 in Heaven's name, am I ever to fin' my way hame again ? 
 Little did I think I was ever to be landed this way amang 
 savages." 
 
 Johnny Armstrong, it will be here observed, could have 
 been no great reader otherwise, he never would have 
 wfefiofci so r tfed^,olis4u!^lo^s? 2 aflft 
 ' tii Bnteft vtpjhrf Udtc**ifc&, f ^wMfwtfe 
 a kind, gooiMsalnrea fellow taking ITO rtffenct^ 
 -a&J,0hnay ? s unbecoming expressions tfee 
 did notrfonderetamd it? and coattpassionatin'g his aittiatiort
 
 11-1 TALES OF THE BORDEHS. 
 
 now invited him into the house, where Johnny, having suc- 
 ceeded in conveying to the whole household, through the 
 medium of the speaker of broken English, the story of his 
 misfortunes, was treated with much hospitality. With 
 these kind people Johnny Armstrong remained for about a 
 week for they would not allow him to go sooner when, 
 having entirely recovered from the effects of his sea voyage 
 and shipwreck, he proceeded to Rotterdam ; being accom- 
 panied and assisted in all his movements by his benevolent 
 host, Dunder Vander Dunder, of Slootzsloykin. On 
 arriving at Rotterdam, a passage was engaged for Johnny 
 on board one of the -Leith packets, or regular traders, in 
 which he was next day snugly deposited ; and, in an hour 
 after, he was again braving the dangers of the ocean. 
 For some time all went on well on this occasion with him, 
 and he was beginning to feel comfortable, and even happy, 
 from the prospect of being soon again in his native land, 
 and from the superior accommodations of the vessel in 
 which he was embarked far surpassing, as they did, those 
 of the unfortunate Sisters of Skatehaven. His present 
 ship was, in truth, a remarkably fine one, and altogether 
 seemed well adapted for encountering the elements. The 
 weather, too, was moderate, and the wind fair ; so that a 
 quick and pleasant passage was confidently anticipated by 
 all on board, including Johnny Armstrong. All these 
 agreeable circumstances combined, made him feel ex- 
 tremely comfortable and happy ; and, in the exuberance 
 of his feelings, and from the exciting sense of having at 
 length triumphed over his misfortunes it might almost be 
 said his fate Johnny even began to joke and laugh with 
 those whom he found willing to joke and laugh with him. 
 It was while in this happy frame of mind, and as he stood 
 luxuriously leaning over the bulwark of the vessel, that 
 the captain suddenly espied a little, smart, cutter-looking 
 craft, sailing exactly in the same course with them-
 
 DISASTERS OF JOHNNY ARMSTRONG. 145 
 
 selves, and evidently endeavouring to make up with 
 them. 
 
 "What can the folk be wantin'?" quoth Johnny Arm- 
 strong, taking an interest in the approaching barge. His 
 question was one which nobody could answer. In the 
 meantime, the little vessel, moving- with great velocity, 
 was fast nearing them, when the captain, now convinced 
 that those in her desired to have some communication 
 with him, arrested his own vessel's way, and awaited their 
 coming. In a very few minutes, the little cutter was 
 alongside, and two men leapt from her to the deck of the 
 packet, when one of them, approaching the captain, told 
 him that they were messengers, that they had a warrant 
 against John Jones, a native of Britain, for debt, and that 
 they had reason to believe he was in the vessel. The 
 captain said he did not believe he had any such passenger 
 on board, but informed them that they were perfectly at 
 liberty to search the ship. During this conversation, the 
 other officer kept his eye fixed on Johnny Armstrong, and 
 when rejoined by his comrade,- seemed to inform him for 
 their language was not understood that there was some- 
 thing about that person well worthy of his attention. 
 They now both looked at Johnny, and appeared both con- 
 vinced that he was a fit subject for further inquiry. Ac- 
 cordingly one of them addressed him : 
 " Your name vas John Jones, mynheer ? " 
 "No, sir," said Johnny; "my name's John Armstrong." 
 " Ah, a small shange dat is all. You vas John, and 
 he vas John, and you be both John togidder; so, you 
 must come to de shore wid us." 
 
 "Catch me there, lads," quoth Johnny. "The deil a 
 shore I'll gang to, please Providence, but Leith shore. 
 Na, na ; I've had aneuch o' this wark, and I'm determined 
 to bring't till an' end noo." 
 
 " Donner and blitzen ! " shouted out one of the men,
 
 146 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 passionately, " but you must go ! " at the same time seiz- 
 ing Johnny by the collar, and drawing a pistol from his 
 bosom. 
 
 In titter amazement at this extraordinary treatment, 
 Johnny Armstrong imploringly called on the captain and 
 the other passengers for protection ; but, as none of them 
 were in the least acquainted with him, and therefore did 
 not know whether he was John Jones or not, they all 
 declined interfering the captain saying that it would be 
 more than his ship and situation were worth to aid any 
 one in resisting the laws of the country that he could 
 not, dare not do it. His appeals, therefore, to those 
 around him being vain, he was eventually bundled into 
 the cutter and conveyed on shore, placed in a temporary 
 place of confinement for the night, and next day carried 
 before a magistrate to be identified. To effect this, several 
 witnesses were called, when one and all of them, after 
 examining Johnny pretty narrowly, pronounced, to the 
 great disappointment of the officers who had apprehended 
 him, that he was not the man ! They, however, asserted that 
 the resemblance between the real and supposed John Jones 
 was very remarkable. On the discovery being made that 
 the prisoner was not Jones, the magistrate apologized to 
 Johnny in the most polite terms for the trouble he had 
 been put to, ;md expressed great regret for the mistake of 
 the officers ; lint said that, as the witnesses had stated 
 there was a strong resemblance an unfortunate one, he 
 must call it between him and the real defaulter, and 
 seeing, moreovi-r, that they were both natives of Britain, 
 the officers were perfectly justified in doing what they had 
 done, however much the hardship of the case might be 
 matter of regret. The magistrate having thus delivered 
 himself, Johnny Armstrong was dismissed with great civi- 
 lity, and wished, by all present, safe home to his own 
 country a wish in which he most heartily concurred, biit
 
 DISASTERS OF JOHNNY ARMSTRONG. 147 
 
 4 
 
 which seemed to him more easily entertained than grati- 
 fied. On regaining his liberty, the first thing he did was 
 to endeavour to find oiTt when the next ship sailed for 
 Scotland ; he having, of course, lost that in which he had 
 first embarked, and, to his great consternation and dismay, 
 learned that there would be no vessel for a fortnight. 
 This was sad intelligence to Johnny ; for, to add to his 
 other distresses, his funds were now waxing low, and he 
 felt that it would require the utmost economy to enable 
 him to spin out the time and leave sufficient to pay his 
 passage to his native land. This economy he could very 
 easily have practised at home, for he had a natural ten- 
 dency that way ; but he did not know how to set about it 
 in a foreign country. His unhappiness and anxiety, there- 
 fore, on this point were very great. In this dilemma, he 
 bethought him of again seeking out and quartering 
 on his friend Vander Dunder, of Slootzsloykin, till the 
 vessel should sail ; but not having, of course, a word of 
 Dutch, he could make no inquiries on the subject of his 
 route, or indeed of anything regarding his friend at all. 
 This idea, therefore, he ultimately abandoned, principally 
 through a fear that he should, by some mistake, be de- 
 spatched upon a wrong scent, a species of disaster to which 
 he was now so sensitively alive, that he would neither turn 
 to the right nor to the left without having made himself 
 perfectly sure that he was about to take the right course ; 
 and, as to conveyances of all kinds, of which he now 
 entertained an especial suspicion, he had prudently deter- 
 mined that he would know every particular about them 
 and their destinations before he would pxit a foot in one of 
 them, for he had found, from dear-bought experience, that 
 if he did not take this precaution, the chance was that he 
 would never reach the place he desired to get at, and 
 might be whisked away to some unknown country, where 
 he would never more be heard of.
 
 148 TALES OF THE BOltDEKS. 
 
 Under this wholesome terror, Johnny made no attempt 
 to find out his friend Vander Dunder ; but chance effected, 
 in part at least, what his limited knowledge of Dutch put 
 it out of his power, with set purpose, to accomplish. On 
 turning the corner of a street, who should he have the 
 good fortune, to meet with but Vander Dunder. The 
 astonishment of the good Dutchman on seeing Johnny was 
 great, so great, indeed, as to overcome the natural phlegm 
 of his constitution. Holding up his hands in amaze- 
 ment 
 
 " Mine Got, my freend ! are you shipwrack agen ? " he 
 exclaimed. 
 
 " No, no," quoth Johnny " bad aneuch, but no just 
 sae bad as that." And he proceeded to inform his friend 
 of the real state of the case. 
 
 The good-natured Dutchman was shocked at the recital, 
 and felt ten times more than ever for Johnny's unhappy 
 situation and complicated misfortunes. When he had con- 
 cluded his affecting story 
 
 "I tell you what you do, mine goot freend," said Vander 
 Dunder " you go vith me to Slootzsloykin, and you re- 
 main vith me dere till your ship sail. You do dat, mine 
 goot freend." 
 
 " "WT a' my heart," said Johnny, " and muckle obleeged 
 to ye for yer kindness." 
 
 " No, no no oblccge at all," replied the kind-hearted 
 Dutchman, impatiently. " Yo do the same to me in your 
 coontry if I was shipwrack and in misfortune, and put to 
 trooble for an innocent thief." 
 
 " Aweel, maybe I wad ; but, nevertheless, its kind o' 
 you to offer me the shelter o' ycr roof," replied Johnny. 
 
 Dunder Vander Dunder now took his friend into a 
 tavern, and treated him to a glass of schnaps. Shortly 
 thereafter the two embarked in a canal boat for Slootzsloy- 
 kin, where they finally arrived in safety. Here Johnny
 
 DISASTERS OF JOHNNY ARMSTRONG. 149 
 
 met with the same kind treatment as before ; and of that 
 kindness there was no abatement during the whole fortnight 
 of his sojourn. At the end of this period, Johnny Arm- 
 strong once more set out for Rotterdam, on the day previous 
 to the sailing of the vessel in which he now hoped to reach 
 his native land, without further molestation or interruption. 
 And, certainly, everything had the appearance of going 
 right on this occasion. The vessel, with Johnny on board, 
 sailed at the appointed time, and, before embarking, he had 
 read distinctly on the ticket a large black board, with 
 yellow letters, which was fastened to the shrouds that 
 she was bound for Leith, and was the identical vessel he 
 had had in his eye. So far as this went, there could be 
 no mistake whatever. There was, indeed, one little cir- 
 cumstance that startled Johnny, but which he had not 
 discovered till the vessel had been some time at sea. 
 This was, that all the crew were Dutchmen, there not 
 being a Scotchman amongst them. The circumstance did 
 not, indeed, greatly alarm Johnny, but he certainly did 
 think it a little odd ; for he naturally expected that, as she 
 was a Leith vessel, her crew would be, for the most part, 
 at any rate, natives of Britain. However, he made no 
 remarks on the subject, thinking it, as it really was, a 
 matter of perfect indifference whether they were Scotchmen 
 or Dutchmen. There were two or three passengers in the 
 vessel besides himself; but they were all foreigners too, so 
 that he could hold no converse with any of them; and thus 
 debarred from intercourse with his fellow voyagers, he sat 
 by himself, gazing from the deck of the vessel on the waste 
 of waters with which he was surrounded, and musing on 
 the strange series of mishaps of which he had so simply 
 and innocently become the victim. It was while thus em- 
 ployed the vessel having been now a good many hours at 
 sea, and at the moment scudding away before a fine fresh 
 breeze that the captain approached Johnny, and in very
 
 150 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 polite and civil terras, demanded his passage money. As 
 lie spoke in Dutch, however, the latter did not understand 
 him. The captain observing this, and now guessing what 
 countryman he was, addressed him in very good English, 
 and in that language repeated his demand. With this 
 demand, Johnny instantly complied ; and, finding that he 
 was a civil, god-natured fellow, began to open up a little 
 conversation with him. His first remark was, that he 
 hoped they would have good weather. The captain hoped 
 so too. His second remark was, that they had a fine 
 breeze. The captain agreed with him said it was a 
 delightful breeze and added that, if it continued to blow 
 as it then blew for four-and-twenty hours, he expected 
 they would be all safe at Rouen! 
 
 "At whar?" shouted out Johnny, looking aghast at the 
 speaker. 
 
 " At Rouen, to be sure," repeated the captain, wondering 
 at Johnny's amazement. 
 
 "Gude's mercy!" exclaimed Johnny, with dreadful energy, 
 " are ye no gaun to Leith ? is this no a Leith boat ?" 
 
 " Oh, no," said the captain smiling ; " this is the Rouen 
 packet. Were ye not aware of that, sir ? You have got 
 into a sad scrape, my friend, if you were not," he added, 
 and now laxighing outright at the dismal expression of 
 Johnny's countenance. 
 
 " Heaven hae a care o' me !" said Johnny despairingly. 
 " Did I no read distinctly on the ticket that was fastened 
 to yer shroods, that ye were bound for Leith ?" 
 
 "Yes, yes," replied the captain, "you may have seen 
 such a ticket as you speak of, and there was certainly guch 
 a ticket on our shrouds as you say, but it did not refer to 
 this ship, but to the vessel outside of us. We allowed the 
 board to be exhibited on our shrouds merely to accommodate 
 our neighbour, as it could not be read from his he being 
 on the outside, and AVC next the quay. That, my friend,
 
 DISASTERS OF JOHNNY ARMSTRONG. 15 1 
 
 is a piece of civility very commonly practised at seaports 
 by one vessel to another, when similarly situated as we 
 and they were. You will see it at all quays and wharfs." 
 
 Johnny Armstrong groaned, but said nothing. At length , 
 however, he muttered, in a tone of Christian-like resigna- 
 tion 
 
 " The Lord's will be dune ! I see it's settled that I am 
 never to get hame again ; but to be keepit gaun frae place- 
 to place ower the face o' the earth, like anither wanderin' 
 Jew. Gude hae a care o' me, but this is awfu' ! Its judg- 
 ment like." 
 
 It certainly was very remarkable, but not in the least 
 mysterious. This new mistake of Johnny, like all the 
 rest, was a perfectly simple occurrence; and, like them, too, 
 arose as plainly and naturally out of circumstances as it was 
 possible for any effect to do from a cause. But, however 
 this maybe, the captain although he could not help laugh- 
 ing at the awkward predicament of his passenger really 
 felt for him, seeing the distress he was in, and was so much 
 influenced by this feeling as to offer to convey him bnck to 
 Rotterdam, to which, he said, he would return in two days, 
 free of any charge ; adding, with a smile, and with the kind 
 intention of reconciling Johnny to what could not now be 
 helped, that it was nothing, after all that it would make 
 a difference of only a few days and that it would be always 
 showing him a little more of the world. 
 
 " Mony thanks to ye," said Johnny, perceiving and ap- 
 preciating the friendly purpose of the captain; " ard I'll 
 e'en tak advantage o' yer kind offer ; but as to seein 1 the 
 world, by my faith, I've seen now about just as muckle o't 
 as I want to see, and maybe a trifle mair a hantle mair, at 
 ony rate, than I ever expected to seer' Then, ina solilo- 
 quizing tone and manner "God keep me, whar's Brechin 
 noo ! A' that I wanted, and a' that I intended, was to 
 get to that bit paltry place ; and, instead o' that, here am I
 
 152 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 within a stane-cast o' the north pole, for aught I ken to 
 the contrar, and, to a' appearances, no half dune wi't yet. 
 Heaven kens whar I'll be sent niest! maybe be landed on 
 Chvhyhee, or on some desert island, like another Robinson 
 Crusoe. Na, it's certain, if things gang on muckle langer 
 this way." 
 
 Of the drift or scope of these remarks, or, at any rate, of 
 the feelings that dictated them, the captain could make 
 nothing, not knowing Johnny's precise circumstances; nor 
 did he seek to have them explained, but contented himself 
 with repeating his offer of conveying Johnny back to Rot- 
 terdam, and renewing his well-meant efforts to reconcile 
 him to his fate, in so far as his present voyage was con- 
 cerned. In the meantime, the wind contimied to blow in 
 a manner perfectly satisfactory in every respect to all on 
 board the Jungfrau of Rotterdam and Rouen; and, in about 
 the space of time mentioned by the captain, the vessel 
 reached her destination in safety. Johnny Armstrong, 
 whose whole mind was absorbed by anxiety to reach that 
 home which he yet seemed destined never again to see, 
 took no interest whatever in the scenes presented to him 
 in the part of the world he was now in. Indeed, he never 
 left the vessel at all, for fear she would slip through his 
 fingers; for, if he was afraid of accidents of this kind 
 before, he was ten times more so now; and, with this fear 
 upon him, that the packet might, by some chance or other, 
 escape him, he determined to stick by her never to lose 
 sight of her for a moment, till she had conveyed him back 
 to Rotterdam; and his vigilance ultimately secured the end 
 he had in view. The Jungfrau sailed from Rouen with 
 Johnny on board, and, in due time, deposited him once 
 more at Rotterdam. But what was Johnny's surprise, what 
 Dunder Vander Dunder's amazement, when they again 
 encountered one another, and that within ten minutes of 
 the former's landing! The amazement of the latter, how-
 
 DISASTERS OF JOHNNY ARMSTRONG. 153 
 
 ever, was, on this occasion, evidently mingled with a degree 
 of suspicion of the perfect uprightness of Johnny's clferacter. 
 He began now to think, in short, that there had been more 
 in the circumstance of Johnny's apprehension than he had 
 been informed of. He did not like these frequent re- 
 appearances ; he thought them very odd and he did not 
 hesitate to say so. 
 
 " Mine Got ! vat you here again for, man? Vat is de 
 meaning of all dis, mine goot freend?" he exclaimed, with a 
 somewhat dry and doubtful manner, quite at variance with 
 the cordial tone of his former greetings. 
 
 Johnny Armstrong explained to him, but seemingly 
 without obtaining implicit credence for all he said. When 
 he had done 
 
 "Tis veree odd," said Vander Dunder, coldly; "veree 
 straunge. But, you really vant to go to Scotlan, dere is 
 vessel going to sail for Leet now, and I vill see you on 
 board mineself." 
 
 It was very questionable whether Vander's civility, in 
 this case, proceeded from a desire really to serve Johnny, or 
 from a wish to get fairly rid of him. However this might be, 
 Johnny readily accepted his offer, and at once accompanied 
 him to the vessel he alluded to, which was, indeed, on the 
 point of sailing. Vander, taking care that there should be 
 no mistake in this case, conducted him down into the cabin, 
 and waited on the quay till he saw the vessel fairly under 
 weigh. 
 
 Having brought the disasters of Johnny Armstrong to 
 this point, we proceed now to finish what we assure our 
 readers, is an " ower true tale." 
 
 As we were strolling down the pier of Leith, with a 
 friend, one afternoon in the year 18 , we saw a vessel 
 making for the harbour. It was high water, and the scene 
 altogether was a very pleasing and a very stirring one. 
 But, amongst the various objects of interest that presented
 
 154 TALES Otf XHK JJOK1>KBS. 
 
 themselves, there was none that attracted so much of our 
 attention as the stately vessel that, with outspread canvas, 
 was rapidly nearing the pier. We asked a seaman who stood 
 beside us, where she was from. He replied "Rotterdam." 
 
 On approaching the pier, the vessel shortened sail, and, 
 by this process, enabled us deliberately to scan her decks 
 from our elevated position, as she glided gently along with 
 us. During this scrutiny, we observed amongst the pas- 
 sengers a stout little man in a brown greatcoat, with a large 
 red comforter about his neck, and his hat secured on his 
 head for it was blowing pretty hard by a blue pocket- 
 handkerchief, which was passed beneath his chin, and gave 
 him, in a very particular manner, the peculiar air of a 
 traveller or voyageur. There was nothing whatever in the 
 appearance of the little man in the brown greatcoat which 
 would have led any one to suppose, a priori, that there 
 possibly could be anything remarkable or extraordinary in 
 his history; but I was induced suddenly to change my 
 opinion, or at least to take some interest in him, by my 
 friend's exclaiming, in the utmost amazement, and, at the 
 same time, pointing to him with the red comforter 
 
 " Gracious Heaven, if there is not Johnny Armstrong ! 
 Or it is his ghost ! " 
 
 "No ghost at all, we warrant you," said we; "ghosts do 
 not generally wear greatcoats and red comforters. But 
 who in all the world is Johnny Armstrong?" 
 
 " Johnny Armstrong," replied our friend, greatly excited, 
 "is a person, a particular acquaintance of mine, who has 
 been missing these six weeks ; and who was supposed, by 
 everybody who knew him, to have perished by some acci- 
 dent or other, but of what nature could never be ascertained, 
 on his way to Brechin, where he had gone to visit some 
 relations." 
 
 We felt interested in Johnny, by this brief sketch of his 
 mysterious story; and, not a little curious to know where on
 
 DISASTERS OF JOHNNY ARMSTRONG. 155 
 
 earth he could possibly have been all the time, we readily 
 closed with our friend's proposal to run round to the berth 
 for which we saw the vessel was making, and to await his 
 coming on shore. 
 
 " But how, in all the world," said our friend, communing 
 with himself during this interval, " has he got into a vessel 
 from Rotterdam ? He could not have been there, surely? 
 It's impossible." 
 
 As to this we could say nothing, not knowing at the 
 time anything at all of Johnny's adventures; but of these 
 we were not now long kept in ignorance. On his stepping 
 on shore, our friend seized him joyously by the hand, and 
 expressed great satisfaction at seeing him again. This satis- 
 faction appeared to be mutual; for Johnny returned his 
 friend's grasp with great cordiality and warmth. The first 
 salutations over 
 
 " But where on all the earth, Mr. Armstrong," said our 
 friend, "have you been for these three months back?' 1 
 
 Johnny smiled, and said it was " ower lang a tale" to tell 
 where we then were; but, as he meant to stop either in 
 Leith or Edinburgh for the night, it being now pretty far 
 in the evening, if my friend and I would adjourn with him 
 to some respectable house, where he could get a might's 
 quarters, he would give us the whole story of his adven- 
 tures. With this proposal we readily closed; and on Johnny 
 asking if we could point out such a house as he alluded 
 to, we at once named the New Ship Tavern. Thither we 
 accordingly repaired; and, in less than two hours there- 
 after, we were put, good reader, in possession, by Johnny 
 himself, of that part of his story to which the preceding 
 pages have been devoted. What follows for Johnny's 
 misfortunes had not yet terminated we learned afterwards 
 from another quarter. 
 
 On the next day we mean the day succeeding the 
 evening we spent with Johnny the latter proceeded to
 
 156 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 Edinburgh, with the view of taking coach there for Carlisle. 
 But, in making his way up Catherine Street, and when 
 precisely opposite No. 12, Calton Street we like to be 
 particular Johnny found himself suddenly accosted by 
 one of his oldest and most intimate friends. This was a 
 Mr. James Stevenson, a fellow-townsman and fellow-shop- 
 keeper of his own. 
 
 The astonishment of the latter, on meeting with Johnny, 
 and, indeed, of finding him at all in the land of the living, 
 was very great ; and he sufficiently expressed this feeling 
 by the lively and highly excited manner in which he 
 addressed him. 
 
 Having put the usual queries, with that air of intense 
 interest which they naturally excited, as to where Johnny 
 had been, what he had been about, &c. &c., and having 
 obtained a brief sketch of his adventures, with the promise 
 of a fuller one afterwards, Mr. Stevenson, in reply, asked 
 Johnny what course he was now steering. 
 
 " Hame, to be sure," said Johnny, with a smile. " It's 
 time noo, I think I'm just sac far on my way to tak' oot 
 a ticket for the coach." 
 
 "Ye needna do that unless ye like," replied Johnny's 
 friend. "Ye may save your siller, and no be abune an 
 hour lauger tarried, by takin' a seat wi' me in the gig I hae 
 in wi' me. I'm sure ye're welcome, and I'll be blythe o' 
 your company." 
 
 "Hae ye a gig in wi' ye?" said Johnny, looking pleased 
 by the intelligence. 
 
 " 'Deed hae I, Mr. Armstrong, and ye'll just clink down 
 beside me in't." 
 
 I'll do that wi' great thankfu'ness," replied Johnny, " and 
 muckle obleeged by the offer." 
 
 The friends now walked away, arm in arm together; and 
 in about two hours afterwards Mr. Stevenson having, in 
 the meantime, despatched what business he had to do in
 
 D1SASTEBS OF JOHNNY ARMSTRONG. 157 
 
 the city they were both seated in the gig, and birring it 
 on merrily towards Carlisle. 
 
 Neither Mr. Stevenson nor Johnny, however, were great 
 whips a deficiency which was by no means compensated 
 for by the circumstance of their having a rather spirited 
 horse, although blind of an eye. He was, in truth, a very 
 troublesome animal; boggling and shying at everything 
 that presented itself to his solitary optic. Notwithstanding 
 this, the travellers got on very well for a time, and were 
 whirling over the ground at a rapid rate, when an unlucky 
 cart of hay came in their way at a narrow turn of the road. 
 How this simple occurrence should have operated so unfa- 
 vourably as it did for them, we shall explain. 
 
 A cart of hay is not a very alarming object to rational 
 creatures like ourselves, but to the one-eyed horse of the 
 travellers it appeared a very serious affair; for it had no 
 sooner presented itself to his solitary organ of vision than 
 he pricked up his ears, snorted furiously, and began to ex- 
 hibit sundry other symptoms of disquietude. By dint, 
 however, of some well-directed punishment from Jamie 
 Stevenson's whip, which Johnny increased by an energetic 
 application of his stick, the restive animal was brought vp 
 to the waggon of hay; but, for some time, the inducements 
 just mentioned failed to prevail on him to pass it. 
 
 At length, however, Johnny having added greatly to the 
 vigour of his blows with his stick, and his neighbour to 
 that of his strokes with the whip, the hrse did pass the 
 waggon, and that with a vengeance. Taking heart, or 
 rather becoming desperate, he bolted past it with the 
 rapidity of a cannon shot; and not only this, but when he 
 had cleared it, continued the velocity of his movements 
 with unabated energy, to the great discomfort and no small 
 terror of both Johnny and his companion, who now found 
 themselves going at a rate which they had neither antici- 
 pated nor desired. Indeed, this was so very great that
 
 158 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 both directly saw that something was wrong. Both saw, 
 in short, what was, indeed, too true, that the horse had 
 fairly run* away with them; for he was now going like the 
 wind, with fury and distraction in his looks. It was a 
 shocking and most dreadfully alarming affair ; and so 
 Johnny and his friend felt it to be, as might be distinctly 
 seen by their horror-stricken faces. 
 
 On discovering the predicament they were in, both the 
 travellers the one dropping his whip, and the other his 
 stick seized on the reins, and began pulling with all their 
 might, in the desperate hope of checking the animal's speed 
 by main force; Johnny, in his terror, exclaiming the while, 
 distractedly 
 
 " Mair o't yet, mair o't yet! Lord have a care o' me, but 
 this is awfu' ! This is waur than onything I hae met wi' 
 yet. Waur than the Fifteen Sisters, Dutchmen, and a'. 
 God be wi' us ! are my misfortunes never to hae an end, 
 till they hae finished me outricht ? Am I never to get safe 
 to either ae place oranither? either to hame or to Brechin? 
 Surely ane o' them might be permitted to me. 0, Jamie, 
 see hoo he's gaun ! He doesna seem to fin' us at his hurdles, 
 nae mair than if we war a pair o' preencushions." 
 
 This was true enough, The horse in his fury did not 
 indeed seem to feel either them or the vehicle they were 
 seated in, but pushed madly onwards, till he came to where 
 the road divided itself into two distinct roads the one 
 being the right one, and the other, of course, the wrong 
 when, as if inspired by Johnny's evil genius, he at once 
 took the latter, and in littln more than twenty minutes, had 
 him and his friend fully half as many miles out of their 
 way. Now, however, the catastrophe was to be wound up. 
 A milestone caught one of the wheels of the gig, canted it 
 over, and threw Johnny sprawling on the road with a 
 broken leg; his friend, although also thrown, escaping 
 wholly unhurt.
 
 DISASTERS OF JOHNNY ARMSTRONG. 159 
 
 " Aweel, here it's at last," said Johnny, sitting up in the 
 mud amongst which he had been planted, and fully believ- 
 ing that his injuries were fatal. " Here it's at last. I'm 
 clean dune for noo, after a' my escapes. It may be noo 
 plainly seen, I think," he went on, " that some evil spirit 
 has had me in its power, for these six weeks past at ony 
 rate, and has been gowfin' me about the world like a fitba', 
 to Mil me wi* a gig at last." 
 
 Luckily, Johnny's injuries did not prove so serious as he 
 had feared they would do; and no less fortunate was it that 
 the accident to which they were owing happened not far 
 from a small country town in which there was a resident 
 surgeon. To the latter place Johnny was immediately 
 removed on a temporary bier, hastily constructed for the 
 purpose by some labouring men who chanced to be near 
 the spot where the accident happened, and there he lay for 
 six entire weeks, when the surgeon above alluded to, and 
 who had attended him all that time, intimated to him that 
 he might now venture to return home. Delighted with the 
 intelligence, Johnny instantly acted on it, and next day 
 entered Carlisle triumphantly in a post-chaise not looking, 
 nor really being, after all, much the worse for his unpre- 
 cedented adventures, save and except a lameness in the 
 injured limb, which ever after imparted to his movements 
 the graceful up-and-down motion produced by that peculiar 
 longitudinal proportion of the nether limbs, designated by 
 the descriptive definition of " a short leg and a shorter." 
 Having, with this last occurrence, concluded the story of 
 Johnny's disasters, we have only to add that Johnny has 
 never, to this good hour, got the length of Brechin nor 
 will, he says, ever again make the attempt.
 
 160 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 THE PROFESSOR'S TALES* 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN STORM. 
 
 PACKMAN loquitur. For several days the wind had been 
 easterly, with an intense frost. At last, however, the 
 weather subsided into a calm and dense fog, under which, 
 at mid-day, it was difficult to find one's way amidst those 
 mountain tracks along which, in general, my route lay. The 
 grass and heath were absolutely loaded with hoar-frost. 
 My cheeks became encompassed by a powdered covering ; 
 my breath was intensely visible, and floated and lingered 
 about my face with an oppressive and almost suffocating 
 density. No sun, moon, or star had appeared for upwards 
 of forty-eight hours ; when, according to my preconcerted 
 plan, I reached the farm town of Burnfoot. I was now in 
 the centre of Queensberry Hills, the most notable sheep- 
 pasturage in the south of Scotland. It was about three 
 o'clock of the fifteenth day of January, when, under a cheer- 
 ful welcome from the guidwife, I rested my pack (for, be it 
 known, I belong to this class of peripatetic merchants) upon 
 the meal ark, disengaged my arms from the leather straps 
 by which the pack was suspended from my shoulders, and 
 proceeded to light my pipe at the blazing peat-fire. Re- 
 freshments, such as arc best suited to the packman's drouth, 
 
 * The author of these stories (to be continued), the well-known Professor 
 Thomas Gillespic, was one of tho principal writers in Blackwood during the 
 " storm and stress " period of that magazine. As nn author, his peculiarity con- 
 sisted in vivid descriptions of scenery and incidents coming within the range of 
 a very eccentric experience, all given with a versatility and abandon which he 
 could not restrain, and which, being the reflex of a poetical enthusiasm, formed 
 the charm of his writings- A" 7 . 
 
 I
 
 THE MOUNTAIN STORM. 161 
 
 were soon and amply supplied, and I had the happiness of 
 seeing my old acquaintances (for I visited Burnfoot twice 
 a year, on my going and coming from Glasgow to Man- 
 chester) drop in from their several avocations, one after 
 another, and all truly rejoiced to behold my face, and still 
 more delighted to inspect the treasure and the wonders of 
 " the pack." At last the guidman himself suspended his 
 plaid from the mid-door head, put off his shoes and leggings, 
 assumed his slippers, along with his prescriptive seat at the 
 head or upper end of the lang-settle. The guidwife, re- 
 turning butt from bedding the youngest of some half-score 
 of children, welcomed her husband with a look of the most 
 genuine affection. She put a little creepie stool under his 
 feet, felt that his clothes were not wet, scolded the dogs to 
 a respectful distance, and inspired the peats into a double 
 blaze. The oldest daughter, now "woman grown," sat 
 combing the hoar-frost from her raven locks, and looking 
 out from beneath beautifully arched and bushy eyebrows 
 upon the interesting addition which had been made to the 
 meal-ark. Some half-a-score of healthy lads and lasses 
 occupied the bench ayont the fire, o'er-canopied by sheep- 
 skins, aprons, stockings, and footless hose. The dogs, after 
 various and somewhat noisy differences had been adjusted, 
 fell into order and position around the hearth, enjoying the 
 warmth, and licking, peacefully and carefully, the wet from 
 their sides. The cat, by this time, had made a returning 
 motion from the cupboard head, from which she had been 
 watching the arrangements and movements beneath. As 
 this appeared to "Help" to be an infringement of the terms 
 of armistice and of the frontier laws, he sprang with eager- 
 ness over the hearth. Pussy, finding it dangerous, under 
 this sudden and somewhat unexpected movement, "dare 
 terga" instantly drew up her whole body into an attitude 
 not only of defence, but defiance ; curving herself into a 
 bristling crescent, with the head of a dragon attached to it, 
 
 VOL. I. y
 
 162 TALES Oi.' 1 THE 
 
 and, with one horrid hiss and sputter, compelled Help first 
 to hesitate and then to retreat. 
 
 " Three paces back the youth retired, 
 And saved himself from harm." 
 
 The guidwife, however, who seemed not unaccustomed 
 to such demonstrations, and who manifestly acted on the 
 humane principle of assisting the weaker by assailing the 
 stronger combatant gave Help such demonstrations of her 
 intentions, as at once reduced matters to the status quo 
 ante lellum. (I have as good a right to scholarship as my 
 brother packman, Plato, who carried oil to Egypt.) Thus 
 peace and good order being restored, the treasures of my 
 burden became an immediate and a universal subject of 
 inquiry. I was compelled, nothing loath, to unstrap my 
 various packages, and disclose to view all the varied trea- 
 sures of the spindle and loom. Shawls were spread out 
 into enormous display, with central, and corner, and bor- 
 der ornaments, the most amazing and the most fashionable; 
 waistcoat pieces of every stripe and figure, from the straight 
 line to the circle, of every hue and colouring which the 
 rainbow exhibits, were unfolded in the presence and under 
 the scrutinizing thumb of many purchasers. The guidwife 
 herself half coaxed and half scolded a fine remnant of 
 Flanders lace, of most tempting aspect, out of the guid- 
 ( man's reluctant pocket. The very dogs seemed anxious to 
 be accommodated, and applied their noses to some unopened 
 bales, with a knowing look of inquiry. Things were pro- 
 ceeding in this manner, when the door opened, and there 
 entered a young man of the most prepossessing appearance; 
 in fact, what Burns terms a " strapping youth." I could 
 observe that, at his entrance, the daughter's eye (of whom 
 I have formerly made mention) immediately kindled into 
 an expression of the most universal kindness and benevo- 
 lence. Hitherto she had taken btit a limited interest in.
 
 THE MOUNTAIN STOBM. 163 
 
 what was going on ; but now she became the most promi- 
 nent figure in the group whilst the mother dusted a chair 
 for the welcome stranger with her apron, and the guidman 
 welcomed him with a 
 
 " Come awa, Willie Wilson, an' tak a seat. The nicht's 
 gay dark an' dreary. I wonder how ye cleared the Whit- 
 stane Cleugh and the Side Scaur, man, on sic an eerie 
 nicht." 
 
 " Indeed," responded the stranger, casting a look, in the 
 meantime, towards the guidman's buxom, and, indeed, 
 lovely daughter " indeed, it's an unco fearfu' nicht sic a 
 mist and sic a cauld I hae seldom if ever encountered; but 
 I dinna ken hoo it was I coulda rest at hame till I had 
 tellt ye a' the news o' the last Langhom market." 
 
 "Ay, ay," interrupted the guidwife; "the last Langhom 
 market, man, is an auld tale noo, I trow. Na, na, yer 
 niither's son camna here on sic a uicht, and at sic an hour, 
 on sic an unmeaning errand" finishing her sentence, how- 
 ever, by a whisper into Willie's ear, which brought a 
 deeper red into his cheek, and seemed to operate in a 
 similar manner on the apparently deeply engaged daugh- 
 ter. 
 
 " But, Watty," continued my fair purchaser, " you mutt 
 give me this Bible a little cheaper it's ower dear, man 
 heard ever onybody o' five white shillings gien for a Bible, 
 and it only a New Testament, after a' ? it's baith a sin an' 
 a shame, Watty." 
 
 After some suitable reluctance, I was on the point of re- 
 ducing the price by a single sixpence, when Willie Wilson 
 advanced towards the pack, and at once taking up the book 
 and the conversation 
 
 " Ower dear, Jessie, my dear ! it's the word o' God, ye 
 ken his ain precious word ; and I'll e'en mak ye a present 
 o' the book at Watty's ain price. Ye ken he maun live, as 
 we a' do, by his trade."
 
 164 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 The money was instantly paid down from a purse pretty 
 will filled ; for William "Wilson was the son of a wealthy 
 and much respected sheep-farmer in the neighbourhood, 
 and had had his name once called in the kirk, along with 
 that of " Janet Harkness of Burnfoot, both in this parish." 
 
 " Hoot noo, bairns," rejoined the mother ; " ye're baith 
 wrang that Bible winna do ava. Ye maun hae a big 
 ha' Bible to take the buik wi', and worship the God o' yer 
 fathers nicht and morning, as they hae dune afore ye ; and 
 "Watty will bring ye ane frae Glasgow the next time he 
 comes roun' ; and it will, maybe, be usefu', ye ken s in 
 anither way." 
 
 " Tout, mither, wi 1 yer nonsense," interrupted the con- 
 scious bride ; " I never liked to see my name and age 
 marked and pointed out to onybody on oor muckle Bible ; 
 sae just haud yer tongue, mither, and tak a present frae 
 William and me" added she, blushing deeply, " o' that big 
 printed Testament. The minister, ye ken, seldom meddles 
 wi' the auld Bible, unless it be a bit o' the Psalms ; and yer 
 een noo are no sae gleg as they were whan ye were mar- 
 ried to my father there." 
 
 The father, overcome by this well-timed and well-directed 
 evidence of goodness, piety, and filial affection, rose from 
 his seat on the long-settle, and, with tears in his eyes, pro- 
 nounced a most fervent benediction over the shoulders of 
 his child. 
 
 " O God in heaven, bless and preserve my dear Jessie!" 
 said he his child's tears now falling fast and faster. " Oh, 
 may the God of thy fathers make thee happy thee and 
 thine him there and his ! and when thy mother's grey 
 hairs and mine are laid and hid in the dust, mayest thou 
 have children, such as thy fond and dutiful self, to bless 
 and comfort, to rejoice and support thy heart!" 
 
 There was not, I3y this time, a dry eye in the family ; 
 and, as a painful silence was on the point of succeeding to
 
 THE MOUNTAIN STORJ* 165 
 
 this outbreaking of nature, the venerable parent slowly 
 and deliberately took down the big ha' Bible from its bole 
 in the wall, and, placing it on the lang-settle table, he pro- 
 ceeded to family worship with the usual solemn prefatory 
 annunciation " Let us worship God." 
 
 Love, filial affection, and piety what a noble, what a 
 beautiful triumvirate ! By means of these, Scotland has 
 rendered herself comparatively great, independent, and 
 happy. These are the graces which, in beautiful union, 
 have protected her liberties, sweetened her enjoyments, 
 and exalted her head amongst the nations, and which, over 
 all, have cast an expression and a feature irresistibly win- 
 ning and nationally characteristic. It is over such scenes 
 as the kitchen fireside of Burnfoot now presented, that the 
 soul hovers with ever-awakening and ever-intenser delight ; 
 that even amidst the coldness, and unconcern, and irreli- 
 gion of an iron age, the mind, at least at intervals, is re- 
 deemed into ecstasy, and feels, in spite of habit, and ex- 
 ample, and deadened apprehensions, that there is a beauty in 
 pure and virgin love, a depth in genuine and spontaneous 
 filial regard, and an impulse in communion with Him that 
 is most high, which, even when taken separately, are hal- 
 lowing, sacred, and elevating ; but which, when blended 
 and softened down into one great and leading feature, 
 prove iccontestably that man is, in his origin and unalloyed 
 nature, but a little lower than the angels. 
 
 Such was the aspect of matters in this sequestered and 
 sanctified dwelling, when the house seemed, all at once, to 
 be smitten, like Job's, at the four corners. The soot fell 
 in showers into the grate ; the rafters creaked ; the dust 
 descended ; every door in the house rattled on its sneck 
 and hinges ; and the very dogs sprung at once from their 
 slumbers and barked. There was something so awful in 
 the suddenness and violence of the commotion, that the 
 prayer was abruptly and suddenly brought to a conclusion.
 
 1G6 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 "Ay, fearfu', sirs!" were John Harkness' first words when 
 springing to his feet ; " but there's an awfa' nicht. Open 
 the outer door, Jamie, and let us see what it is like." The 
 outer door was opened ; but the drift burst in with such a 
 suffocating swirl, that a strong lad who encountered it, 
 reeled and gasped for breath. 
 
 " The hogs 1 " exclaimed the guidman, " and the gim- 
 mers 1 where did ye leave them, Jamie ? " 
 
 " In Capleslacks," was the answer, " by east the Dod. 
 The wind has set in frae the nor'-east, and fifty score o' 
 sheep, if this contimie, will never see the mornin' " 
 
 But what was to be done ? 
 
 " The vrind blew as 'twould blawn its last," 
 
 and the whole atmosphere was one almost solid wreath of 
 penetrating snow ; when you thrust forth your hand into 
 the open air, it was as if you had perforated an iceberg. 
 Burnfoot stands at the convergence of two mountain glens, 
 adown one of which the tempest came as from a funnel 
 collected, compressed, irresistible. There was a momentary 
 look of suspense every one eying the rest with an expres- 
 sion of indecision and utter helplessness. The young couple, 
 by some law of affinity, stood together in a corner. The 
 shepherd lads, with Jamie Hogg at their head, were em- 
 ployed in adjusting plaids to their persons. The guidman 
 had already resumed his leggings, and the dogs were all 
 exceedingly excited amazed at this unexpected movement, 
 but perfectly resolved to do their duty. 
 
 " Jamie," said the guidman, " you and I will try to mak 
 oor way by the Head Scaur to Capleyetts, where the main 
 hirsel was left ; and Will, Tarn, and Geordie will see after 
 the hogs and gimmers ayont the Dod." 
 
 " I, too," exclaimed a voice from the corner, over which, 
 however, a fair hand was pressed, and which was therefore 
 but indistinctly heard " I will (canna ye let me speak, 
 Jessie !) I will not, I shall not be left behind T will ac-
 
 THE MOUNTAIN STORM. 167 
 
 company the guidman, and do what I can to seek and to 
 save." 
 
 " Indeed and indeed, my dear William, ye can do nay 
 guid ye dinna ken the gran' like my faither ; and there's 
 mony a kittle step forbye the Head Scaur ; and,_the Lord 
 be wi' us ! on sic a nicht too." So saying, she clasped her 
 betrothed firmly around the neck, and absolutely compelled 
 him to relinquish his purpose. Having gained this one 
 object, the fair and affectionate bride rushed across the 
 room to her father, and falling down on her knees, grasped 
 him by the legs, and exclaimed 
 
 " O mither, mither ! come and help me come and help 
 me ! faither, my dear faither, let Jamie Hogg gang, and the 
 rest ; they are young, ye ken, and as weel acquant as yer- 
 sel' wi' the ly o' the glens ! but this is no a nicht for the 
 faither o' a family to risk his life to save his substance. O 
 faither, faither ! I am soon, ye ken, to leave you and bonny 
 Burnfoot grant me,- oh, grant me this one, this last re- 
 quest!" 
 
 The mother sat all this while wringing her hands and 
 exclaiming 
 
 " Ay, ay, Jenny, get him to stay, get him to stay!" 
 
 The father answered not a word, but, making a sign to 
 Hogg, and whistling on Help, and at the same time kissing 
 his now all but fainting child, he rushed out of thedoor 
 (as Mrs. Harkness said) " like a fey man," and he and his 
 companion, with a suitable accompaniment of dogs, were 
 almost instantly invisible. The three other lads, suitably 
 armed and accompanied, followed the example set to them ; 
 and the guidwife, the two lovers, five or six younger 
 branches, and the female servants of the family, with my- 
 self, remained at home in a state of anxiety and suspense 
 which can be better conceived than expressed. 
 
 " The varnished clock that clicked behind the door," 
 with a force and a stroke loud and painful in the extreme,
 
 168 TALES OF THE BOHDERd. 
 
 struck first ten, then eleven, then twelve ; but there was 
 no return. Again and again were voices heard comming- 
 ling with the tempest's rush ; again and again did the 
 outer door seem to move backwards on its hinges; but 
 nothing entered save the shrill pipe of the blast, accom- 
 panied by the comminuted drift, which penetrated through 
 every seam and cranny. This state of uncertainty was 
 awful; even the ascertained reality of death, partial or uni- 
 versal, had perhaps less of soul-benumbing cold in it than 
 this inconceivable suspense. It required Willie Wilson's 
 utmost efforts and mine to keep the frantic woman from 
 madly rushing into the drift ; and the voice of lamentation 
 was sad and loud amongst the children and the servant 
 lasses each of the latter class lamented, indeed, the fate 
 of all, but there was always an under prayer offered up for 
 the safety of Geordie, or Will, or Jamie, in particular. At 
 last the three lads who had encompassed the Dod arrived 
 alive, indeed, but almost breathless and frozen to death. 
 They had, however, surmounted incredible difficulties, and 
 had succeeded in placing their hirsel in a position of compa- 
 rative security; biit where were Jamie Hogg and the guid- 
 man ? The violence of the storm had nothing abated, the 
 snow was every moment accumulating, and the danger and 
 difficulty increasing tenfold. Spirits, heat, and friction 
 gradually restored the three lads to their senses, and to the 
 kind attentions of their several favourites of the female 
 order ; but then sat the mother and the daughter, whilst 
 the father was either, in all probability, dead or dying. 
 The very thought was distracting ; and, accordingly, the 
 young bride, noAv turning to her lover with a look of 
 inexpressible anguish, exclaimed 
 
 " O Willie ! my ain dear Willie, ye maun gang, after a', 
 ve maun gang this instant," (Willie was on his feet and 
 plaided whilst yet the sentence was unfinished,) " and try 
 to rescue my dear, dear faitlicr from this awfu' and untimely
 
 THE MOUNTAIN STORM. 1 G9 
 
 end ; but tak care, oh tak care o' the big Scaur, and keep 
 far west by Caplecleuch, and maybe ye'll meet them com- 
 ing back that way." These last words were lost in the 
 drift, whilst Willie Wilson, with his faithful follower, 
 Rover, were penetrating, and flouncing, and floundering 
 their way towards the place pointed out. 
 
 In about half an hour after this, the howl and scratch of 
 a dog were heard at the door-back, and Help immediately 
 rushed in, the welcome forerunner of his master and Hogg. 
 They had, indeed, had a fearful struggle, and fearful wan- 
 derings ; but, in endeavouring to avoid the dangerous, 
 because precipitous, Head Scaur, they had wandered from 
 the track, and from the object of their travel ; and, after 
 having been inclined once or twice to lie down and take a 
 rest (the deceitful messenger of death), they had at last got 
 upon the track of Caple Water ; and, by keeping to its 
 windings which they had often traced at the risk of being 
 drowned they had at last weathered the old cham'er, the 
 byre, and peat-stack, and were now, thank God ! withim 
 " bigget wa's." 
 
 But where, alas ! was Willie Wilson ? Him, in conse- 
 quence of their deviations, they had missed; and over 
 him, thus exposed, the tempest was still renewing at inter- 
 vals its hurricane gusts. There was one scream heard, 
 such as would have penetrated the heart of a tiger, and all 
 was still. There she lay, the beauteous, but now marble 
 bride ; her head reposing on her mother's lap, her lips pale 
 as the snowdrop, her eyes fixed and soulless, her cheek 
 without a tint, and her mouth half-open and breathless. 
 Long, long was the withdrawment again and again was the 
 dram-glass applied to the mouth, to catch the first expira- 
 tion of returning breath ere the frame began to quiver, 
 the hands to move, the lips and cheeks to colour, and the 
 eyes to indicate the approaching return to reason and 
 perception.
 
 170 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 " I have killed him ! I have killed him ! " were the first 
 frantic accents. " I have murdered, murdered my dear 
 Willie ! It was me that sent him forced him compelled 
 him out out into the drift the cold, cold drift. Away! " 
 added the maniac " away ! Til go after him I'll perish 
 with him where he lies, there will I lie, and there will I 
 be buried. What ! is there none of ye that will make an 
 effort to save a perishing a choking oh, my God ! a suf- 
 focating man ? " 
 
 Hereupon she again sank backwards, and was prevented 
 from falling by the arms of a father. 
 
 " O my child ! " said parental love and affection " O 
 my dear wean ! oh, be patient ! God is guid He has 
 preserved us all He will not desert him in the hour of his 
 need He neither slumbers nor sleeps His hand is not 
 shortened that He cannot save and what He can, He will 
 He never deserted any that trusted in Him. O my 
 child! my bairn ! my first-born ! be patient be patient. 
 There there there is a scratch at the door-back it is 
 Rover." 
 
 And to be sure Rover it was but Rover in despair. 
 His faithful companion and friend only entered the house 
 to solicit immediate aid he ran round and round, looking 
 up into the face of every one with an expression of the 
 most imploring anxiety. The poor frantic girl sprung 
 from her father's embrace, and clung to the neck of the 
 well-known cur she absolutely kissed him (oh, to what 
 will not love, omnipotent, virtuous love, descend !) then 
 rising, in renewed recollection, she sat herself down on the 
 long-settle beside her father, and burst into loud and pas- 
 sionate grief. 
 
 It was now manifest to all that something must be 
 attempted, else the young farmer must perish. Hogg, 
 though awfully exhausted, was the first to volunteer a new 
 excursion; The whole band were at once on their feet ; 

 
 % THE MOUNTAIN STORM. 171 
 
 but Jessie now clung to her father, as she had formerly 
 done to her lover, and -would not let him go indeed, the 
 guidman was in no danger of putting his purpose into 
 effect, for he could scarcely stand on his feet. He sat, or 
 rather fell down, consequently, Reside his daughter, and 
 continued in constant prayer and supplication at the throne 
 of grace. The daughter listened, and said she was com- 
 forted the voyagers were again on their way the tem- 
 pest had somewhat abated the moon had once or twice 
 shone out and there was now a greater chance of success 
 in their undertaking. 
 
 How we all contrived to exist during an interval of 
 about two hours, I cannot say ; but this I know, that the 
 endurance of this second trial was worse than the first, to 
 all but the sweet bride herself. Her mind had now taken 
 a more calm and religious view of the case. She re- 
 peated, at intervals and pauses in her father's ejaculatory 
 prayer 
 
 " Yes oh, yes His will His holy will be done ! The 
 Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away blessed be the 
 name of the Lord for ever ! We shall meet again oh, yes 
 where the weary are at rest. 
 
 ' A few short years of evil past, 
 We reach the happy shore 
 Where death-divided friends at last 
 Shall meet, to part no more.' 
 
 O father, is not that a gracious saying, and worthy of all 
 acceptation ! " 
 
 At length the door opened, and in walked William 
 Wilson. 
 
 The reader need scarcely to be told that the sagacious 
 dog had left his master floundered, and unable to extricate 
 himself in a snow wreath ; that the same faithful guide 
 had taken the searchers to the spot, where they found 
 Wilson just in the act of falling into a sleep from which,
 
 172 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 indeed, but for the providential sagacity of his dog, he 
 had never wakened ; and that, by means of some spirits 
 which they had taken in a bottle, they completely restored 
 and conducted him home. 
 
 " Lives ther^bne mth soul so dead " 
 
 as not now to image the happy meeting betwixt bride and 
 bridegroom, and, above all, the influence which this trial 
 had upon the happiness and religious character of their 
 future married and prosperous lot ? 
 
 It is, indeed, long 'since I have laid aside the pack to 
 which, after a good education, I had taken, from a wan- 
 dering propensity and taken up my residence in the 
 flourishing village of Thornhill, Dumfriesshire ; living, at 
 first, on the profits of my shop, and now retired on my 
 little, but, to me, ample competency; but I still have great 
 pleasure in paying a yearly visit to my friends of Mitchel- 
 slacks, and in recalling with them, over a comfortable 
 meal, the interesting incidents of the snow storm 1794. 
 
 THE FAIR MAID OF CELLARDYKES. 
 
 I DID not like the idea of having all the specimens of the 
 fine arts in Europe collected into one " bonne bouche " at 
 the Louvre. It was like collecting, Avhile a boy, a handful 
 of strawberries, and devouring them at one indiscrimi- 
 nating gulp. I do not like floral exhibitions, for the same 
 reason. I had rather a thousand times meet my old and 
 my new friends in my solitary walks, or in my country 
 rambles. All museums in this way confound and bewilder 
 me; and had the Turk not been master of Greece, I should 
 have preferred a view of the Elgin marbles in the land of 
 their nativity. And it is for a similar reason that my 
 mind still reverts, with a kind of droamy delight, to the
 
 THE FA1B MATD OF CEIXAKDYKES. 173 
 
 time when I viewed mankind in detail, and in all their 
 individual and natural peculiarities, rather than en masse, 
 and in one regimental uniform. Educate up ! Educate 
 up ! Invent machinery discover agencies saddle nature 
 with the panniers of labour and, at last, stand alongside 
 of her, clothed, from the peasant to the prince, in the 
 wonders of her manufacture, and merrily whistling, in idle 
 unconcern, to the tune of her unerring despatch ! But 
 what have we gained ? One mass of similarities : the 
 housemaid, the housekeeper, the lady, and the princess, 
 speaking the same language, clothed in the same habili- 
 ments, and enjoying the same immunities from corporeal 
 labour the colours of the rainbow whirled and blended 
 into one glare of white ! Towards this ultimatum we are 
 now fast hastening. Where is the shepherd stocking- 
 weaver, with his wires and his fingers moving invisibly ? 
 Where the " wee and the muckle wheel," with the aged 
 dames, in pletted toys, singing " Tarry woo ?" Where the 
 hodden-grey clad patriarch, sitting in the midst of his 
 family, and mixing familiarly and in perfect equality with 
 all the household servant and child? My heart constantly 
 warms to these recollections ; and I feel as if wandering 
 over a landscape variegated by pleasant and contrasting 
 colouring, and overshadowed with associations which have 
 long been a part of myself. One exception to the general 
 progression and assimilation still happily remains to gratify, 
 I must confess, my liking for things as they were. The 
 fisher population of Newhaven, Buckhaven, and Cellardykes 
 (my observation extends no farther, and I limit my 
 remarks accordingly) are, in fact, the Scottish highlanders, 
 the Irish, the Welsh, and the Manks of Fisherdom. Dif- 
 fering each somewhat from the other, they are united by 
 one common bond of character they are varieties of the 
 same animal the different species under one genus. I like 
 this. I am always in high spirits when I pass through a
 
 174 TALES OF THE BOKDEBS. 
 
 fishing village or a fisher street. No accumulation of filth 
 in every hue of shell, and gill, and fish-tail can disgust 
 me. I even smell a sweet savour from their empty 
 baskets, as they exhale themselves dry in the sunbeam. 
 And then there is a hue of robust health over all. No 
 mincing of matters. Female arms and legs of the true 
 Tuscan order cheeks and chins where neither the rose nor 
 the bone has been stinted. Children of the dub and the 
 mire all agog in demi-nudity, and following nature most 
 vociferously. Snug, comfortable, cabins, where garish day 
 makes no unhandsome inquiries, and where rousing fires 
 and plentiful meals abide from June to January. They 
 have a language, too, of their own the true Muckle- 
 backet dialect ; and freely and firmly do they throw from 
 them censure, praise, or ribaldry. The men are here but 
 men; mere human machines useful, but not ornamental 
 necessary incumbrances rather than valuable protectors. 
 "Poor creature!" says Meg of the Mucklebacket, "she 
 canna maintain a man." Sir Walter saw through the 
 character I am labouring to describe; and, in one sentence, 
 put life and identity into it. I know he was exceedingly 
 fond of conversing with fisherwomen in particular. But, 
 whilst such are the general features, each locality I have 
 mentioned has its distinctive lineaments. The Newhaven 
 fisherwoman (for the man is unknown) is a bundle of snug 
 comfort. Her body, her dress, her countenance, her 
 basket, her voice, all partake of the same character of 
 enbonpointness. Yet there is nothing at all untidy about 
 her. She may ensconce her large limbs in more plaiden 
 coverings than the gravedigger in " Hamlet" had waist- 
 coats, but still she moves without constraint ; and under a 
 burden which would press my lady's waiting-maid to the 
 carpet, she moves free, firm, elastic. Her tongue is not 
 labour-logged, her feet are not creel-retarded; but, alto- 
 gether unconscious of the presence of hundreds, she holds
 
 THE FAJUl MAID Olf CELLAKDYKES. 175 
 
 on her way and her discourse as if she were a caravan in 
 the desert. She is to be found in every street and alley 
 of Auld Reekie, till her work is accomplished. Her voice 
 of call is exceedingly musical, and sounds sweetly in the 
 ears of the infirm and bedrid. All night long she holds 
 her stand close by the theatre, with her broad knife and 
 her opened oyster. In vain does the young spark en- 
 deavour to engage her in licentious talk. He soon dis- 
 covers that, wherever her feelings or affections tend, they 
 do not point in his favour. Thus, loaded with pence, and 
 primed with gin, she returns by midnight to her home 
 there to share & supper-pint with her man and her neigh- 
 bours, and to prepare, by deep repose, for the duties of a 
 new day. Far happier and far more useful she, in her day 
 and generation, than that thing of fashion which men call 
 a beau or a belle in whose labours no one rejoices, and 
 in whose bosom no sentiment but self finds a place. In 
 Buckhaven, again, the Salique law prevails. There men 
 are men, and women mere appendages. The sea depart- 
 ment is here all in all. The women, indeed, crawl a little 
 way, and through a few deserted fields, into the surrounding 
 country ; but the man drives the cart, and the cart carries 
 the fish ; and the fish are found in all the larger inland 
 towns eastward. Cellardykes is a mixture of the two a 
 kind of William and Mary government, where, side by 
 side, at the same cart, and not unfrequently in the same 
 boat, are to be found man and woman, lad and lass. Oh, 
 it is a pretty sight to see the Cellardyke fishers leaving the 
 coast for the herring-fishing in the north ! I witnessed it 
 some years ago, as I passed to Edinburgh ; and this year 
 I witnessed it again. 
 
 Meeting and conversing with my old friend the minister 
 of the parish of Kilrenny, we laid us down on the sunny 
 slope of the brae facing the east and the Isle of May, 
 whilst he gave me the folio wing narrative:
 
 176 TALES OF TUB BOKDER8. 
 
 Thomas Laing and Sarah Black were born and brought 
 up under the same roof namely, that double-storied tene- 
 ment which stands somewhat by itself, overlooking the 
 harbour. They entered by the same outer door, but 
 occupied each a separate story. Thomas Laing was always 
 a stout, hardy, fearless boy, better acquainted with every 
 boat on the station than with his single questions, and far 
 fonder of little Sarah's company than of the schoolmaster's. 
 Sarah was likewise a healthy, stirring child, extremely 
 sensitive and easily offended, but capable, at the same 
 time, of the deepest feelings of gratitude and attachment. 
 Thomas Laing was, in fact, her champion, her Don 
 Quixote, from the time when he could square his arms and 
 manage his fists; and much mischief and obloquy did he 
 suffer among his companions on account of his chivalrous 
 defence of little Sally. One day whilst the fisher boys 
 and girls were playing on the pier, whilst the tide was at 
 the full, a mischievous boy, wishing to annoy Thomas, 
 pushed little Sail into the harbour, where, but for Thomas's 
 timely and skilful aid (for he was an excellent swimmer,) 
 she would probably have been drowned. Having placed 
 his favourite in a condition and place of safety, Tom 
 felled the offender, with a terrible fister, to the earth. 
 The blow had taken place on the pit of the stomach, and 
 was mortal. Tom was taken up, imprisoned, and tried for 
 manslaughter ; but, on account of his youth being then 
 only thirteen he was merely imprisoned for a certain 
 number of months. Poor Sally, on whose account Tom 
 had incurred the punishment of the law, visited him, as 
 did many good-natured fishermen, whilst in prison, where 
 he always expressed extreme contrition for his rashness. 
 After the expiry of his imprisonment, Tom returned to 
 Cellardykes, only to take farewell of his parents, and his 
 now more than ever dear Sally. He could not bear, he 
 said, to face the parents of the boy whose death he had
 
 THE FAIR MAID OF CELLARDYKES. 177 
 
 occasioned. The parting was momentary. He promised 
 to spend one night at home; but he had no such intention 
 and, for several years, nobody knew what had become of 
 Thomas Laing. The subject was at first a speculation, 
 then a wonder, next an occasional recollection ; and, in a 
 few month?, the place which once knew bold Tom Laing, 
 knew him no more. Even his parents, engaged as they 
 were in the active pursuits of fishing, and surrounded as 
 they were by a large and dependent family, soon learned 
 to forget him. One bosom alone retained the image of 
 Tom, more faithfully and indelibly than ever did coin the 
 impression of royalty. Meanwhile, Sarah grew for she 
 was a year older than Tom into womanhood, and fairly 
 took her share in all the more laborious parts of a fisher's 
 life. She could row a boat, carry a creel, or drive a cart 
 with the best of them ; and, whilst her frame was thus 
 hardened, her limbs acquired a consistency and proportion 
 which bespoke the buxom woman rather than the bonny 
 lass. Her eye, however, was large and brown, and her lips 
 had that variety of expression which lips only can ex- 
 hibit. Many a jolly fisher wished and attempted to press 
 these lips to his ; but was always repulsed. She neither 
 spoke of her Thomas, nor did she grieve for him much in 
 secret ; but her heart revolted from a union with any other 
 person whilst Thomas might still be alive. Upon a per- 
 son differently situated, the passion (for passion assuredly 
 it was) which she entertained for her absent lover, might 
 and would have produced very different effects. Had 
 Sarah been a young boarding-school miss, she would 
 assuredly either have 'eloped with another, or have died in 
 a madhouse; had she been a sentimental sprig of gentility, 
 consumption must have followed: but Sarah was neither of 
 these. She had a heart to feel, and deeply too ; but she 
 knew that labour was her destiny, and that when " want 
 came in at the door, love escapes by the window." So she
 
 1"S i U.ES OF TIIK BORDERS. 
 
 just laboured, laughed, ate, drank, and slept, very much 
 like other people. Yet few sailors came to the place 
 whom she did not question about Thomas ; and many a 
 time and oft did she retire to the rocks of a Sabbath eve, 
 to think of and pray for Thomas Laing. People imagine, 
 from the free and open manner, and talk of the fisher- 
 women, that they are all or generally people of doubtful 
 moral it}-. Never was there a greater mistake. To the 
 public in general they are inaccessible ; they almost uni- 
 versally intermarry \vith one another ; and there are fewer 
 cases (said my reverend informant) of public or sessional 
 Reproof in Cellardykes, than in any other district of my 
 parish. But, from the precarious and somewhat solitary 
 nature of their employment, they are exceedingly super- 
 stitious ; and I had access to know, that many a sly six- 
 pence passed from Sally's pocket into old Effie the wise 
 woman's, with the view of having the cards cut and cups 
 read for poor Thomas. 
 
 Time, however, passed on with time came, but did not 
 pass misfortune. Sally's father, who had long been ad- 
 dicted, at intervals, to hard drinking, was found one morn- 
 ing dead at the bottom of a cliff, over which, in returning 
 home inebriated, he had tumbled. There were now three 
 sisters, all below twelve, to provide for, and Sally's mother 
 had long been almost bedrid with severe and chronic 
 rheumatism ; consequently, the burden of supporting this 
 helpless family devolved upon Sarah, who was now in the 
 bloom and in the strength of her womanhood. Instead 
 of sitting down, however, to lament what could not be 
 helped, Sarah immediately redoubled her diligence. She 
 even learned to row a boat as well as a man, jiud contrived, 
 by the help of the men her father used to employ, to keep 
 his boat still going. Things prospered with her for a 
 while ; but, in a sudden storm, wherein five boats perished 
 with all on board, she lost her whole resources. They are
 
 THE FAIR MAID OF CELLARDYKEa. 179 
 
 a. high-minded people those Cellardyke fishers. The 
 Blacks scorned to come upon the session. The young 
 girls salted herrings, and cried haddocks in small baskets 
 through the village and the adjoining burghs, and Sarah 
 contrived still to keep up a cart for country service. Mean- 
 while, Sarah became the object of attention through the 
 whole neighbourhood. Though somewhat larger in feature 
 and limb than the. Venus de Medicis, she was, notwith- 
 standing, tight, clean, and sunny her skin white as snow, 
 and her frame a well-proportioned Doric just such a help- 
 mate as a husband who has to rough it through life might 
 be disposed to select. Captain William M'Guffock, or, as 
 he was commonly called, Big Bill, was the commander 
 of a coasting craft, and a man of considerable substance. 
 True, he was considerably older than Sally, and a widower, 
 but he had no family, and a "bien house to bide in." 
 You see that manse-looking tenement there, on the broad 
 head towards the east that was Captain M'GufFock's resi- 
 dence when his seafaring avocations did not demand his 
 presence elsewhere. Well, Bill came acourting to Sally ; 
 but Sally " looked asclent and unco skeich." Someway 
 or other, whenever she thought of matrimony which she 
 did occasionally she at the same time thought of Thomas 
 Laing, and, as she expressed it, her heart scunnered at the 
 thought. Consequently, Bill made little progress in his 
 courtship ; which was likewise liable to be interrupted, for 
 weeks at a time, by his professional voyages. At last a 
 letter arrived from on board a king's vessel, then lying in 
 Leith Eoads, apprising Thomas Laing's relatives that he 
 had died of fever on the West India station. This news 
 affected Sally more than anything which had hitherto 
 happened to her. She shut herself up for two hours in her 
 mother's bedroom, weeping aloud and bitterly, exclaiming, 
 from time to time "Oh! my Thomas! my own dearest 
 Thomas ! I shall never love man again. I am thine in
 
 180 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 life and in death in time and in eternity !" In vain did 
 the poor bedrid woman try to comfort her daughter. 
 Nature had her way ; and, in less than three hours, Sarah 
 Black was again in the streets, following, with a confused 
 but a cheerful look, her ordinary occupation. This grief 
 of Sarah's, had it been well nursed, might well have lasted 
 a twelvemonth ; but, luckily for Sarah, and for the labour- 
 ing classes in general, she had not time to nurse her grief 
 to keep it warm. " Give us this day our daily bread," said 
 a poor helpless mother and three somewhat dependent 
 sisters and Sarah's exertions were redoubled. 
 
 " Oh, what a feelingless woman ! " said Mrs. Paterson to 
 me, as Sarah passed her door one day in my presence, 
 absolutely singing " Oh, what a feelingless woman ! 
 and her father dead, and her mother bedrid, and poor 
 Thomas Laing, whom she made such a fuss about, gone 
 too and there is she, absolutely singing after all ! " 
 
 Mrs. Paterson is now Mrs. Robson, having married her 
 second husband just six weeks after the death of the first, 
 whom her improper conduct and unhappy temper contri- 
 buted first to render miserable here, and at last to convey 
 to the churchyard ! Verily (added the worthy clergyman), 
 the heart is deceitful above all things. But what, after 
 all, could poor Sarah do, but marry Will M'Guffock, and 
 thus amply provide, not only for herself, but for her 
 mother and sister ? Had Thomas (and her heart heaved 
 at the thought) still been alive, she thought, she never 
 would have brought herself to think of it in earnest ; but 
 now that Thomas had long ceased to think of her or of 
 anything earthly, why should she not make a man happy 
 who seemed distractedly in love with her, and at the same 
 time honourably provide for her poor and dependent rela- 
 tives? In the meantime, the sacramental occasion came 
 round, and I had a private meeting previous to the first 
 communion with Sarah Black. To me, in secret, she laid
 
 THE FAIR MAID OF CELLARDYKES. 181 
 
 open her whole heart as if in the presence of her God ; 
 and I found her, though not a well-informed Christian by 
 any means on doctrinal points, yet well disposed and ex- 
 ceedingly humble ; in short, I had great pleasure in put- 
 ting a token into her hand, at which she continued to look 
 for an instant, and then returned it to me. I expressed 
 surprise, at least by my looks. " I fear," said she, " that 
 I am unworthy; for I have not told you that I am thinking 
 of marrying a man whom I cannot love, merely to provide 
 for our family. Is not this a sin? and can I, with an 
 intention of doing what I know to be wrong, safely com- 
 municate ? " I assured her that, instead of thinking it a 
 sin, I thought her resolution commendable, particularly as 
 the object of her real affection was beyond its reach ; and 
 I mention the circumstance to show that there is often 
 much honour, and even delicacy of feeling, natural as well 
 as religious, under very uncongenial circumstances and 
 appearances. Having satisfied her mind on this subject, I 
 had the pleasure to see her at the communion table, con- 
 ducting herself with much seeming seriousness of spirit. I 
 could see her shed tears, and formed the very best opinion 
 of her from her conduct throughout. 
 
 In a few days or weeks after this, the proclamation lines 
 were put into my hands, and I had the pleasure of uniting 
 her to Captain M'Guffock in due course. They had, how- 
 ever, only been married a few weeks, when an occurrence 
 of a very awkward character threw her and her husband, 
 who was, in fact, an ill-tempered, passionate man, into 
 much perplexity. The captain was absent on a coasting 
 voyage, as usual ; and his wife was superintending the 
 v- ashing of some clothes, whilst the sun was setting. It 
 was a lovely evening in the month of July, and the fishing 
 boats were spread out all over the mouth of the Firth, 
 from the East-Neuk to the Isle of May, in the same man- 
 ner in which you see them at present. Mrs. M'Guffock's
 
 182 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 mind assumed, notwithstanding the glorious scenery around 
 her, a serious cast, for she could not help recalling many 
 such evenings in which she had rejoiced in company and 
 in unison with her beloved Thomas. She felt and knew 
 that it was wrong to indulge such emotions ; but she could 
 not help it. At last, altogether overcome, she threw her- 
 self forward on the green turf, and prayed audibly " O 
 my God, give me strength and grace to forget my own 
 truly beloved Thomas ! Alas ! he knoAvs not the struggles 
 which I have to exclude him from my sinful meditations. 
 Even suppose he were again to arise from the dead, and 
 appear in all the reality of his youthful being, I must, and 
 would fly from him as from my most dangerous foe." She 
 lifted up her eyes in the twilight, and in the next instant 
 felt herself in the arms of a powerful person, who pressed 
 her in silence to his breast. Amazed and bewildered, she 
 neither screamed nor fainted, but, putting his eager kisses 
 aside, calmly inquired who he was who dared thus to insult 
 her. She had no sooner pronounced the inquiry, than she 
 heard the words, " Thomas your own Thomas ! " pro- 
 nounced in tones which could not be mistaken. This, 
 indeed, overpowered her ; and, with a scream of agony, 
 she sank down dead on the earth. This brought imme- 
 diate assistance ; but she was found lying by herself, and 
 talking wildly about her Thomas Laing. Everybody who 
 heard her concluded that she had either actually seen her 
 lover's ghost, or that her mind had given way under the 
 pressure of regret for her marriage, and that she was now 
 actually a lunatic. For twelve hours she continued to 
 evince the most manifest marks of insanity ; but sleep at 
 last soothed and restored her, and she immediately sent 
 for me. I endeavoured to persuade her that it must be 
 all a delusion, and that the imagination oftentimes created 
 such fancies. I gave instances from books which I had 
 read, as well as from a particular friend of my own who
 
 THE FAIR MAID OF CELLABDYKES. 183 
 
 had long been subject to such delusive impressions, and at 
 last she became actually persuaded that there had been no 
 reality in what she had so vividly perceived, and still most 
 distinctly and fearfully recollected. I took occasion then 
 to urge upon her the exceeding sinfulness of allowing any 
 image to come betwixt her and her lawful married hus- 
 band ; and left her restored, if not to her usual serenity, 
 at least to a conviction that she had only been disturbed 
 by a vision. 
 
 When her husband returned, I took him. aside, and 
 explained my views of the case, and stated my most 
 decided apprehension that some similar impression might 
 return upon her nerves, and that her sisters (her mother 
 being now removed by death) should dwell in the same 
 house with her. To this, however, the captain objected, 
 on the score that, though he was willing to* pay a person 
 to take care of them in their own house, he did not deem 
 them proper company, in short, for a captain's wife. I dis- 
 liked the reasoning, and told him so ; but he became pas- 
 sionate, and I saw it was useless to contend further. From 
 that day, however, Bill M'Guffock seemed to have become 
 an altered man. Jealousy, or something nearly resembling 
 it, took possession of his heart ; and he even ventured to 
 affirm that his wife had a paramour somewhere concealed, 
 with whom, in his long and necessary absences, she asso- 
 ciated. He alleged, too, that in her sleep she would 
 repeat the name of her favourite, and in terms of present 
 love and fondness. I now saw that I had not known the 
 depth of " a first love," otherwise I should not have 
 advised this unhappy marriage, all advantageous as it was 
 in a worldly point of view. A sailor's life, however, is 
 one of manifest risk, and in less than a twelvemonth Sarah 
 M'Guffock was a young widow, without incumbrance, and 
 with her rights to her just share of the captain's effects. 
 Her sorrow for the death of her husband was, T
 
 184 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 sincere ; but I observed that she took an early opportunity 
 of joining her sisters in her old habitation, immediately 
 beneath that still tenanted by the friends of Laing. 
 
 Matters were in this situation, when I was surprised one 
 evening, whilst sitting meditating in the manse of Kilrenny, 
 about dusk, with a visit from a tall and well-dressed 
 stranger. He asked me at once if I could give him a 
 private interview for a few minutes, as he had something 
 of importance to communicate. Having taken him into 
 my study, and shut the door, I reached him a chair, and 
 desired him to proceed. 
 
 " I had left the parish," said the stranger, "before you 
 were minister of Kilrenny, in the time of worthy Mr. 
 Brown, and therefore you will probably not know even my 
 name. I am Thomas Laing!" 
 
 "I did not indeed," said I, "know you, but I have 
 heard much about you ; and I know one who has taken 
 but too deep an interest in your fate. But how comes 
 it," added I, beginning to think that I was conversing 
 either with a vision or an impostor " how comes it that 
 you are here, seemingly alive and well, whilst we have all 
 been assured of your death some years ago ? " 
 
 The stranger started, and immediately exclaimed 
 " Dead ! dead ! who said I was dead ? " 
 
 " Why," said I, " there was a letter came, I think, to 
 your own father, mentioning your death by fever in the 
 West Indies." 
 
 " Do I look like a dead man ? " said the stranger ; but, 
 immediately becoming absent and embarrassed, he sat for 
 a while silent, and then resumed : " Some one," said lie, 
 " has imposed upon my dear Sarah, and for the basest of 
 purposes. I now see it all. My dear girl has been sadly used." 
 
 " This is, indeed, strange," said I ; " but let me hear 
 how it is that I have the honour of a visit from you at 
 this time and in this place ? "
 
 * THE FAIR MAID OF CELLARDYKES. 185 
 
 " Oh," replied Thomas Laing (for it was he in verity), 
 " I will soon give you the whole story : 
 
 " When I left this, fourteen years ago come the time, I 
 embarked at Greenock, working my way out to New York. 
 As I was an excellent hand at a rope and an oar, I early 
 attracted the captain's notice, who made some inquiries 
 respecting my place of birth and my views in life. I told 
 him that I was literally " at sea," having nothing particu- 
 larly ;n view that I had been bred a fisher, and under- 
 stood sailing and rowing as well as any one on board. The 
 captain seemed to have something in his head, for he 
 nodded to me, saying, ' Very well, we will see what can 
 be done for you when we arrive at New York.' When we 
 were off Newfoundland, we were overtaken by a terrible 
 storm, which drove us completely out of our latitude, till, 
 at last, we struck on a sandbank the sea making for 
 several hours a complete breach over the deck. Many 
 were swept away into the devouring flood ; whilst some of 
 us amongst several others the captain and myself clung 
 to what remained of the ship's masts till the storm some- 
 what abated. We then got the boat launched, and made 
 for land, which we could see looming at some distance 
 ahead. We got, however, entangled amongst currents and 
 breakers ; and, within sight of a boat which was making 
 towards us from the shore, we fairly upset and I remem- 
 ber nothing more till I awoke, in dreadful torment, in 
 some fishermen's boat. Beside me lay the captain, the 
 rest had perished. When we arrived at the land, we were 
 placed in one of the fishermen's huts, where we were most 
 kindly treated assisting, as we did occasionally, in the 
 daily labours of the cod fishery. I displayed so much 
 alertness and skill in this employment, that the factor on 
 the station made me an advantageous offer, if I would 
 remain with them and assist in their labours. With this 
 offer, having no other object distinctly in view, I complied.
 
 186 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 But my kind and good-hearted captain, possessing less 
 dexterity in this employment, was early shipped at his 
 own request for England. The most of the hands, about 
 two hundred in all, on the station where I remained, were 
 Scotch and Irish, and a merry, jovial set we were. The 
 men had wives and families ; and the governor or factor 
 lived in a large slated house, very like your manse, upon a 
 gentle eminence, a little inland. Towards the coast the 
 land is sandy and flat ; but in the interior there is much 
 wood, a very rich soil, and excellent fresh water. Where 
 we remained the water was brackish, and constituted the 
 chief inconvenience of our station. The factor or agent, 
 commonly called by the men the governor, used to visit tis 
 almost every day, and remained much on board when 
 ships were loading for Europe. One fine summer's day we 
 were all enjoying the luxury of bathing, when, all on a 
 sudden, the shout was raised ' A shark ! a shark ! ' I 
 had just taken my place in the boat, and was still un- 
 dressed, when I observed one man disappear, being dragged 
 under the water by the sea monster. The factor, who 
 was swimming about in the neighbourhood, seemed to be 
 paralyzed by terror, for he made for the boat, plashing 
 like a dog, with his hands and arms frequently stretched 
 out of the water. I saw his danger, and immediately 
 plunged in to his rescue, which, with some difficulty, I at 
 last effected. 
 
 " Poor Pat Moonie was seen no more ; nor did the 
 devouring monster reappear. The factor immediately 
 acknowledged his obligations to me, by carrying me home 
 with him, and introducing me to his lady and an only 
 daughter I think I never beheld a more beautiful crea- 
 ture ; but I looked upon her as a being of a different order 
 from myself, and I still thought of my own dear Sally and 
 sweet home at Cellardykos. Through the factor's kindness, 
 I got the management of a boat's crew, with considerable
 
 THE FAIR MAID OF CELLARDYKES. 187 
 
 emolument which belonged to the situation. I then be- 
 hoved to dress better, at least while on land, than I used 
 to do, and I was an almost daily visitor at Codfield House, 
 the name of the captain's residence. My affairs prospered; 
 I made, and had no way of spending money. The factor 
 was my banker, and his fair daughter wrote out the 
 acknowledgments for her father to sign. One beautiful 
 Sabbath-day, after the factor who officiated at our small 
 station as clergyman had read us prayers and a sermon, 
 I took a walk into the interior of the country, where, with 
 a book in her hand, and an accompaniment of Newfound^ 
 land dogs, I chanced to meet with Miss Woodburn, the 
 factor's beautiful child. She was only fourteen, but quite 
 grown, and as blooming a piece of womanhood as ever 
 wore kid gloves or black leather. She seemed somewhat 
 embarrassed at my presence, and blushed scarlet, entreating 
 me to prevent one of her dogs from running away with 
 her glove, which he was playfully tossing about in his 
 mouth. The dog would not surrender his charge to any 
 one but to his mistress ; and, in the struggle, he bit my hand 
 somewhat severely. You may see the marks of his teeth 
 there still " (holding out his hand while he spoke). " Poor 
 Miss Woodburn knew not what to do first ; she imme- 
 diately dropped the book which she was reading scolded 
 the offending dog to a distance took up the glove, which 
 the dog at her bidding had dropped, and wrapped it close 
 and firmly around my bleeding hand ; a band of long grass 
 served for thread to make all secure, and in a few days my 
 hand was in a fair way of recovery but not so my heart ; 
 I felt as if I had been all at once transformed into a gentle- 
 man the soft touch of Miss Eliza's fair fingers seemed to 
 have transformed me, skin, ilcsh, and bones, into another 
 species of being. I shook like an aspen leaf whenever I 
 thought of our interesting interview ; and I could observe 
 that Eliza changed colour, and looked out of the window
 
 188 TAL.ES OF THE BORDEKS. 
 
 whenever I entered the room. But, sir, I am too particu- 
 lar, and I will now hasten to a close." I entreated him 
 (said the parson) to go on in his own way, and without 
 any reference to my leisure. He then proceeded : " Well, 
 sir, from year to year I prospered, and from year to year 
 got more deeply in love with the angel which moved 
 about in my presence. At last our attachment became 
 manifest to the young lady's parent ; and, to my great 
 surprise, it was proposed that we should make a voyage to 
 New York, and there be united in matrimony. All this 
 while, sir, I thought of my own dear Sally, and the 
 thought not unfrequently made me miserable ; but what 
 was Sally to me now ? perhaps she was dead perhaps 
 she was married perhaps but I could scarcely think it 
 she had forgot me ; and then the blooming rosebud was 
 ever in my presence, and hallowed me, by its superior 
 purity and beauty, into a complete gentleman. Well, 
 married we were at New York, and for several months I 
 was the happiest of men, and my dear wife (I know it) 
 the happiest of women; but the time of her labour ap- 
 proached and child and mother lie buried in the ceme- 
 tery at New York, where we had now fixed our residence." 
 (Here poor Thomas wept plentifully, and, after a pause, 
 proceeded.) " I could not reside longer in a place which 
 was so dismally associated in my mind ; so, having wound 
 up my worldly affairs, and placed my little fortune about 
 one thousand pounds in the bank, I embarked for Europe, 
 along with my father and. mother-in-law, who were going 
 home to end their days in the place of their nativity, 
 Belfast, in Ireland. I determined upon landing at the 
 Cove of Cork, to visit once more my native village, and to 
 have at least one interview with Sally. I learned, on my 
 arrival at Largo, that Sally was married to the old cap- 
 tain. I resolved, however, ere I went finally to settle in 
 Belfast, to have one stolen peep at my first love my own
 
 THE PAIR MAID OP CELLAKDTKES. 189 
 
 dear Sally. I came upon her whilst repeating my name 
 in her prayers I embraced her convulsively repeated 
 her name twice in her hearing heard her scream saw 
 her faint kissed her fondly again and again and, 
 strangers appearing, I immediately absconded. " 
 
 " This," said the minister, " explains all ; but go on 
 I am anxious to hear the conclusion of your somewhat 
 eventful history." 
 
 " Why, I was off immediately for Belfast, where I at 
 present reside with my father-in-law, whose temper, since 
 the loss of his child, has been much altered for the worse. 
 But I am here on a particular errand, in which your kind 
 offices, sir for I have heard of your goodness of heart 
 may be of service to me. I observed the -death of the old 
 captain in the newspaper, and I am here once more to 
 enjoy an interview with his widow. I wish you, sir, to 
 break the business to her ; meanwhile, I will lodge at the 
 Old Inn, Mrs. Laing's, at Anstruther, and await your return." 
 
 I agreed (continued the parson of Kilrenny) to wait 
 upon the widow ; and to see, in fact, how the wind set, in 
 regard to " first love." I found her, as I expected, neatly 
 clad in her habiliments of widowhood, and employed in 
 making some dresses for a sister's marriage. I asked and 
 obtained a private interview, when I detailed, as cautiously 
 as I could, the particulars of Thomas Laing's history. I 
 could observe that her whole frame shook occasionally, and 
 that tears came, again and again, into her eyes. I was 
 present, but a fortnight ago, at their first interview at the 
 inn ; and I never saw two human beings evince more real 
 attachment for each other. On their bended knees, and 
 with faces turned towards heaven, did they unite in thank- 
 ing God that he had permitted them to have another 
 interview with each other in this world of uncertainty and 
 death. It has been since discovered that the letter 
 announcing Laing's death was a forgery of the old captain,
 
 190 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 which has reconciled his widow very much to the idea of 
 shortening her days of mourning. In a word, this even- 
 ing, and in a few hours, I am going to unite the widower 
 and the widowed, together with a younger sister and a 
 fine young sailor, in the holy bonds of matrimony; and, 
 as a punishment for your giving me all this trouble in 
 narrating this story, I shall insist upon your eating fresh 
 herring, with the fresh-herring Presbytery of St. Andrew's, 
 which meets here at Mrs. Laing's to-day, and afterwards 
 witnessing the double ceremony. 
 
 To this I assented, and certainly never spent an even- 
 ing more agreeably than that which I divided betwixt the 
 merry lads of St. Andrew's Presbytery, and the fair dames 
 and maidens of Cellardykes, who graced the marriage 
 ceremony. Such dancing as there was, and such scream- 
 ing, and such music, and such laughing ; yet, amidst it all, 
 Mr. and Mrs. Laing preserved that decent decorum, which 
 plainly said, " We will not mar the happiness of the young; 
 but we feel the goodness and providence of our God too 
 deeply, to permit us to join in the noisy part of the 
 festivity." 
 
 " The fair maid of Cellardykes," with her kind-hearted 
 husband I may mention, for the satisfaction of my fail- 
 readers in particular may now be seen daily at their own 
 door, and in their own garden, on the face of the steep 
 which overlooks the village. They have already lived 
 three years in complete happiness, and have been blessed 
 with two as fine healthy children as a Cellardykes sun 
 ever rose upon. Mr. Laing has become an elder in the 
 church, and both husband and wife are most exemplary in 
 the discharge of their religious, as well as relative duties. 
 God has blessed them with an ample competence; and 
 sure is the writer of this narrative, that no poor fisherman 
 or woman ever applied to this worthy couple without ob- 
 taining relief.
 
 THE FAIR MAID OF CELLABDYKES. 191 
 
 One circumstance more, and my narrative closes. As 
 Mr. Laing was one evening taking a walk alcng the sea- 
 shore, viewing the boats as they mustered for the herring 
 fishing, he was shot at from behind one of the rocks, and 
 severely wounded in the shoulder the ball or slug-shot 
 having lodged in the clavicle, and refusing, for some days, 
 to be extracted. The hue-and-cry was immediately raised; 
 but the guilty person was nowhere to be seen. He had 
 escaped in a boat, or had hid himself in a crevice of the 
 rock, or in some private and friendly house in the village. 
 Poor Thomas Laing was carried home to his distracted 
 wife more dead than alive ; and Dr. Goodsir being called, 
 disclosed that, in his present state, the lead could not be 
 extracted. Poor Sarah was never a moment from her 
 husband's side, who fevered, and became occasionally 
 delirious talking incoherently of murder and shipwreck, 
 and Woodburn, and love, and marriage, and Sarah Black. 
 All within his brain was one mad wheel of mixed and con- 
 fused colours, such as children make when they wheel a 
 stick, dyed white, black, and red, rapidly around. Sus- 
 picion, from the first, fell upon the brother of the boy Rob 
 Paterson, whom Laing had killed many years before. 
 Revenge is the most enduring, perhaps, of all the passions, 
 and rather feeds upon itself than decays. Like fame, " it 
 acquires strength by time ; " and it was suspected that Dan 
 Paterson, a reckless and a dissipated man, had done the 
 deed. In confirmation of this supposition, Dan was no- 
 where to be found, and it was strongly suspected that his 
 wife and his son, who returned at midnight with the boat, 
 had set Dan on shore somewhere on the coast, and that 
 he had effected his escape. Death, for some time, seemed 
 every day and hour nearer at hand ; but at last the symp- 
 toms softened, the fever mitigated, the swelling subsided, 
 and, after much careful and skilful surgery, most admir- 
 ably conducted by Dr. Goodsir's son, the ball was extracted.
 
 192 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 The wound closed without mortification ; and, in a week 
 or two, Mr. Laing was not only out of danger, but out of 
 bed, and walking about, as he does to this hour, with his 
 arm in a slirig. It was about the period of his recovery, 
 that Dan Paterson was taken as he was skulking about in 
 the west country, apparently looking out for a ship in 
 which to sail to America. He was immediately brought 
 back to Cellardykes, and lodged in Anstruther prison. 
 Mr. Laing would willingly have forborne the prosecution ; 
 but the law behoved to have its course. Dan was tried 
 . for " maiming with the intention of murder," and was con- 
 demned to fourteen years' transportation. This happened 
 in the year 1822, the year of the King's visit to Scotland. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Laing actually waited upon his Majesty King 
 George the Fourth, at the palace of Dalkeith, and, backed 
 by the learned judge and counsel, obtained a commutation 
 of the punishment, from banishment to imprisonment for a 
 limited period. The great argument in his favour was the 
 provocation he had received. Dan Paterson now inhabits 
 a neat cottage in the village, and Mr. Laing has quite set 
 him up with a boat of his own, ready rigged and fitted for 
 use. He has entirely reformed, has become a member of 
 a temperance society, and his wife and family are as happy 
 as the day is long. Mr. and Mrs. Laing are supplied with 
 the very best of fish, and stockings and mittens are manu- 
 factured by the Patersons for the little Laings, particularly 
 during boisterous weather, when fishing is out of the 
 question. Thus has a wise Providence made even the 
 wrath of man to praise him. The truth of the above 
 narrative may be tested any day, by waiting upon the 
 Rev. Mr. Dickson, or upon the parties themselves at Brae- 
 head of Cellardykes.
 
 PRESCRIPTION. 193 
 
 PRESCRIPTION; 
 
 f 
 
 OR, THE 29TH OF SEPTEMBER. 
 
 THE serene calmness and holy inspiration of some of our 
 cottage retreats in Scotland are often the envy of the town- 
 poet or philosopher, who looks upon the sequestered spots 
 as possessing all the beauty and repose of the beatific 
 Beulah, where the feet of the pilgrim found repose, and 
 his spirit rest. The desire arises out of that discontent 
 which, less or more, is the inheritance of man in this 
 sphere; it is the residuum of the worldly feelings which, 
 like the clay that, in inspired hands, gave the power of 
 sight to the blind, opens the eyes to immortality. The wish 
 for retirement belongs to good, if it is not a part of the great 
 principle that inclines us to look far away to purer regions 
 for the rest which is never disturbed, and the joy that 
 knows no abatement. Yet how vain are often our thoughts 
 as we survey the white-washed hut in the valley, covered 
 with honeysuckle and white roses; the plot before the 
 door ; the croonin dame on her tripod ; the lass with the 
 lint-white locks, singing, in snatches of Nature's own lan- 
 guage, her purest feelings, like the swelling of a mountain 
 spring ! The heart is not still there, any more than in the 
 crowded mart. The birds whistle, but they die too; the 
 rose blooms, but it is eaten in the heart by the palmer 
 worm; the sun shines, but there is a shade at his back. 
 Alas for mortal aspirations there is nothing here of one 
 side. Like the two parties who fought for the truth of 
 the two pleas that the statue was white, or that it was 
 black we find, after all our labour lost, that one side is of 
 the one colour, and the other of the opposite. These thoughts 
 
 VOL. I G
 
 191 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 arise in us at this moment, as we recollect the little cottage 
 of Homestead, situated in a collateral valley on the Borders. 
 We were horn at a stone-cast from it ; and, even in the 
 dream of age, see issuing from it, or entering it, a creature 
 who might have stood for Wordsworth's Highland Girl 
 a slender, gracile thing, retiring and modest; as delicate 
 in her feelings as in the hue of her complexion ; her 
 thoughts of her glen and waterfall only natural to her 
 all others, fearful even to herself, glenting forth through 
 a flushed medium, which equally betrayed the workings of 
 the blood in the transparent veins a being of young life, 
 elasticity, and sensitiveness, such as, like some modest 
 flower, we find only in certain recesses of the valleys in 
 mountain-lands. Such were you, Alice Scott, when you 
 first darted across our path on the hills. We have said that 
 we see you now through the dream of age; and, holding 
 to the parallel, there is a change o'er the mood of our vision, 
 for we see you again in a form like that of " The Ladye 
 Geraldine" your mountain russets off; the bandeau that 
 bound the flying locks laid aside ; the irritability and flush 
 of the young spirit abated; and, instead of these, the gown 
 of silk, the coif of satin, and the slow and dignified step 
 of conscious worth and superiority. And whence this 
 change? 
 
 The young female we have thus apostrophised, was the 
 daughter of Adam Scott, a cottar, who occupied the small 
 cottage of Homestead, under the proprietor of Whitecraigs 
 a fine property, lying to the south of the cottage; and 
 the mansion of which is yet to be seen by the traveller who 
 :ceks the Tweed by the windings of the river Lyne. Old 
 Adam died, and left his widow and daughter to the pro- 
 tection of his superior, Mr. Hayston, who, recollecting the 
 services and stanch qualities of his tenant, did not despise 
 the charge. The small bield was allowed to the mother 
 and daughter, rent free; and somr resistance, in addition
 
 PRESCRIPTION. 190 
 
 to the produce of their hands, enabled them to live as 
 thousands in this country live, whose capability of support- 
 in GT life might be deemed a problem difficult of solution by 
 those whose only care is how to destroy God's gifts. Nature 
 ic- as curious in her disposal of qualities as the great 
 genius of chance or convention is of the distribution of 
 means. Literature has worn out the characteristic and 
 gloomy lines of the description of the fair and the good; 
 and the impatience of the mind of the nineteenth century 
 a mind greedy of caricature, and regardless of written 
 sentiment may warn us from the portrayment of what 
 people now like better to see than to read or hear of. 
 Away, then, with the usual terms, and let old Dame Scott 
 and her daughter be deemed as of those beings who have 
 interested you in the quiet recesses of humble poverty, 
 where Nature, as if in sport or satire, loves to play fan- 
 tastic tricks. If you have no living models to go by, call 
 up some of the pages of the thousand volumes that have 
 been multiplied on a subject which has been more spoiled 
 by poetical imagery, than benefited by sober observation. 
 
 Within about five years of the death of the husband and 
 father, old Hayston died, and left Whitecraigs to his only 
 son, Hector, who was kind enough to continue the gift of 
 the father to the inmates of Homestead ; but he loaded 
 them with a condition, unspoken, yet implied. The young 
 laird and the pretty cottage maiden had foregathered often 
 amidst the romantic scenes on the Lyne; and that which 
 Nature probably intended as a guard and a mean of segrega- 
 tion the shrinking timidity of her own mountain child, 
 when looked upon by the eye of, to her, aristocracy only 
 tended to an opposite effect. A poet has compared love to 
 an Eastern bird, which loses all its beauty when it flies ; 
 and it is as true as it is a pretty conceit; but if there v.ns 
 any feathered creature whose wings, reflecting, from its 
 monaul tints, the sun in greater splendour, when on the
 
 196 TALES OF THE BO11DERS. 
 
 wing, it would supply as applicable and not less poetical 
 an emblem of the object of the little god's heart-stirrings; 
 and so it seemed to the young laird of Whitecraigs, that, 
 as Alice Scott bounded away over the green hills, or down 
 by the Lyne banks, at his approach, her flight added to the 
 interest which she had already inspired when she had no 
 means of escape. But, as the wildest doe may be caught 
 and tamed, so was she, who was as a white one removed 
 from the herd. The young man possessed attractions 
 beside those of imputed wealth and station-; and probably, 
 though we mean not to be severe upon the sex, the process 
 by which his affection had been increased was reversed 
 in its effects upon her, to whom assiduous seeking was as 
 the assiduous retreating had been to him. 
 
 Yet all was, we believe, honourable in the intentions of 
 young Hayston ; and, as for Alice, she was in the primeval 
 condition of a total unconsciousness of evil. The " one 
 blossom on earth's tree," as the poet has it, was by her yet 
 unplucked, nor knew she how many thousands have had 
 cause to sing 
 
 " I have plucked the one blossom that hangs on earth's tree ; 
 I have lived I have loved, and die." 
 
 Her former timidity was the a priori proof of the strength 
 of the feeling that followed, when the sensitiveness of fear 
 gave way to confidence. Town loves are a thing of sorry 
 account: the best of them are a mere preference of the 
 one to the many; and he who is fortunate enough to out- 
 shine his rivals, may pride himself in the possession of some 
 superior recommendations which have achieved a triumph. 
 Were he to look better to it, he might detect something, 
 too, in the force of resources. At best, a few hundred 
 pounds will turn the scale ; for he is by all that a better 
 man ; and the trained eye of town beauties has a strange 
 responsive twinkle in the glare of the one thing needful. 
 In the remote and beautiful parts of a romantic country,
 
 PRESCRIPTION. 197 
 
 things are otherwise ordered: affection there, is as the 
 mountain flower to the gallipot rose ; and it is a mockery 
 to tell us that the difference is only perceptible to those 
 who are weak enough to be romantic. A doughty warrior 
 would recognise and acknowledge the difference, and fight 
 & great deal better too, after he had blubbered over a 
 mountain or glen born love for a creature who would look 
 upon him as the soul of the retreat, and hang on his breast 
 in the outpourings of Nature's feelings. That young White- 
 craigs appreciated the triumph he had secured, there can 
 be no reason to doubt. He had been within the drying 
 atmosphere of towns, and had sung and waltzed, probably, 
 with a round hundred of creatures who understood the 
 passion, much as Audrey understood poetry deeming it 
 honest enough, but yet a composition made up of the ele- 
 ments of side glances, arias, smorzan do-sighs, and quadrilles. 
 With Alice Scott on his bosom, the quiet glen as their 
 retreat, the green umbrageous woods their defence, its birds 
 as their musicians, and the wimpling Lyne as the speaking 
 Naiad, he forgot, if he did not despise, the scenes he had 
 left. She flew from him now no longer. The fowler had 
 succeeded to captivate, not intentionally to kill. 
 
 Two years passed over in this intercourse. There was 
 no secret about it. The dame was well apprised of their 
 proceeding ; and the open frankness of the youth dispelled 
 all the fears of wrong which the innocence of the daughter, 
 undefended by experience, might have scarcely guaranteed 
 to one who, at least, had heard something of the ways of the 
 world. The income from Whitecraigs, somewhere about 
 seven hundred a-year, was more than sufficient for the 
 expenditure of the older Haystons; and Hector, at this 
 time, did not seem inclined to alter the line of life followed 
 by his fathers. He had not spoken of marriage to the 
 mother; but he had not hesitated to breathe into the ear ot 
 Alice all that was necessary to lead her to the conclusion, 
 
 01
 
 1 U8 TALKS OF THE BOK1>JKK5. 
 
 to which her heart jumped, that she was to be the lady of 
 the stately white mansion that, at one time, had appeared 
 to her as a great temple where humble worshippers of the 
 glen and the wood might not lay. their sandals at the door- 
 way. She had entered the vestibule only as an alms-seeker, 
 and trembled to think she might have been observed throw- 
 ing a side glance into the interior, where pier-glasses might 
 have reflected the form of the russet-clad child of the valley 
 and hill. The tale has been told a thousand times, and 
 the world is not mended by it. The young master pressed 
 her to his bosom, imprinted a kiss, and was away into the 
 mazes of life in the metropolis, whither some affairs, left 
 unsettled by his father, carried him. Six months passed 
 away, and the rents of the succeeding term were collected 
 by Mr. Pringle, the agent of the family, in Peebles. There 
 was no word for poor Alice, though the small allowance 
 was handed in by the agent, who, ignorant of the state of 
 matters between the young couple, informed the mother 
 that the master of Whitecraigs was on the eve of being 
 married to a young lady of some wealth in the metropolis. 
 The statement was heard by the daughter ; and what 
 henceforth but that of Thekla's song : 
 
 " The clouds are flying, the woods tire sighing 
 The maiden is walking the grassy shore ; 
 And as the wave breaks with might, with might, 
 She singeth aloud through the darksome night ; 
 But a tear is in her troubled eye." 
 
 Alice Scott was changed; yet, who shall tell what that 
 change was ? If the slow and even progress of the spirit 
 may defy the eye of the metaphysician, who may describe 
 its moods of disturbance? Poetry is familiar with these 
 things, and we have fair rhymes to tell us of the wander- 
 ings, and the lonely musings by mountain streams, and the 
 eye that looks and sees not, and the wasting form, and the 
 words that come like the sounds from deep caves; yet,
 
 FRESCRIPXIOX. 1 i) U 
 
 after all, they teii us but little, and that little is but ta 
 tickle us with the resonance of spoken sentiment, leavin 
 the sad truth as little understood as before. True it was, 
 that Alice Scott did all these things, and more too : the 
 charm of the hills and the water banks was. gone : the 
 light spirit that carried her along, as if borne on the winds, 
 was quenched ; the songs by which she gladdened the ears oi 
 her mother, as she plied her portable handwork on the green. 
 was no more heard mingling its notes with the music of th;- 
 Lyne; and the face that shone transparently, like painted 
 alabaster, as if part of the light came from within, was as 
 the poet says 
 
 " Like an April morn 
 Clad in a wintry cloud." 
 
 Nor did additional time seem to possess any power save 
 that of increasing the pain of the heart-stroke. Most of 
 the griefs of mortals have -their appointed modes of alle- 
 viation some are complaining griefs, some are talkative, 
 and some sorrows are sociable for selfishness. But the 
 heart-wound of her who has only those scenes of nature 
 which were associated with the image of the unkind one, 
 to wear off the impressions of which, under other hues, they 
 form a part, is a silent mourner. There is enough of a pain- 
 ful eloquence around her, and her voice would be only the 
 small whisper that is lost in the wailings of the storm in 
 the glen. Yet painful as the language is, she courts it in 
 silence, even while it mixes and blends with the poison 
 which consumes her. It was in vain that her mother, 
 who saw with a parental eye the malady which is the 
 best understood by those of her class and age, urged her 
 with kindness to betake herself to her household duties. 
 She was seldom .to be prevailed upon to remain within 
 doors ; the hill-side, or the bosom of the glen, or the 
 back of the willows by the water- side, were her choice. 
 Ordinary meal times were forgotten or unheeded, where
 
 200 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 Nature had renounced her cravings, or given all her 
 energies to the heart. 
 
 The next intelligence received at Homestead was that 
 of the marriage of Hector Hayston, and his departure for 
 France. The servants at Whitecraigs were discharged, as 
 if there had been no expectation, for a long period, of the 
 return of the young laird. The supply to the two females 
 was increased, and paid by Mr. Pringle, who, now probably 
 aware of the situation of Alice, delicately avoided any allu- 
 sion to his employer. Eeport, however, was busy with her 
 tales ; and the absence of the youth was attributed to the 
 workings of conscience or of shame. There was little truth 
 in the report. The object of his first affections might easily 
 have been banished from Whitecraigs, and he who had been 
 guilty of leaving her may be supposed capable of removing 
 her from scenes which could only add to her sorrow. A 
 true solution of his conduct might have been found in the 
 fact, that Hayston was now following his pleasures in the 
 society of his wife's friends a gay and lavish circle and 
 did not wish to detract from his enjoyment by adding 
 banishment and destitution to a wrong now irremediable. 
 Little more was heard of him for some time, with the ex- 
 ception of a floating report, that he had borrowed, through 
 his agent, the sum of ten thousand pounds from a Mr. 
 Colville, a neighbouring proprietor, and pledged to him 
 Whitecraigs in security. The circumstance interested 
 greatly the neighbouring proprietors, who shook their 
 heads in significant augury of the probable fate of their 
 young neighbour in the whirlpool of continental life. Yet 
 the allowance to Dame Scott at the next term was regularly 
 paid; and if there was a tear in her eye, as she looked, 
 first at the money, and then at the thin, pallid creature 
 who sat silent at the window, it was not that she dreaded 
 its discontinuance from the result of the extravagance of 
 the giver. The effect of the act of payment of the money
 
 PRESCRIPTION. 201 
 
 had, on a former occasion, been noticed by Pringle on the 
 conduct of Alice : it was on this occasion repeated. She 
 rose from her seat, looked steadfastly for a moment at the 
 gift as it lay on the table, placed her hand on her forehead, 
 and flitted out of the room. The eye of the agent followed 
 her from the window: her step was hurried, without an 
 object of impulse. She might go but whither? probably 
 she knew not herself; yet on she sped till she was lost 
 among the trees on the edge of the glen. 
 
 Thus longer time passed, but there seemed no change to 
 Alice, save in the continual decrease of the frame, under 
 the pressure of a mind that communed with the past, and 
 only looked to the future as containing some day that 
 would witness the termination of her sorrows. The anglers 
 on the Lyne became familiar with her figure, for they had 
 seen it on the heights, with her garments floating in the 
 breeze, and had come up to her as she sat by the water- 
 side, but they passed on. At the worst she could be 
 but one Avhose spirit was not settled enough to admit of 
 her according with the ways of honest maidens ; and they 
 might regret that the beauty that still lurked amidst the 
 savages of the disease of the heart, had not been turned to 
 better account. It is thus that one part of mankind sur- 
 veys another : they form their theory of a condition whose 
 secret nature is only known to its possessor ; draw their 
 moral from false premises, formed as a compliment to 
 their own conduct and situation, and pass on to their 
 pleasure. 
 
 Yet there occurred an important exception to these 
 remarks : One day Alice had taken up her seat on the 
 banks of a small pond in front of the house of Whitecraigs> 
 She sat opposite to the front of the dwelling, and seemed 
 to survey its closed windows and deserted appearance, with 
 the long grass growing up through the gravel of the walks 
 the broken pailings and decayed out-houses ; a scene tluit
 
 TALE3 OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 might be supposed to harmonize with the feelings of a mind 
 broken and desolate. There might seem even a consan- 
 guinity iii the causes of the condition of both. The scene 
 might have suited the genius of a Dauby. There was no . 
 living creature to disturb the silence. The house of faded 
 white, among the dark trees, cheerless and forsaken ; the 
 face of Alice Scott emaciated and pale, with the lustre of 
 the loch, shining in the sun, reflected on it, directed towards 
 the habitation of which she should have been mistress; her 
 eyes, which had forgotten the relief of tears, fixed on the 
 scene so pregnant with unavailing reminiscences with 
 these we would aid the artist. 
 
 But the charm was gone, as a voice sounded behind her. 
 She started, and, according to her custom, would have 
 fled as the hare that remembers the snare ; but she was 
 detained. A man, advanced in years, poorly clad, with 
 hair well smitten with snow tints, and a staff in his hand, 
 stood beside her, holding her by the skirt of the gown. 
 
 " I am weary," said he ; "I have walked from Moffat, 
 and would sit here for a time, if you would speak to me 
 of the scenes and people of these parts." And the appli- 
 cation of his hand again to her gown secured a compliance, 
 dictated more by fear than inclination. She sat, while she 
 trembled. " You are fair," continued he ; " but my ex- 
 perience of sorrow tells me that grief has been busier with 
 your young heart than years. I will not pry into your 
 secrets. To whom does Whitecraigs now belong ?" 
 
 The name had not been breathed by her to mortal since 
 that day she had heard of the intended marriage. She 
 made an effort to pronounce it, failed, and fixed her eyes 
 on the pond. The stranger gazed on her, waiting for her 
 reply. 
 
 "Hector Hayston," she at length muttered. 
 
 " And why has he left so fair a retreat to the desolation 
 that has overtaken it?" rejoined he again. The question
 
 PRESCRIPTION. 2<j.J 
 
 was still more unfortunate. She had no power to reply. 
 Her face was turned from him, and repressed breathings 
 heaved her bosom. " You may tell me, then, if one Dame 
 Scott lives in these parts?" he said again, as he marked 
 her strange manner, and probably augured that his prior 
 question was fr.aught with pain. 
 
 " Yes yes," she replied, with a sudden start, as if re- 
 lieved from pain, while she regained her feet; "yonder 
 lives my mother." 
 
 The stranger stood with his eyes fixed upon her, as if in 
 deep scrutiny of the inexplicable features of her character 
 and appearance ; but he added not a word, till he saw her 
 move as if she wished to be gone. 
 
 " You will go with me ?" he said. 
 
 But the -words were scarcely uttered, when she was 
 away through the woods, leaving him to seek his way to 
 the house of her mother, whither, accordingly, he directed 
 his steps, from some prior knowledge he possessed of the 
 locality about which he had been making inquiries. As 
 he went along, he seemed wrapt in meditation again and 
 again looking back, to endeavour to get another sight of 
 the girl, who was now seated on the edge of the stream, 
 and again seized by some engrossing thought that claimed 
 all the energies of his spirit. On coming up to the door 
 of the cottage, he tapped gently with his long staff; and, 
 upon being required by the dame to enter, he passed intu 
 the middle of the floor, and stood and surveyed the house 
 and its inmate. 
 
 ""I have nothing for you," said the latter; "so you 
 must pass on to those whom God has ordained as the dis- 
 tributors of what the needy require. Alas! I am myself 
 but a beggar." 
 
 The words seemed to have been wrung out of her by 
 the meditative mood in which the stranger had found her, 
 and, whether it was that the interest which had been ex-
 
 204 TALES OF THE BORDERS 
 
 cited iii him by the appearance of the daughter had been 
 increased by the confession of the mother, or that there 
 was some secret cause working in his mind, he passed his 
 hand over his eyes, and for a moment turned away his 
 head. 
 
 " I have been both a beggar and a giver in my day," he 
 replied, as he laid down his hat and staff, and took a chair 
 opposite to the dame ; "and I am weary of the one charac- 
 ter and of the other. I have got with a curse ; and I have 
 given for ingratitude. But I may here give, and you may 
 receive, without either. There is an unoccupied bed; I 
 am weary of wandering, and have enough to pay for rest." 
 
 "That is better than charity," rejoined the dame "ay, 
 even the charity of the stranger." 
 
 " And why of the stranger, dame ?" added he. "I have 
 hitherto thought that the charity of 'friends was that which 
 might be most easily borne. And who may be your bene- 
 factor ?" 
 
 " Hector Hayston of Whitecraigs," replied she, hanging 
 her head, and drawing a deep breath. 
 
 The stranger detected the same symptoms of pain in the 
 mother as those he had observed in the daughter. 
 
 "Then forgets he not his cottars in his absence," he 
 added. " But why has he left a retreat fairer than any I 
 have yet seen throughout a long pilgrimage over many 
 lands?" 
 
 " We will not speak of that," she replied, rising slowly, 
 and going to the window, where she stood for a time in 
 silence. 
 
 " You have a daughter, dame," resumed the man, as he 
 watched the indications of movement in the heart of the 
 mother. " I saw her sitting looking at the mansion of 
 Whitecraigs. I fear she can lend you small aid ; yet, if 
 her powers of mind and body were equal to the beauty 
 that has too clearly faded from her cheeks, methinks you
 
 PKESCRIPTION. 205 
 
 would have had small need to have taken the charity of 
 either friends or strangers." 
 
 "Ay, poor Alice! poor Alife!" rejoined the mother, 
 turning suddenly, and applying her hand to something 
 which required not her care at that time "Ay, poor Alice!" 
 she added. 
 
 "Is it a bargain, then," said he, wishing to retreat from 
 a subject that so evidently pained her, " that I may remain 
 here for a time, on your own terms of remuneration ?" 
 
 " It may be as you say," replied she, again taking her 
 seat ; " but only on a condition." 
 
 "What is it?" inquired he. 
 
 " That you never mention the name of Hector Hayston, 
 or of Whitecraigs, while Alice is by. She harms no one; 
 and I would not see her harmed." 
 
 " I perceive," said he, muttering to himself, " that I am 
 not the only one in the world who carries in his bosom a 
 secret. But," he continued, in a louder tone, "your con- 
 dition, dame, shall be fulfilled ; and now I may hold my- 
 self to be your lodger." And he proceeded to take from 
 the stuffed pockets of his coat some night-clothes of a 
 homely character, and handed them to the dame. " And 
 now," he said, " you may be, now or after, wondering who 
 he may be who has thus come, like a weary bird from the 
 waste that seeks refuge among the sere leaves, to live in 
 the habitation of sorrow. But you must question me not; 
 and farther than my name, which is Wallace, you may 
 know nothing of me till after the 29th day of September 
 ay, ay," he continued, as if calculating, "the 29th day of 
 September." 
 
 The dame started as she heard the mention of the day, 
 looked steadfastly at him, and was silent. 
 
 " Yes," he continued, " that day past, and I will once 
 more draw my breath freely in the land of my fathers ; 
 and my foot, which has only bowed the head of the
 
 206 TALES OF -THE BORDERS. 
 
 heather-bell in the valley, may yet collect energy enough 
 from my unstrung nerves to press fearlessly the sod of the 
 mountain. How long is it since your husband died ? " 
 
 " Seven years," replied she. 
 
 "Well, short as our acquaintance has yet been," said 
 he, " our words have been only of unpleasant things. 
 Now, I require refreshment ; and here is some small pay 
 in advance, to remove the ordinary prejudice against 
 strangers. We shall be better acquainted by times. I 
 will take, now, what is readiest in the house ; for you may 
 guess, from my attire, that I have been accustomed to 
 that fare by which the poor contrive to spin out the weary 
 term of their pilgrimage." 
 
 So much being arranged, the dame set about preparing 
 a meal ; and Mr. Wallace, as he had called himself, pro- 
 ceeded to transform his staff into a fishing-rod, and arranpv 
 his other small matters connected with his future residence. 
 When the humble dish was prepared, the dame went out, 
 and, taking her position on a green tumulus that rose 
 between the cottage and the Lyne, stood, and, placing her 
 hands over her eyes, looked down the water. Her 
 accustomed to the search, detected the form of her daugh- 
 ter far down the stream, and, waving her hand to her, she 
 beckoned her home. But she came not ; and the t \vo 
 inmates sat down to their repast. 
 
 " This shall be for my poor Alice," said the mother, as 
 she laid aside a portion of the frugal fare ; " but she will 
 take it at her own time, or perhaps not at all." 
 
 " And yet how much she needs it," added the stranger, 
 " her wasted form and pale face too plainly show." 
 
 "There is a sad change there, sir," rejoined she. "There 
 was not a fairer or more gentle creature from Tweedscross 
 to Tweedmouth than Alice Scott ; nor did ever the foot of 
 light-hearted innocence pass swifter over the hill or down 
 the glen. You have seen her to-day where she is often 1o
 
 PRESCRIPTION. 207 
 
 be seen by the pond opposite the closed-up house of 
 Whitecraigs and may wonder to hear how one so wasted 
 may still reach the hill-heads ; yet there, too, she is some- 
 times seen. I have struggled sore to make her what she 
 once was; but in vain. She will wander and wander, 
 and return and wander again ; nor will this cease till I 
 some day find her dead body among the seggs of the Lyne, 
 or in the lirk of the hill. When I know you better, I 
 may tell you more. At present, I am eating the bread 
 of one who is more connected with this sad subject than 
 I may now confess ; and I have never been accounted un- 
 grateful." 
 
 The stranger was moved, and ate his meal in meditative 
 silence. In an hour afterwards, Alice returned to the 
 house, and, as she entered, started as her eye met that of 
 him who had, by his questions, stirred to greater activity 
 the feelings that were already too busy with her heart; 
 but her fears were removed, by his avoidance of the sub- 
 ject which had pained her ; and a few hours seemed to 
 have rendered him sis indifferent to her as seemed the 
 other objects around her. Some days passed, and the 
 widow would have been as well satisfied with her lodger 
 as he was with her, Jiad it not been that he enjoined 
 secrecy as to his residence in the house retiring to the 
 spence when any one entered ; and if at any time he went 
 along the Lyne in the morning, he avoided those whom he 
 met ; and betook himself to private acts in the inner apart- 
 ment during the day. At times he left the cottage in the 
 evening, and did not return for two days ; but whither he 
 went, the inmates knew not. The dame conjectured he- 
 had been as far as Peebles; but her reason was merely 
 that he brought newspapers with him, and intelligence of 
 matters transacting there. The secrecy was not suited to 
 the open and simple manners to which she had been 
 accustomed; but she recollected his words, that on the
 
 TALKS OF THE BOKDliUS. 
 
 29th of September, she would know all concerning him. 
 Now these words were connected by a chain of associations 
 that startled her. The 29th of September bad been set 
 apart by her deceased husband as a day of prayer. He 
 had never allowed it to pass without an offering of the 
 contrite heart to God ; this practice he had continued till 
 his death, and she had witnessed the act repeated fbr 
 fifteen years. She was no more superstitious than the rest 
 of her class ; she was, indeed, probably less so ; and her 
 theories, formed for an adequate explanation of the start- 
 ling coincidence, were probably as philosophical as if they 
 had been formed by reason acting under the astute direc- 
 tion of scepticism. Yet where is the mind, untutored or 
 learned, that can throw away at all times, at all hours 
 when the heart is in the sunshine of the cheerful day of 
 worldly intercourse, or in the deep shadow of the wing of 
 eternity all thoughts of all powers save those of natural 
 causes, which are themselves a mystery? We may sport 
 with the subject ; but it comes again back on the heart, 
 and we' sigh in whispering words of fear, that in the hands 
 of God we are nothing. 
 
 One day Mr. Wallace was seated at breakfast ; he had 
 been away for two nights ; Alice wes sitting by the side of 
 the fire, looking into the heart of the red embers, and the 
 mother was superintending the breakfast ; he took out a 
 newspaper from his pocket, and, without a word of pre- 
 monition, read a paragraph in a deep, solemn voice. 
 
 " Died at Street, London, Maria Knight, wife of 
 
 Hector Hayston, Esq., of Whitecraigs, in the county of 
 Peebles, in Scotland." 
 
 A peculiar sound struggled in the throat of Alice ; but 
 it passed, and she was silent* The mother sat and looked 
 Wallace in the face, to ascertain what construction to put 
 upon the occurrence which he had thus read with an em- 
 phasis betokening a greater interest than it might demand
 
 TKESCEIPTION. 209 
 
 from one, as yet, all but ignorant, as she thought, of the 
 true circumstances of the condition of her daughter. He 
 made no commentary on what he had read ; but looking 
 again at the paper, and turning it over, as if searching for 
 some other news, he fixed his eyes on an advertisement in 
 the fourth page. He then read 
 
 " On the 1st day of October next, there will be exposed 
 to public roup and sale, within the Town-Hall of Peebles, 
 by virtue of the powers of sale contained in a mortgage 
 granted by Hector Hayston, Esq., of Whitecraigs, in favour 
 of George Colville of Haughton, all and hail the lands and 
 
 estate of Whitecraigs, situated in the parish of -, and 
 
 shire of Peebles, with the mansion-house, offices, &c." 
 
 He then laid down the paper, and, looking the widow 
 full in the face 
 
 " The day of sale of Whitecraigs," said he, " is the second 
 day after the 29th of September. It wotild have been too 
 much had it been on that day itself." 
 
 No reply was made to his remark. The announcement 
 called up in the mind of the dame more than she could 
 express ; but that which concerned more closely herself, 
 was too apparently veiled with no mystery. The sale of 
 Whitecraigs was the ejection of herself and 'daughter from 
 Homestead; and she knew not whither she and her 
 daughter were now to be driven, to seek refuge and sus- 
 tenance from a world from which she had been so long 
 estranged. 
 
 " All things come to a termination," she said. " For 
 many years I have lived here, wife and widow ; and if I 
 have felt sorrow, I have also enjoyed. The world is wide; 
 and if I may be obliged to ask and to receive charity, the 
 God who moves the hand to give it, may not again now 
 that His purpose may be served by my contrition select 
 that of the destroyer of my child. But there is another 
 that must be taken from these haunts ; " and, turning to
 
 210 TALES OJP THE BORDERS. 
 
 Alice, whose face was still directed to the fire, she gazed 
 on her hapless daughter, while the tear stole down her 
 cheeks. 
 
 Wallace's eye was fixed on the couple. He seemed to 
 understand the allusion of the mother, which indicated 
 plainly enough, that though the hills and glens of White- 
 craigs had been the scene of the ruin of her daughter's 
 peace, she anticipated still more fatal consequences from 
 taking her away from them. Meanwhile, Alice, who had 
 listened to and understood all, arose from her seat. 
 
 "I will never leave Whitecraigs, mother," she said; and 
 bent her steps towards the door. 
 
 " Let her follow her fancy," said Wallace. Then relaps- 
 ing into a fit of umsing, he added "the 29th of September 
 of this year will soon be of the time that is. For twenty 
 years I have looked forward to that day under a burning 
 sun, far from my native land, I have sighed for it in the 
 midnight hour I have counted the years and days that 
 were between. Every anniversary was devoted to the Grod 
 who has chastened the heart of the sinner ; and there was 
 need, when that heart was full of the thoughts inspired by 
 that day, and penitence came on the wings of terror. Now 
 it approaches ; and I have not miscalculated the benefits 
 it may pour on other heads than mine." 
 
 " Alas ! " said the widow, as she cast her eye through 
 the window after her daughter, " there is no appointed 
 day for the termination of the sorrows of that poor crea- 
 ture. To the broken-hearted, one, day as another, sunshine 
 or shower, is the same. But what hand shall bear Alice 
 Scott from Whitecraigs ? " 
 
 "Perhaps none," replied Wallace, as, taking up the 
 newspaper, he retired to an inner apartment, where he 
 usually spent the day. Some hours passed ; and, in the 
 afternoon, Mr. Pringle, while passing, took occasion to call 
 at Homestead, and informed the widow that it would be
 
 PRESCRIPTION. 211 
 
 her duty to look out for another habitation, as Whitecraigs 
 was to be sold by the creditor, Mr. Colville, whose object 
 in granting the loan was, if possible, to take advantage of 
 the difficulties into which extravagance had plunged the 
 young proprietor, and to bring the property into the 
 market, that he might purchase it as an appanage of the 
 old estate of Haughton, from which it had been disjoined. 
 He represented it as a cruel proceeding, and that its 
 cruelty was enhanced by the circumstance of the sale 
 being advertised in the same paper which, contained the 
 intelligence of the death of Hector's young wife. Another 
 listener might have replied that God's ways are just ; but 
 Dame Scott, if she thought at the time of her daughter, 
 considered also that Hayston had supported her for many 
 years. 
 
 " Good dame," added the agent, " it might have been 
 well for my young friend if he had remained at White- 
 craigs. I never saw the wife he married, and has just lost 
 in the bloom of youth ; but she must have been fair in- 
 deed, if she was fairer than she whom he left. Yet 
 Hector's better principles did not, I am satisfied, entirely 
 forsake him. The disinclination he has shown to visit his 
 paternal property, was the result of a clinging remem- 
 brance of her he left mourning in the midst of its glens ; 
 nor do I wonder at it, for even I have turned aside to 
 avoid the sight of Alice Scott. Misfortunes, however, are 
 sometimes mercies; and the change of residence you will 
 be now driven to, may aid in the cure of a disease that is 
 only fed by these scenes of Whitecraigs." 
 
 He here paused, and, putting his hand in his pocket, 
 took out some money. 
 
 "This may be the last gift," he said, as he presented it 
 to her, " that Hector Hayston may ever send you. These 
 are his words. His fortunes are ruined, his wife is dead, 
 and, worse than all, his peace of mind is fled."
 
 212 TALKS OF THE 13OIIDEU3. 
 
 "Heaven have mercy on him!" replied the widow. 
 " One word of reproach has never escaped the lips of me 
 or my daughter. I have suffered in this cottage without 
 murmuring, and the glens and hollows of Whitecraigs 
 have alone heard the complainings of -Alice Scott. She 
 will cling to these places to the last; but were the windows 
 of the deserted house again opened, with strange faces 
 there, and maybe the lights of the entertainments of the 
 happy shining through them, she might feel less pleasure 
 in sitting by the pond from which she now so often sur- 
 veys the deserted mansion. This last gift, sir, moves my 
 tears yea, for all I and mine have suffered from Hector 
 Hayston." 
 
 The agent had performed his duty, and departed with 
 the promise that he would, of his own accord, endeavour 
 to prevail upon some of his employers to grant her a cot- 
 tage, if the purchaser of Whitecraigs should resist an 
 appeal for her to remain. He had no sooner gone, than 
 the stranger Wallace, who had heard the conversation, 
 entered. He asked her how much money Hector had 
 sent as his last gift ; and, on being informed 
 
 " That young man," he said, " has fallen a victim to the 
 allurements of a town life. The story of your daughter 
 has been known to me ; but I have avoided the mention 
 of the name of Hayston, which could only have yielded 
 pain without an amelioration of its cause. That gift speaks 
 to me volumes. Even fashion has not sterilized the heart 
 of that young man. He has erred he may have trans- 
 gressed but for all, all, there is a 29th of September ! " 
 
 The allusion he thus made was as inscrutable as ever. 
 Again she reflected upon her husband's conduct upon that 
 day of the year ; and again, as she had done a hundred 
 times, searched the face of the speaker. But she abstained 
 from question ; and .the day passed, and others came, till 
 the eventful morning was ushered in by sunshine. Wallace
 
 PRESCRIPTION. 213 
 
 was up by times ; and his prayers were heard directed to 
 the Throne of Mercy, in thanks and heart-expressed con- 
 trition. In the forenoon he went forth with freedom, 
 climbed the hills, and conversed with the anglers he met 
 on the Lyne. He seemed as if relieved from some weighty 
 burden ; and the dame, who had carefully watched his 
 motions, waited anxiously for the secret. He had not, 
 however, pledged himself to reveal it on that day. He 
 had only said that all would be made known some time 
 after the day had passed ; and, accordingly, he made no 
 declaration. Yet, at bedtime, he was again engaged in 
 prayers, and even during the night he was heard mutter- 
 ing expressions of thanksgiving to the Author of the day, 
 and what the day bringeth. 
 
 On the following morning, he announced his intention 
 of going to Peebles, whither he was supposed to have gone 
 before ; but now his manner of going was chariged. He 
 purposed taking the coach, which, as it passed within some 
 miles of Whitecraigs, lie intended to wait for, and on de- 
 parting 
 
 "You will not hear of me till to-morrow night," he said. 
 "I can now face man ; would that I could with the same 
 confidence hold up my countenance to God. Alice Scott," 
 he continued, as he looked to the girl, "I will not forget 
 you in my absence. Your day of sorrow has been long ; 
 but there may yet be a 29th of September even to you." 
 
 And, taking the maiden kindly in his arms, he whispered 
 some words in her ear, in which the magic syllables of a 
 name she trembled to hear were mixed. Her eyes exhi- 
 bited a momentary brightness, a deep sigh heaved her 
 bosom, and again her head declined, with a whisper on her 
 lips " Never, O never ! " In a moment after, he was 
 gone; and the widow was left to ascertain from Alice 
 what he had said, to bring again, even for a moment, the 
 blood to her cheek.
 
 214 TALES OF THB BORDERS. 
 
 On the day after, there was a crowd of people in the 
 Town-Hall of Peebles, and the auctioneer was reading 
 aloud the articles of roup of the lands of-Whitecraigs. Mr. 
 Colville was there in high hopes ; but there were others 
 too, who seemed inclined to disappoint them. The pro- 
 perty was set up at the price of fifteen thousand pounds, 
 and that sum was soon offered by the holder of the mort- 
 gage. Other bodes quickly followed, and a competition 
 commenced, which soon raised the price to eighteen 
 thousand, at which it seemed to be destined to be given to 
 Haughton. The other competitors appeared timid; and 
 several declared themselves done, one by one, until no one 
 was expected to advance a pound higher. All was silence, 
 save for the voice of the auctioneer ; and he had already 
 begun his ominous once, twice, when a voice which had not 
 yet been heard, cried "Eighteen thousand two hundred." 
 The hammer was suspended, and all eyes turned to view 
 the doughty assailant, who would, at the end of the day, 
 vanquish the champion who had as yet retained the field. 
 Those eyes recognised in the bidder a man poorly clothed, 
 and more like an alms-seeker than the purchaser of an 
 estate no other was that man than Mr. Wallace. The 
 auctioneer looked at him ; others looked and wondered ; 
 and Haughton gloomed, as he advanced another hundred ; 
 and that was soon followed by a hundred more, which led 
 to a competition that seemed to be embittered on the one 
 part by pride and contempt, and on the other by determi- 
 nation. Hundred upon hundred followed in rapid succes- 
 sion, till Haughton gave up in despair, and a shout rung 
 through the hall as the hammer fell, and the estate was 
 declared the property of the humble stranger, whom no 
 one knew, and whom no one would have considered worth 
 more than the clothes he carried on his back. A certifi- 
 cate of a banker at Peebles that he held in his hands 
 funds, belonging to the purchaser, of greater amount than
 
 PRESCRIPTION. 215 
 
 the price satisfied the judge of the roup ; and the party 
 were divided in circles, conversing on the strange turn 
 which had been given to the sale of Whitecraigs. 
 
 On the same night, Wallace returned to Homestead, and 
 sat down composedly to the humble meal that had been 
 prepared for him by the widow. Alice was in her usua. 
 seat ; and the placidity of manner which distinguished 
 them from ordinary sufferers, spoke their usual obedience 
 to the Divine will. 
 
 "This day the property of Whitecraigs has changed 
 masters ! " said he. 
 
 "And who has purchased it?" inquired the mother. 
 
 " He who is now sitting before you 1 " replied he. 
 
 Alice turned her head to look at him ; the mother sat 
 mute with surprise ; while he rose and fastened the door. 
 
 "It is even so," he continued, as he again sat down ; 
 "David Scott, the brother of your husband, and the uncle 
 of Alice, has this day purchased Whitecraigs." 
 
 A faint scream from the mother followed this announce- 
 ment, and, recovering herself, she again fixed her eyes on 
 the stranger. 
 
 " It is true," continued he ; "I am the brother of your 
 deceased husband. For two years after you were married 
 to Adam, you would, doubtless, hear him speak of me, as 
 then engaged in a calling of which I may now be ashamed, 
 for I was one of the most daring smugglers on the Solway. 
 The 29th of September, 17 , dawned upon me, yet with 
 hands unsullied in the blood of man ; but the sun of that 
 day set upon me as proscribed by God and my country. 
 My name was read on the house walls, and execration 
 followed my steps, as I flew from cave to cave. Yet who 
 could have told that that day in which my evil spirit 
 wrought its greatest triumph over good, was that whose 
 evening shades closed upon a repentant soul!" 
 
 He paused, and placed his hand on his brow.
 
 'JIG TALKS OF THli BOUDKuS. 
 
 "These things are to me as an old dream," replied the 
 widow, looking round her, as if in search of memorials of 
 stationary space. "My husband never afterwards men- 
 tioned your name, save to inform me that you had died in 
 the "West Indies ; yet now I see the import of his devotion, 
 in the coming round of the day that shamed the honest 
 family to whom he belonged." 
 
 " And it was to save that shame, and to secure my 
 safety under my assumed name, that, after I flew to the 
 islands of the west, I got intelligence of my death sent to 
 Scotland. What other than the issue of this day must 
 have been in the view of the great Disposer of events, 
 when, in addition to the grace He poured on the heart of 
 the sinner, He invested the arm that had been lifted 
 against His creatures with the prosperity that filled my 
 coffers ! But, alas ! though I may have reason to trust 
 to the forgiveness of Heaven, that of man I may never 
 expect." 
 
 " And punishment still awaits you? " rejoined she. 
 
 " No, no ! " he cried, as he rose and placed his foot 
 firmly on the floor. " I am free the heart may hate me, 
 the tongue may scorn me, the hand may point at me, but 
 it dare not strike. On the 29tli of September I was no 
 longer amenable to the laws for the crime which drove me 
 to foreign lands : twenty years free the culprit from the 
 vengeance of man ; the last day of that period was the 
 L'lHh of September it is past; and now God is my only 
 judge." He again paused. " " But I must live still as 
 David "Wallace. The name of Scott shall not be sullied 
 by me. As David Wallace I have made my fortune, and 
 as David "Wallace made my supplications to Heaven. By 
 the same name I have bought Whitecraigs, and by that 
 name I shall make it over to one who may yet retrieve the 
 honour of our humble house to Alice, Avho should, through 
 other mean?, have been mistress. Come to your natural
 
 PRESCRIPTION. 217 
 
 protector, Alice, and tell him if you will consent to be the 
 lady of Whitecraigs." 
 
 The girl, on whom the ordinary occurrences of life now 
 seldom made any impression, had listened attentively to the 
 extraordinary facts and intentions thus evolved; and, at 
 his bidding, rose and stood by his side. He took her hand, 
 and looked into her face. 
 
 " I knew," said he, " that I was pledged not to mention 
 a certain name while you were by ; and I kept my word, 
 with the exception of the whisper I stole into your ear on 
 the day I set out for Peebles. But things are now changed. 
 The rights of Whitecraigs are now in the act of being made 
 out in your name. Within a month you will be mistress 
 of that mansion, and of those green dells and hills you 
 have loved to wander among in joy and in sorrow. Now, 
 will you answer me a question ? " 
 
 "IwillP'sherepJied. 
 
 " What would be your answer to Hector Hayston who 
 is now no longer a husband, and no longer rich were he 
 to come to Whitecraigs and make amends for all that is 
 by and gone ? Would you receive him kindly, or turn 
 him from the door of the house of his fathers ? " 
 
 The question was too sudden, or too touchingly devised. 
 She looked for a moment in his face, burst into tears, and 
 hid her face in his breast. 
 
 " Try her poor heart not thus ! " cried the mother 
 " Time, that as yet has done nothing but made ravages, 
 may now, when things are so changed, work miracles. Do 
 not press the question. A woman and a mother knows 
 better than you can do what are now her feelings. The 
 answer is not asked Alice, your uncle has taken back his 
 question ! " 
 
 " I have I have!" replied he, as he pressed her to his 
 breast. " Look up, my dear Alice. I have, in my pride 
 and power, been hasty, and thought I could rule the heart
 
 218 TALKS OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 of woman as I have done my own, even in its rebellion 
 against God. I have yet all to learn of those secret work- 
 ings of the spirit, in all save repentance, I never myself 
 knew what it was to love, far less what it is to love and be 
 forsaken. No more no more. I will not again touch 
 those strings." 
 
 And, rising hurriedly, he consigned the maid to her 
 mother, and went out, to afford her time to collect again 
 her thoughts. During the following week the furniture 
 of Whitecraigs was disposed of by Mr. Pringle, for behoof 
 of the other creditors of Hayston, and purchased by' the 
 uncle, who took another journey to Peebles, for the pur- 
 pose of negotiating the sale, and making further prepara- 
 tions for obtaining entry. In a fortnight after, the keys 
 were sent to Homestead by a messenger, while the making 
 up of the titles was in the course of progress. It was no 
 part of the intention of Wallace to reside in the mansion- 
 house : his object was still secrecy ; and, though the form 
 and character of the transaction might lead ultimately to 
 a discovery, he cared not. By the prescription of the 
 crime he had committed, he was free from punishment ; 
 while, by retaining his name, and living ostensibly in a 
 humble condition, he had a chance of escaping a detection 
 of his true character, at the same time that he might, by 
 humility and good services, render himself more acceptable 
 to that Great Power whose servant he now considered him- 
 self to be. 
 
 On the twenty-first day of October, the house of White- 
 craigs was again open. Servants had been procured from 
 Peebles; the fires were again burning; the wreaths of 
 smoke again ascended from among the trees ; and life and 
 living action were taking the place of desertedness. On 
 the forenoon of that day, Wallace took the two females 
 from Homestead, and conducted them, hanging on liis 
 arms, to their new place of residence. To speak of feelings,
 
 PRESCRIPTION. 219 
 
 where a change comprehended an entire revolution of a 
 life of habit, thought, and sentiment, would be as vain as 
 unintelligible. From that day, when the uncle had put 
 the trying question to his niece, a change might have been 
 detected working a gradual influence on her appearance 
 and conduct. Might we say that hope had again lighted 
 her taper within the recesses where all had been so long 
 dreary darkness! The change would not authorize an 
 affirmative it would have startled the ear that might have 
 feared and yet loved the sounds. One not less versed in 
 human nature might be safer in the construction derived 
 from the new objects, new duties, new desires, new thoughts, 
 from all the thousand things that act on the mind in this 
 wonderful scene of man's existence ; but would he be 
 truer to the nature of the heart that has once loved? We 
 may be contented with a mean, where extremes shoot into 
 the darkness of our mysterious nature. Alice Scott took 
 in gradually the interests of her new sphere ; did not 
 despise the apparel suited to it; did not reject the manners 
 that adorned it ; did not turn a deaf ear or a dead eye to 
 the eloquent ministers that lay around amidst the beauties 
 of Whitecraigs and hailed her as mistress, where she was 
 once a servant, if not a beggar. 
 
 Meanwhile the house of Homestead was enlarged, to 
 fit it as a residence for the uncle. Mr. Pringle was con- 
 tinued agent for the proprietress of Whitecraigs ; and, 
 while many, doubtless, speculated on a thousand theories 
 as to these strange occurrences, we may not deny to Hec- 
 tor Hayston, wherever he was, or in whatever circum- 
 stances, some interest in what concerned him so nearly as 
 the disposal of his estate, and the fortune of her by whom 
 his first affections had been awakened. Neither shall we 
 say that Wallace and Pringle had not, too, their secret 
 views and understandings, and that the latter was not 
 silent where the interests of his old employer called for
 
 22l> TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 confidence. In all which we may be justified by the fact 
 that, one day, the agent of Whitecraigs introduced to the 
 bachelor of Homestead a young man : it was the former 
 proprietor of Whitecraigs. 
 
 " It is natural, Mr. Wallace," said Mr. -Pringle, " that 
 one should wish to revisit the scenes of his youth espe- 
 cially," he added, with a smile, "when these have been 
 one's own property, come from prior generations, and lost 
 by the thoughtlessness of youth." 
 
 " It is," replied Wallace, renouncing his usual gravity, 
 " even though there should be no one there who might 
 claim the hand of old friendship. But this young man has 
 only, as yet, seen the hill-tops of his father's lands ; and 
 these claim no seclusion from the eye of the traveller. He 
 might wish, with greater ardency, to see the bed where his 
 mother lay when she bore him, or the cradle (which 
 may still be in the house) where she rocked him to 
 sleep." 
 
 " God be merciful to me ! " replied the youth, as he 
 turned away his head. " This man touches strings whose 
 vibrations harrow me. Sir," he added, " were you ever 
 yourself in the situation of him whose feelings you have 
 thus, from good motives, quickened so painfully?" 
 
 "What Whitecraigs and she who lives now in the house 
 yonder were or are to you, Scotland and my kindred were 
 to me ; but the house where I was born knows me not, 
 and the bed and the cradle do not own me. But Alice 
 Scott recognised me as a fellow-creature, whatever more I 
 say not ; and even that, from one so good, and, even yet, 
 BO beautiful is something to live for. No more. I know 
 all. Will you risk a meeting?" 
 
 "Mr. Pringle will answer for me," replied he, as he 
 turned, with a full heart, to the window. 
 
 <{ And I will answer for Mr. Pringle," said Wallace. 
 
 "But who will answer for 7?er?" rejoined the other.
 
 PRESCRIPTION. 221 
 
 "Stay there," said Wallace. "I will return in a few 
 minutes." 
 
 And, bending his steps to Whitecraigs House, he was, 
 for a time, engaged with Alice and her mother. He again 
 returned to Homestead ; and, in a few minutes after, the 
 three were walking towards the mansion. The eye of the 
 young man glanced furtively from side to side, as if to 
 catch glimpses of old features which had become strange 
 to him ; but in the direction of the house he seemed to 
 have no power to look lagging behind, and displaying an 
 anxiety to be concealed, by the bodies of the others, from 
 the view of the windows. On arriving at the house, Wal- 
 lace and Pringle went into an apartment where the mother 
 was seated. Hector stood in the passage : he feared that 
 Alice was there, and would not enter. 
 
 " Think you," whispered Wallace, quickly returning to 
 him, "that I, whom you accused of toiiching tender chords, 
 am so little acquainted with human nature as to admit of 
 witnesses to your meeting with Alice Scott ? There, the 
 green parlour in the west wing," he continued, pointing 
 up the inside stair to a room well known to the youth. 
 " If you cannot effect it, who may try ? Go go !" 
 
 "I cannot I cannot!" he replied, in deep tones. "My 
 feet will not carry me. That room was my mother's fa- 
 vourite parlour. A thousand associations are busy with 
 me. And now, who sits there?" 
 
 " Come, come !" said Pringle, as he came forth, in con- 
 sequence of hearing Hayston's irresolution. " What did 
 you expect on coming here ? Alice to come and fly to 
 you with open arms ? " 
 
 "No, sir; to reject me with a wave of disdain !" replied 
 the youth. " I am smitteji from within, and confidence 
 has left me. Let me see her mother first. My cruelty to 
 her has been mixed with kindness, and she may give me 
 some heart."
 
 222 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 And lie turned to the apartment where the mother sat. 
 
 "Your confidence will not be restored by anything the 
 mother can say! " rejoined Pringle, who was getting alarmed 
 for the success of his efforts. " Alice is now mistress here, 
 and must be won by contrition, and a prayer for forgive- 
 ness." ^ 
 
 "Ho!" interjected Wallace. "To what tends this 
 mummery? Must I take you by the hand, and lead you 
 to one who, for years, has seen you in every flitting shade 
 of the hills, and heard you in every note of the sighing 
 winds of the valley ? " 
 
 " To hate me as I deserve to be hated ! " replied Hay- 
 ston, still irresolute. " None of you can give me any 
 crvound for hope, and seem to push me on to experience a 
 rejection which may seal my misery for ever ! " 
 
 Wallace smiled in silence, beckoned Pringle into the 
 room beside the mother, and taking Hayston by the arm, 
 Avith a show of humour that accorded but indifferently 
 with the real anguish of doubt and dismay by which the 
 young man's mind was occupied, forced him on to the first 
 step of the inside stair. 
 
 "You are now fairly committed!" said he, smiling: " to 
 retreat, is ruin ; to advance, happiness, and love, and 
 peace." 
 
 And he retreated to the room where Pringle was, leaving 
 the youth to the strength or weakness of his own resolu- 
 tion. His tread was now heard, slow and hesitating, on 
 the stair. Some time elapsed before the sound of the 
 i ipening door was heard ; and that it remained for a time 
 open, held by the doubtful hand, might also have been 
 observed. At last it was shut; and quick steps on the 
 floor indicated that the first look had not been fraught 
 \vith rejection. 
 
 The party below were, meanwhile, speculating on the 
 result of the meeting. Even the mother was not certain
 
 PRESCRIPTION. 223 
 
 that it would, at first, be attended with success. Alice 
 had yielded no consent; and it was only from the mother's 
 construction of her looks, that she had given her authority 
 for the interview. 
 
 " All is now decided, for good or evil," said Wallace. 
 " Go up stairs, and bring us ' a report of the state of 
 affaire." 
 
 The mother obeyed ; and, after a considerable time, 
 returned, with her eyes swimming in tears. 
 
 "Is it so?" said her friend. " Is it really so ? Has all 
 my labour been fruitless ? " 
 
 " No," replied she ; " but I could not stand the sight. 
 I found her lying on the breast of Hector, sobbing out the 
 sorrows of .years. Her eyes have been long dry. The 
 heart is at last opened." 
 
 " Too good a sight for me to lose," replied her friend. 
 " For twenty years I have only known the tears of peni- 
 tence : I will now experience those that flow from the 
 happiness of others." 
 
 And, with these words, he hurried up stairs. We 
 would follow, but that we are aware of the danger of 
 treading ground almost forbidden to inspiration. Within 
 two hours afterwards, Hector Hayston and Alice Scott 
 were again among the glens of Whitecraigs, seeking out 
 those places where, before, they used to breathe the ac- 
 cents of a 'first affection. The one had been true to the 
 end ; and the other had been false only to learn the beauty 
 of truth. We have given these details from a true record, 
 and have derived pleasure from the recollections they have 
 awakened ; but we fairly admit, that we would yield one 
 half of what we have experienced of the good, to have 
 marked that day the workings of the retrieved spirit in the 
 eyes, and speech, and manners of Alice Scott. These are 
 nature's true magic. The drooping flower that is all but 
 dead in the dry, parched soil, raises its head, takes on
 
 224 TALES OF HIE 13ORDKKS. 
 
 fresh colours, and gives forth fresh odours, as the spring 
 showers fall on its withered leaves. Oh ! there is a magic 
 there that escapes not even the eye of dull labour, retiring 
 home sick of all but the repose he needs. But the process 
 in the frame that is the temple of beauty, worth, intelli- 
 gence, sensibility, rearing all in loveliness afresh, out of 
 what was deemed the ruins only of what is the greatest 
 and best of God's works to see this, and to feel it, is to 
 rejoice that we are placed in a world that, with all its ele- 
 ments of vice and sorrow, is yet a place where the good 
 and the virtuous may find something analogous to that 
 for which the spirit pants in other worlds. 
 
 Yet, though we saw it not, we have enough of the con- 
 ception, through fancy, to be thankful for the gift even of 
 the ideal of the good ; and here we are satisfied that we 
 have more. Hector Hayston and Alice Scott were mar- 
 ried. David Wallace's history was long concealed, ^but 
 curiosity finally triumphed ; yet with no effect calculated 
 to impair the equanimity of a mind which repentance, 
 and a reliance on God's grace, had long rendered*indepen- 
 dent of the opinions of men. He had wrought for evil, 
 and good came of it; and he lived long to see, in the house 
 of Whitecraigs, its master, mistress, and children, the 
 benefits of the prescription which the 29th of September 
 effected a. principle of the law of Scotland that was long 
 deemed inconsistent with the good of the land, but now 
 more properly considered as being no less in unison witK 
 the feelings of man than it is with divine mercy.
 
 THE COUNTESS OF WISTONBUKY 225 
 
 THE COUNTESS OP WISTONBURY. 
 
 IN the summer of 1836 I had occasion to make a journey 
 into Wiltshire, in England. As the business that called 
 me there, although of sufficient importance to me, would 
 have no interest whatever for the reader, I will readily be 
 excused, I dare say, from saying of what nature that 
 business was. It will more concern him, from its connec- 
 tion with the sequel, to know that my residence, while in 
 England, was in a certain beautiful little village at the 
 southern extremity of the shire above named, and that 
 mine host, during my stay there, was the worthy landlord 
 of the White Hart Inn, as intelligent and well-informed a 
 man as it has often been my good fortune to meet with. 
 The nature of the business which made me a guest of 
 Michael Jones, left me a great deal more spare time than 
 I knew well what to do with. It hung heavy upon my 
 hands; and my good host, perceiving this, suggested a little 
 excursion, which, he said, he thought would dispose of one 
 day, at any rate, agreeably enough. 
 
 "I would recommend you, sir," he said, " to pay a visit 
 to Oxton Hall, the seat of the Earl of Wistonbury.* It 
 is one of the finest residences in England ; and, as the 
 family are not there just now, you may see the whole 
 house, both inside and outside. If you think of it, I will 
 give you a line to the butler, a very old friend of mine, 
 and he will be glad to show you all that's worth seeing 
 about the place." 
 
 " How far distant is it ? " I inquired. 
 
 * Under this name we choose, for obvious reason*, to conceal the real 
 one. Ed. 
 
 H
 
 226 TALKS OF TJ1K IJOKDEUS. 
 
 "Oh, not morelhan three miles and a half little more 
 than an hour's easy walk," replied mine host. 
 
 "Excellent !" said I ; " thank you for the hint, landlord. 
 Let me have the introduction to the butler you spoke 
 about, and I'll set off directly." 
 
 In less than five minutes, a card, addressed, to Mr. John 
 Grafton, butler, Oxton Hall, was put into my hands, and 
 in two minutes more I was on my way to the ancient seat 
 of the Earls of Wistonbury. The directions given me as 
 to my route, carefully noted on my part, brought me, in 
 little more than an hour, to a spacious and noble gateway, 
 secured by a magnificent gate of cast-iron. This I at once 
 recognised, from the description given me by Mr. Jones, to 
 be the principal entrance to Oxton Hall. Satisfied that it 
 was so, I unhesitatingly entered and the house of one of 
 the proudest of England's aristocracy stood before me, 
 in all its lordly magnificence. A spacious lawn, of the 
 brightest and most beautiful verdure, dotted over with 
 noble oaks, and tenanted by some scores of fallow-deer, 
 stretched far and wide on every side. In the centre of this 
 eplendid park such a park as England alone can exhibit 
 arose the mansion-house, an ancient and stately pile, of 
 great extent auJ lofty structure. 
 
 Having found the person to whose civilities I was recom- 
 mended by mine host of the White Hart a mild and 
 pleasant-looking old man, of about seventy years of age 
 I put my credentials into his hands. On reading it, the 
 old man looked at me smilingly, and said that he would 
 have much pleasure in obliging his good friend Mr. Jones, 
 by showing me all that was worth seeing both in and 
 about the house; and many things both curious and rare, 
 and, I may add, both costly and splendid, did I see ere 
 another hour had passed away ; but fearing the reader's 
 patience would scarcely stand the trial of a description of 
 them, I refrain from the experiment, and proceed to say,
 
 THJB COUNTESS OF WISTONBUKr. 227 
 
 that, just as our surrey of the house was concluded, my 
 cicerone, as if suddenly recollecting himself, said 
 
 "By-the-by, sir, perhaps you would like to see the 
 picture gallery, although it is hardly worth seeing just now 
 most of the pictures having been removed to our house 
 in Grosvenor Square last winter ; and, being in this 
 denuded state, I never think of showing it to visitors. 
 There are, however, a few portraits of different members 
 of the family still left, and these you may see if you have 
 any curiosity regarding them." 
 
 Such curiosity I avowed I felt, and was immediately 
 conducted into the presence of a number of the pictorial 
 ancestry of the illustrious Chouse of Wistonbury. The 
 greater part of the pictures had been removed, as my con- 
 ductor had informed me; but a few still remained scattered 
 along the lofty walls of the gallery. 
 
 " That," said my cicerone, pointing to a grim warrior, 
 clad from head to heel in a panoply of steel, " that is 
 Henry, first Earl of Wistonbury, who fell in Palestine 
 during the holy wars; and this," directing my attention 
 to another picture, " is the grandfather of the present Earl." 
 
 " A very handsome and pleasant-looking young man," 
 eaid I, struck with the forcible representation of these 
 qualities which the painting exhibited. 
 
 " Ay," replied the old man, " and as good as he was 
 handsome. He is the pride of the house; and the country 
 around yet rings with his name, associated with all that is 
 kind and charitable." 
 
 " And who is this lovely creature?" said I, now pointing 
 in my turn to the portrait of a young female of the most 
 exquisite beauty the face strikingly resembling some of 
 the best executed likenesses of the unfortunate Queen 
 Mary which hung beside that of the .Good Earl of 
 Wistonbury, as the nobleman of whom my cicerone had 
 just spoken was called throughout the country
 
 228 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 " That lady, sir," replied the latter, " was his wife 
 the Countess of Wistonbury. She was one of the most 
 beautiful women of her time; and, like her husband, was 
 beloved by all around her, for the gentleness of her manners 
 and benevolence of her disposition." 
 
 "But what's this ?" said I, advancing a little nearer the 
 picture, to examine something in her attire that puzzled 
 me. " A Scotch plaid !" I exclaimed in considerable sur- 
 prise, on ascertaining that this was the article of dress 
 which had perplexed me. "Pray, what has the Scotch 
 plaid to do here ? How happens it that we find a Countess 
 of Wistonbury arrayed in the costume of Caledonia ? " 
 
 "Why, sir, the reason is good perfectly satisfactory," 
 replied Mr. Grafton, smilingly. " She was a native of that 
 country.'' 
 
 " Indeed ! " said I. " A countrywoman of mine ! Of 
 what family?" added I. 
 My conductor smiled. 
 
 " Truly," said he, after a pause, " that is a question easier 
 put than answered." 
 
 "What!" said I, "was she not of some distinguished 
 house?" 
 
 "By no means, sir," replied Mr. Grafton. "She was a 
 person of the humblest birth and station; but this did not 
 hinder her from becoming Countess of Wistonbury, nor 
 from being one of the best as well as most beautiful that 
 ever bore the title." 
 
 "Ah, ha!" said I to myself, "here's a story for tha 
 ' Tales of the Borders.'" I did not say this to Mr. Grafton, 
 however ; but to him I did say " There must be some 
 interesting story connected with this lady. The history of 
 her singular good fortune must be curious, and well worth 
 hearing." 
 
 " Why, it certainly is," replied my conductor, with the 
 air of one who, while he cannot but acknowledge that there
 
 THE COUNTESS OF VTISTONBUKY. 229 
 
 is interest in a c'ertain piece of information which he pos- 
 sesses, is yet so familiar with it himself, has owned it so 
 long, and communicated it so often, that his feelings seem 
 to belie his words the former remaining unmoved by the 
 tale which the latter unfolds. " There is certainly some- 
 thing curious in the Countess's story," said Mr. Grafton; 
 " and, now that we have seen everything that is worth 
 seeing, if you will come with me to my little refectory, I 
 will tell you all about it over a tankard of fine old ale and 
 a slice of cold round." 
 
 Need I say, good reader, that I at once and gladly 
 accepted an invitation that so happily combined the in- 
 tellectual and the sensual ? You will give me credit for 
 more sense; and the following story will prove at once 
 that your good opinion is not misplaced, that I must have 
 been an attentive listener, and, lastly, that I must be blessed 
 with a pretty retentive memory. I relate the story in my 
 own way, but without taking the slightest liberty with any 
 single one of the details given me by my informant, who, 
 from having been upwards of forty-five years in the service 
 of the Earls of Wistonbury, and, during the greater part of 
 that time their principal and most confidential domestic, 
 was minutely and accurately informed regarding every 
 remarkable event that had occurred in the family for 
 several generations back. 
 
 " But, before we leave this part of the house," resumed 
 Mr. Grafton, " be so good as step with me a moment into 
 this small room here, till I show you a certain little article 
 that cuts some figure in the story which I shall shortly tell 
 you." 
 
 Saying this, he led the way into the small apartment he 
 alluded to, and, conducting me towards a handsome ebony 
 or blackwood cabinet that occupied one end of the room, 
 he threw open its little folding doors, and exhibited to me, 
 not some rich or rare curiosity, as I had expected, but a
 
 230 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 small, plain, very plain or I should, perhaps, rather say 
 very coarse country-looking, blue-painted chest. 
 
 " Do you see that little chest, sir ? " said Mr. Grafton, 
 smilingly. 
 
 " I do," said I; " and it seems a very homely article to be 
 so splendidly entombed, and so carefully kept." 
 
 " Yet," replied Mr. Grafton, " homely as it is, aud small 
 as is its intrinsic value, that is one of the heir-looms of 
 the family, and one of the most fondly-cherished of them 
 all." 
 
 "Indeed !" said I, in some surprise. "Then I am very 
 sure it cannot be for its marketable worth. It wouldn't 
 bring sixpence." 
 
 " I verily believe it would not," replied Mr. Grafton. 
 " Yet the Earl of Wistonbury would not part with that 
 little chest for a good round sum, I warrant ye." 
 
 " Pray, explain, my good sir." 
 
 " I will. That little, blue-painted chest contained all the 
 worldly wealth a few articles of female dress of the lady 
 whose portrait you were just now so much admiring, when 
 she became Countess of Wistonbury." 
 
 " Why, then," said I, " that is proof that riches, at any 
 rate, had nothing to do with her promotion to that high 
 rank." 
 
 " They certainly had not," replied my aged friend. " But 
 ;ill this you will learn more particularly in the story which 
 I shall tell you presently. You will then learn, also, how 
 the little, blue-painted chest comes to figure in the history 
 of a countess." 
 
 Saying this, Mr. Grafton shut the doors of the cabinet, 
 when we left the apartment, and, in a few minutes after, 
 I found myself in what my worthy old host called his 
 refectory. This was a snug little room, most comfortably 
 furnished, and in which I observed a very large quantity of 
 silver plate, being, I presumed, the depository of that
 
 THE COUNTESS OF WKTONBURY. 231 
 
 portion of the family's wealth. My good old friend now 
 rung his bell, when a female servant appeared. 
 
 " Let's have summut to eat, Betsy," said the old man; and 
 never was order more promptly or more effectively obeyed- 
 
 In an instant the table, which occupied the centre of the 
 floor, absolutely creaked under the load of good things with 
 which it was encumbered. The " slice of cold round," I 
 found, was but a nomme de guerre with the old man, and 
 meant everything in the edible way that was choice and 
 savoury. To this conclusion I came from seeing the table 
 before me covered with a great variety of good things, 
 amongst which rose, conspicuous in the centre, a huge 
 venison pasty. When the loading of the table was com- 
 pleted, and the servant had retired 
 
 " Now," said the old man, looking at me with a signifi- 
 cant smile, and at the same time drawing a bunch of small 
 keys from his pocket, from which he carefully singled out 
 one, " since Betsy has done her part so well, let me see if 
 I can't do mine as creditably." 
 
 Saying this, he opened what I thought a sly-looking 
 little cupboard, and brought forth from its mysterious 
 recess an aristocratic-looking bottle, sealed with black wax, 
 and whose shoulders were still thickly coated with sawdust. 
 Handling this venerable bottle with a lightness and deli- 
 cacy of touch which a long practice only could have given, 
 and with a degree of reverence which an a priori knowledge 
 of its contents only could have inspired, my worthy host 
 tenderly brushed off its coating of sawdust, gently inserted 
 the screw, drew the cork, with a calm, cautious, steady 
 pull, and, in the next moment, had filled up two brimmers 
 of the finest old port that the cellars of Oxton Hall could 
 produce. Having done ample justice to the good things 
 before ug 
 
 " Now, my good sir, the story, the story, if you please," 
 said I.
 
 232 TALES OF TUB BORDERS. 
 
 " Oh, to be sure," replied my kind host, smiling. " The 
 story you shall have. But first let us take another glass of 
 wine, to inspire me with fortitude to begin so long a story, 
 and you with patience to listen to it." 
 
 The procedure thus recommended having been complied 
 with, the good old man immediately began : 
 
 "About a hundred and thirteen years since," he said, 
 " there lived in the neighbourhood of one of the principal 
 cities in Scotland, a farmer of the name of Flowerdew. He 
 was a man of respectable character, and of sober and 
 industrious habits. His family consisted only of himself, 
 his wife, and an only child a daughter, named Jessy. 
 Gentle and affectionate, of the most winning manners, and 
 surpassingly beautiful in form and feature, Jessy was not 
 only the darling of her father, but the favourite character 
 of the neighbourhood in which she lived. All yielded the 
 homage of admiration to her supreme loveliness, and of the 
 tenderest esteem to her worth. 
 
 For many years, Jessy's father contrived, notwithstand- 
 ing of an enormous rent, to keep pace with the world, and 
 eventually to raise himself a little above it ; but, in despite 
 of all his industry and all his prudence, reverses came. 
 A succession of bad crops was followed by a series of losses 
 of various kinds, and James Flowerdew found himself a 
 ruined man. 
 
 ' It's not for myself I care,' said the honest man, when 
 speaking one day with his wife of the misfortunes which 
 had overwhelmed them ' it's for our puir bit lassie, guid- 
 vife. God help her ! I thought to have left her indepen- 
 dent ; but it's been ordained otherwise, and we must sub- 
 mit. But what's to become of her I know not. Being 
 brocht up a little abune the common, she cannot be asked 
 to enter into the service of ony o' our neebors ; yet, I see 
 iiae other way o't. It must come to that in the lang 
 run.'
 
 THE COUNTESS OF WISTONBURY. 233 
 
 ' I suppose it must, guidman I suppose it must,' replied 
 his wife, raising the corner of her apron to her eye, and 
 then bursting into tears. ' My puir, dear, gentle lassie,' 
 she exclaimed, ' it's a sad change to her ; but I ken she'll 
 meet it cheerfully, and without repining. But, guidman, 
 if to service she must go, and I fancy there's little doot o' 
 that, wouldna it be better if we could get her into the 
 service of some respectable family in the toon, than to put 
 her wi' ony o' our neebors, where she might be reminded 
 o' her fall, as they will call it ? ' 
 
 'It's a good thought, Lizzy,' replied her husband, 
 musingly, as he gazed in sadness on the fire that burned 
 before him. ' It's a good thought,' he said. ' She will 
 be there unknown, and her feelings saved from the taunts 
 of callous impertinence. I will think of it,' added Flower- 
 dew. ' In the meantime, guidwife, prepare Jessy, the best 
 \vay you can, for the change of situation in life which she 
 is about to meet with. I canna do it. It would break my 
 heart a'thegither.' 
 
 This painful task Mrs. Flowerdew undertook; and, as 
 she expected, found her daughter not only reconciled to 
 the step which was proposed for her, but eager and, 
 anxious to be put in a way of doing for herself, and, as 
 she fondly hoped and affectionately said, of aiding her 
 parents. 
 
 Shortly after this, the ruin which had overtaken James 
 Flowerdew began to present itself in its most instant and 
 most distressing shapes. Arrestments were laid on his 
 funds in all quarters. Visits of messengers were frequent 
 nlmost daily ; and his whole stock and crop were seques- 
 trated by the landlord, and a day for the sale fixed. This 
 last was a sight from which. Flowerdew anxiously wished 
 to save his daughter, and he meant to do so, if he could, 
 by finding her ' a place ' previous to the day of sale. 
 
 The duty of looking out for a situation for Jessy in towf
 
 23* TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 Flowerdew took upon himself, from the circumstance of his 
 having been in the habit for many years of supplying a 
 number of respectable families with the produce of his 
 farm, which he generally delivered himself, his simple 
 character and industrious habits not permitting him to see 
 any degradation in driving his own cart on these occasions. 
 Flowerdew had thus formed a personal acquaintance with 
 many families of the better class, which he thought might 
 be useful to him in his present views. 
 
 Amongst the oldest and most respected of his customers 
 was a learned professor, whom, to avoid what might be an 
 inconvenient identification of circumstances, we shall call 
 Lockerby. With this gentleman Flowerdew resolved to 
 begin his inquiries respecting a situation for his daughter. 
 He did so, and on being introduced to him, explained the 
 purpose of his visit. 
 
 'Dear me, Mr. Flowerdew!' said the worthy professor, 
 in surprise at the application, 'I thought I all along 
 thought, that your circumstances would entitle your 
 daughter, whose modesty of demeanour and great beauty 
 of person I have had frequent opportunities of admiring 
 she having called here frequently, as you know, on various 
 occasions connected with our little traffic I say, I thought 
 your circumstances would entitle your daughter to look 
 for something higher than the situation of a domestic 
 servant.' 
 
 ' I once thought so myself, professor,' replied Mr. Flower- 
 dew, with a tear standing in his eye ; ' but it has turned 
 out otherwise. The truth is, that I have lately met with 
 such reverses as have entirely ruined me. I am about to 
 be ejected from my farm, and must betake myself to daily 
 labour for a subsistence. In this explanation you will see 
 the reason why I apply to you for a situation in your 
 family for my daughter.' 
 
 ' Too clearly too clearly,' replied the worthy professor
 
 THE COUNTESS OF WISTONBCKY. 235 
 
 sincerely grieving for the misfortunes of a man whom he 
 had long known, and whose uprightness of conduct and 
 character he had long appreciated. ' I am seriously dis- 
 tressed, Mr. Flowerdew,' he added, 'to learn all this 
 seriously distressed, indeed ; but, in the meantime, let us 
 consult Mrs. Lockerby on the subject of your present 
 visit.' And he rang the bell, and desired the servant who 
 answered it, to request his wife to come to him. She 
 came, and on being informed of Mr. Flowerdew's applica- 
 tion in behalf of his daughter, at once agreed to receive 
 her into her sendee ; adding, that she might, if she chose, 
 enter on her duties immediately. It was finally arranged 
 that Jessy should take possession of her situation on the 
 following day. 
 
 Highly gratified at having got admission for his daugh- 
 ter into so worthy and respectable a family, Flowerdew 
 returned home with a lighter heart than he had possessed 
 for some time before. He felt that his Jessy was now, in 
 a manner, provided for ; .and that, although the situation 
 was a humble one, and far short of what he had once 
 expected for her, it was yet a creditable one, and one 
 presenting no mean field for the exercise of some of the 
 best qualities which a woman can possess. 
 
 Equally pleased with her father at the opening that had 
 been found for her, the gentle girl lost no time in making 
 such preparations as the impending change in her position 
 in life rendered necessary. Part of these preparations, all 
 cheerfully performed, consisted in packing a small trunk 
 with her clothes, and in other procedures of a similar 
 kind. In this employment her mother endeavoured to 
 assist her, but was too much affected by the sadness of the 
 task to afford any very efficient aid, although her daughter 
 did all she could, by assuming a light-heartedness which 
 she could not altogether feel, to assuage the grief to which 
 her mother wa* every moment giving way.
 
 23C TALES OF THE BORDEKS. 
 
 ' Why grieve yourself in that way, mother?' she would 
 say, pausing in her operations, and flinging her arms 
 around her parent's neck. ' I assure you I am happy at 
 the prospect of being put in a way of doing for myself; I 
 consider it no hardship not in the least. I will take a 
 pride in discharging my new duties faithfully and dili- 
 gently; and I hope that, even in the humble sphere in 
 which I am about to move, I shall contrive to make myself 
 both esteemed and respected.' 
 
 ' That I dinna doubt that I dinna doubt, my dear 
 lassie,' replied her mother ; ' but, oh, it goes to my heart 
 to see you gaun into the service o' ithers. I never ex- 
 pected to see the day. Oh, this is a sad change that's 
 come over us a' ! ' And again the poor woman burst into 
 a paroxysm of grief. 
 
 'Mother,' said the girl, 'you will dishearten me if you 
 go on in this way.' Then smiling through the tears of 
 affection that glistened on her eye, and assuming a tone of 
 affected cheerfulness, 'Come now, dear mother, do drop this 
 desponding tone. There's better days in store for us yet. 
 We'll get above all this by-and-by. In the meantime it is 
 our duty, as Christians, to submit to the destiny that has 
 been decreed us with patience and resignation. Come, 
 mother, I'll sing you the song you used always to like so 
 well to hear me sing.' And, without waiting for any 
 remark in reply, or pausing in her employment, the girl 
 immediately began, in a voice whose richness of tone and 
 deep pathos possessed the most thrilling power: 
 A cheerfu' heart's been always mine, 
 
 Whatever might betide me, O ! 
 In foul or fair, in shade or shine, 
 I've aye had that to guide me, ! 
 
 "\Vhon luck cam chappin' at my door, 
 Wi' right goodwill I cheered him, O ! 
 
 And whan misfortune cam, I swore 
 The ne'er a bit I feared him, ! '
 
 THE COUNTESS OF WISTONBURY. 237 
 
 * lassie, lassie ! ' exclaimed Jessy's mother, here inter- 
 rupting her, and now smiling as she spoke ' how can ye 
 think o' singing at such a time ? But God lang vouchsafe 
 ye sae light and cheerfu' a heart ! It's a great blessing, 
 Jessy, and canna be prized too highly.' 
 
 ' I'm aware of it, mother,' replied her daughter, { and 
 am, I trust, thankful for it. I dinna see, after a', that 
 anything should seriously distress us but guilt. If we 
 keep free o' that, Avhat hae we to fear? A' ither mis- 
 chances will mend, or if they dinna, they'll at least smooth 
 doon wi' time.' 
 
 ' But why are ye no puttin' up your silk goun, Jessy ?' 
 here interposed her mother, abruptly; seeing her daughter 
 laying aside the article of dress she referred to, as if she 
 did not intend it should have a place in the little chest siie 
 was packing. 
 
 ' The silk gown, mother, I'll no tak wi' me,' replied 
 Jessy, smiling ; ' I'll leave't at hame till better times come 
 roun'. It would hardly become my station now, mother, 
 to be gaun flaunting about in silks.' 
 
 ' Too true, Jessy,' said her mother with a sigh. ' It 
 may be as weel, as ye say, to leave't at hame for a wee, till 
 times mend wi' us at ony rate, although God only knows 
 when that may be, if ever.' 
 
 ' I'll keep it for my wedding gown, mother,' said Jessy, 
 laughingly, and with an intention of counteracting the 
 depressing tendency of her inadvertent remarks on the 
 propriety of her leaving her silk gown behind. ' I'll keep 
 it for my wedding dress, mother,' she said, ' although it's 
 mair than likely that a plainer attire will be mair suitable 
 for that occasion too.' 
 
 ' Nae sayin', Jessy,' replied her mother. ' Ye'll maybe 
 get a canny laird yet, that can ride to market wi' siller 
 spurs on his boots and gowd lace on his hat.' 
 
 * Far less will please me, mither,' replied Jessy, blush-
 
 2'6S TALES OF THE BOIiDKKS. 
 
 ing and laughing at the same time. ' I never, even in our 
 best days, looked so high, and it would ill become me to 
 do so now.' 
 
 With such conversation as this did mother and daughter 
 endeavour to divert their minds from dwelling on the 
 painful reflection which the latter's occupation was so well 
 calculated to excite. 
 
 An early hour of the following morning saw Jessy 
 Flowerdew seated in a little cart, well lined with straAv 
 by her doting father, who proposed driving her himself 
 into the city. A small, Hue-painted chest, a bandbox, and 
 one or two small bundles, formed the whole of her travel- 
 ling accompaniments. She herself was wrapped in a 
 scarlet mantle, and wore on her head a light straw bonnet, 
 of tasteful shape, and admirably adapted to the complexion 
 and contour of the fine countenance which it gracefully 
 enclosed. 
 
 After a delay of a few minutes for the cart in which 
 Jessy was seated was still standing at the door her 
 father, dressed in his Sunday's suit, came out of the house, 
 stepped up to the horse's head, took the reins in his hand, 
 and gently put in motion the little humble conveyance 
 which was to bear his daughter away from the home of 
 her childhood, and to place her in the house of the 
 stranger. Unable to sustain .the agony of a last parting, 
 Jessy's mother had not come out of the house to see her 
 daughter start on her journey; but she was seen, when 
 the cart had proceeded a little way, standing at the door, 
 with her apron at her eyes, looking after it with an expres- 
 sion of the most heartfelt sorrow. 
 
 'There's my mother, father,' said Jessy, in a choking 
 voice, on getting a sight of the former in the affectirig atti- 
 tude above described but she conld add no more. In 
 the next instant her face was buried in her handkerchief. 
 Her father turned round on her calling his attention to her
 
 THE COUNTBS6 OF WlSTONBDRr 23& 
 
 mother, but instantly, and without saying a word, resumed 
 the silent, plodding pace which the circumstance had for a 
 moment interrupted. 
 
 In little more than an hour the humble equipage, whose 
 progress we have been tracing, entered the city. Humble, 
 however, as that equipage was, it did not prevent the 
 passers-by from marking the singular beauty of her by 
 whom it was occupied. Many were they who looked 
 round, and stood and gazed in admiration after the little 
 cart and its occupant, as they rattled along the ' stony 
 street.' Their further progress, however, was now a short 
 one. In a few minutes Flowerdew and his daughter found 
 themselves at the profesior's door. The former now ten- 
 derly lifted out Jessy from the cart for her sylph-like 
 form,*so light and slender, was nothing in the arms of the 
 robust farmer and placed her in safety on the flag-stones. 
 Her little trunk and bandbox were next taken out by the 
 same friendly hand, and deposited beside her. This done, 
 Flowerdew rapped at the professor's door. It was opened. 
 The father and daughter entered ; and, in an hour after 
 long before which her father had left her the latter was 
 engaged in the duties of her new situation. 
 
 Days, weeks, and months, as they will always do, now 
 passed away, but they still found Jessy in the service of 
 her first employers, whose esteem she had gained by the 
 gentleness of her nature, the modesty of her demeanour, 
 and the extreme propriety of her conduct" 
 
 At the time of her first entering into the service of 
 Professor Lockerby, Jessy Flowerdew had just completed 
 her sixteenth year. The charms of her person had not 
 then attained their full perfection. But now that two 
 years more had passed over her head for this interval 
 must be understood to have elapsed before we resume 
 our tale her face and figure had attained the zenith of 
 their beauty, a beauty that itruck every beholder, and
 
 240 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 in every beholder excited feelings of unqualified admira- 
 tion. 
 
 It was about the end of two years after Jessy's advent 
 into the family of the professor, that the latter one morn- 
 ing, raising his head from a letter which he had just been 
 reading, and, turning to the former, who was in the act of 
 removing the breakfast equipage, said 
 
 ' Jessy, my girl, will you be so good as put the little 
 parlour and bedroom up stairs in the best order you can, 
 as I expect a young gentleman to-morrow, who is to be- 
 come a boarder with us.' 
 
 Jessy courtseyed her acquiescence in the order just 
 given her, and retired from the apartment to fulfil it. 
 
 On the following day a travelling carriage, whose panels 
 were adorned with a coronet, drove up to the ddbr of 
 Professor Lockerby. From this carriage descended a 
 young man, apparently between nineteen and twenty 
 years of age, of the most prepossessing appearance. His 
 countenance was pale, but bore an expression of extreme 
 mildness and benevolence. His figure was tall and 
 slender, but handsomely formed ; while his whole man- 
 ner and bearing bespoke the man of high birth and 
 breeding. 
 
 On descending from his carriage, the young man was 
 received by the professor with the most respectful defer- 
 ence too respectful it seemed to be for the taste of him 
 to whom it was addressed, for he instantly broke through 
 the cold formality of the meeting, by grasping the profes- 
 sor's hand, and shaking it with the heartiest and most cor- 
 dial goodwill, saying while he did so 
 
 ' I hope I see you well, professor.' 
 
 ' In perfect health, I thank you, my lord,' replied the 
 professor. ' I hope you left your good lady mother, the 
 countess, well.' 
 
 1 Quite well I'm obliged to you, professor as lively
 
 THE COUNTESS OF WISTONBUKY. 241 
 
 and stirring, and active as ever. Hot and hasty, and a 
 little queenly in her style now and then, as you know, but 
 still the open heart and the open hand of the Wistonburys.' 
 
 ' I have the honour of knowing the countess well, my 
 lord,' replied the professor, ' and can bear testimony to 
 the nobleness of her nature and disposition. I have known 
 many, many instances of it.' 
 
 "With such conversation as this, the professor and his 
 noble boarder for such was the young man whom we 
 have just introduced to the reader entered the house. 
 Who this young man was, and what was his object in 
 taking up his abode with Professor Lockerby, we will ex- 
 plain in a few words, although such explanation is rendered 
 in part nearly unnecessary by the conversation just re- 
 corded between him and the professor. It may not be 
 amiss, however, to say, in more distinct terms, that he was 
 the Earl of Wistonbury, a rank which he had attained just 
 a year before, by the sudden and premature death of his 
 father, who died in the forty-fifth year of his age. Since 
 his accession to the title of his ancestors, the young earl 
 had continued to live in retirement with his mother, a 
 woman of a noble, elevated, and generous soul, well be- 
 coming her high lineage for she, too, was descended of 
 one of the noblest families in England but in whose tem- 
 per there was occasionally made visible a dash of the 
 leaven of aristocracy. 
 
 On her son, the young earl, her only surviving child, 
 she doted with all the affection of the fondest and tenderest 
 of mothers ; and well worthy was that son of all the love 
 she could bestow. His was one of those natures which no 
 earthly elevation can corrupt, no factitious system deprive 
 of its innate simplicity. 
 
 The promotion of the young earl to the head of his 
 illustrious house, was, however, a premature one in more 
 respects than one. One of these was to be found in the
 
 242 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 aircumstance of the young man's being found unprepared 
 at least so he judged himself in the matter of educa- 
 tion, to fill with credit the high station to which he was so 
 unexpectedly called. His education, in truth, had been 
 rather neglected ; and it was to make up for this neglect, 
 to recover his lost ground with all the speed possible, that 
 he was now come to reside for a few months with Professor 
 Lockerby, who had once acted as tutor in his father's 
 family to a brother who had died young. 
 
 Such, then, was the professor's boarder, and such was 
 the purpose for which he became so. 
 
 The favourable impression which the youthful earl's first 
 appearance had made, suffered no diminution by length of 
 acquaintance. Mild and unpresuming, he won the love of 
 all who came in contact with him. The little personal 
 services he required, he always solicited, never commanded; 
 and what he could with any propriety do himself, he always 
 did, without seeking other assistance. 
 
 A quiet and unostentatious inmate of the professor's, 
 tune rolled rapidly, but gently and imperceptibly, over the 
 head of the young earl, until a single week only inter- 
 vened between the moment referred to, and the period 
 fixed on for his return to Oxton Hall. 
 
 Thus, nearly six months had elapsed, not a very long 
 period, but one in which much may be accomplished, and 
 in which many a change may take place. And by such 
 features were the six months marked, which the young 
 Earl of Wistonbury had spent in the house of Professor 
 Lockerby. In that time, by dint of unrelaxing assidiu'ty 
 nd intense application, he had acquired a respectable 
 knowledge of both Latin and Greek, and in that time, too, 
 he had taken a step which was to affect the whole tenor oi 
 his after life, and to make him either happy or miserable, 
 as it had been fortunately or unfortunately made. What 
 that step was \ve shall divulge, through precisely the same
 
 THE COUNTESS OP WISTONBUKY. 243 
 
 singular process by which it actually came to the know- 
 ledge of the other parties interested. 
 
 One evening, at the period to which we a short while 
 since alluded namely, about a week previous to the ex- 
 piry of the proposed term of the earl's residence with Pro- 
 fessor Lockerby as Jessy Flowerdew was about to remove 
 the tea equipage from the table of the little parlour in 
 which the professor and his noble pupil usually conducted 
 their studies, the latter suddenly rose from his seat, and, 
 looking at their fair handmaiden with a serious counte- 
 nance, said 
 
 ' Jessy, my love, you must not perform this service again, 
 nor any other of a similar kind. You are now my wife 
 you are now Countess of Wistonbury. 1 
 
 We leave it to the reader to imagine, after his own sur- 
 prise has a little subsided, what was that of the worthy 
 professor, on hearing his noble pupil make so extraordinary, 
 so astounding a declaration a declaration not less remark- 
 able for its import, than for the occasion on which, and the 
 manner in which it was made. 
 
 On recovering from his astonishment, 'My lord,' said 
 the good professor, with a grave and stern countenance, 
 'be good enough to inform me what this extraordinary 
 conduct means? What can have been your motive, my 
 lord, for using the highly improper and most unguarded 
 language which I have just now heard you utter? ' 
 
 The young earl, with the gr^test calmness and defer- 
 ence of manner, approached th^^rofessor, laid his hand 
 upon his heart, and, with a graceful inclination, said, slowly 
 and emphatically 
 
 ' Upon my honour, sir, she is my wife 1 ' 
 
 ' What, my lord ! ' exclaimed the still more and more 
 :L mazed professor and now starting from his chair in his 
 excitation 'do you repeat your most unbecoming and 
 incredible assertion?'
 
 244 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 ' I do, sir,' replied the earl, in the same calm and re- 
 spectful manner. 'I do repeat it, and say, before God, 
 that Jessy Flowerdew is the lawfully married wife of the 
 Earl of Wistonbnry.' 
 
 ' Well, my lord, well,' said the professor, in angry agi- 
 tation, ' I know what is my duty in this most extraordinary 
 case. It is to give instant notice to the countess, your 
 mother, of what I must call, my lord, the extremely rash 
 and unadvised step you have taken.' 
 
 To this threat and rebuke, the earl replied, with the 
 utmost composure and politeness of manner 'I was not 
 unprepared, sir, for your resentment on this occasion. 
 Neither do I take it in the least amiss. You merely do 
 your duty when you tell me I have forgotten mine. But 
 the step I have taken, sir, allow me to say, although it may 
 appear unadvised, has not been so in reality. I have 
 weighed well the consequences, and am quite prepared to 
 abide them.' 
 
 ' Be it so, my lord, be it so,' replied the professor. ' I 
 have only now to remark that, as you say you were pre- 
 pared for my resentment, I hope you are also prepared for 
 your mother's, my lord a matter of much more serious 
 moment.' 
 
 ' My mother, sir, I will take in my own hands,' replied 
 the earl; ' she can resent, but she can also forgive.' 
 
 ' I have no more to say, my lord, no more,' rejoined 
 Mr. Lockerby; 'the raj^ter must now be put into the 
 hands of those who hav^i better right to judge of its pro- 
 priety than I have. I shall presume on no further remark 
 on the subject.' 
 
 ' Come, sir,' said the earl, smiling and extending his 
 hand to the professor, ' let this, if you please, be no cause 
 for difference between us. I propose that we allow the 
 matter to lie in abeyance until my mother has been ap- 
 pealed to ; she being the only person, you know, who has
 
 THE COUNTESS OF W1STONBUKY. 245 
 
 a right to be displeased with my proceeding, or whose 
 wishes I was called upon to consult in this matter.' 
 
 'Exctise me, my lord,' replied the worthy professor; 
 * but I must positively decline all interchange of courtesies 
 which may, by any possibility, be construed into an over- 
 looking of this very extraordinary affair.' 
 
 'Well, well, my good sir,' said the earl, smiling, and 
 still maintaining the equanimity of his temper, 'judge oi 
 me as charitably as you can. In the morning, we shall 
 meet, I trust, better friends.' Saying this, he took up one 
 of the candles which were on the table before him, bade 
 the professor a polite and respectful good night, and retired 
 to his own apartment. 
 
 The earl had no sooner withdrawn than Mr. Lockerby, 
 after collecting himself a little, commenced inditing a letter 
 to the Countess Dowager of Wistonbury, apprising her of 
 what had just occurred. In speaking, however, of the 
 ' degrading ' connection which her son had made, the 
 honest man's sense of justice compelled him to add a 
 qualifying explanation of the term which he had employed 
 ' degrading, I mean,' he said, ' in point of wealth, rank, 
 and accomplishments ; for, in all other respects, in conduct 
 and character, in temper and disposition, and, above all, 
 in personal appearance for she is certainly eminently 
 beautiful I must admit that her superior may not easily 
 be found.' 
 
 The letter that contained these remarks, with the other 
 information connected with it, the professor despatched 
 on the same night on which it was written ; and, having 
 clone this, awaited with what composure and fortitude he 
 could command, the dreadful explosion of aristocratic wrath 
 and indignation, which, he had no doubt, would speedily 
 follow. 
 
 Leaving matters in this extraordinary position in the 
 house of Professor Lockerby we shall shift the scene, for
 
 246 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 a moment, to the Countess Dowager of Wistonbury's sitting 
 apartment in Oxton Hall ; and we shall choose the mo- 
 ment when her favourite footman, Jacob Asterley, has 
 entered her presence, after his return from a call at the 
 post-office in the neighbouring village ; the time being the 
 second day after the occurrence just previously related 
 namely, the despatch to Oxton Hall of Professor Lockerby'g 
 letter. 
 
 'Well, Jacob, any letters for me to-day?' said the 
 countess, on the entrance of that worthy official. 
 
 'One, my lady, from Scotland,' replied the servant, 
 deferentially, and, at the same time, opening the bag in 
 Yv'hich the letters were usually carried to and from the 
 post-house. 
 
 ' Ah I from the earl,' said the countess. 
 
 ' No, my lady, I rather think not. The address is not 
 in his lordship's handwriting.' 
 
 ' Oh ! the good Professor Lockerby,' said the countess, 
 contemplating for a moment the address of the letter in 
 question, which was now in her ladyship's hands. 'I 
 ii ope nothing unpleasant has occurred to my son.' And 
 \vhile she spoke, she hurriedly broke the seal, and, in the 
 next instant, was intently engaged in perusing the intelli- 
 gence which it had secured from the prying curiosity of 
 parties whom it did not concern. 
 
 It would take a much abler pen than that now employed 
 in tracing these lines, to convey anything like an adequate 
 idea of the mingled expression of amazement, indignation, 
 .ind grief exhibited on the countenance, and in every act 
 and attitude of the proud Countess of Wistonbury, on 
 reading the story of her son's degradation. The flush of 
 haughty resentment was succeeded by the sudden paleness 
 of despair; and in frequent alternation did these strong 
 expressions of varied feeling flit across the fine countenance 
 still fine, although it h:id looked on fifty summers of
 
 THE COUNTESS OP WISTONBURT. 247 
 
 the heart-stricken mother, as she proceeded in her perusal 
 of .the fatal document. On completing the perusal, the 
 countess threw herself in silent distraction on a sofa, and, 
 still holding the open letter in her hand, sank into a maze 
 of wild and wandering thoughts. These, however, seemed 
 at length to concentrate in one decisive and sudden resolu- 
 tion. Starting from the reclining posture into which she 
 had thrown herself, she advanced towards the bell-pull, 
 rung furiously, and, when the servant entered to know 
 what were her commands 
 
 ' Order the travelling carriage instantly, Jacob,' she said 
 ' instantly, instantly ; and let four of my best horses be 
 put in the harness. What do you stare at, fool?' she 
 added, irritated at the look of astonishment which the 
 inexplicable violence of her manner had called into the 
 countenance of her trusty domestic. 'Do as you are 
 ordered, directly.' The man bowed and withdrew ; and 
 in pursuance of the commands he had received, proceeded 
 to the stables. 
 
 'Here's a start, Thomas! he said, addressing a jolly- 
 looking fellow, who was busily employed in brushing up 
 some harness ; the travelling carriage directly, and four of 
 your best horses for my lady.' 
 
 ' Why, what the devil's the matter now ? ' replied 
 Thomas, pausing in his operations; 'where's the old girl 
 a-going to? ' 
 
 ' Not knowing, can't say,' replied Jacob ; ' but she's in * 
 woundy fuss, I warrant you. Never seed her in such a 
 quandary in my life. Something's wrong somewhere, I 
 guess.' 
 
 'Well, well, all's one to me,' said Thomas, with philo- 
 sophical indifference ; but it looks like a long start, where- 
 ever it may be to; so I'll get my traps in order.' And this 
 duty was so expeditiously performed, that, in less than 
 fifteen minutes, the very handsome travelling carriage of
 
 248 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 the Earl of Wistonbury, drawn by four spanking bays, 
 flashed up to the door 01" Oxton Hall. In an instant after, 
 it was occupied by the dowager countess, and in another, 
 was rattling away for Scotland, at the utmost speed of the 
 noble animals by which it was drawn. 
 
 Changing here, once more, the sjcene of our story, we 
 return to the house of Professor Lockerby. There matters 
 continued in that ominous state of quiescence, that signi- 
 ficant and portentous calm, that precedes the bursting of 
 the storm. Between the professor and the young earl, not 
 a word more had passed on the subject of the latter's extra- 
 ordinary declaration. Neither had made the slightest subse- 
 quent allusion to it, but continued their studies precisely as 
 they had done before; although, perhaps, a degree of restraint 
 a consciousness of some point of difference between them 
 might now be discerned in their correspondence. Both, 
 in short, seemed to have tacitly agreed to abide the result 
 of the professor's letter to the countess, before taking any 
 other step, or expressing any other feeling, on the subject 
 to which that letter related. The anticipated crisis which 
 the professor and his noble pupil were thus composedly 
 awaiting, soon arrived. On the third day after that re- 
 markable one on which the young Earl of Wistonbury had 
 avowed the humble daughter of an humble Scotch farmer 
 to be his wife, a carriage and four, which, we need scarcely 
 say, was the same we saw start from Oxton Hall, drove 
 furiously up to the door of Professor Lockerby. The 
 horses' flanks sent forth clouds of smoke ; their mouths and 
 fore-shoulders were covered with foam ; and the carriage 
 itself was almost encased in mud. Everything, in short, 
 told of a long and rapid journey. And it was so. Night 
 and day, without one hour's intermission, had that carriage 
 prosecuted its journey. In an instant after, the carriage 
 stopped ; its steps were down, and, bridling with high and 
 lofty indignation, the Dowager Countess of Wistonbury
 
 THE COUNTESS OF WISTONBUKT. 249 
 
 descended, and, ere any one of the professor's family were 
 aware of her arrival, she had entered the house, the door 
 being accidentally open, and was calling loudly for ' her 
 boy.' 
 
 'Where is my son?' she exclaimed, as she made her 
 way into the interior of the house : ' where is the Earl of 
 Wistonbury ? ' 
 
 In a moment after the Earl of Wistonbury, who had 
 heard and instantly recognized his mother's voice, was 
 before her, and was about to rush into her arms, when she 
 haughtily thrust him back, saying 
 
 'Degraded, spiritless boy, dare not too approach me! 
 You have blotted the noblest, the proudest scutcheon of 
 England. Where is Professor Lockerby?' 
 
 The professor was by her side before she had completed 
 the sentence, when, seeing her agitation 
 
 ' My good lady,' he said, in his most persuasive tone, 
 ' do allow me to entreat of you to be composed, and to 
 have the honour of conducting you up stairs.' __ 
 
 ' Anywhere ! anywhere, professor ! ' exclaimed the 
 countess ; ' but, alas ! go where I will, I cannot escape the 
 misery of my own thoughts, nor the disgrace which my 
 unworthy son has brought upon my head.' 
 
 Without making any reply to this outburst of pas- 
 sionate feeling, the professor took the countess respectfully 
 by the hand, and silently conducted her to his drawing- 
 room. With stately step the countess entered, and walked 
 slowly to the farther end of the apartment ; this gained, 
 she turned round, and, when she had done so, a sight 
 awaited her for which she was but little prepared. This 
 was her son and Jessy Flowerdew, kneeling side by side, 
 and, by their attitude, eloquently imploring her forgive- 
 ness. It was just one of those sights best calculated to 
 work on the nobler nature of the Countess of Wistonbury, 
 and to call up the finer feelings of her generous heart.
 
 250 TALES OF THE BORDERS, 
 
 For some seconds she looked at the kneeling pair in silent 
 astonishment; her eye, however, chiefly fixed on the 
 beauteous countenance of Jessy Flowerdew, pale with ter- 
 ror and emotion, and wet with tears. Having gazed for 
 some time on this extraordinary sight, without betraying 
 the slightest symptom of the feelings beyond that of sur- 
 prise, with which it had inspired her, the countess slowly 
 advanced towards the kneeling couple. She still, however, 
 uttered no word, and discovered no emotion ; but a sud- 
 den change had come over her proud spirit. That spirit 
 was now laid, and its place occupied by all the generous 
 impulses of her nature. Keeping her eye steadily fixed 
 on the kneeling fair one before her, she approached her, 
 paused a moment, extended her hand, placed it on the 
 ivory forehead of Jessy Flowerdew, gently laid back her 
 rich auburn hair, and, as she did so, said, in a tremulous, 
 but emphatic voice 
 
 ' You are, indeed, a lovely girl ! God bless you ! Alfred, 
 my son, rise,' she added, in a low, but calm and solemn 
 tone ; ' I fofgive you.' And she extended her hand to- 
 wards him. The earl seized it, kissed it affectionately, and 
 bathed it with his tears. 
 
 ' Rise, my lady rise, my fair Countess of Wistonbury,' 
 she now said, and herself aiding in the act she commanded, 
 1 1 acknowledge you as my daughter, and we must now 
 see to fitting you to the high station to which my son's 
 favour has promoted you, and of which, I trust, you will 
 prove as worthy in point of conduct as you assuredly 
 already are in that of personal beauty. God bless you 
 both ! And may every happiness that the conjugal state 
 affords, be yours ! Professor,' she added, and now turn- 
 ing round to that gentleman, ' you will think this weak- 
 ness a mother's weakness and perhaps it is so but I 
 would myself fain attribute It to a more worthy feeling, 
 and, if I know my own lirnrt, it i^ so. Rnf lt thnt ^a c s.
 
 THE COUNTESS OF WISTONBURY. 251 
 
 I am reconciled to the step my son has taken, and reve- 
 rently leave it to God, and fearlessly to man, to judge of 
 the motives by which I have been influenced. I trust 
 they are such as to merit the approbation of both.' 
 
 Surprised, and greatly affected by the unexpected turn , 
 which matters had taken, so contrary to what he had antici- 
 pated, the worthy professor had listened to these expres- 
 sions of the countess with averted head, and making the 
 most ingenious use of the handkerchief which he held to 
 his face that he could, to conceal the real purpose for 
 which he employed it. When she had done 
 
 4 Madam,' he said, with great agitation and confusion of 
 manner, and still busily plying the handkerchief in its pre- 
 tended vocation ' Madam, I I I am surprised much 
 affected, I assure you much affected, my lady with this 
 striking instance of what a noble and generous nature is 
 capable. I was by no means prepared for it. It does 
 you infinite honour, my lady infinite honour ; and will, I 
 trust, in its result, be productive of all that happiness 
 to you which your magnanimous conduct so eminently 
 deserves.' 
 
 ' I trust I have acted rightly, professor,' was the brief 
 reply of the countess, as she again turned to the young 
 couple, who were now standing on the floor beside her, ' I 
 hope I have 5 and, if my heart does not deceive me, I am 
 sure I have.' 
 
 ' You are warranted, my lady, in the confidence you 
 express in the uprightness, the generosity of your conduct 
 on this very remarkable occasion perfectly warranted,' 
 replied the professor. ' It is an unexampled instance of 
 greatness, of liberality of mind, and as such I must always 
 look on it.' 
 
 Thus, then, terminated this extraordinary scene. It was 
 subsequently arranged that the marriage of the earl should, 
 in the meantime, be kept as secret as possible, and that
 
 252 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 the young countess should, in the interim, be sent for a 
 year or two to one of the most celebrated seminaries 
 of female education in England, under an assumed name, 
 and that, when she should have acquired the attain- 
 ments and the polish befitting her high station, she 
 should be produced to the world as the Countess of 
 Wistonbury. 
 
 Acting upon this plan of proceedings, the same carriage 
 that brought down the earl's mother, bore away, on the 
 following day, together with that lady, the young earl and 
 his bride ; the latter, to commence her educational novi- 
 ciate in England ; the former, to while away the time as 
 he best could until that noviciate should expire, a period 
 which he proposed to render less irksome by a tour om 
 the continent. 
 
 About two years after the occurrence of the events just 
 related it might be more, perhaps nearly three Oxton 
 Hall presented a sceneof prodigious confusion and bustle. 
 Little carts of provender were daily seen making frequent 
 visits to the house. Huge old grates, in deserted kitchens. 
 that had not been in use for a century before, were cleared 
 of their rubbish, and glowing with blazing fires, at which 
 enormous roasts were solemnly revolving. Menials were 
 running to and fro in all directions, and a crowd of 
 powdered and richly-liveried lackeys bustled backwards 
 and forwards through the gorgeous apartments, loaded 
 with silver plate, and bearing huge baskets of wine. 
 Everything at Oxton Hall, in short, betokened prepara- 
 tions for a splendid fete and such, in truth, was the case. 
 To this fete all the nobility and gentry, within a circuit of 
 ten to fifteen miles were invited ; and such an affair it 
 promised to be, altogether, as had not been seen at Oxton 
 Hall since the marriage of the last earl a period of nearly 
 thirty years. None of those invited knew, or could guess, 
 what was the particular reason for so extensive a merry-
 
 THE COUNTESS OF WISTONBURl". 253 
 
 making. Its scale, they learned*, was most magnificent, 
 and the invitations unprecedentedly numerous. 
 
 The whole affair was thus somewhat of a puzzle to the 
 good people who were to figure as guests at the impending 
 fete ; but they comforted themselves with the reflection 
 that they would know all about it by and by. In the 
 meantime, the day appointed for the celebration of the 
 proposed festival at Oxton Hall arrived ; and, amongst the 
 other preparations which more markedly characterized it, 
 was the appearance of several long tables extended on the 
 lawn in front of the house, and which were intended for 
 the accommodation of the earl's tenantry, who were also 
 invited to share in tne coming festivities. Towards the 
 afternoon of the day alluded to, carriages and vehicles of 
 all descriptions, and of various degrees of elegance, were 
 seen, in seemingly endless numbers, streaming along the 
 spacious and well 7 gravelled walks that led, by many a 
 graceful curve, through the surrounding lawn, to the noble 
 portals of Oxton Hall. These, by turns, drew up in front 
 of the principal entrance to the house, and delivered their 
 several cargoes of lords and ladies, knights and squires, all 
 honourable personages, and of high degree. An inferior 
 description of equipages, again, and occupied by persons 
 of a different class, sturdy yeomen and their wives and 
 daughters, found ther way, or rather were guided as they 
 came, to a different destination, but with no difference in 
 the hospitality of their reception. All were alike welcome 
 to Oxton Hall on this auspicious day. By and by the 
 hour of dinner came, .and, when it did, it exhibited a 
 splendid scene in the magnificent dining-room of the Earl 
 of Wistonbury. In this dining-room were assembled a 
 party of at least a hundred-and-fifty ladies and gentlemen, 
 all in their best attire. Down the middle of the spacious 
 apartment ran a table of ample length and breadth, and 
 capable of accommodating with ease even the formidable
 
 254 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 array by which it was shortly to be surrounded. On this 
 spacious board glittered as much wealth, in the shape of 
 silver plate, as would have bought a barony, while every- 
 thing around showed that it was still but a small portion 
 of the riches of its noble owner. At the further end of 
 the lordly hall, in an elevated recess or interior balcony, 
 were stationed a band of musicians, to contribute the 
 choicest specimens of the art to the hilarity of the evening. 
 Altogether the scene was one of the most imposing that 
 can well be conceived, an effect which was not a little 
 heightened by the antique character of the noble apart- 
 ment in which it was exhibited, one of whose most striking 
 features was a large oriel windoA^ filled with the most 
 beautifully stained glass, which threw its subdued and 
 sombre light on the magnificent scene beneath. Hitherto 
 the young earl had not been seen by any of the company ; 
 liis mother, the countess-dowager, having discharged the 
 duties of hospitality in receiving the guests. Many were 
 the inq\uries made for the absent lord of the mansion ; 
 but these were all answered evasively, although always 
 concluded with the assurance that he would appear in 
 good time. 
 
 Satisfied with this assurance, the subject was no further 
 pressed at the moment ; but, as the dinner hour ap- 
 proached, and the earl had not yet presented himself, 
 considerable curiosity and impatience began to be mani- 
 iested amongst the assembled guests. These feelings 
 increased every moment, and had attained their height, 
 \vhenthepartyfound themselves . called on to take their 
 ^euts at table, and yet no earl had appeared. The general 
 surprise was further excited on its being observed that the 
 countess-dowager did not, as usual, take the chair at the 
 head of the table, as was expected, but placed herself on its 
 right. The chair at the foot of the table remained also yet 
 unoccupied ; and great waa the wonder what all this could
 
 THE COUNTESS OF WISTONBURr. 255 
 
 mean. It was now soon to be explained. Just as the 
 party had taken their seats, a folding-door, at the farther 
 end of the hall, flew open, and the young Earl of Wiston- 
 buiy entered, leading by the hand a young female of 
 exceeding beauty, attired in a dress of the most dazzling 
 splendour, over which was gracefully thrown a Scottish 
 plaid. Bowing slightly, but with a graceful and cordial 
 expression, and smiling affably as he advanced, the earl 
 conducted his fair charge to the head of the table, where, 
 after a pause of a few seconds, which he purposely made 
 in order to afford his guests an opportunity of marking 
 the extreme loveliness of the lady whom he had thus so 
 miexpectedly introduced to them an opportunity which 
 was not thrown away, as was evident from the murmur ot 
 admiration that ran round the brilliant assembly the earl 
 thus shortly addressed his wondering guests 
 
 ' Permit me, my friends,' he said, ' to introduce to you 
 the Countess of Wistonbury ! ' 
 
 ' A shout of applause from the gentlemen, and a waving 
 of handkerchiefs by the ladies, hailed the pleasing and 
 unexpected intelligence an homage whose duration and 
 intensity was increased by the singularly graceful mannei 
 with which it was received and acknowledged by her to 
 whom it was paid. Nothing could be more captivating 
 than the modest, winning sweetness of her smile, nothing 
 more pleasing to behold than the gentle grace of her 
 every motion. On all present the impression was that she 
 v/as a woman of birth, education, and high breeding, and 
 nothing in the part she subsequently acted tended in the 
 rlightest degree to affect this idea. The young and lovely 
 countess conducted herself throughout the whole of this 
 eventful evening, as she did throughout the remainder 
 of her life, with the most perfect propriety; and thus 
 evinced that the pains taken to fit Jessy Flowerdew 
 for the high station to which a singular good fortune
 
 25 G TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 had called her, was very far from having been taken in 
 vain. 
 
 At the conclusion of the banquet, the earl entreated the 
 indulgence of the company for an absence for himself and 
 the countess of a quarter of an hour. This being of course 
 readily acquiesced in, the earl and his beauteous young 
 wife were seen, arm and arm, on the lawn, going towards 
 the tables at which his tenantry were enjoying his hospi- 
 tality. Here he went through precisely the same cere- 
 mony of introduction with that which we have described 
 as having taken place in the banquet-hall; and here it 
 was greeted with the same enthusiasm, and acknowledged 
 by the countess with the same grace and propriety. This 
 proceeding over, the earl and his young bride returned to 
 their party, when one of the most joyous evenings followed 
 that the banqueting-room of Oxton Hall had ever wit- 
 nessed. There is only now to add, that Jessy Flowerdew's 
 subsequent conduct as Countess of "Wistonbury proved her 
 in every respect worthy of the high place to which she 
 had been elevated. 'A mildness and gentleness of disposi- 
 tion, and a winning modesty of demeanour, which all the 
 wealth and state with which she was surrounded could not 
 in the slightest degree impair, distinguished her through 
 life ; and no less distinguished was she by the generosity 
 and benevolence of her nature, a nature which her change 
 of destiny was wholly unable to pervert." 
 
 Such, then, good reader, is the history of the lady whose 
 portrait, in which she appears habited in a Scottish plaid, 
 adorns, with others, the walls of the picture gallery of 
 Oxton Hall, in Wiltshire.
 
 MIPSIDE MAGGY. 257 
 
 MIDSIDE MAGGY; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE BANNOCK O' TOLLISHILL. 
 
 "Every bannock had its maik, but the bannock o 1 Tollishill." 
 
 Scottish Proverb. 
 
 BELIKE, gentle reader, them hast often heard the proverb 
 quoted above, that " Every bannock had its maik, but the 
 bannock o' Tollishill." The saying hath its origin in a 
 romantic tradition of the Lammermoors, which I shall relate 
 to thee. Tollishill is the name of a sheep-farm in Berwick- 
 shire, situated in the parish of Lauder. Formerly, it was 
 divided into three farms, which were occupied by different 
 tenants ; and, by way of distinguishing it from the others, 
 that in which dwelt the subjects of our present story was 
 generally called Midside, and our heroine obtained the 
 appellation of Midside Maggy. Tollishill was the property 
 of John, second Earl, and afterwards Duke of Lauderdale 
 a personage whom I shall more than once, in these tales, 
 have occasion to bring before mine readers, and whose 
 character posterity hath small cause to hold in veneration. 
 Yet it is a black character, indeed, in which there is not to 
 be found one streak of sunshine; and the story of the 
 " Bannock of Tollishill " referreth to such a streak in the 
 history of John, the Lord of Thirlestane. 
 
 Time hath numbered somewhat more than a hundred and 
 ninety years since Thomas Hardie became tenant of the 
 principal farm of Tollishill. Now, that the reader may 
 picture Thomas Hardie as he was, and as tradition hath 
 
 described him, he or she must imagine a tall, strong, and 
 VOL. I. I
 
 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 fresh-coloured man of fifty; a few hairs of grey mingling 
 with his brown locks ; a countenance expressive of much 
 good nature and some intelligence ; while a Lowland bonnet 
 was drawn over his brow. The other parts of his dress 
 were- of coarse, grey, homespun cloth, manufactured in 
 Earlston ; and across his shoulders, in summer as well as 
 in winter, he wore the mountain plaid. His principles as- 
 similated to those held by the men of the covenant ; but 
 Thomas, though a native of the hills, was not without the 
 worldly prudence which is considered as being more im- 
 mediately the characteristic of the buying and selling 
 children of society. His landlord was no favourer of the 
 Covenant; and, though Thomas wished well to the cause, 
 he did not see the necessity for making his laird, the Lord 
 of Lauderdale, his enemy for its sake. He, therefore, 
 judged it wise to remain a neutral spectator of the religious 
 and political struggles of the period. 
 
 But Thomas was a bachelor. Half a century had he been 
 in the world, and the eyes of no woman had had power to 
 throw a spark into his heart. In his single, solitary state, 
 he was happy, or he thought himself happy ; and that is 
 much the same thing. But an accident occurred which led 
 him first to believe, and eventually to feel, that he was but 
 a solitary and comfortless moorland farmer, toiling for he 
 knew not what, and laying tip treasure he knew not for 
 whom. Yea, and while others had their wives spinning, 
 carding, knitting, and smiling before them, and their bairns 
 running laughing and sporting round about them, he was 
 but a poor deserted creature, with nobody to care for, 
 or to care for him. Every person had some object to strive 
 lor and to make them strive but Thomas Hardie ; or, to use 
 his own words, he was " just in the situation o' a tewhit 
 that has lost its mate te-whect! te-u-heetl it cried, flapping 
 its wings impatiently and forlornly and te-wheetl te-wheetl 
 answered vacant echo frno flip dreary
 
 MIDSIDE MAGGY. 259 
 
 Thomas had been to Morpeth disposing of a part of his 
 hirscls, and he had found a much better market for them 
 than he anticipated. He returned, therefore, with a heavy 
 purse, which generally hath a tendency to create a light 
 and merry heart ; and he arrived at Westruther, and went 
 into a hostel, where, three or four times in the year, he 
 was in the habit of spending a cheerful evening with his 
 friends. He had called for a quegh of the landlady's best, 
 and he sat -down at his ease with the liquor before him, 
 for he had but a short way to travel. He also pulled out 
 his tobacco-box and his pipe, and began to inhale the 
 fumes of what, up to that period, was almost a forbidden 
 weed. But we question much if the royal book of James 
 the Sixth of Scotland and First of England, which he 
 published against the use of tobacco, ever found its way 
 into the Lammermoors, though the Indian weed did; 
 therefore, Thomas Hardie sat enjoying his glass and his 
 pipe, unconscious or regardless of the fulminations which 
 he who was king in his boyhood, had published against 
 the latter. But he had not sat long, when a fair maiden, 
 an acquaintance of "mine hostess," entered the hostelry, 
 and began to assist her in the cutting out or fashioning of 
 a crimson kirtle. Her voice fell upon the ears of Thomas 
 like the " music of sweet sounds." He had never heard a 
 voice before that not only fell softly on his ear, but left a 
 lingering murmur in his heart She, too, was a young 
 thing of not more than eighteen. If ever hair might be 
 called " gowden," it was hers. It was a light and shining 
 bronze, where the prevalence of the golden hue gave a 
 colour to the whole. Her face was a thing of beauty, 
 over which health spread its roseate hue, yet softly, as 
 though the westling winds had caused the leaves of the 
 blushing rose to kiss her cheeks, and leave their delicate 
 hues and impression behind them. She was of a middle 
 stature, and her figure was such, although arrayed in
 
 200 TALES OF THE BOKDEKS. 
 
 homely garments, as would have commanded the worship 
 of a connoisseur of grace and symmetry. But beyond all 
 that kindled a flame within the hitherto obdurate heart of 
 Thomas, was the witching influence of her smile. For a 
 full hour he sat Avith his eyes fixed upon her ; save at in- 
 tervals, when he withdrew them to look into the unwonted 
 agitation of his own breast, and examine the cause. 
 
 " Amongst the daughters of women," thought he unto 
 himself for he had a sprinkling of the language of the age 
 about him " none have I seen so beautiful. Her cheeks 
 bloom bonnier than the heather on Tollishill, and her 
 bosom seems saft as the new-shorn fleece. Her smile is 
 like a blink o' sunshine, and would mak summer to those 
 on whom it fell a' the year round." 
 
 He also discovered, for the first time, that " Tollishill 
 was a dull place, especially in the winter season." When, 
 therefore, the fair damsel had arrayed the fashion of the 
 kirtle and departed, without once having seemed to observe 
 Thomas, he said unto the goodwife of the hostelry " And 
 wha, noo, if it be a fair question, may that bonnie lassie 
 be?" 
 
 " She is indeed a bonnie lassie," answered the landlady, 
 " and a guid lassie, too ; and I hae nae doot but, as ye are 
 a single man, Maister Hardie, yer question is fair enough. 
 Her name is Margaret Lylestone, and she is the only bairn 
 o' a puir infirm widow that cam to live here some twa or 
 thrde years syne. They cam frae south owre some way, 
 and I am sure they hae seen better days. We thocht at 
 first that the auld tt woman had been a Catholic ; but I sup- 
 pose that isna the case, though they certainly are baith o' 
 them strong Episcopawlians, and in nae way favourable to 
 the preachers or the word o' the Covenant ; but I maun say 
 for Maggie, that she is a bon;iy, sweet-tempered, and 
 obleegin lassie though, puir thing, her mother has brocht 
 her up in a wrang way."
 
 MIDSIDE MAGGY. 261 
 
 Many days had not passed ere Thomas Hardie, arrayed 
 in his Sunday habiliments, paid another visit to "Westruther; 
 and he cautiously asked of the goodwife of the hostel many 
 questions concerning Margaret ; and although she jeered 
 him, and said that " Maggy would ne'er think o' a grey- 
 haired carle like him," he brooded over the fond fancy ; 
 and although on this visit he saw her not, he returned to 
 Tollishill, thinking of her as his bride. It was a difficult 
 tiling for a man of fifty, who had been the companion ot 
 solitude from his youth upwards, and who had lived in 
 single blessedness amidst the silence of the hills, without 
 feeling the workings of the heart, or being subjected to the 
 influence of its passions I say, it was indeed difficult for 
 such a one to declare, in the ear of a blooming maiden of 
 eighteen, the tale of his first affections. But an oppor- 
 tunity arrived which enabled him to disembosom the 
 burden that pressed upon his heart. 
 
 . It has been mentioned that Margaret Lyleston and her 
 mother were poor; and the latter, who had long been 
 bowed down with infirmities, was supported by the industry 
 of her daughter. They had also a cow, which was permit- 
 ted to graze upon the hills without fee or reward ; and, with 
 the milk which it produce'.!, and the cheese they manufac- 
 tured, together with the poor earnings of Margaret, positive 
 want was long kept from them. But the old woman 
 became more and more infirm the hand of death seemed 
 stretching over her. She required nourishment which 
 Margaret could not procure for her ; and, that it might be 
 procured that her mother might live and not die the 
 fair maiden sent the cow to Kelso to be sold, from whence 
 the seller was to bring with him the restoratives that her 
 parent required. 
 
 Now, it so was that Thomas Hardie, the tenant of 
 Tollishill, was in Kelso market when the cow of Widow 
 Lylostone was offered for sale ; and, as it possessed the
 
 262 TALES OF THE BORDEKS. 
 
 characteristic marks of a good milcher, he inquired to 
 whom it belonged. On being answered, he turned round 
 for a few moments, and stood thoughtful ; but again turn- 
 ing to the individual who had been intrusted to dispose of 
 it, he inquired 
 
 " And wherefore is she selling it ? "' 
 
 " Keally, Maister Hardie," replied the other, " I could 
 not positively say, but I hae little doot it is for want 
 absolute necessity. The auld woman's very frail and very 
 ill I hae to tak a' sort o' things oot to her the nicht frae 
 the doctor's, after selling the cow, and it's no in the power 
 o' things that her dochter, industrious as she is, should be 
 able to get them for her otherwise." 
 
 Thomas again turned aside, and drew his sleeve across 
 his eyes. Having inquired the price sought for the cow, 
 he handed the money to the seller, and gave the animal in 
 charge to one of his herdsmen. He left the market earlier 
 than usual, and directed his servant that the cow should 
 be taken to Westruther. 
 
 It was drawing towards gloaming before Thomas ap- 
 proached the habitation of the widow; and, before he 
 could summon courage to enter it for the first time, he 
 sauntered for several minutes, backward and forward on 
 the moor, by the side of the Blackadder, which there 
 silently wends its way, as a dull and simple burn, through 
 the moss. He felt all the awkwardness of an old man 
 struggling beneath the influence of a young feeling. He 
 thought of what he should say, how he should act, and 
 how he would be received. At length he had composed 
 a short introductory and explanatory speech which pleased 
 him. He thought it contained both feeling and delicacy 
 (according to his notions of the latter) in their proper 
 proportions, and after repeating it three or four times over 
 by the side of the Blackadder, he proceeded towards the 
 cottage, still repeating it to himself as he went. But,
 
 BEDSIDE MAGGV. 263 
 
 when he raised his hand and knocked at the door, Ids 
 heart gave a similar knock upon his bosom, as though it 
 mimicked him ; and every idea, every word of the intro- 
 ductory speech which he had studied and repeated again 
 and again, short though it was, was knocked from his 
 memory. The door was opened by Margaret, who invited 
 him to enter. She was beautiful as when he first beheld 
 her he thought more beautiful for she now spoke to 
 him. Her mother sat in an arm-chair, by the side of the 
 peat fire, and was supported by pillows. He took off hia 
 bonnet, and performed an awkward but his best salutation. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said he, hesitatingly, "lor the liberty 
 I have taken in calling upon you. But I was in Kelso 
 
 the day and" He paused, and turned his bonnet once 
 
 or twice in his hands. " And," he resumed, " I observed, 
 or rather, I should say, I learned that ye intended to sell 
 
 your cow; but I also heard that ye was very ill, and" 
 
 Here he made another pause. u I say I heard that ye was 
 very ill, and I thocht it would be a hardship for ye to part 
 wi' crummie, and especially at a time when ye are sure to 
 stand maist in need o' every help. So I bought the cow 
 but, as I say, it would be a very great hardship for ye to be 
 without the milk, and what the cheese may bring, at a time 
 like this ; and, therefore, I hae ordered her to be brocht 
 back to ye, and ane o' my men will bring her hame presently. 
 Never consider the cow as mine, for a bachelor farmer Eke 
 me can better afford to want the siller, than ye can to want 
 yer cow ; and I micht hae spent it far mair foolishly, and 
 wi' less satisfaction. Indeed, if ye only but think that good 
 I've dune, I'm mair than paid." 
 
 "Maister Hardie," said the widow, "what have I, a 
 stranger widow woman, done to deserve this kindness at 
 your hands ? Or how is it in the power o' words for me 
 to thank ye ? HE who provideth for the widow and the 
 fatherless will not permit you to go unrewarded, though I
 
 264 TALES OF THE BOKDEIIS. 
 
 cannot. O Margaret, hinny," added she, "thank our 
 benefactor as we ought to thank him, for I cannot." 
 
 Fair Margaret's thanks were a flood of tears. 
 
 "Oh, dinna greet 1" said Thomas; "I would ten times 
 ower rather no hae bocht the cow, but hae lost the siller, 
 than I would hae been the cause o' a single tear rowin' 
 doun yer bonny cheeks." 
 
 " O sir," answered the widow, " but they are tears o' 
 gratitude that distress my bairn, and nae tears are mair 
 precious." 
 
 I might tell howThomas sat down by the peat fire between 
 the widow and her daughter, and how he took the hand of 
 the latter, and entreated her to dry up. her tears, saying that 
 his chief happiness would be to be thought their friend, and 
 to deserve their esteem. The cow was brought back to the 
 widow's, and Thomas returned to Tollishill with his herds- 
 man. But, from that night, he became almost a daily visitor 
 at the house of Mrs. Lylestone. He provided whatever she 
 required all that was ordered for her. He spoke not of 
 love to Margaret, but he wooed her through his kindness to 
 her mother. It was, perhaps, the most direct avenue to 
 her affections. Yet it was not because Thomas thought so 
 that he pursued this course, but because he wanted con- 
 fidence to make his appeal in a manner more formal or 
 direct. 
 
 The widow lingered many months; and all that lay within 
 the power of human means he caused to be done for her, 
 to restore her to health and strength, or at least to smooth 
 her dying pillow But the last was all that could be done. 
 Where death spreadeth the shadow of his wing, there is no 
 escape from sinking beneath the baneful influence of its 
 shade. Mrs. Lylestone, finding that the hour of her de- 
 parture drew near, took the hand of her benefactor, and 
 when she had thanked him for all the kindness which he 
 hid shown tov.-nrds h^r. ?hn added
 
 JUDSIDE MAGGY. 2l>5 
 
 "But, sir, there is one thing that makes the hand of 
 death heavy. When the sod is cauld upon my breast, who 
 will look after my puir orphan my bonny faitherless and 
 motherless Margaret ? Where will she find a hame ? " 
 
 " O mem," said Thomas, " if the like o' me durst say it ; 
 she needna hae far to gang, to find a hame and a heart 
 too. Would she only be mine, I would be her protector 
 a' that I have should be hers." 
 
 A gleam of joy brightened in the eye of the dying 
 widow. 
 
 " Margaret ! m she exclaimed, faintly ; and Margaret laid 
 her face upon the bed, and wept. " my bairn ! my puir 
 bairn ! " continued her mother, " shall I see ye protected 
 and provided for before I am ' where the wicked cease 
 from troubling and the weary are at rest,' which canna be 
 lang noo?" 
 
 Thomas groaned tears glistened in his eyes he held 
 his breath in suspense. The moment of trial, of condem- 
 nation or acquittal, of happiness or misery, had arrived. 
 With an eager impatience he waited to hear her answer. 
 But Margaret's heart was prepared for his proposal. He 
 had first touched it Avith gratitude he had obtained her 
 esteem; and where these sentiments prevail in the bosom 
 of a woman whose affections have not been bestowed upon 
 another, love is not far distant if it be not between them, 
 and a part of both. 
 
 " Did ever I disobey you, mother ? " sobbed Margaret, 
 raising her parent's hand to her lips. 
 
 " No, my bairn, no ! " answered the widow. And raising 
 herself in the bed, she took her daughter's hand and placed 
 it in the hand of Thomas Hardie. 
 
 " Oh !" said he, "is this possible ? Does my bonny Mar- 
 garet really consent to make me the happiest man on earth ? 
 Shall I hae a gem at Tollishill that I wadna exchange for 
 a monarch's diadem ?"
 
 ^Ob TALES OF THE BOKDEKS. 
 
 It is sufficient to say that the young and lovely Margaret 
 Lylestone became Mrs. Hardie of Tollishill ; or, as she was 
 generally called, " Midside Maggie" Her mother died 
 within three months after their marriage, but died in peace, 
 having, as she said, " seen her dear bairn blessed wi' a leal 
 and a kind guidman, and ane that was weel to do." 
 
 For two years after their marriage, and not a happier 
 couple than Thomas and Midside Maggie was to be found 
 on all the- long Lammermoors, in the Merse, nor yet in the 
 broad Lothians. They saw the broom and the heather 
 bloom in their season, and they heard the mavis sing before 
 their dwelling ; yea, they behold the snow falling on the 
 mountains, and the drift sweeping down the glens; but 
 while the former delighted, the latter harmed them not, 
 and from all they drew mutual joy and happiness. Thomas 
 said that " Maggy was a matchless wife ;" and she that " he 
 was a kind, kind husband." 
 
 But the third winter was one of terror among the hills. 
 It was near the new year; the snow began to fall on a Satur- 
 day, and when the following Friday came, the storm had 
 not ceased. It was accompanied by frost and a fierce wind, 
 and the drift swept and whirled like awful pillars of alabas- 
 ter, down the hills, and along the glens 
 
 " Sweeping the flocks and herds." 
 
 Fearful was the wrath of the tempest on the Lammermoors. 
 Many farmers suffered severely, but none more severely than 
 Thomas Hardie of Tollishill. Hundreds of his sheep had 
 perished in a single night. He was brought from prosperity 
 to the brink of adversity. 
 
 But another winter came round. It commenced with a 
 severity scarce inferior to that which had preceded it, and 
 again scores of his sheep were buried in the snow. But 
 February had not passed, and scarce had the sun entered 
 what is represented as the astronomical sign of the two Jis/i, 
 in the heavens, when the genial influence of spring fell with
 
 MIDSIDE MAGGY. 267 
 
 almost summer warmth upon the earth. During the night 
 the dews came heavily on the ground, and the sun sucked it 
 up in a vapour. But the herbage grew rapidly, and tho 
 flocks ate of it greedily, and licked the dew ere the sun rose 
 to dry it up. It brought the murrain amongst them ; 
 they died by hundreds ; and those that even fattened, but 
 did not die, no man would purchase ; or, if purchased, it 
 was only upon the understanding that the money should 
 be returned if the animals were found unsound. These 
 misfortunes were too much for Thomas Hardie. Within 
 two years he found himself a ruined man. But he grieved 
 not for the loss of his flocks, nor yet for his own sake, but 
 for that of his fair young wife, whom he loved as the 
 apple of his eye. Many, when they heard of his mis- 
 fortunes, said that they were sorry for bonny Midsidc 
 Maggy. 
 
 But, worst of all, the rent-day of Thomas Hardie drew 
 near ; and for the first time since he had held a farm, he was 
 unable to meet his landlord with his money in his hand. 
 Margaret beheld the agony of his spirit, and she knew its 
 cause. She put on her Sunday hood and kirtle; and pro- 
 fessing to her husband that she wished to go to Lauder, 
 she took her way to Thirlestane Castle, the residence of 
 their proud landlord, before whom every tenant in arrear 
 trembled. With a shaking hand she knocked at the hall 
 door, and after much perseverance and entreaty^ was 
 admitted into the presence of the haughty earl. She 
 curtsied low before him. 
 
 "Well, what want ye, my bonny lass?" said Lauder- 
 dale, eyeing her significantly. 
 
 "May it please yer lordship," replied Margaret, "I am 
 the wife o' yer tenant, Thomas Hardie o' Tollishill ; an' a 
 guid tenant he has been to yer lordship for twenty years 
 and mair, as yer lordship maun \yeel ken." 
 
 " He has been my tenant for more than twenty years,
 
 268 TALKS OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 say ye?" interrupted Lauderdale ; "and ye say ye are 
 his wife : why, looking on thy bonny face, I should say 
 that the heather hasna bloomed twenty times on the 
 knowes o' Tollishill since thy mother bore thee. Yet ye 
 say ye are his wife ! Beshrew me, but Thomas Hardie is 
 a man o' taste. Arena ye his daughter ? " 
 
 " No, my lord ; his first, his only, an' his lawfu' wife 
 an' I would only say, that to ye an' yer faither before ye, 
 for mair than twenty years, he has paid his rent regularly 
 an' faithfully ; but the seasons hae visited us sairly, very 
 sairly, for twa years successively, my lord, an' the drift 
 has destroyed, an' the rot rooted oot oor flocks, sae that 
 we are hardly able to haud up oor heads amang oor neebors, 
 and to meet yer lordship at yer rent-day is oot o' oor 
 power ; therefore hae I come to ye to implore ye, that we 
 may hae time to gather oor feet, an' to gie yer lordship 
 an' every man his due, when it is in oor power." 
 
 "Hear rne, guidwife," rejoined the earl; "were I to listen 
 to such stories as yours, I might have every farmer's wife 
 on my estates coming whimpering and whinging, till I 
 was left to shake a purse with naething in't, and allowing 
 others the benefit o' my lands. But it is not every day 
 that a face like yours comes in the shape o' sorrow before 
 me ; and, for ae kiss o' your cherry mou', (and ye may take 
 my compliments to your auld man for his taste,) ye shall 
 have, a discharge for your half-year's rent, and see if that 
 may set your husband on his feet again." 
 
 " Na, yer lordship, na 1 " replied Margaret ; " it would 
 ill become ony woman in my situation in life, an' especially 
 a married ane, to be daflin with sic as yer lordship. I 
 am the wife o' Thomas Hardie, wha is a guid guidman to 
 me, an' I earn here this day to entreat ye to deal kindly 
 wi' him in the day o' his misfortune." 
 
 " Troth," replied Lauderdale who could feel the force 
 of virtue in others, though he did not always prnctise it
 
 MIDSLDE MAGGY 269 
 
 in his own person " I hae heard o' the blossom o' Tollis- 
 hill before, an' a bonny flower ye are to blossom in an 
 auld man's bower ; but I find ye modest as ye are bonny, 
 an' upon one condition will I grant yer request. Te hae 
 tauld me o' yer hirsels being buried wi' the drift, an' that 
 the snaw has covered the May primrose? on Leader braes; 
 now it is Martinmas, an' if in June ye bring me a snowball, 
 not only shall ye be quit o' yer back rent, but ye shall sit 
 free in Tollishill till Martinmas next. But see that in 
 June ye bring me the snowball or the rent." 
 
 Margaret made her obeisance before the earl, and, 
 thanking him, withdrew. But she feared the coming of 
 June ; for to raise the rent even then she well knew would 
 be a thing impossible, and she thought also it would be 
 equally so to preserve a snow-ball beneath the melting 
 sun of June. Though young, she had too much prudence 
 and honesty to keep a secret from her husband ; it was 
 her maxim, and it was a good one, that " there ought to 
 be no secrets between a man and his wife, which the one 
 would conceal from the other." She therefore told him 
 of her journey to Thirlestane, and of all that had passed 
 between her and the earl. Thomas kissed her cheek, and 
 called her his " bonny, artless Maggy ;" but he had no 
 more hope of seeing a snowball in June than she had, and 
 Le said, "the bargain was like the bargain o' a crafty 
 Lauderdale." 
 
 Again the winter storms howled upon the Lammermoors, 
 and the snow lay deep upon the hills. Thomas and his 
 herdsmen were busied in exertions to preserve the remain- 
 der of his flocks ; but, one day, when the westling winds 
 breathed with a thawing influence upon the snow-clad 
 hills, Margaret went forth to where there was a small, 
 deep, and shadowed ravine by the side of the Leader. In 
 it the rivulet formed a pool, and seemed to sleep, and 
 there the grey trout loved to lie at ease ; for a high dark
 
 270 TALES OF THE BOIiDEKS. 
 
 rock, over which the brushwood grew, overhung it, and 
 the rays of the sun fell not upon it. In the rock, and 
 near the side of the stream, was a deep cavity, and Mar- 
 garet formed a snowball on the brae top, and she rolled it 
 slowly down into the shadowed glen, till it attained the 
 magnitude of an avalanche in miniature. She trode upon 
 it, and pressed it'finnly together, till it obtained almost the 
 hardness and consistency of ice. She rolled it far into the 
 cavity, and blocked up the mouth of the aperture, so that 
 neither light nor air might penetrate the strange coffer in 
 which she had deposited the equally strange rent of Tollis- 
 liill. Verily, common as ice-houses are in our day, let 
 not Midside Maggy be deprived of the merit of their 
 invention. 
 
 I have said that it was her maxim to keep no secret 
 from her husband ; but, as it is said there is no rule with- 
 out an exception, even so it was in the case of Margaret, 
 and there was one secret which she communicated not to 
 Thomas, and that was the secret of the hidden snowball. 
 
 But June came, and Thomas Hardie was a sorrowful 
 man. He had in no measure overcome the calamities of 
 former seasons, and he was still unprepared with his rent. 
 Margaret shared not his sorrow, but strove to cheer him, 
 and said 
 
 " We shall hae a snawba' in June, though I climb to 
 the top o' Cheviot for it." 
 
 " O my bonny lassie," replied he and he could see the 
 summit of Cheviot from his farm " dinna deceive ycrsel' 
 wi' what could only be words spoken in jest ; but, at ouy 
 rate, I perceive there has been nae snaw on Cheviot for a 
 month past." 
 
 Now, not a week had passed, but Margaret had visited 
 the aperture in the ravine, where the snowball was con- 
 cealed, not through idle curiosity, to perceive whether it 
 had mplted away, but more effectually to st.np up every
 
 M1DSIDE MAGGY. 271 
 
 crevice that might have been made in the materials with 
 which she had blocked up the mouth of the cavity. 
 
 But the third day of the dreadful month had not passed, 
 when a messenger arrived at Tollishill from Thirlestane 
 with the abrupt mandate " June has come /" 
 
 " And we shall be at Thirlestane the morn," answered 
 Margaret. 
 
 " O my doo," said Thomas, " what nonsense are ye talk 
 ing ! that isna like ye, Margaret ; I'll be in Greenlaw Jail 
 the morn; and oor bits o' things in the hoose, and oor 
 flocks, will be seized by the harpies o' the law and the 
 only thing that distresses me is, what is to come o' you 
 hinny." 
 
 " Dinna dree the death ye'll never dee," said Margaret 
 affectionately; "we shall see, if we be spared, what the 
 morn will bring." 
 
 "The fortitude o' yer mind, Margaret," said Thomas, 
 talcing her hand ; and he intended to have said more, to 
 have finished a sentence in admiration of her worth, but 
 his heart filled, and he was silent. 
 
 On the following morning, Margaret said unto him 
 
 " Now, Thomas, if ye are ready, we'll gang to Thirlestane. 
 It is aye waur to expect or think o' an evil than to face it.'' 
 
 " Margaret, dear," said he, " I canna comprehend ye 
 wherefore should I thrust my head into the lion's den ? It 
 will soon enough seek me in my path." 
 
 Nevertheless, she said unto him, " Come," and bade 
 him be of good heart; and he rose and accompanied 
 her. But she conducted him to the deep ravine, where 
 the waters seem to sleep and no sunbeam ever falls ; and, 
 as she removed the earth and the stones, with which she 
 had blocked up the mouth of the cavity in the rock, he 
 stood wondering. She entered -the aperture, and rolled 
 forth the firm mass of snow, which was yet too large to be 
 lifted by hands. When Thomas saw this, he smiled and
 
 XilE BOliDEUS. 
 
 wept at the same instant, and he pressed his wife's cheek 
 to his bosom, and said 
 
 " Great has been the care o' my poor Margaret ; but it 
 is o' no avail; for, though ye hae proved mair than a 
 match for the seasons, the proposal was but a jest o' 
 Lauderdale." 
 
 "What is a man but his word?" replied Margaret; 
 " and him a nobleman too." 
 
 " Nobility are but men," answered Thomas, " and sel- 
 dom better men than ither folk. Believe me, if we were 
 to gang afore him wi' a snawba' in oor hands, we should 
 only get lauched at for our pains." 
 
 " It was his ain agreement," added she ; " and, at ony 
 rate, we can be naething the waur for seeing if he will 
 abide by it." 
 
 Breaking the snowy mass, she rolled up a poi'tion of it 
 in a napkin, and they went towards Thirlestane together ; 
 though often did Thomas stop by the way and say 
 
 " Margaret, dear, I'm perfectly ashamed to gang upon 
 this business; as sure as I am standing here, as I have 
 t.v.tld ye, we will only get oorselves lauched at." 
 
 " I would rather be lauched at," added she, " than 
 despised for breaking my word ; and, if oor laird break 
 his noo, wha wadna despise him ?" 
 
 Harmonious as their wedded life had hitherto been, 
 there was what might well nigh be called bickerings be- 
 tween them on the road ; for Thomas felt or believed that 
 she was leading him on a fool's errand. But they arrived 
 at the castle of Thirlestane, and were ushered into the man- 
 sion of its proud lord. 
 
 "Hal" said the earl, as they entered, "bonny Midside 
 Maggy and her auld guidman ! Well, what bring ye ? 
 the rents o' Tollishill, or their equivalent?" Thomas 
 looked at his young wife, for he saw nothing to give 
 him hope on the countenance of Lauderdale, and he
 
 MIDSIDB MAGGY. 273 
 
 thought that he pronounced the word " equivalent " with 
 a sneer. 
 
 " I bring ye snaw in June, my lord," replied Margaret, 
 " agreeably to the terms o' yer bargain ; and I'm sorry, 
 for your sake and oors, that it hasna yet been in oor power 
 to bring gowd instead o't." 
 
 Loud laughed the earl as Margaret unrolled the huge 
 snowball before him ; and Thomas thought unto himself, 
 " I said how it would be." But Lauderdale, calling for 
 his writing materials, sat down and wrote, and he placed 
 in the hands of Thomas a discharge, not only for his back 
 rent, but for all that should otherwise be due at the ensu- 
 ing Martinmas. 
 
 Thomas Hardie bowed and bowed again before the earl, 
 low and yet lower, awkwardly and still more awkwardly, 
 and he endeavoured to thank him, but his tongue faltered 
 in the performance of its office. He could have taken his 
 hand in his and wrung it fervently, leaving his fingers to 
 express what his tongue could not ; but his laird was an 
 earl, and there was a necessary distance to be observed 
 between an earl and a Lammermoor farmer. 
 
 " Thank not me, goodman," said Lauderdale, " but thank 
 the modesty and discretion o' yer winsome wife." 
 
 Margaret was silent; but gratitude for the kindness 
 which the earl had shown unto her husband and herself 
 took deep root in her heart. Gratitude, indeed, formed 
 the predominating principle in her character, and fitted her 
 even for acts of heroism. 
 
 The unexpected and unwonted generosity of the earl had 
 enabled Thomas Hardie to overcome the losses with which 
 the fury of the seasons had overwhelmed him, and he 
 prospered beyond any farmer on the hills. But, while he 
 prospered, the Earl of Lauderdale, in his turn, was over- 
 taken by adversity. The stormy times of the civil wars 
 raged, and it is well known with what devotedness Laudor-
 
 274 TALES OF THH BORDERS. 
 
 dale followed the fortunes of the king. When the Com- 
 monwealth began, he was made prisoner, conveyed to 
 London, and confined in the Tower. There, nine years of 
 captivity crept slowly and gloomily over him ; but they 
 neither taught him mercy to others nor to moderate his 
 ambition, as was manifested when power aud prosperity 
 again cast their beams upon him. But he now lingered 
 in the Tower, without prospect or hope of release, living 
 upon the bare sustenance of a prisoner, while his tenants 
 dwelt on his estates, and did as they pleased with his rents, as 
 though they should not again behold the face of a landlord. 
 
 But Midside Maggy grieved for the fate of him whose 
 generosity had brought prospeiity, such as they had never 
 known before, to herself and to her husband ; and, in the 
 fulness of her gratitude, she was ever planning schemes for 
 his deliverance ; and she urged upon her husband that it 
 Avas their duty to attempt to deliver their benefactor from 
 captivity, as he had delivered them from the iron grasp of 
 ruin, when misfortune lay heavily on them. Now, as duly 
 as the rent-day came, from the Martinmas to which the 
 snowball had been his discharge, Thomas Hardie faithfully 
 and punctually locked away his rent to the last farthing, 
 that he might deliver it into the hands of his laird, should 
 he again be permitted to claim liis own; but he saw not in 
 what way they could attempt his deliverance, as his wife 
 proposed. 
 
 " Thomas," said she, " there are ten lang years o' rent 
 due, and we hae the siller locked away. It is o' nae use 
 to us, for it isna oors ; but it may be o' use to him. It 
 would enable him to fare better in his prison, and maybe 
 to put a handfu 1 o' gowd into the hands o' his keepers, and 
 thereby to escape abroad, and it wad furnish him wi' the 
 means o' living when he was abroad. Remember his kind- 
 ness to us, and think that there is nae sin equal to the sin 
 o' ingratitude."
 
 MLDSIDE MAGGY. 275 
 
 " But," added Thomas, " in what way could we get the 
 money to him ? for, if we were to send it, it would never 
 reach him, and, as a prisoner, he wouldna be allooed to 
 receive it." 
 
 " Let us tak it to him oorsels, then," said Margaret. 
 
 " Tak it oorsels !" exclaimed Thomas, in amazement, " a' 
 the way to London ! It is oot o' the question a'thegither, 
 Margaret. We wad be robbed o' -every plack before we 
 got half-way ; or, if we were even there, hoo, in a' the 
 world, do ye think we could get it to him, or that we 
 would be allooed to see him?" 
 
 " Leave that to me," was her reply ; " only say ye will 
 gang, and a' that shall be accomplished. There is nae 
 obstacle in the way but the want o' yer consent. But 
 the debt, and the ingratitude o' it thegither, hang heavy 
 upon my heart." 
 
 Thomas at length yielded to the importunities of his 
 wife, and agreed that they should make a pilgrimage to 
 London, to pay his rent to his captive laird ; though how 
 they were to carry the gold in safety,' through an unsettled 
 country, a distance of more than three hundred miles, was 
 a difficulty he could not overcome. But Margaret re- 
 moved his fears ; she desired him to count out the gold, 
 and place it before her ; and when he had done so, she 
 went to the meal-tub and took out a quantity of pease and 
 of barley meal mixed, sufficient to knead a goodly fadge 
 or bannock ; and, when she had kneaded it, and rolled it 
 out, she took the golden pieces and pressed them into the 
 paste of the embryo bannock, and again she doubled it 
 together, and again rolled it out, and kneaded into it the 
 remainder of the gold. She then fashioned it into a thick 
 bannock, and placing it on the hearth, covered it with the 
 red ashes of the peats. 
 
 Thomas sat marvelling, as the formation of the singular 
 purse proceeded, and when he. beheld tho o-^^ition com-
 
 270 TALES OP THE BOUUKI!,-. 
 
 pleted, and the bannock placed upon the hearth to bake, 
 he only exclaimed " Weel, woman's ingenuity diugs a' !. 
 1 wadna hae thocht o' the like o' that, had I lived a 
 thoosand years ! O Margaret, hinny, but ye are a strange 
 one." 
 
 " Hoots," replied she, " I'm sure ye micht easily hae 
 imagined that it was the safest plan we could hae thocht 
 upon to carry the siller in safety ; for I am sure there isna 
 a thief between the Tweed and Lon'on toun, that would 
 covet or carry awa a bear bannock." 
 
 "Troth, my doo, and I believe ye're richt," replied 
 Thomas ; " but wha could hae thocht o' sic an expedient ? 
 Sure there never was a bannock baked like the bannock o' 
 Tollishill." 
 
 On the third day after this, an old man and a fair lad, 
 before the sun had yet risen, were observed crossing the 
 English Border. They alternately carried a wallet across 
 their shoulders, which contained a few articles of apparel 
 and a bannock. They were dressed as shepherds, and 
 passengers turned and gazed on them as they passed 
 along ; for the beauty of the youth's countenance excited 
 their admiration. Never had Lowland bonnet covered so 
 fair a brow. The elder stranger was Thomas Hardie, and 
 the youth none other than his Midside Maggy. 
 
 I will not follow them through the stages of their long 
 and weary journey, nor dwell upon the perils and adven- 
 tures they encountered by the way. But, on the third 
 week after they had left Tollishill, and when they were 
 beyond the town called Stevenage, and almost within sight 
 of the metropolis, they were met by an elderly military- 
 looking man, who, struck with the lovely countenance of 
 the seeming youth, their dress, and way-worn appearance, 
 accosted them, saying "Good morrow, strangers; ye 
 seem to have travelled far. Is this fair youth your son, 
 old man?"
 
 MIDSIDE MAGG5T. 27T 
 
 " He is a gay sib freend," answered Thomas. 
 
 "And whence come ye?" continued the stranger. 
 
 "Frae Leader Haughs, on the bonny Borders o' the 
 north countrie," replied Margaret. 
 
 " And whence go ye ? " resumed the other. 
 
 " First tell me wha ye may be that are sae inquisitive,'' 
 interrupted Thomas, in a tone which betrayed something 
 like impatience. 
 
 "Some call me George Monk," replied the stranger 
 mildly, " others, Honest George. I am a general in the 
 Parliamentary army." Thomas reverentially raised his 
 hand to his bonnet, and bowed his head. 
 
 " Then pardon me, sir," added Margaret, " and if ye 
 indeed be the guid and gallant general, sma' offence will 
 ye tak at ony thing that may be said amiss by a country 
 laddie. We are tenants o' the Lord o' Lauderdale, whom 
 ye now keep in captivity ; and, though we mayna think as 
 he thinks, yet we never faund him but a guid landlord 
 and little guid, in my opinion, it can do ony body to keep 
 him, as>he has been noo for nine years, caged up like a bird. 
 Therefore, though oor ain business that has brocht us up to 
 London should fail, I winna regret the journey, since it has 
 afforded me an opportunity o' seein yer Excellency, and 
 soliciting yer interest, which maun be pooerfu' in behalf 
 o' oor laird, and that ye would release him frae his prison, 
 and, if he michtna remain in this countrie, obtain permis- 
 sion for him to gang abroad." 
 
 " Ye plead fairly and honestly for yer laird, fair youth,' 1 
 returned the general; "yet, though he is no man to 
 be trusted, I needs say he hath had his portion of cap- 
 tivity measured out abundantly ; and, since ye have 
 minded me of him, ere a week go round I will think of 
 what may be done for Lauderdale." Other questions 
 were asked and answered some truly, and some eva- 
 sively; and Thomas and Margaret, blessing Honest George
 
 TALES OF THE BOBBERS. 
 
 in their hearts, went on their way rejoicing at having met 
 him. 
 
 On arriving in London, she laid aside" the shepherd's 
 garb in which she had journeyed, and resumed her wonted 
 apparel. On the second day after their arrival, she went 
 out upon Tower-hill, dressed as a Scottish peasant girl, 
 with a basket on her arm ; and in the basket were a few 
 ballads, and the bannock of Tollishill. She affected silli 
 ness, and, acting the part of a wandering minstrel, went 
 singing her ballads towards the gate of the Tower. Thomas 
 followed her at a distance. Her appearance interested the 
 guard ; and as she stood singing before the gate " What 
 want ye, pretty face?" inquired the officer of the guard. 
 " Your alms, if you please," said she, smiling innocently, 
 " and to sing a bonny Scotch sang to the Laird o' Lauder- 
 dale." 
 
 The officer and the sentinels laughed; and, after she had 
 sung them another song or two, she was permitted to enter 
 the gate, and a soldier pointed out to her the room in which 
 Lauderdale was confined. On arriving before the grated 
 windows of his prison, she raised her eyes towards them, 
 and began to sing "Leader HaugJis." The wild, sweet 
 melody of his native land, drew Lauderdale to the windows 
 of his prison-house, and in the countenance of the minstrel 
 he remembered the lovely features of Midside Maggy. He 
 requested permission of the keeper that she should be ad- 
 mitted to his presence ; and his request was complied with-. 
 j "Bless thee, sweet face!" said the earl, as she was ad- 
 mitted into his prison; and you have not forgotten the 
 snowball in June?" And he took her hand to raise it to 
 Ms lips. 
 
 "Hooly, hooly, my guid lord," said she, withdrawing 
 her hand; "my fingers were made for nae sic purpose 
 Thomas Hardie is here" and she laid her hand upon her 
 fair bosom " though now standing withoot the yett o' the
 
 JUDSIDE MAGGY. ^79 
 
 Tower." Lander dale again wondered, and, with a look of 
 mingled curiosity and confusion, inquired " Wherefore 
 do ye come and why do ye seek me?" "I brocht ye a 
 snaw-ba' before," said she, " for yer rent I bring ye a 
 bannock noo." And she took the bannock from the basket 
 and placed it before him. 
 
 " Woman," added he, " are ye really as demented as I 
 thocht ye but feigned to be, when ye sang before the win- 
 dow." 
 
 " The proof o' the bannock," replied Margaret, " will be 
 in the breakin' o't." 
 
 " Then, goodwife, it will not be easily proved," said he 
 and he took the bannock, and, with some difficulty, 
 broke it over his knee ; but, when he beheld the golden 
 coins that were kneaded through it, for the first, perhaps 
 the last and only time in his existence, the Earl of Lauder- 
 dale burst into tears and exclaimed "Well, every bannock 
 has its maik, but the bannock o' Tollishill ! Yet, kind as 
 ye hae been, the gold is useless to ane that groans in hope- 
 less captivity." 
 
 "Yours has been a long captivity," said Margaret; " but 
 it is not hopeless ; and, if honest General Monk is to be 
 trusted, from what he tauld me not three days by-gane, 
 before a week gae roond, ye will be at liberty to go abroad, 
 and there the bannock o' Tollishill may be o 1 use." 
 
 The wonder of Lauderdale increased, and he replied 
 '"Monk will keep his word but what mean ye of him?" 
 
 And she related to him the interview they had had with 
 the general by the way. Lauderdale took her hand, a ray 
 of hope and joy spread over his face, and he added 
 
 "Never shall ye rue the baMn' o' the bannock, if auld 
 times come back again." 
 
 Margaret left the tower, singing as she had entered it, 
 and joined her husband, .whom she found leaning over the 
 railing around the moat, and anxiously waiting her return.
 
 :.'*< TALES OF TIIK r-OKi<l.l:s. * 
 
 They spent a few days more in London, to rest and to gaze 
 upon its wonders, and again set out upon their journey to 
 Tollishill. General Monk remembered his promise; within 
 a week, the Earl of Lauderdale was liberated, with permis- 
 sion to go abroad, and there, as Margaret had intimated, he 
 found the bannock of Tollishill of service. 
 
 A few more years passed round, during which old Thomas 
 Hardie still prospered; but, during those years, the Com- 
 monwealth came to an end, the king was recalled, and with 
 him, as one of his chief favourites, returned the Earl of 
 Lauderdale. And, when he arrived in Scotland, clothed 
 with power, whatever else he forgot, he remembered the 
 bannock of Tollishill. Arrayed in what might have passed 
 as royal state, and attended by fifty of his followers, he rode 
 to the dwelling of Thomas Hardie and Midside Maggy ; and 
 when they came forth to meet him, he dismounted and 
 drew forth a costly silver girdle of strange workmanship, 
 and fastened it round her jimp waist, saying "TVear this, 
 for now it is my turn to be grateful, and for your husband's 
 life, and your life, and the life of the generation after ye" 
 (for they had children), "ye shall sit rent free on the lands 
 ye now farm. For, truly, every bannock had its maik but 
 the bannock o' Tollishill." 
 
 Thomas and Margaret felt their hearts too full to express 
 their thanks: and ere they could speak, the earl, mounting 
 his horse, rode towards Thirlestane ; and his followers, 
 waving their bonnets, shouted " Long live Midside Maggy, 
 queen of Tollishill." 
 
 Such is the story of " The Bannock o' Tollishill;" and it 
 is only necessary to add, for the information of the curious, 
 that I believe the silver girdle may be seen until this day, 
 in the neighbourhood of Tollishill, and in the possession of 
 a descendant of Midside Maggy, to whom it was given. 
 
 Manchester: Printed by A. IRELAND & Co., Pall Ma!l Court.
 
 This booK is DUE on the last 
 date stamped below 
 
 7 1345. 
 
 mi
 
 PR 
 
 5839 
 
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