m Laivii.viimV«s xo^^-^<:7\ W^iimm^: ■••^^AcM THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES ^* * f- %\ *e' 'NS-i Mk iW.'jklEr:: L> -^:54g2 -^ < DOUN r TH' LOUDONS AND OTHER PIECES a DOUN r TH' L0UD0N5 A Dra7na of Country Life IN FIVE ACTS AND OTHER PIECES (ALL NEW) BY JAMES LUMSDEN {'■'Samuel Mucklebackit") Author of "Toorle," "Lays and Letters from Linton," Etc., Etc. ]£ t) i n b u v b WILLIAM MACDONALD & CO., LTD., LONDON ROAD 1 908 All rights reserved Dedication : To My Numerous Friends and Former Patrons I Humbly Dedicate, With Sincere and Profound Gratitude, This Book. PREFATORY NOTE Barring the Glossary and quotations, all the matter contained in this volume is new, and has all been written since the publication, in 1905, of my last book, "Edinburgh and Country Crooning-s." With respect to the "drama," what I wrote in the Preface to my first published play, "Toorle," may as fitly and truly be said of this effort: "It has been designed and written to represent merely a phase or two of Lowland country life ; for to depict it all, even gener- ally, would require the scope not of one but of many Dramas — indeed, of many five-act ones. Considering also that so much of this play, if written dramatically, would need to be penned in the district vernacular, I have done it in the firm belief, for this and other reasons, that it would never be found suitable for stage representation. With this idea predominant in my mind, I have striven to write it all truly and interestingly for reading only, albeit I have modelled it strictly after the form and style of the old Classical Dramatists." The " Other Pieces " have been written betimes during the last three years, and I have recently gone over them and the play carefully, and given in the revised Glossary brief meanings in English of all the probably difficult or obscure Scots words and phrases to be found in them, and which are still in use in rural quarters, and therefore surely occuring in the text of a play and poems claiming those localities as their " Calf-ground " par excellence. Finally, and as I have also said before, "whatever the fate of this my latest literary venture may be, I must now await it with what patience and fortitude I may, having nothing to advance either in the way of antici- pating honest or disarming hostile criticism, and desiring to stand or fall by the merits or demerits of my book alone." J. L. Edinburgh, 1908. CONTENTS "DOUN r TH' LOUDONS" Dramatis Personfe Act I. Act II. Act LI I. Act IV. Act V. OTHER PIECES : The Love of Life Black Agnes of Dunbar: Part First — Montague's Commission Part Second — The Siege .... Part Third — The Blockade Part Fourth — Relief and Victory . By and By — Written after a Friend's Death Haeckel — Verses to a Materialist Byron — A Rustic Boy's Estimate of Him Six and Fifty Years Ago ..... A Lowse Bullock — On an East Lothian Farm in August ...... Jonathan Hall, Banker and Litterateur . Prestonkirk Churchyard .... Lookin' Ovvre the Kirkyaird Wa' "Hairyoobit" ...... ix I 2 22 47 76 97 127 129 133 140 146 154 156 159 161 162 163 163 173 CONTENTS Dreams : I. — A Dog Day's Dream Jaunt to the Pease Brig 175 1 1.— The Only Tib !— Her Latest " Unco Dream " 1 79 III. — Peggy, the Henwife's Dream . . 184 IV. — East Linton Revisited : A Tyneside Day- Dream . . . . . -193 Some Credible Epitaphs : On Wallace . . . . .197 On John Tamson : A Very Poor Man . . 197 On a Free-Living and Irascible Provost . . 197 On Jonathan Hall . . . . .198 On a Woman Suffragist .... 198 On Nanny Millar — A Nonagenarian . . 198 On "Watty" . . . . . 198 On an Old Haddington Preacher . . . 199 On an Auld Toun Character . . . 199 On "A Sair Misguided Farmer " . . . 199 On a Rich Hypochondriacal Spinster . . 199 On a Severe Old Schoolmaster . . . 200 On John Cameron, Town Clerk, East Linton . 200 On Dr Livingstone .... 200 On a Grave-digger ..... 200 On a Rosehall (Haddington) Cat . . . 201 Epitaph on Robert Burns .... 201 "Our Sisters" : I. — The Woman in the Street . . . 203 II. — The Lady at the Fete . . . 203 III. — No Remedy ..... 203 Elegy on Jonathan Hall ..... 204 Back at the Auld Dask . . . . . 206 A Bailie and a City Arab ..... 206 If It be the End? — An Answer to an Old Corres- pondent ...... 207 CONTENTS XI Some Eastertide Pranks : I. — A Peevish Prologue . . . 210 II. — A Boglehill Pjean . . . . 210 . III. — A Mournful May-Day Memorie . . 212 IV. — " Maist Unseasonable Mirth " . . 212 V. — A Woeful Epilogue . . . 212 Rob M'Squeel — A Country Satirist . . . 213 Song — " Langnithery an' Drem " . . . 215 The Royal Review of Scottish Volunteers First — The Royal Review Grand Stand . Second — At the Review . On the Rocks The Bass Rock "Not to be Believed" The Only Tib! — "Owre the Moor Amang the Heather" A Newcomer Mistress Jenny Dickie of Elshinfuird's Baaby s Sang "The Love of Life" (To a Correspondent) A Drouthie Wifie . The Kirks ..... To the Shade of an Auld Crony 216 220 22 T 227 231 237 242 243 244 244 245 "Hands Across the Sea": I.— "Wee Meggie" . . . . II.— Lines Sent with "Wee Meggie's" Doll . III.— "Dorrie"— An Auld Man's Pet . " Bawbees for Snaps " . Home Rule ...... "The Lone Auld Man"— An Incident of the Influenza Epidemic ...... Song — An Emigrant's Fareweel to Edinburgh . 251 2C2 254 256 257 259 xu CONTENTS PAGE "A Toothfu'" — An Incident of a Recent Snowstorm . 260 Mungo Park . . . . . .261 An Extraordinary Egg ..... 262 Some Rustic Pundits ..... 263 To an Over-Critical Clergyman .... 265 Local Lapses : L — To "Samson " — An Auld Edinburgh Guide 270 L — The Three Laws . . . .271 III. — "The Loudons Three " — After the General Election of 1906 .... 272 IV. — Out at Linton .... 272 v.— A Haddington Rhyme . . . 274 VI.— Abbey Mill, Haddington . . .276 VII.— Watty Ochiltree . . . .276 VIIL— At Mother's Grave . . .278 IX. — The Geni of Hailes Castle . . 278 Life in General — A Reply to an English Friend . 278 [Aitiiig rights, and all other rights, reseri>cd.\ DOUN r TH' LOUDONS DRAMATIS PERSONS, Men. The Marquis of Moorcleuchs. Sir Hugh Seafaem, Bart, of Bents. John Hootsman, an Eminent Farmer and Popular Leader. The Rev. Dr Paul, Chtcrch of Scotland, Garford. Father Peter, a R.C. Priest, Garford. Doctor Blisterwel, Pkvsician, Garford. Alexander Svvacker {familiarly ''' Sandy Swats"), Pro- prietor of the Gray Sheep Inn, Garford. Hogg, a Hill Farmer. CowE, an Arable-land Farmer. Horsman, Fartn Steivard to Hootsman. Hetherbel, a Shepherd. Stoure, a Farm Labourer. Michael Tubes, Man-of-all-Work to Swacker. Tipem, Butler to the Marquis. Donald Shields, Butler to Sir Hugh. O'Rourke, a London Detective. Ned Armstrong, Mason, Garford. Sandy Tvveedie, Blacksm.ith, Linkside. Goggles, Chaffeur to the Marquis. Tiw Police Officers. Host of the St Andrew Hotel, Market Town. Shonnie MacNiven, Imbecile Son to Kate MacNiven. A Snobbish Waiter, arid Others. Women. Lady Mabel Drewe, a Ward to the Marquis and Sir Hugh, in love with Hoots77uni. A DOUN I' TH' LOUDONS [act i. Mrs Paul, Wife to Dr Paul. Mrs S\\\\cker, Wife to Swacker. Mrs Tweedie, Wife to Sandy Tiveedie. Kate MacNiven, a Widow. Peggy Dishington, or " Dishie," Servant to Mrs Swacker, in love with Michael Tubbs. Nanny Cairns,) „, , , yxr- », ^ (FloiiQ-finiens Hives. Maggie Glen, ) * Scene. — The East a/id South of Edinburgh. ACT I. Scene I. A Country Market Town. Before the Corn Exchange. Enter severally Stoure and Hetherbel, meeting. Stoiire. Hoo's a', hoo's a'? Fine waather ? Man what's this That's clatter'd noo about the g'uid auld Club ? Is't fairly true ye're ettlin' to renoo it, To raesussitaut it — even ? Heth. True ? I should think sae. Eh, Peter, Peter Stoure It never should hae dee'd — even tho' he did — Its noble Praisident, in Ninety-nine, Himsel', auld Hootsman's sel' o' Leddyslove ! Stoure. Jock dinna g'reet, his oe's alive an' hale ! Heth. An' but for him, I could not only greet, But choke wi' sabs forbye ! Stoure. What ! does he ken ? And is he willint, tae ? Heth. I trow is he. The nieetin' to arrange it a' is adverteezed In a' the papers Scotchmen ever read. Stoure. For whan ? Heth. Morn's nicht, up bye in Garfuird Inn, Whare, Peter, we sail surely find yersel ? SCENE 2.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 3 Stoure. Dooms sure is that ! Will young- John Hootsman, tell me, tak' the Chair? Heth. No. 1 want mysel' to tak it the first nicht, An' for that reason thund'rin' glad am I That we hae met this day. Auld Peter Stoure, my life-lang freend ! look here, Ance a' the comp'ny's met an' sattled doun, Rise up an' propose me to tak' the Chair ! Stoure. What for? Heth. What for ? because, ye coof, in turn. As Chairman, I'll propose, as Praisident The heir o' him — the ablest, noblest man That ever crusht a Loudon clod below A han'some, man-like fit ! I ken ye'se do't ? Stoure. An' richt ye are again ! Jock ! hear to me : The'Lammermuirs, whare ye were born an' bred, Are famous for their wise men Europe owre. Heth. Wise auld wives, tae. Stoure. Ay ! ane an' a' o' them. Sweir but to me that Hootsman ye'll propose. An' I sail sett ye in the Chair to do't Though Sauton's sel forbaad — gie me yer loof. Heth. Canny, couthie Peter ! There ye are ! Of coorse ye'se ne'er let on we've made up this ? Tarn Coom, the vulcan up in Garfuird woo. Wad in a deid dwam drap an he but heard The wee-est cheep o't mou'd ! Stoure. He'll be for Sim, Yon nincompoop, the grieve o' Winnelstraes ? Heth. 'Deed ay, the sumph ! But fare-ye-weel 'enoo, I see the Maister waggin'. Morn's nicht, mind, Sherp six o'clock ! Stoure. Ay, ay— "Just John ! " ta-ta ! \Exeunt. Scene U. The same. Inside the Exchange, A crowd of Farmers, Dealers, and Others. Hogg and CowE forgather. Hogg. Heard the news ? Cowe. What news ? 4 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act i. ^'^'SS'' O ! his Lordship's hame ; At his Hotel, I saw his trunks set doun. Cowc. D'ye tell me that ? Our sporting- Marquis hame ! Noo than sail it be dune ! Noo Hootsman's oe * Anither tack o' Leddyslove may hae, Even for the asking o't. ■Hops- Nae wonder either, Haill seeventeen generations, " sire an' son " O' them hae ferm'd that land, an' ferm'd it weel ; Sae Hootman's grandson shanna be the last Gif my true pray'rs be heard. Cowe. (aside). Auld hypocrite ! The opposite ye want ! (Aloud). I'se back ye there, " At kirk, or market, mill, or smiddy," Sir ! Losh ! there's the laird o' Bents — owre near the clock. He's awfu' alter'd sin' his son was lost, An's only here, nae doubt, to meet his freend, The Marquis, by-an'-by, at the Hotel. Hogg. Like eneuch. But baith o' them, Lookin' as they do, an' only cauldrife wise, On this Sma' Holdings Measure — Hootsman's pet — May cause the birkie trouble — the mair sae as They say he's snifflin' efter Leddy Maaby, An' rinnin' red-wud to reveeve the Club His famous gutcher t lang presidit owre — The " Perm Folk's Club," atweel ! Ha-ha ! ha-ha ! Cowc. But, Mister Hogg, the deil o' ill's in that? The men hae as guid richt as we to clubs — An' we've haill three, I trow. Hogg. Nae doubt, nae doubt ; We hae our monthly, quarterly, an' yearly anes — The " Farmers'," " Agricultural," an' " Hielant," tae. But nane o' thae is like the ane proposed To be restored ava. Tak' tent, my freend, tak' tent ! Be no' owre leeberal afore ye're just ! Should this Club to outrageous hichts look up. Young Hootsman's jist the man to egg them up. * Grandchild. I Grandfather. SCENE 3.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 5 Ctnvc. Young- Hootsman's just the man to baud them in ! He has his g^utcher's heid as weal's his bouk — In a'thing- he's his eemage to a tee ! ffogg. A-weel, a-weel, we'll see. Coivl''. Sir Hug'b's awa, An' I'll be stappin' tae ( lookuig at his 7vnfchJ — it's twa o'clock I meet the dealer wha did buy my wheat — Twa stacks o' wheat that soom but forty pound ! Gad, Hog-gf, a fearfu' chang^e sin' our young days, Whan for the same I wad hae knuckled in — As naething- extra — owre a bunder, sure ! flogg. Hoo muckle had ye ? Co7oe. Thirty quarters, g-uid an' gray. ■ffaog. A " fearfu' chang-e " in sooth ! Ta-ta 'enoo. I'se see ye doun at Japp's. [JSxeiin/. Scene III. fThe sa/ucj A room in the St Andrew Hotel. Enter the Marquis of Moorcleuchs and Host. Mar. Have they come, my traps ? Host. O yes, my lord, and Hardheid with the van called for them, I am sure, an hour ag'o. Some wine, my lord, claret ? Mar. No ! Whisky and Soda — and as soon as suits. Why, Beefanbeer, my heart is sick of wine ! In Rome, and Paris too, the perspiration That soaked my underwear made stupid drunk Four laundry women in one washing- day. One of whom died of bile, and the three left Foreswore wine evermore. No, g^ive me the Dew, The Mountain Dew, that I may smell as man ! Ha, hold ! Has Sir Hug-h called ? Host. He has my lord, and now is in his room. Mar. (aside ). How fat he's grown ! (Aloud). Thanks, good old Beefanbeer. Just signify to him I'm here, and send a whisky prompt. 6 DOUN r Tir LOUDONS [act i. Host. With all i;ood speed, my lord, with utmost speed. Mar. But, Major-host, are my cigars away ? Host. No ! In this crate I closed them to make sure. My lord, your lordship's servant, I ! yExit. Mar. (alone). Two years away, and I've not seen her since. My Mary Stuart, more than queen to me — My goddess once and saviour from myself — I wonder how she feels, and how she'll look When we do meet next time — meet, ne'er, I hope. To quit us further than her care for me Would grant us leave — a sore-grudged rood or so. Re-enter Host, imth refrcshnients. Say ! Mountain man, what in the world's your weight ? Your bulk's Falstaffian, and your weight, I'll bet, Is three of mine ! Come, what's your scale ? My own is eleven eight ; height, five eleven; And yours is — what? Host. Your Lordship's jocular ! Your Lordship's nature's subtle, mine is simple, 'Tis therefore meet that mine should o'ertop thine As much in bulk and body as thine doth mine In wit and wisdom ? My lord, your servant weighs But barely three and thirty stones withal ! But times are hard, my lord, so flesh is jimp. In height, I think, I stand some six feet three. But hush, my lord, Sir Hugh is at the door. \Exit. Enter Sir Hugh Seafaem. Mar. Hail, hail, old friend ! Sir Hugh. All hail, and welcome back ! Mar. You got in time my London message, then ? Sir Hugh. I did, indeed. Straight from the Pontiff came you ? Mar. No. From Paris and from Julia straight I come. Sir Hugh. Good heavens, Marquis ! She fares well, I trust? SCENE 3.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 7 Mar. Top high, old fellow — set your mind at ease. Since your successful suit she hath not died, And e'en right soon will wed a millionaire — A Yankee democrat, who has run mad Upon Parisian Boulevards for "blue blood" And titles of our scoffed at " Upper Ten." Sir Hugh. So soon! "Frailty is women" all time through ! Mar. And is Man never culpable ? Sir Hugh. We have been ! I thank you, Marquis, for that timely hint. I was the first, and greatest sinner too, But tho' all that, confessed, my lord, I swear, My heart was never false to her one hour ! The public by appearances were wrong'd, As were both judge and you. Mar. I think so, iioiv. Else, tho' I've been no saint myselt in love. Her fate had been mine also, and divorce Would have involved our friendship all life's term. But it is otherwise, and I'm well pleased, And, as she's well, no doubt you too are pleased. And she, both well and wedding, shows she's pleased, So there the matter rests, and let it rest. How lies the land — what's new in home affairs? In matters public and political I am, of course, full coach'd now by the Press, But what is local now — aug^ht that is new ? My motor's due at three. Sir Hugh. Mine, too, at three ! All are as when you left two years ago. The farmers rather more so — eve and morn. Mid-day and mid-night too — doing or dreaming — Whining incessantly ; and the peasantry As regularly ev'ry term day "Throwing up the sponge," and turning backs upon The hopeless, hard ancestral drudgery. Fate has bequeathed them here, to rush townwards. Mar. Lamentable, most lamentable ! I know The Governmental remedies so called. But what say they, the labourers themselves? 8 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act i The class tliat g-ave lis Dick'*'' and Feri^iison.t Readers of rocks below and stars above, Mig-ht surely grapple with a problem now, Which on the surface and in the daylight lies Spread gross before them as the fields they till ? Sir Hiio/i. Yes, my lord, yes. And neither are they dumb. Within their homes, but chiefly in the haunts Where most they congregate — marts, hiring-fairs. Smithies, bothies, churchyards, bars, and inner rooms ' O'i public-houses — fhere they are not slack. Neither of recounting of our country ills. Nor of suggesting and expounding for them Specifics manifold — absurd and good. Some comical and original throughout, Some with unconscious, drollest humour pang'd — All racy of the soil to a degree ! Mar. Of all things of this world would I hear them ! Have you. Sir Hugh, no means to gratify me? Sir Hugh. Why, that's a puz. ! They're all so shy and proud, Spiteful, and jealous of us "gentry loons," That they become tongue-tack'd and run from us As we detectives were from Scotland Yard Come in disguise to fish their secrets out. Which, once divulged, would them consig^n, they think. To life-long penal servitude — or worse ! Mar. I know that, therefore do I fear my wish To hear them in their own way— blunt and plain — Is just as likely e'er to fructify As is another wish — to hear gone friends Speak of the " life to come." Sir Hugh. Tut, tut, not so. Can ye remember not when we were young. And yon grand Patriarch, John Hootsman, lived. Thy tenant friend of Leddyslove, who died In Ninety-nine, when all broad Scotland mourn'd? Mar. Remember Hootsman : Ha ! who that e'er met * Tlie celebrated brikiT-gfeolot^ist of Ttnirso. t The country boy mechanist and astronomer of Banffshire, SCENE 3.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS Could then forget Apollo? His grandson, too, Hath been my able tenant since death came, And had at last his so long- withheld prize. The seventeenth of an unbroken line Of noble husbandmen. Sir Hugh. Yeomen vmmatch'd ! Well, this loved scion of a glorious stock Having", with all his means and rights intact, His grandsire's head and heart inherited, Is now, even now, reiterating His forebear's public life, and bringing to it More lore and greater tact and energy Than any even of his race could claim. My lord, he saved my boy, lost Jack's life twice o'er ! And would to God he had been with him when He. slipped from me yon night in Benty Bay ! Mar. I heard somewhat of this before I left, But has he naught in hand of later date ? Sir Hugh. My lord, you'll surely recollect the club — The " Farm Folk's Club" — the which we two in sport, Masked both as pressmen, visited one night When a full quorum of the sapient core Had met to hear and to deliberate Upon a " papir " that was read by Coom, The old blacksmith of Tingelring, I think — The same original who is located now At Garford " smiddy," near your own estate. Mar. Ha! ha ! ' I mind all well. The "Vulcan's speech " — Verbatim et literatuni — all about "The wa' ti'l manidge a kow an' kaf" Produced no end of merriment for long. But w^hat hath that to do with Hootsman now ? Sir Hugh. Patience, and you shall hear. The " club " by him. And other kindred spirits, is about to be — The same as our Agrarian one's been done — That worthy ward and warder of the East ! — Reinstituted, and next Friday night Is given out in all our public prints, And on dead walls and hoardings numberless. lo DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act As the time purposed For effectins^ of it. Therefore, my lord, if thy anxiety's so great To hear first hand our county people's views On this so common and so sad departure. This vast exodus from their native grounds Of all our best and sturdiest peasantry — A concern fit for all, in thee so laudable — This " Club " may, by and by, afford the means. With comfort, ease, and speed to gratify ? Mar. By Jove ! Where will its meetings hold, say you ? Sir Hn^^h. Within the Gray Sheep Inn of Garford town. Mar. And when ? Sir Hiigh. The first on Friday night at six, As now afifirm'd in every British sheet That's worth its ink. Mar. If living, I am there ! Sir Hugh. If so, you must be ready with a tale Fit both to screen yourself and turn the lock Of Sandy Swacker's door — a feat, my lord, That may tax even _n;//r brains — unless, indeed. You cribb'd a yokel's garb and masked again ? Mar. My modus operandi would unkick Sans either masks or cribbing, tale, or bribe. All but the doors of doom — Swackers, and all — I'll speak Young Hootsman's self, and he is mine — As I am his — all time ! Sir Hugh. Perhaps, perhaps ! Well, that might serve, with some disguise, no doubt ; But 'twould be vain on Friday night to try't, Because that meeting's simply called, my lord. Of those old members of the ancient club Who yet survive, and others, friendly to Its full resuscitation — now, as then, But broader based — more for utility, And less for merriment than long ago. Mar. Well, notwithstanding this, should my life's span Fxtend to Friday night, I shall be there ! But why should we not, arm in arm, Sir Hugh, SCENE 4.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 11 Go link'd together as in those bright days When we were lads, and love and gaiety Were what our hearts could only give or share To any or with any born of woman ? Let not now Julia's trouble move thee more, Since 'tis non est with her, and ^o with me. Sir Hugh. Yes, yes. But did her Ladyship herself Inform your Lordship of her Yankee swain, And their projected union by and by ? Mar. No ; but the partner of the groom-elect, With whose financial dealings while abroad I one time was constrain'd to mingle in, Was my original authority — Confirm'd by general report and talk. Sir Hugh [aside). Thank God, Jack never knew, But from her silence in this world didst pass To that of death and dumb eternity ! [To the Mar. ) I'll ^o., my lord, meet when and where you please. Mar. Bravo, old man ! Then, punct. at five, Furnish'd with Scott, thy stalwart shepherd's wear. You'll meet me in this room ? Our motors wait ! Sir Hugh. On Friday evening at five ? All right, my lord, Remind me to your lady and our ward, And gallant guardsmen now on leave at Cleuch. \Exeunt. Scene IV. Garford. The Taproom of the Gray Sheep Inn. Enter Swacker and the Traveller. Swack. Guid e'enin', freend. Snell blawin' wind. It's surely gaun to snaw ? Trav. Very like it. Bring in a caulker, an it please you sir. S^vaek Certainly. And I hae what'll heat ye weel ! [Exit. Trav. [alone). This host is like his district — sharp and rough. I'll bet he's just my man for all the roads. 12 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act i. Re-ciilcr Swackick liutJi /he order, and water. {Aloud). Stay, landlord — have a drink — and kindly say, If that vou know, how many miles from here Lies old Tynelinn ? Sivack. Tynelinn ! Preserve us a', Tynelinn is on the ither side the hills, A dangerous gait, an' thirty mile, at least. Trav. Thirty miles ! {Aside). Then 'twon't see me this night. Landlord ! Swack. A}', a}' ! Trav. Could I in this outlandish hole A lodging passable secure to-night ? Swack. For siller doun, I could secure ye ten, As passable as ony swell e'er saw, Tho' he cam frae the Deuk's. What would ye have ? Frae chammers, dinkit as the Eastlin queen's At Sultan Solomon's, doun to bothy barns, As bare as byers, my leddy wife supplies. Trav. Good, very good. But mayn't I see them, sir? Swack. See them ! What for no, an' ye hae een ava? {Goes to the door aiid calls.) Jean! Jean! Where are ye, Jean? Come here, I say ! A Voice {within). What is't ye're wantin' noo ? Losh, what a man ! Enter Mrs Swacker in deshabile. Mrs Swack. What's a' the stourie noo? {To the Trav.) Excuse me, sir, I'm busy reddin' up the kitchen fire. It's no been dune sin' Tyesday. What's yer will ? Swack. This city gentleman's to see yer rooms. Brush up, my love, an' let him see the ane Wharein the Great Prince lay whan he was here, Syne praised sae famously up-hill doun-dale. {Aside, to Mrs Swack). The red room 'tween the closet an' the stair. M7's Swack. The Prince ! What Prince ? S7vack. The Prince o' Burgundy, or Tartary. SCENE 4.j DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 13 The 111 Thief tak' yer dulness ! You a wife ! Sir ! she's afflictit, sin' she had the twins, Wi' a strange cramp in a' her mental pairts That fules her memory aft baith nicht an' day, But she'll come to belyve. Gae aff" wi' her. Her smeddum's there, an' needs but reeslin up. Lead on, bold Jean, lead on ! [£xeufi^ Mrs Swack and Trav. I think he'll do ! I watna wha he is ? A man of mark ! The room atween the closet an' the winnock, Thank God, is clean by ordinar' this day Had he come yesterday he'd seen a sicht ! Re-enter Mrs Swack and Trav. Mrs S^vack {to Trav.). Mair than three? 'Deed, sir, we hae — twice owre three. But they're a' occupied, an' weel at that ! Trav. I don't dispute it, ma'm. Well, landlord, now, What say you for the red room on the landing- ? I trust it is what you aver it is — " Bone dry, and free of fleas and ither beese ? " Swack. Dry ? Fleas ? Sir, hearken but a blink to me : There's neither damp nor dirt within my doors, And as for fleas, an' sic like rascal trash. Ye micht as weel seek for a Jew as ane ; Their vera name's eneuch ! Last simmer, sir. It cost me quite a bank to drain this house. Ferret out rats an' mice, outside an' in. An' as for turpentine, white leid, an' pent. An' Keatin's inseck pouther — sometliing- awfu' — Nae man wad credit what I paid for them. Sae, g-if the house be neither drain'd nor clean Its last spring- reddin' drain'd and clean'd out me ! Yet, on the back o' that, the Big- Markee Had to be squared for that I bocht last year, Syne sitten up, an' a wide passag-e made Atween the Bar and it — an' a' to serve The public weal and comfort — ev'ry crinch ! Trav. Where's that marquee— I didn't see it round ? Swack. In our back 3'aird. I'se let ye see't the morn. 14 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act i. In it are haldin' noo a' sorts o' plays, A' meetin's o' a' kinds, doun frae the Deuk's, An' auld fox-huntlni^ Seafaem's o' the Bents — Trav. [startled). " Seafaem ! " Sir Hugh? Oh, sir, do you know him ? I'm from America — Pittsburg- — and bound for Bents ! 'Tis at Tynehnn I'm to take train for it. Find out Sir Hug-h, and him deliver script. Of grave import, indeed, to him and his. Simick. Eh, man ! eh, man ! I hope it's naething ill? Trav. I do not know. I may not say. I g^uess 'Tis of another taste than sorrow's is. And calculate Sir Hug"h will think it nice. Well, for your room and food what is to pay? Swack. Wan nicht, wan sov. for you ; for ither folk — that room's in sich demand — I micht say twa. Trav. And would you get them ? Swack. I've gotten mair : For instance, frae the Prince, a hantle mair — Trav. Well, there's three dollars more. You'll stay awhile ? Swack. As lang's I can. {Goes to the door and calls). Jean, ! mind the Bar, my lass. Ejiter Hetherbel a7id Horsman, followed by Mrs. SWACKER. Heth. Guid e'enin', Sandy; Is the Markee ready? The Friday nicht's the nicht ! Ye hae a neibor ? Swack. A traveller frae Amairiky nae less ! {To the Trav). Twa couthie auld acquaintances o' mine, Ca'in' as frae the Market they gae bye. Trav. Friends all I good evening. Still snowing yet? Hors. A dounricht gatherin' storm. (To Mrs. Swack. ) A dram an' a pint o' swipes, ma^m, — the best! Mrs. Swack. Atweel will I. Yer sowps I ken richt weel ! \Exit Hors. But what about the Markee an' the meetin' ? Do ye expeck a big ane, Maister Swats ? An' unco flutter's being made about it, SCENE 4.J DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 15 The Markis, wha cam' hame this week, kens o't, He spak' o't to Wull Shannon at the Craig-. S7vack. Big it'll be, being- free to a' that like, But for unfreends nae door o' mine sail swing- — I ken our faes by heid mark — nane shall pass, Re-enter Mrs Swack 7mth the order, and Exit. Gin yeVe in time you twa ! We maun hae peace. An' the Association startit strong-. Young- Hootsman's deid sworn for it by the beuk, And he's his auld Granfaither owre ag-ain. Heth. Look for me, Sandy, sherp on six o'clock. Hors. And me — wi' fifty ithers at my heels ! \Exeunt Heth. and Hors. Trav. What's all this, Landlord, about clubs and meeting's ? — But I don't know if 'tis correct to ask ? Swack. Ask till ye nod — it's a' correck eneuch. It means nae mair than that there was, langsyne, A club we ca'd the " Ferm Folk's " ane, which dee'd Whan that its starters an' its Praisident Grew owre auld for the care an' fash o' it. But ance-a-day, it was as popular As auld Broun 's kirking-s yont at Hedinton. Trav. For what — and why ? Swack. Because it was their ain, The people's ain — a' their estates in ane, King^, Lords, an' Commons, Parish Buird's an' a', Owre whilk they held control — complete — deereck Ilk meetin' nicht — a' wha belang-'d it — By open speech and vote. Trav. And you seek now The restoration of this so-prized Union ? I understand it quite. Wall, forg-e a-head, The battle's for the grit in Scotland still — Even I may join your ranks before I die ! Enter Nanny Cairns and Maggie Glen. Nan. An awfu' nicht, sirs ! But hoo are ye a' ? We'se try a toothfu' to keep out the cauld, The wind outside wad skin a Laplander — 'Od, Mag-gie, ring- that bell ! Swack. ( Going to the door. ) Jean! ser' the Tap 1 i6 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act i. Re-enter Mrs Swacker. Nan. A gill tor gudesake — haste ye, haste ye, ma'm ! I'd no' been here, but our Tarn wants to ken Gif that the Club's to start the morn again ? Mag. Jock's niilher, tae, is ill — she's ninety-fowre — An' sair a mouthfu' needs to bring" her round. Fesh me a bottle, ma'm, at twa an' nine. \Exit Mrs. Swacker. Swack. Folk for the Club meet here — tell Tarn, Nanny — In my Markce on Friday nicht at six. Enter Michael Tubes, ivith the drink ordered. Mick, pit the glasses doun an' tak' the road ! Is a' yer scrubbin' an' yer soopin' dune ? Tiibbs. Troth, sor, it is. I'm at the kitchen now. Swack. Weel, leather up, an' get it throo, slap-bang. The morn's the Markee's Daikoration day ! [Exit Tubes. Nan. Maister Swacker, I'm bound to tell yersel'. Ye keep a rale fine toothfu' aye o' wheich ! An' no' that dear stuff either, div ye ken ? Weel, weel. Guid nicht an' joy be wi' ye a ! What ye said I'se mind Tam o'. Mag. (Rising. ) Guid bye wi' a' ! My auld guid-mither '11 be wearyin' for me ! She's tastit nane sin' denner time ! Sivack. Ta-ta, ta-ta. (Aside. ) Twa just as slee an' drouthy hypocrites As e'er scour'd hicht and howe in search o' drams — Sweirin' 'twas something else ! (To the Trav.J Excuse me, sir, But are ye set to reach Tynelinn the morn ? Trav. I must. But can't I have a cab from here? Swack. Hoot ay — twenty — gif sae be that the roads Be wheelable ava. What time, say ye ? Trav. The cars do leave Tynelinn for Bents at two. Swack. A' richt. Say ten frae here ? — the road's nae flet ! But Mick sail dump ye there as sure as death — SCENE 4.[ DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 17 He's just the deilest Jehu in the shire, An' sticks at naething. (Goes to the door and speaks in a low voice to Mrs Swacker i)i the Bar. J Jean, hark ye, Jean ! Is the fire on yet in the room abune ? Weel, weel, send Mick to me at wance, my doo. Trav. Thanks. Step with me to my room ? The fire is Ht ? Swack. Bleezin' hke a kitlin' o' Vesuvius, sir. The wife tells me. (A knocks on hearing which Sa\'ack gOes to the door, and talks to Tubbs in the Bar. ) Swack. (To Tubbs.) • Is Cobbler shod complete? Tilths. (From the Bar. J Nary a shod is he ! Sure the owld smith Has ne'er a nail druv in him since grass time ? Swack. Cot tam ! Awa, awa, ye Irish vagabond, Ye're for Tynelinn the morn — awa, I say. An' yerk him to the smiddy straucht aflf-hand, An' see that Coom removes the hail fowre shoon. An' sherps the fore's. An' while he's at it, Mick, Slip ye alang to Sned the gaird'ner body's, An' coax him to help me to daicorate Our grand Markee the morn wi' flags an' floo'rs — Airches o' evergreens an' mottoes rare — (He should fesh rowth o' tape, remember him) — An' to mak sure he'll come, Mick, sleely hint That ye are mair than morally certain sure A stiff dram will be gaun maist a' the day. For weel it's kenn'd he'd cross the seas for drink ! Tubbs. An' so he would — in Knox's galley, too ! Swack. (Turning from the door. ) Awa, awa, ye flae till bed time come ! To the Trav. That Irish pad, as I was sayin', sir, Is the maist deevilish, yet the truest loon That ever Maister trustit wi' a naig ! He's worth his wecht in gowd twice owre to me 1 I wadna pairt wi' him to please the Prince, An' a' his freends an' mine on Lammermoor ! I train'd him up mysel' — and he's a brick ! But ye want to yer room ? B i8 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act i. Trav. Yes. We may have More peace there to enjoy our smoke and chat, Being- some distance from the noisy Bar ? \Exeunt. Scene V. The same. The upstaii's bed-room — Swacker's imaginaiy Prince's Chamber, a plain but cosy-look- ing apar/mcnt. Enter Swack and Trav, Siimck. So there ye are! His Room! He ^rt/ owre there In a Throne-Chair he brang frae Barbary, An' swappit to the Deuk for his brass gun ! But mak' yersel' at hame — he's no' here noo ! (Coins:;. ) Trav. Don't g^o away ! Have one cigar and wine ? Swack. I never drink, but whiles. Time presses, sir, I've warls to do yet ere my darg be dune. Trav. A single word — I shan't detain you long. You spoke down stairs about Sir Hugh Seafaem, Are you acquainted, or a friend of his ? Swack. Them baith, them baith, I trow ! I ken Sir Hugh As weel's his mither did before she deid, Trav. Then you must be aware that he divorced Himself from Lady Seafaem — years ago? Swack. "Aware" ! lord, man, I was chief witness Baith of the cause, and at the trial o't. Sir Hugh was nae mair guilty in that deed Than I was in the " murder " of Black Jock, Wha chokit ae' nicht eatin' tripe doun stairs. There was a secret in't — a faimily ane. Trav. Have you a glimmering of what it was ? Swack. A "glimmerin' ! " I saw the thing itsel'. As plump an' plain as I see you owre there ! But, till the day Sir Hugh grants me his leave. No' a' your cross-examinin' avocats, Tho' they were sleek an' slee as Jesuits, Sail ever trick ae' cheep o't oot o' me ! Sae dinna try it on, I wairn ye. Sir. Trav. No need for that. I never sought to pry Into domestic privacies at all, SCENE 5.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 19 But only wish'd to learn — seeing^ you know. And are known by Sir Hugh, if his two sons. Or either of them, you did also know? And as for the divorce, the public Press Served it to Eng-lish-speaking- folk In countless courses every day for weeks. Sivack. An' for thae reasons only, ye wad ken If that I ever met or kenn'd the sons ? Trav. That's so. Sivack. Well, fair play baith ! Tell me your name, An' what's your business strollin' here 'enoo To this "outlandish hole?" First tell me that, An' syne, should I than think it's safe, I may Let out what ye wad hae — an' aiblins mair ! Trav. Right, you ! Agreed at once ! I'm Abe 'Bright Steele, But known at home, briefly, as "Bright Steele," Of Pittsburg, Pennsylvania, U.S.A. — Named after Lincoln and John Bright I was — An obscure, well-to-do, and leisured coon. Seeking to serve my partner, now in France, By finding out Sir Hugh — where'er he is — And handing to himself some documents Of value, great to him, and some to us. And that is all ; so, being in Scotland, And having heard much of it in my time. And read no little also, I broke off At Berwick town, and deviated thence As far west as Melrose and Abbotsford, Then back to Kelso, which I left this morn, And cross'd your dreary Lammermoors on foot, And thus am here to-night, well nigh, I hope. At my long journey's end o'er sea and land. (Takes a packet from his breast pocket and hands it to Swacker. ) Scan these credentials, and be satisfied. Then what you feel " safe " to communicate. Do so to-morrow, ere I leave at ten. To-night I am dead beat, and must to bed. Swack. Sleep's been yer maister ever sin' ye cam' — • To bed, to bed ! An' sic a bed|at that ! A bed that e'en a yearl as thrang as me 20 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act i. Mit;ht weel lie doon an' hug-, and hug- for hours ! The Pruice o' Tartary himscl' dechired He hadna seen the match o't in his time, " Altho'," quo' he, " I've lain wi' Royal King^s On tikes o' eider doon an' Cheena sulks." I'se read your papers, Sir, an' i' th' morn Will tell ye what I dow — Guid nicht, 'enoo. Just ring- the bell an ye want onything-. Trav. I will do so. Good-nig-ht, old man, g-ood-nig-ht. \Exii Swacker. A living- moral curiosity — A compound of fat Falstaff and Prince Hal ? Whatever, morrow morning-, he may say, It will g-o hard with me indeed if I Don't look him up ag-ain before I leave This old romantic land — (which seems so strang-e, Yet so familiar and plain withal !) — Land of my fathers, " Bonnie Scotland " still ! \Exit into bed-closet. Scene VI. (The same) The Bar. Mrs Swacker and TuBBS serving, a?id a proniiscnons company of country vien drinking and chatting aroioid ; and, near the door, Nanny Cairns and Maggie Glen having a parting " nip''' and gossip by themselves. Nan. Drink up, Mag-gie, drink up ! This nicht, I'm sure. Wad gar a Rooshian drink by ord'nar veecious, An', tell me, did ye see them? Mag. Ay, an' spak' them, tae ! Ye ken to Kate MacNeeven's aft he gangs. An' has dune sae sin' e'er her man was kill'd. ' He sends her mair, they say, than keeps her house. Nan. A' that I ken. Nae doubt her hand is fou. A weedie wi' a son a born naitural — No fit to fend himsel ! Eh dear ! eh dear ! Thank God young Hootsman has them in his e'e ; For Tam says he's the Auld Ane owre again. An' a' the kintra kent what sort he was. Mag. Ay, faigs did it ! Weel, Nancy, lass, yestreen Was eicht nichts I'd been seein' Mysie White. SCENE 6.[ DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 21 (She thraw'd her cuit whan funkin' Dougal's doug) — An' comin' pappin hame round Keltie's Dykes, Wha think ye I should maist dunt up against, At Robin's Corner, but the pair themsel's. An' hnkit loof in loof, an' cosh as doos ! Nmi. Lord-have-a-care-o'-me ! Div ye say that ? A common fermer wi' his laird's ain niece ! 'Twad set the Tory Markis ravin' gyte, As weel's her ither uncle, auld Sir Huirh — (A sair-tried man a'ready) — did they ken. Mag. A nice-like lookin' couple — what for no ? Altho', they say, she leckters whan at hame, Oot owre the Border, upo' things they ca' Rank soshaleesem nonsense, oot an' oot. Enter Swacker hurriedly . Swack. Come, come ! Drink up ! It's on the chap o' ten. Toun Council bye-laws rule yer auld howfF noo ! Mick ! fesh the shutters ere I steek the door ; I hear the Bobbie comin' — bustle up ! Och, leddies. Nan an' Meg ! Leeze me on you. An' hound yer men-folk here on Friday nicht ! The snawin's owre. Ta-ta wi' ane an' a' ! [Exetmt Nan, Mag aiid the other customers, after whose exit Swacker shuts and bolts the street door securely. Swack. Mick, off to bed ! I've seen a' Cobbler's shoon. But what said Sued, the little gaird'ner sowl ? Tubbs. His mouth, sor, ran wid wather sore to see. An' trickled doun his beard beyant his chin. As soon's I mintioned potheen to the scub ! Swack. Weel, aff to bed, an' up an' wash the gig, An' hae it yokit sherp by ten the morn ; For, snaw or nae snaw, he maun catch the train Whilk leaves Tynelinn for Bents at twa p.m. Tubbs. Sure he'll be there, olive or dead, in toime, I'm tipp'd already by both Peg an' him. [Exit. Swack. Now, Jean, tell me the dounricht truth in this — Is yon bed clean an" free o' fiaes, or no ? 22 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act ii. Mrs Swack. Weel, Sandy, yes. It was but yesterday That Peg" an' me pat clean sheets on that bed ; An' as for flaes, we kill'd a' that we catch'd — Tho' troth to speak a smytrie g'ot awa, An' some we gript loup'd frae our fing^er ends. What could a body mair ? Gae wa' wi' ye ! The g"entleman's deid tired — he'll sleep as sound As ony Corbie craw, tho' a' the flaes That e'er infestit Garfuird stang- his bouk ! Stfoack. I think he will. Thank God he cross'd the moor On fit frae Kelso toun ! Let's into bed ! \^Exeunt. ACT I I. Scene I. Garford. Before the Gray Sheep Inn. Tubes discovered standing beside a horse yoked to a gig. Stiibbs. Oh, be the powers 'tis could ! An' where is he ? Sure he will come at wanst, swate gintleman ! Enter Peggy Dishie. Peg. Losh, Micky, isn't cauld? Here, tak this maud, An' wairp it round yer chowks. I say ye will ! Think ye I'm to be pester'd wi' a loon, \A\iieyoii, g'aun hoastin' throo the house for weeks? Tak it, or never a' yer mortal life Seek my g"uid will ag"ain ! Tubbs. Me purty Peg- ! I'd wear a hearthrug" round me neck for you. And think meself a prince ! [Sings). Dear Peg-g-y, when you've noug"ht to do, An' cleansed is pot and pan, Forbid not, dear, to come to you Your " hf'indsome Irish man !" Loii^ht-hearted, gay from head to fut. Who better ever ran ? Sure, thin. Peg sighs for no one but Her " handsome Irishman ! " SCENE I.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 23 Peg {excitedly). Wheesht ! The maister, Mick ! Enter Swacker. Simick. [seeing Peg). Begone, ye idle baggage ! Mick, here he comes ! His flask wi' bran'y Mistress Swacker's fillin' ; Lord, hoo he wastes his gear ! But never mind. YExit Peg. See you behave yersel ; and, abune a'. Be ye hame here at five to help me throo ; For this will be a nicht that Garfuird toun Has seldom seen the maik o' at " The Inn," Tho' it has seen a wheen ! Enter the Traveller, gloved and muffled. e Trav. Good morning, Mike ! Now, Landlord, though 3'our communication This morn amounts to nothing more than what Last night's one did, I do not blame you for it ; In fact, I rather like your Scots reticence ; It shows both mind and caution ; but, look here. Expect me round again, when from the north I journey leisurely to La Belle France. Swack. As welcome as the prince ye'se be to me ! [^Exewit Trav. a7id Tubes. Swack. {calling from the Bar door to a poor woman in the street). Hey, Kate ! Come here ! Enter Kate MacNiven. Swack. Wheesht, Kate, 3'^e besom ! Hoo are ye noo ava ? I ken yer story. Dinna speak to me — Say naething — ^jist tak' this ! Awa ye ^o ! Kate. Oh Sandy ! a pound note ! Ye're far owre kind. Besides, young Hootsman — Leddy Mab as weel — Do never let we want indeed, indeed ! Swack. Wheesht, wheesht ! Ye'se need it a' ere winter's bye. Come to the Club some nicht and speak at it. An' gie them't het and strong" — as you can do. 24 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act ii. Kate. Oh, yes, I'se promise that. But what wey this ? ( pointmg to the bank note he had just given her). Swack. Ye saw Mick Tubbs the noo drive aff wi' ane? Weel, he's a Yankee traveller — a Jew, Richer than a' the Rothchilds row'd in ane, Seein' he gae me — 'ithout grudge or grummel, For ae nicht's lodging an' a soup o' wine, Nae less than twa and thirty shillin's doun — Eneuch to pay me six times owre fu' weel ! That note ye've gat was his — keep it, ye fule ! Ye're needin't mair than me — awa, awa ! Kate. Our mod'rn Sandy ! wha can faddom him ? He's like the man langsyne ca'd Robin Hood, He spills the wealthy to fill up the puir. God bless an' prosper him in a' his warks ! Swack. Kate ! tak the gate at wance, an' keep in mind Your promise to the Club — a rousing speech, Ane that will fricht the lairds ; but gin ye blab. Either to Hootsman or to Lady Mab, Or onybody else, look out, I say. An' wish yersel' in Garfuird cemet'ry Or a waur place ! Kate. Yea, yea, thou warld conqueror ! [Exeiatt. Scene H. The Craig Havilet. Inside Kate MacNiverC s cottage. Shonnie discovered. Shon. Ma daidy's lang o' comin' hame. He no kens the cat's kittle't, that's the wey. She has eleeven, three gray anes, an' eicht red anes. The minister is like the wee gray anes, and Maister Swacker is like the red anes. He wants seven, but aw'll gie him ten. He keeps fine swipes. Here's mammy ! Enter Kate. Mammy, did ye see daidy, ma faither? he's awfu' Ling ! What's in that basket ? (Kate, furtively 7veeping, takes from her basket a child's little cart, and presents it to Shonnie, who in great glee leaps and claps his hafids, and then runs out of the house, dragging by a string the toy cart behind him). SCENE 2.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 25 Kate {alone). Eh, Sandy Swats, thy guidness maks me greet ! Tho' rauckled-tongued an' leein'-mou'd ye be, Ye mindit Shonnie, my puir innocent ! At twenty-three as helpless as a wean Is at as' mony months ! But whare's he noo ? {Going to the door to recall Shonnie, Kate meets young HooTSMAN, and brings him in). Hoots. Good morning-, ma'am. I've just been to the Castle, And thoug-ht I mig^ht look in as I came by ? Kate. Ye're ever walcome abune a'body. For, sir, ye're e'en the auld man — in an' out — a' owre. Hoots. Who? my grandfather? Is it he you mean? Surely your troubles, then, have blinded you. If you do liken me — a half-fledg-ed waif — To yon grave, priest-like sage and patriarch. Wisdom and worth and wit incarnate. My hoary, almost-worshipped predecessor? Kate. I hadna in my mind his hinmaist years ; But when I saw ye steppin' ben the transe, 'Od, sir, your semblance to him strack me Strang, As he appear'd at Leddyslove langsyne, Whan I first gaed to work at herding craws. Hoots. What year was that ? Kate. Whan I was jimply twal. Some forty years ago. Hoots. That must have been Some time before his marriage with Miss Fairbairn — His third and last ? Kate. Oh, yes ! and e'en before His second ane. Jamie, his auldest son — Your faither, the late Glesca doctor, sir — An' me were born within a week o' ither ! Yet Jamie's deid — years syne — an' I am spared, An's like to be sae lang's I'm crowdie spared. Re-enter Shonnie, cracking a child's whip. Kate. O Shonnie ! Whare's your wee cairtie, sonny? Shofi. In its cairt-shed. Kate. Whaten a shed ? We have nae cairt-shed here. 26 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act ii. Shon. The auld chicken cavie, hootsie, tootsie. Aw want a horse ; aw've a rare cairt, an' a whip, but aw hiv nae horse, hootsie, tootsie ; will Sandy Swats hae ony to sell ? Aw'll see O ! [Sings) — Here's young" Maister Hootsinan, Hootsie, tootsie, toots, man ! Him or Sandy s pretty faif, Rut it taks me to mak' a pair ! [Slyly)- Aw ken a wee callant, as sure as awm leevin'. An' the name on his cairtie is Shonnie MacNeeven ! Hoots. Good! Shonnie; that's Ai ! Come, try ag-ain! A " horse ! " Why, I'll buy you a horse myself, As big's our collie pup at Leddyslove, The first time I see Swats ! Come, try again ! Shon. [sings) — A bonnie wee horsie frae auld Sanny Swats, For Shonnie MacNeeven to 3-oke wi' his cats In his bonnie new cairtie, Fal de lal lay, Awa to the city laiden wi' strae ! Hoots, [to Kate). Wonderful, wonderful in him ! Is he a poet often ? Kate. O mercy, yes ! The puir thing-'s vera gyte, an' raibles rhymes, The same as 'mong" sillies, a' day lang — Maist whan his mood is high or unco laigh ; His uncle Rohie did the same afore him, An' dee'd a beggar man, tho' he was " wise," As lots are bauld eneuch to threep he was. Hoots. But Shonnie is astonishing, my friend. And, I think, altogether singular. Kate. He's just, Sir, as he was whan fotu-e year auld. An' unco clyte he first had afi^ a dyke. An' than he teuk bad tunis, the doctor said. An' stoppit g"rowing mentally for guid — But some pairts mair than ithers. Shon. [looking ont of the 7vindo7v). Leddy Mab ! Mammy, there's Leddy Mab, the English Queen ! Kate, [hearing a rap, goes and opens the door). O yes ! Come in my Leddy, Maister Hootsman's here ! SCENE 2.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 27 Enter Lady Mabel. Lady Mab. {to Hootsmaii). Good-day ! {Smiling) — We've met before, I think ? Hoots. {Confusedly) — We have I saw your Ladyship, I think, when I Stood talking with the Marquis this forenoon ? Lady Mab. Yes ; that is so. {To Kate.) Well, did you g-et the wool I sent by Tipem, our old Major domo ? I've called to let you know how many pairs The Marchioness would like of the new socks — Six for sons ; and, for her husband, four. His Lordship likes them comfortable and warm. So kindly knit his tight, and thick, and large. Shonnie ! Come here, my boy. What think you now ? {Takes from her reticule a small flute and presents it to him.) Shon. Aw canna play' ! Hoots. Let me see it, Shonnie. {Takes and plavs on it. ) " Hootsie, tootsie," lad ! It whistles like a laverock in May ! But try it on yourself! (Shonnie does so, and succeeds after a time in nuikitig a noise. ) Shon. {singing proudly) — D'ye ken «- wee laddie ; d'ye ken liUle Shonnie Has gotten a wliustle-flute shinin' an' bonnie, To tak to the city, Fal de lal la}', When he gang's wi' his cairtie laidit \vi' strae ! Lady Mab. Well done, Shonnie ! With practice you may be The unsurpass'd, the incomparable Of Lothian laureates ! Mister Hootsman, Sir. Really you should tr}' and bring him on. He does seem worth it. Hoots. More so than ever ! Shonnie, give us another stave ! Come on ! A horsie like a goat Swats has for sale. And 'twill be yours to-night, as large as life. If you'll but sing another single snatch ! Shon. {uplifted ivifli this promise sings at once.) 28 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act ii. A bonnie wee horsie, a bonnie wee flute, An' a bonnie wee cairtie aliint the wee brute, Gaun swing-in' to Embro', Fal de lal lay, Crunchin owi-e the ruch roads, an' laiden wi' strae ! Hoots. Tip-top, Shonnie! Your horse shall be a prize, The premier prizer of the great toy world, Near which none may so much as geek at ! \Exit Shonnie. Kate. The puir thing's just a bairn ! Your Leddyship Maun no be owre sair on him ! What are we a' But that we're made by Nature, time, an' place ? Had our surroundings no been what they were, We micht hae been as weak as Shonnie is ! Lady Mab. No doubt of that, my friend MacNiven, dear ! And that such circumstances may be more just ; Why, I have staked my life, and all I have ! The present time's a time for myraids Of wrong inhuman — fraud and cruelty — Unjustifiable in every sense, Save that it is the outcome of the past. Hoots. I thank you from my heart for what you say ! Such sympathetic words, your Ladyship, Appeal to me like Christ's ! Kate. And, unto me. Like them o' the Most High on Sina's Hill, Whilk a' the haill yirth heard, an' sheuk to hear ! Leddy Mab ! I've read your words in England, and I swear 1 felt as I could follow you to death. To fire or bluidy death, an it were needit to ! To hear what I cam' throo was naething mair Than what by countless millions owre the globe Is suffer'd nicht an' day, fair split my heart. An' made me shudder at the fiend-like shame O' a' that do alloo't ! To live an' see't — To rise at morn an' gang to bed at e'en. No caring wan flae-bite about it a'. But masquerawdin'— dinkit out in gowd. An' lace an' silk — while maybe owre the street Weak women an' wee weans, ay, strong men, tae, SCENE 2.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 29 Gie up the ghost, or perish inch by inch, Lackintr a styme o' that the walthy waste. Or cast to pamper'd doug-s ! Soshaleezim ! Wha wadna sell their sarks to help it on. Let Christ's sel' pardon, for nane lower could ! For they are sand-blind to their brethren's ills. Or else are e'en mair heartless than the brutes — Kennin' nor richt nor wrang- — that kill to live ! Lady Mab. Mistress MacNiven you astonish me ! To find a priestess of our glorious faith In a Scot's wayside cottage, leagues removed From other centres — greater than Garford — A rustic village, whose long single street It draggles straggling from surrounding moors. Like a Moss-trooper's band in ancient days. Returning tipsy from some border raid ! Kate. My Leddy Maaby, aneath rankest truf Rare gowden nuggets aften hae been found. An' pearls, odd times, are ta'en frae oyster shells — Nae wise implyin' I'm the tane or tither — An' I see nocht that need astonish ye ; I get deereck frae Sandy Swats up here The books an' journals that he gets himsel' As straucht frae Lon'on doun, and I can read, An' have read ilka speech o' yours in prent, Whilk ye hae made sin' first ye jined our core. Your suffrage screeds, an' a'. Hoots. But, Mistress Kate, You surely do not make yours all you read — The creed of Socialism with the rest ? Kate. Wer't in my poo'r, the vera morn's mornin' Wad see't estaiblish'd e'en as wide's its need, An' that, my son, is the " warld owre," atweel ! Hoots. Your " world o'er " would then be, I'm afraid. Immeasurably sadder than it is, And it is sad ; God knows ! Lady Mab. Why would it be ? Hoots. Because of human nature, first of all, FoUow'd by other things allied to that. Too numerous and patent to be named, Would make its failure certain as that man's 30 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act ii. I'^oni w liom ;ill motive's reft for thoug^ht or work. Liidy Miib. Hy Socialism he would not be reft, But have rig^ht motives all intensified, Ten-fold increased, enobled, purified, Befitting" the new man and the new time ! Hoots. Though sadly discontent, I'm unconvinced. More sadly still — I see so many blocks. Lady Mab. Have you read Mister Swacker's volumes yet? Hoo/s. I'm reading' them. Kate. Go on, my son, g^o on ! for God-sake, do ! A chiel like you will sune blaw " blocks" to bits. An' mak' o' them a road-way up to Eden ! Go on thou Man of men — Auld Hootsman's sel' Come back ag^ain to keep in life this warl' ! Go on, an' brush aside the silly lees Self-interestit scamps an' fules propound To stey our onward mairch ! Judg'e for thysel' — Jist read an' think — a comrade syne we'll hae, Worth mony crouds in this benichtit land ! The case for us stands clear as Aither's Sait ! * Hoots. Which, like your "case," is too oft hid from view 'Neath rank obscuring- reek or densest mist ! Kate. We'se blaw't awa whan ance the Club's set g"aun ! Lady Mab. The "Club"? O yes ! I had forg-ot to ask Is it to be proceeded with to-nig-ht ? Hoots. Yes, certainly. The meeting-'s called for six. Lady Mab. Despite the storm ? Hoots. The people who will come Reck not, your Ladyship, of " storms " like this, A summer midgfe's sting". Kate. A curn o' snaw ! My faith, my Leddy, folk acquent wi' want, Oppression, an' hard labour a' their lives. Have something" else to tout or trouble them Than triflin' drifts o' snaw or tiffs o' wind ! The storm that scaurs ye winna hinner them. But spur mair o' them furth owre hill an' dale. * Arthur Seat, Edinburg"h. SCENE 2.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 31 Lady Mab. Well? What will be the upshot, thnik you, sir ? Will the Old Club's rejuvenescence be Resolved upon rigfht ofif? Hoots. Undoubtedly, Unanimously, too — or almost that. Lady Mab. And, afterwards, how often may you meet? Hoots. That, yet, I cannot tell. The Old Club had Six g-eneral meetings annually, but I shall go in for double that, although. Of course, that item will be fixed by vote. And the decision telegraph'd at once Both far and near. Your Ladyship's address To honourable members may be given On some date in the Fall, and Mistress Kate's, Near next New Year, or after, as arranged. Lady Mab. Thank you. I can be ready any night. Due time being given me to prepare myself. Kate. I promish'd Sandy Swats, indeed, to speak. For he's a man, I trow, there's nae refusin' — A Christian-hertit Tyrant a'thegither — A gruff an' lowse-tongued saunt if e'er ane lived ! But what, O, Maister Hootsman, mercy me, I couldna gie them onything but Scotch ? An' as for me " preparin' " to do that — As weel the sheep ask to " prepare " to baa, Or Shonnie to lilt rot or gabble rames. As me to sattle doun an' write harangues ! Lady Mab. Small need have you, my friend, to fear to speak ! If you have aught to tell of weight or worth. Out with it fearlessly in your own way And native idiom, and you'll beat us all ! Hoots. You may be rough. Old Kate, but you are strong. Mind, therefore, how ye hit, and whom ye hit. I'll call some day next week. Hallo, Shonnie ! Re-enter Shonnie, sucking a long stick of candy. Where have you been to that you've fared so well ? Sfwn. (singing) — 32 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act ii. Sandy Swats lie i^ue to me Clag'ain-rock an' barley bree ! Wi' meat an' maut he stow'd ma wame, Syne wash'd my face an' sent me hame ! O Aw've left ma whup i' th' cairt shed ! [Exi/ Hoofs. Wonderful ! Surely, tho' i>"one astray, Within the head of this poor creature once A heavenly gift was sent direct to earth ? Lady Mab. Somethings peculiar ! — he puzzles me ! Hoots. I wonder was he really down to Swats' ? Kate. Och ! It's a' blethers ! He's g"yte, the bairn's gyte, Sae nocht but havers strings he, or can string ; An' tho' ye paid him gowden guineas for't, Swats wadna weet his mou wi' barley bree ; Besides, I trow, he's seen the Minister, An' 'twas frae him he gat the candy stick. Lady Mab. Well ma'm, it is full time I was away, They at the Castle look for me at noon. Hoots. And I, as well, am due at loosing time, To settle with the steward for the week. {To Kate.) So, in one word, good-bye ! [Exeunt Lady Mab and Hoots. Kate. {Alone.) My God, Ws true! The baith o' them are smut ! they were smert ! but no mair smert than Kate ! 1 saw their smiles, an' awkward anxiousness, That I should think they'd met be accident ; Or ne'er had met before ! Preserve us a' ! The only dauchter o' an English Lord, An' John — hooe'er he looks — nae mair at best Than but a kind o' well-aflf fermer lad — Nae doubt a gentleman frae heid to heel, A duchess micht be proud to woo an' win — But what will noble uncles say ava — Game-breeders, yachtsmen, an' foxhunters tae ! An' baith the Markis an' Sir Hugh besides Her faither's trustees, and her gairdians fix't By baith his testament an' British law ! Losh ! losh ! for what will be the reddiment It whups me even to guess 1 SCENE 3.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 33 {^Sitting down at the fireside, and resuming her knitting, she croons to herself) — O Leddy's love ! O Castle Clench ! Young- Maaby an' young; John ! O sorrows sair ye'll dree eneuch Or mony days hae flown ! The Poo'rs abune look down on thee, Young- Maaby an' young John, An' g-aird thee whan the storm I see Fa's thy fair lives upon ! Thy fair young- lives upon, my dears, Thy fair young- lives upon, Lat Jesu g-aird thee whan this weird Lichls thy young lives upon ! {Looking at the wag-at-the-wd" clock, and rising hurriedly. ) I pray He will ! But whare has Shonnie gfone ? 'Twill SLine be denner time ! The same ag-ain — Tatties and herrin — haill fowre times this week ! But we'se mak' up the morn for't, Sandy Swats ! A rabbit, an' a dumplin' baith, nae less ! I am as Ruth, the Moabitish wife. An' " dip," as she in Bozes', in thy soup. But it's no " vineg-ar " 'twill taste, I trow, But manna fa'n frae heeven doun to me. In this my wilderness o' weedowhood ! My laddie ! Whare is he ? It's denner time ! \Exit, seeking Shonnie. Scene III. Robin's Corner, a point on the Public Highway, near Garford. Enter Lady Mabel and Hootsman arm-in-arm. Lady Mah. Here is the branch-road off this public one. And here at once, John, must we part to-day, The Marchioness will wonder I'rn so late. Hoots. I fear she'd anger too, knew she the cause ! Lady Mab. "Sufficient for the day" — you know the rest. But if your love for me abounds as now, I ne'er would " fear" her, or the Marquis either, Albeit I am his humble ward and niece, Two full years under ag^e. c 34 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act ii Hoots. But he must know. I cannot wait. No. /// /loiiotir, cannot. Lady Mab. For why ? Hoots. Because the lease of Leddyslove Having", in course of time, just given out, Renewal's requisite if I'm to sit, And I could not have him — the Marquis — sign In ig-norance of my relation now To you, his ward and niece — mine own betrothed ! Lady Mab. Couldn't we wait, at worst, till I'm of age? (Tho' cousin Bob, I know, he would I'd wed) — Two years would soon slip past, and, as they did, Why, we might meet each other — same as now ? Hoots. No, darling, no ! The new lease must, next week. Be all arrang'd, and, if accepted, sign'd By both patrician lord and plebeian lout, Landowner and landhirer, he and I, Your noble uncle and your rustic swain. Lady Mab. Pshaw ! But when do you intend to tell him ? Hoots Dearest, with your assent, on Monday first ; No later time will do, as Tuesday is The final clay appointed for the lease. Lady Mab. My God ! What will he say ? He'll banish me ! Immure me in some nunnery in France ! He knows them all ! The Pope's his bosom friend ! His Jesuits make Castle Cleuch a home, And come and ^o at will, both night and day ! Never ! I shall not stay and tackle them ! I would take poison first, or shoot myself! John ! John ! My love, my lord ! I'll fly to you ! Hoots. No, no ! for were you miss'd, and did the Marquis know Of our betrothal, blame would fix on me. And Leddyslove be search'd from march to march ; And every house and shed from door to roof; And I imprison'd, likely, on suspicion. Of secretly kidnapping you away. Or of conspiring, for my selfish ends, SCENE 4.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 35 You to engulf in a hymeneal slough, Or even something worse ! oh, no, no, love ! Deem that insane, the product but of fear. And quite unusual emotion now. And follow this, which calmly I've thought out : If you approve, and it doth pleasure you. On Monday morn the Marquis I will see — (It is appointed so) — and tell him all, And vmto you immediately by note Report all he has said, and then, if 'tis not right, Proceed, on foot, yourself to Swacker's Inn, As early after nightfall as may be. Lady Mab. Would Swacker know, or should I ask for you ? Hoots. Likely he'd know already. He sees all. Oh, darling ! place thy confidence in me, If not, our love's impossible, and lost ! Lady Mab. That cannot, must not be ! John, I will ^^o., Because I know thyself, and all thou art ! Hoofs. And all I am is wholly thine for aye ! Lady Mab. And I am thine for ever, ever, ever ! \Excuuf. Scene IV. Market Town. A Room in the St Andrew Hotel. Enter the Marquis of Moorcleuchs and Host. Mar. Who called, say you ? Host. Your Lordship's tenant farmer. Mister Hogg Of Scadhope Howes, desiring audience. Mar. Well, Slender, let him have it ; send him in ! \Exit Host. Enter Hogg. Mar. What, Mister Hogg, are you down here to-day? Hogg. Sattlin' about the clip, my lord, wi' Japp, An' seein' your lordship's cairriage at the door, I askit could I see ye at the bar. Mar. Upon what matter, sir? My time is short. As, by agreement at this very hour, A friend in the next room's awaiting me. So do make haste, I pray. 36 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act ii. I/oi^-i^'. Ay, ay! Wecl, wool! Sae, then, your lord- ship kens My auldest duuchter — Charlotte — is leddysmaid To Leddy Maabel, up in Castle Cleuch ? A/tir. Your what ? I'm damned if e'er I knew before You were the father of a daughter, Hog-g ! How many of them have you altogether? //og£: Nine leevin', an' six puir things deid, my lord. M(/7'. A heavy burthen, Master ! Yet make you Your flocks but one-fourth as prolific, and Your fortune's made next spring ! Come ! say at once Thy business now ! Hogg: Weel, Charlotte's leddysmaid, An' she was hame last Sabbath seein' us. Mar. (aside.) All the living Hoggs, of course, the more hog she ! {Aloud.) Well, what of it ? Hopp: It's deeficult for ane, Of little lear, an' lesser Inglish speech, To tell aucht to a high-born nobleman, Sich as yer Lordship, schvde and colleg'e bred ! But I hae that to tell that nimin be tauld, Altho' by doin' sae I'se wrang mysel — Folk thinkin', 'cause he got the management O' the home ferm, three years syne, owre my heid, I bear him for't a grudge. Mar. Who, young Hootsman ? That post he got because he suited best. Hogg. A-weel, my lord, a-weel ! But corn at hairst Is no' «' shorn be kcnipers, tho' yer niece, The Leddy Maabel's even his betrothed. As but last Sabbath Charlotte pruved to me ! Alar, [startled, and violently ringing the bell). Away ! thou base and envious slanderer ! Or down these stairs, thou hound, I'll have thee kick'd ! Hogg. Ye're wrang, my lord ! I've writings for't at hame ! Send for them whan ye want them — ony time. An' whan yer passion cools, ye'll rue thae words ! [Exit. SCENE 4.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 37 Enter Sir Hugh Seafaem. Sir Htigh. What In the iicime of conscience means this din ? Your Lordship's mad, entirely out of form, With one of your own moorhuid tenants, too — A boorish knave, a vulg'ar ij^noramus, A well-known jealous, discontented rogue ! Surely the reason for such misplaced wrath Is really terrible ? Mar. It is — if true ! But pardon this outburst. That villian swore Our clever ward, our lady beautiful. The belle of London two whole seasons. Sir, Hath gone and done — what think'st thou? Think for life. For ever think, and thou'dst not think aright ! He gravely states she has betrothed herself To young John Hootsman, and can prove the fact! Sir Hugh. O monstrous ' Utterly incredible ! The little wits that brute Hogg ever had He must have lost with this last fall in wool, Wool being his only or chief source of gain ! What proof can he have of a charge so gross ? Mar. Her own hand-writing, for, it seems, her maid Is Hogg's first daughter, and she gave it him — Some fugitive epistle, probably Which Mabel either dropp'd, or had mislaid, And its existence straightway had forgot. Sir Hugh. Like enough. Our merry Mab will laugh We grieved ourselves for such a crazy reason, And " dotard fogies" term us months to come. But what, my lord, about the "club" to-night? You know I came to ^^o to Swacker's with you. And, by appointment, in the interval, You were to broach the matter right away To Hootsman's self, the leader in the scheme To reinaugiu'ate the ancient core? Mar. This wretched news, or cruel hoax of Hogg's Hath reft me of all appetite for "clubs," Whether of plebian or patrician sorts, And I must back to Castle Cleuch forthwith. 38 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act ii. And learn from Mabel's lips what is the truth, Tuesday were sig^ning^ day of John's new lease, If all went well, but if Hogg's story's true, ■.'; •- • Of course the renegade must void my lands, Tho' all his "seventeen generations" rose And from their sepulchres cried shame on me ! "^Sir Hugh. But have you talk'd with him about the club ? Mar. I did, to-day — not knowing of this cross. Sir Hugh. To what effect ? "^Mar. To no effect at all. The meeting of to-night in Swacker's Inn Being, he said, a mere prelusive one, To test the people's feeling in regard To the old club's revival, by and by. Sir Hugh. Of course. 'Tis advertised so. Hootsman's right. But this young man, my lord, is seldom wrong — He saved my boy twice from dreadful death ! — He's g"ot his kinsmen's judgment in his head, Full-measure, hard-pressed down, and running o'er, To figure mental facts with farmyard terms. lilar. Well, what of that ? Mind cannot excuse birth ? And his is low, his origin was low ! The father of his race fed swine at Dunse, And yearly came with pigs to Garford Fair, Not quite six hundred years ago from now ! 'Tis thought the family name of " Hootsman " rose From some linguistic oddity observed In the old swine-herd's haggling with our clowns. Whilst deftly easing them of hard-earn'd " brass ! " Sir Hugh. Ha! ha! Six hundred years ago, ha! ha! My lord, you have a head for heraldry. And might, I think, even scutcheon " arms " for those Who trace their family lineage back to gawks. If not to apes themselves ! Hootsman's a man, Despite descent or genealogy, A man, my lord, whom even we might like, As well as Mab, and be much honour'd too ! Afar. What do you mean? Accept him as a friend — A kinsman — e'en Mab's husband — right away ? SCENE 4.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 39 Sir Hugh. Upon my soul I do not see why not ! Noble he is in all things, save in blood, And verily his red could never taint our " blue," Tho' he wed Mab and lived with her an age. Mar. Avaunt ! thou social heretic, avaunt ! Grown' worse than e'en the swine-herd's son himself! The girl shall rather pack to Brittany, And lodge within the priory of Aix, Until her auburn locks in whiteness mock Those of the rulings monk, than she become A peasant's mate — his equal, and no more — The " mistress " of milkmaids and rustic grooms, And meek associate of farmers' wives ! Sir Hugh. You'd save her for Lord Garford, or Lord Bob, His sprightly Guardsman brother, would you not? Mar. How better could I than thus serve niy sons ? Sir Hugh. Well, maybe you could not — provided she. Our Lady Mab herself, concurred with you. Mar. She's known my plan for years, and ere abroad I went last April, I advised with her To love and fix upon the one or other Of my two gallant boys — Albert or Bob. Sir Hugh. Pardon, my lord. Upon this matter, now, Have you e'er sounded the two knights themselves ? Mar. I have — last June — and singly, and in private too. My eldest lad — the Earl of Garford — seem'd To scan my projects quite indiflferently. But Bob — Lord Bob — Lord Robert Mickleman — My youngest walloper, your favourite, Went for them, as his own dear " Uncle Bob," My hapless brother, did — long, long ago — Go for the rebel hordes before Lucknow ! Sir Hugh. What ! to smash them, as we did the mutineers ? Mar. No, but their faculties, like the besieged. To give full liberty and scope to bless ! Sir Hugh. Or curse perhaps — quite problematic which. However, Bob's the boy, we'll say, what then ? 40 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act ii. Mar. He marries Lady Mab, his cousin, Sir, And adds to Stott the lands of Werpe forthwith. Sir Hugh. And what of Hootsman if this rumour's true ? Mar. Why ! he quits Leddyslove, his lease being out. And may not be an offerer for't again. Sir Hugh. A Hootsman ousted thus from Leddyslov^e ! From whence, since Chevy Chase was lost and won, Have come in an unbroken lineage A yoeman race broad Britain could not beat ! My lord, that project's doom'd — condemn'd and damned — Ere it is barely known — [a rapping heard at the door). Whose there ? Come in ' Enter a Waiter 7vith a telegram for Sir Hugh, a)id Exit. I must be gone ! This missive is from one, Bright Steele, a Pennsylvanian traveller. Now " doing" Scotland for his Yankee pleasure. And as the bearer of some " news " for me, From one, his countryman, in Paris pent. But what the fiend anent, I cannot guess ! Mar. " Steele ? " " Bright Steele ? " Why, so was named the Yank, From Pennsylvania, too — Pittsburg, I think. That told me Lady Julia was to wed ! Where is he now ? and must you go to him ? Sir Hugh. Within the mansion-house of Bents he is. And I must go, because this matter's " urgent" — And eke more urgent made by what you say ; At Castle Cleuch Pll call ere many days. [Exit. Mar. [alone.) From maze to maze Pve run since coming home. Yet darker, darker o'er life's wilderness My mystic course becomes ! Where it will end, Or how, or when, are as unknown to me As are the comings of the century. A score a-head of this — the fortieth ! [Rings the bell impatiently.) SCENE 4.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 41 Fe-c lifer the Waiter. Is Goggles down below, d'ye know, my man ? Wait. Yuah Ludship ! 'Ee's a-smokinif in the baw. Mar. And drinking- " g-ing-er beer" at my expense — All charg-es unpreventable, incurred, Inevitably, in "irksome services" — Feasting- and guzzling- at hotels and clubs ! Wait. Well, I dun knaw, my lud, 'e's not too fet ! Mar. Because he's a teetotaller and a rog-ue Who will not lip a g-lass of honest dew. Fearing- his conscience run away with him. Or he with it, in unaccustomed pluck. Wait. My lud, I 'ave not 'eard before of 'im. But I do think 'e is a rotten heg-g. Mar. Fit neither for the pot nor frying pan — A veritable atomy— a "muff," Who sees ten devils in one glass of ale. And shuns conviviality as death ? Wait. Yuah Ludship 'its 'im straight upon 'is 'ead ! Mar. As would-be Cockneys do their aitches here ? But send him up, my man, and take these pence ; I'll see to his conversion here myself. Wait, (baffled). 'Ansome is as 'ansome does, hanil with much 'appiness ! \E.\it. Mar. [alone). Lord, what a snob is man ! This babbler now — I know him well — the Garford tailor's son. Who went to London with us once as " boots," And there was sack'd by Tipem for a dolt. Too feckless even to keep for swearing o'er. At close of his first quarter — ^just last year ! Since then, as our old Tipem ruthless tells, " He's been a-s weeping East End tavern floors For ten-and-six a week.' " And now he's back. Determined, evidently, in his way. With cheek, and in pert Cockney parrot style. To strike and overawe his late compeers With pseudo " manners" and atrocious speech ! 42 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act ii. Enter the Chauffeur. Well, Chauffeur, Garford's done for ! Something"'s happen'd, And we must now to Castle Cleuch straig"htway. But have you had to drink at all down here ? Chauff. Thank you, my lord. Enough for steady driving". Mar. Unsteady driving, no man, I believe — Not even a " bobby" from behind a hedge — Could truthfully accuse you of, but still, The season being bitter, a small drop Of this Cognac might benefit a deal ? Chauff. [aside). He's trying me ! {aloud). I've had two "drops" already. No, my lord. No more for me if Castle Cleuch's to face. Mar. Chauffeur, I note you every day, and so I risk my neck with you, again, again ! \Exeunt Scene V. Garford. Before the entrance to the Marquee in Swacker's Back Yard. A crowd of country people. Enter Swacker rt7^«f Tubes, who take their places, one on each side of the entrance., Tubes carrying an old blunderbuss — of course, unloaded. Szvack {standing on a bar) el tilted on end) — Ladies and Gentlemen, the hour has come. The fateful hour, the lang, lang, lang'd for hour. An' we are still alive — ay, fou o' life ! — The Poo'rs a' owre be thankit for sich gifts ! A poet chield, noo resting in the Tap, Has keekit throo the winnock on ye a'. And here {takes a MS. from his pocket) has written doun some words for me. To help us hail this great auspeeshus nicht — The reinisheeaishan ane o' our auld Club, Renown'd as far's the Poles, baith North and South. Jist listen to the lay this laureate lilts, An' then dee happy when it comes your turn ! Reads — SCENE 5.1 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 43 I. " Freends, dearest freeiids, frae far'est Lamniennoor, To where the Pentjan's lie like thunder cluds Amaiig- the mazes o' the ding-y wast, Ye've a' come here, nae doubt wi' muckle fash, To start the Club again — as adverteezed ! II. " Dear country freen's, I sympatheeze wi' you This blae cauld nicht — sae snawy-lookin' still ! Ye've warslled throo the wraiths as best's ye could, Defied bauld Boreas, blockit roads, an' slush. Leal bailh to day an' hour — as adverteezed ! III. " Freens, sturdy freens, the backbanes o' the land, As weel's its marrow an' its muscles tae, Fu' weel trow I the keenness o' your sowls — ' The gfrienin' to reveeve an' 'stablish fast The dear auld Club again — as adverteezed ! IV. " Weel, patience, freens ; of coorse, nane can expeck The Club richt aff to raise its auncieni voice. It first maun be restored to life an' strength, An' cast its present deidness in the past In Swats' Markee this nicht — as iidverteezed ! V. " Freens, honest freens ! back ye up Sandy Swats ! There's ne'er a sowl 'tween here an' Berwick toun, Eggsep it be young Hootsman and his set, Wha can like Swats advance our sacred cause, — The Markee's proof o't here — as adverteezed ! " {Loud laughter and applause. The bardie wha ivralc that is nae raw Johnnie, z\n' can see ovvre a dyke as far as mony ! {A voice — " MacSqueel, MacSqtieel '") Tubbs {to Swack). Sor ! Did yeez nod ? Is it to start ye mane ? Swack. Ay ! Draw the bars, an' cock that bknider- btiss, An' blaw the ichot's harns out owre the moors As far as Cappersmith an' Coudingham,* * Old local corruptions for Cockburnspath and Coldingham, in Berwickshire. 44 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act ii. Wha'd sneak inside the Tent without my leave ! Stand back ye brats ! Nae bairns nor women here, An' only men-folk freendly to the Club, An' even o' them nae mair than twa at yince ! Enter Hootsman, Horsman, Hetherbel, and the Rev. Dr Paul, who proceed at once into the Marqnee, during great cheering. Swack. Welcome, my hearties ! Hurry up ! Pass in! Mick ! in you tae, an' shout when it is fou ! The Markee canna baud a city's folk ! \Exit Tiibhs, inside. Tubhs [imtliin). Hoy ! Masther ! Sure they'll burst the Tint in two ! The crowd's a thousand more inside than out ! Swack {closing the entrance). Disperse, my freens, the tent can baud nae mair ! Tiibbs [withi)i). Sint Pathrick ! shut the door, or all is lost. Swack {breathlessly). It's shut ! {To the cro7od outside.) Nae man can mak' a mutchkin baud a tun ! Gae hame, an' into bed, an' thank the Lord Ye've no been trampit into glaur or slush. Nor squeezed to death in this tremendous crowd ! ^Exeunt. Scene VI. {The same) Inside the Marquee. Enter Swacker, on the platform. Swack. O, less noise, gentlemen ! {Hear, hear.) I think mysel' We haena dune sae bad ? What do ye say ? {Great cheering.) Weel, weel. The daicoraishuns cost me rest an' sleep, An' nae sma' toil, but I'd do thousan's mair To push the cause — the people's cause — alang" ! {Loud applause. ) I'se sit here only till your chairman taks it. {Sits dow)i.) SCENE 6.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 45 Stonre {rising in niid tcnf). Freens, neibor.s, s^entle- men, As Maister Swacker says, a man to fill The big" chair on the bench we noo maun wale, Sae I propose for't our niaist wordie freend John Hetherbel, the heid herd at Muirhill. {Applause.) Hors. An' I get up, my freends, an' second that, An' g-if ye 'gree wi' me — {Agreed, agreed) — hit Jock gae tiU't. Heth. {after taking the chair). I thank ye a', my freens, richt heartihe ! But, as did John the Baptist in auld times, I'se simply sit doun first to warm the sait For a far greater man than " Heather Jock " — To wit, our Champion's sel', young Hootsman, sirs. {Applause. ) The living eemage o' our " Grand Auld Man ! " 'Enoo, as chairman, I will mind my wark. An' ca' upo' the Raiverent Dr Paul — A man o' muckle lear, an' wut, and sowl, An' ane that's hand in glove wi' our Ain Chief! {Prolonged applause. ) Dr Paul. Mister chairman, friends, gentlemen all, I think all here are here for one main end. That is — the Club's revival. {Cheers.) Then, I'd suggest, The Chairman put the question right away. {Hear, hear, and cheering.) Heth. I think that's richt. Weel, first baud up hands for't ! Hurray ! hurray ! Noo, baud up hands against ! Whooy ! only twa ! Swack. Wha's aucht them, Jock ? Heth. Ane — that waiklin' waiter loon, the tailor's son. Swack. A Cockney jake-daw ousted frae it's hole. Because it's yauflf out-Wappin'd Wappin's ain. A vermin yip ! Wha aucht the ither ane ? Heth. That reiver o' the puir at Scadhope Howes — A ravener, weel-named Hogg. Swack. A green-e'ed soo ! Let it scud hame an' snoukle in its cruive. 46 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act ii. An' raise its red-haired litter for the pat. Its stickin'-day has daw'd ! Proceed, proceed ! Hcth. As Chairman o' this monster meetin', I declare The motion to be cairried, sirs, yoonanymusly — That means, be us a' ! Dr Paul. Proceed, then, with the new enrolment. (To Simtckcr.) My friend, you have the books ? Swack. The books are here ; But hoo is't Maister Hootsman's sittin' dumb? Heth. I hope to ca' him sune our Praisident ! [Loud (ippliiiisc. ) Hoots. Dear friends, with your approval and support, I meant to-nig"ht to dedicate myself — My life — my public services to yovi ; But rig'ht a-head of this resolve of mine Two recent checks have grown to hindrances, And absolutely bar my purposed act — Or at the least postpone 't indefinitely. Dr Paul. But you'll effect it yet ? Hoots. Yes, if I may. Swack. What should we do the nicht — a' thae folk here ? [Dr Paul, Hootsman, and Swacker, sitting side by side near the platform., converse privately a minute or tiw. ) Hoots. Proceed wi' the enrolment and elections. The Old Club to the New will serve as guide. [Hear, hear.) Swack. Weel, first I move that a' the Pressmen present Be askit to retire to the Tap-room, An' that we sit this meeting- out oursels. In private — 'hint fast lockit doors an' boles ! Stoure. Sin' Maister Hootsman canna weel the nicht Bide still an' be install'd our Praisident, I beg to second Sandy Swats at wance. A' thae Reporters, at the Tap-room fire, Fu' weel may cheer themsel's wi' pipes an' pints, Doun till the time the meetin' skails for guid ! Heth. Gin ony ither motion's to be made. SCENE 6.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 47 The noo's the time to mak' it — for, if no', I sail belyve pit this ane to the vote ! What say ye ? Is there nae amen'ment till't ? Weel, than, I say that this ane, like the first, Is carried, holus-bolus, out-an'-out, Haill an' yoonanymus, an' a' the rest ! You paper chields tak' tent ; mak' for the Tap, An' there content yoursel's until we come. An' aiblins o' this meetin's secret pairt Stray odds an' ends 'ill seep out efterhend, An' pay ye weel for your langf wait an' pains ! Neist meetin', Maister Hootsman, ye'll attend ? Hoots. Our Host will tell me of next meeting- nij^ht, And all else requisite that I should know. The sudden sprung- — and yet not vmforeseen — ■ Prodigious incidents which drive me hence Will soon be patent to you one and all. And plainly demonstrate this leaving- is, Tho' mourn'd, all unpreventible by me. Good night ! I shall be back — if I'm alive ! {Loud and prolonged applause.) \Exeu7ii Hootsman, Tubbs atid the crowd of Pressmen. ACT III. Scene I. Bents. A Room in the Mansion-house. Enter Sir Hugh Seafaem and Donald Shiels. Sir High. Within the library I'll see him, then. Place wine and spirits and yon nick-nacks there, And do not trouble more. Whither went he ? Shiels. Down to the beach. He very strangely said, " To pick up somewhat our topography, And learn for himself the lie o' the land ! " His hobby having been for years, quoth he, " That pleasant romance, hight Geology ! " Sir Hugh. I cannot understand him, Donald, man ! 48 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act hi. He niusl mean somethint^-, surely, having- come To see us all the way from such far parts ? Shtcls. God grant he may bring brighter days for Bents ! Sir Hiioh. That is impossible since Jack is lost ! Old Man! you are like "Caleb Balderstone," And would your master cheer with hopeless " hopes '' While you have wit to scheme and tongue to wag ! Shicls. We do not kiunv, Sir Hugh ! Upon my word, You'd tire out " Caleb's " self with your despair ! Has not young Hootsman pointed outfor years, That, of evidence of death, or even of wreck. Not even one vestige positive 's to hand ? Sir Hugh. I know, I know. Yet are we all undone ; For Bents' estate, being now reft of rents. And weighted with encumbrances and debts, Hangs really like a millstone round my neck, And drags me lower, surely, day by day ? [A bell rings loudly. ) Shicls. That's the American — it's just his time ! Go to the library — I'll bring him there. Ma34-)e it was your better angel. Sir, That sklented o'er the seas this Yank to Bents ? Sir Hugh. If so, it was not his — or she is blind ! \Exeiml. Scene II. {The sa?7te) The Library. Sir Hugh discoz'ercd in an easy chair by the fireside. Enter Shiels ushering in the American Traveller. Shiels. Sir Hugh, a traveller from North America ! \Exit. Sir Hugh, {coming forward). I've had a notice of your coming. Sir ! Pray, take a seat, and something near the fire, Our weather is to-day Canadian. Trav. Not quite, not quite, but somewhat cool withal. Excuse me, my dear Sir, if I advise That we at once our business tackle to. Sir Hugh. Your haste accords with my desire, my friend. SCENE 2.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 49 For I near split with curiosity To know to whom I am indebted now For this so-all-unlooked-for visit, Sir. Trav. Believe me, I have reasons for this haste. You read the letter from our mutual friend, Dick Scroop of Philadelphia, which I left For your perusal with your serving" man ? Sir Hugh. I did ; but it afforded me no clue As to your errand here, but simply said The bearer was a wealthy gfentleman, A " Pittsburg merchant of unchalleng'ed grit," Who carried news which might mean much to me. Well ! what's this news ? Don't, Sir, prolong suspense, It's killing to a man oppress'd as I am ! Trav. I guess you're right. Well, then, excuse my ^tyle, And answer my well-meaning queries straight : Qi this " estate " you are sole owner now, And yet in monetary evils sunk Beyond the seeming reach of remedy ? Sir Hugh. Your "guess" is true, tho' guess it can but be. Trav. No, Sir, no guess, hut fad, attestedi^ct \ And Pm along to prove another fact. Which will, no doubt, so turn the previous fact — A seeming plague — into a real good. Sir Hugh. How in the name of sense can it do that ? Trav. How? You've disentail'd your property, I hear, And looking for a purchaser to-day ? Sir Hugh. I am. But if one's found, and Bents is sold — No matter what the price of it may be — My creditors will swallow't — " stoop-and-roop ! " Trav. Don't sell it. I am here to stay your hand ; You know not anything of its true worth. Sir Hugh. I don't ? Excuse me. Sir, Bents' thirteen farms, All arable, are now worth less for rent Than are the deserts and the heathy hills. Surrounding Lammerlaw and Spartleton.* * The two highest hills of the Lammermoor range. D 50 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act hi. Trav. And what its minerals do you reckon at ? Sir Hugh. Its what? The only minerals Bents' lands possess Are sea-side " chuckle stanes " and weed-clad rocks, Besides some land-fast boulders here and there. Trav. No coal ? Sir Hugh. We cart all ours from Shaleylumps, It being- the nearest colliery to Bents. Trav. Ne'er studied mineralog^y, Sir Hugh ? Sir Hugh. Humbug- ! What's science to a man like me, Stricken and double bent with wretched cares ? Trav. Well, if you've not, your son has, to effect. Sir Hugh. Son ? Mine ? I haven't son alive ; The Major on the staff of General Rench, Who, on the battlefield of Kimberley, Fell like a soldier and a worthy Scot, Was my first son and heir ; my other one — The "born g-eologist," the " science man," And "idol of the people," proved a weed, And ran away to sea, and soon g^ot drowned ! Trav. "And ran away to sea"? Your second son? Surely, Sir Hug^h, there must have been a cause To make a scientist from Scotland flee ? Sir Hugh. Ay ! One almost too terrible to tell. My second wife and Jack — both of an ag^e — Loved — some time secretly — until, one day, I fell on them myself by accident, When coming from the hunt down Garford Hill. Trav. Garford Hill ? Why, Garford's leagues from here ! Sir Hugh. I know it is. Trav. Was no ow'i with you, sir ? Sir HugJi. A man the name of Sandy Swacker was, A strange original, a publican. Of whom, had I but time, I could recount Amusing narratives. Trav. So could I, too. Sir Hugh. You know him, then ? T7'av. Somewhat. I slept last night Within his " royal bed," wherein, last year , SCENE 2.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS The " Prince of Tartary "—friend of the " Duke's"— Laid his annointed bones, and in the morn Pass'd twenty sovereigns to Swacker's till, For such imperial, such ang-elic rest. Which, that bed had afforded him for hours ! Sir Hugh. Quite so. The man's a puzzle many ways. The shrewdest Scot alive, I've sometimes thoui,'-ht. [Bell rings. ) Re-enter Shiels. Shiels. Pardon. Sandy Tweedie, sir, the little smith. Sir Hugh. Let him come in ; but, Butler, little drink. Shiels. A mug of ale — no more — and then he trots. [ExiL Enter Tweedie. Sir Hugh. Well, Sandy, now ? No English ! What is it ? Out with it straight in Scots — Thy " grand auld tongue ! " Tweed. Sir Hugh ? Why, hang it, why ! Here it is! (Takes from his pocket and displays a long account bill.) Sir, hang it, your account for five years' wark — A yaird in length, if ane wad measure it ! Sir High. Nonsense ! Put it in your forge, and give it wind ! You've flaff'd that sheet so long it's grown mere grime — 'Twould beat even Donald to decipher it ! Trav. What's the amount ? The poor man's needy, may be ? Tweed. Why, hang it, sir, I am, and so is Mag ; She hasna had a stitch sin' it began. An' e'en the breeks I weir mysel' are dune — I coft them frae auld Brockie, hang it, sir. The back end o' our waddin — shair as death ! Trav. What's the amount ? Timed. Fifty-three and seeven. Trav. A mere old song. Receipt it. Here's the cash. Tweed. The love o' God ! Ye dinna mean it, sir ? Trav. I think I do — if not against your will ? 52 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act hi. Tweed. Eh, sir ! Tho' I'm a smith, a maister smith, We hae'na eaten in our house for years Wan bite o' butcher meat, so help me, God ! Trav. [^Handing hiiii tlie cash). We'll say, Sir Hug-h Was much behind with me, 'which is the truth — And that I paid him part by paying you ? Tweed. Why, hang' it, sir, I trow that trick richt weel, I've dune't a hunder times wi' Maister Green. Trav. Then, hold your tongue, and blab to neig-h- bours naug'ht. Tweed. Me blab ! Behang- it, sir, I'm kenn'd a'' the pairish owre for a deescrait man. Sir Hugh. Of course you are. Therefore drink up this. {A g'lass of brandy-) And thank the g'entleman, and say good-bye. Tweed. {To the Trav.). Yes, hang it, sir, I must say ye're a brick ! I ken it's no guid mainners, but here's luck. An' may ye never want an honest dram. \^Exit. Trav. A new toast, surely? Is that imp a smith ? Sir Hugh. He is. The Linkside smith — a decent man. Albeit diminutive and singular. An honest, decent man. But why, dear sir. Could you out-face me so by what you've done ? Trav. Sir Hugh ! you talk as one deceived, Which truly you must be until you know. But tell me first of Jack — of " Master Jack." Sir Hugh. Jack ? Jack was lost — shipwrecked at sea, alas ! Flying from his injured parent's righteous wrath. Yet poor, poor Jack ! He had his qualities, Despite his pranks with Lady Julia, Stepmother to him — by mine own mad act ! Trav. How did he " fly," and wherefore did he so, That he got " lost " — shipwrecked., I think, you said ? Sir Hugh. After the Garford Hill disclosure, I, At once, began my suit of separation. Which was, of course, successful in due time. Well, also at that time, in Bentie Bay SCENE 2.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 53 Our yacht the " Wallace Wicht," lay filtiiii^- up — A yacht, you know, which was bequeathed to Jack When his name-uncle, the testator, died. — Well, when my suit was gain'd, that self-same nii^ht, I with a shilling- cut poor Jack adrift ! And he, that same night too, but later on, Cut Bents and me adrift at Bentie Bay, And thence sailed to his doom in Dornoch Firth ! Trav. How ? You ne'er had evidence of his vessel's wreck ? Sir Hugh. True, true — no cei'tain evidence, but, then. Through all these years no shred of proof's to hand That my poor boy still lives. Trav. I bring full proof That when, a month ago, I Paris left. Not only was your son alive and well. But flourishing exceedingly all ways ! Sir Hugh. {Growing suddenly suspicious, and loudly ringing the bell. ) Out with you, vile impostor ! pack, I say ! Donald ! Here ! Kick me out this Yankee scamp And let him 'mongst the village fish-guts' heaps Find lair appropriate ! Trav. Thy son Jack lives ! I am his messenger ! And thou art now One of the wealthiest of this wealthy land — A Coal Lord, namely, equal with the best ! Sir Hugh. {Still more excited. ) Donald ! Come here ! come here ! come here at once ! Shackles and fetters fetch along with you ! This mansion-house of Bents is all o'er-run With an outbreak from Morningside * this day. And nothing's that it seems ! Trav. {pleadingly). O come. Sir Hugh, Sit down and have a quiet chat with me ! I tell you, calmly, Bents estate is worth Twjce thirty times your recent estimate ! And that, moreover. Jack not only lives * A district of Edinburgfh in which there is ;i lar^e lunatic as3'kini. 54 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act hi. But that he is this day in Notre Dame The " groom " accepted of his erst step-ma ! Sir Hugh. {Runtii/ig to the door.) Donald! Donald! Donald ! this Yank is mad ! Bring- strength and let us have him shackled straight ! My boy was drowned in Dornoch Firth, and yet This madman rises and declares he lives ! Re-enter Shiels i?i a hurried manner. Shiels. My poor dear Master ! sore-tried old Sir Hugh ! Mayhap a brighter destiny for Bents Dawns with the breaking of this gladsome news Of Master Jack ! O, I o'erheard it all, Being at work below the gallery. During your confab with this gentleman — And this I say, you ought to dance for joy Instead of flaring up and belching foam, And howling like a daft dog at the moon ! Sit down and hear the gentleman explain. Both Hootsman's hopes and mine he can afiirm. Or I'm not Donald, your old butler-valet. But his shrunk skeleton, or senile ghost ! Sir Hugh. {To the Trav.) Sir, pardon me, but play not with my ills, To hoax a man so sunk in cares as I, Might prove a fatal trick to one of us ! Trav. Sir Hugh, I do not "play," but work right hard And seriously and anxiously for you. Sit down, and let me prove the gist of this. Sir Hugh. Prove what ? prove life in death ? — that one, years drowned. In Dornoch estuary, is living still ! Some Yankee fraud, some " dodge" of quackery. Away, ye juggler ; come not nigh my rage ! Shiels. Sit down. Sir Hugh ! This man's a gentle- man. From Master Jack he brings a note to you ! Sit down and read it straight ! Trav. Yes ! Here it is ! SCENE 2.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 55 [Hands a letter to Sir Hugh, who, recognising in tlie inscription the handwriting of his long-lost son, drops the paper and staggers hack to his seat. Instantly the note is picked up and read by the butler. ) Shiels. Listen ! my Master, listen ! Jack still lives ! O, Lord of Heaven, yes ! Hear what he says ! {Reads.) " Father, dear father, all of me not known, " My business partner in our Pittsburg works, " Abe John Bright Steele, a worthy gentleman, " Who bears to you this note will now reveal,— " For, yet I may not do so orally, " Being all uncertain how you think and feel " Anent our matters since I left old Bents. " But whate'er message you may deign for me, " I, 'in the future, to my utmost power, " Herewith now bind myself to heed and do. " And so subscribe myself your loving son." Sir Hugh. I'm flabbergasted, I'm bamboozled clean ! O, sir, excuse me ! I was not myself! But how was he rescued from the wreck'd yacht ? Trav. It ne'er was wreck'd at all, and all they lost Was some life-buoys and spars in the North Sea. Next day, the wind being fair, they Kilda clear'd, And found that they were in the common course Of your Scots liners trading with the States ; So, drifting in the wake of one of these. They did succeed at length in getting tow'd Into Long Island, where the yacht was sold. And with its price some lands near Pittsburg bought. — A happy hoard this ultimately prov'd, A Nature Storehouse of the richest ores, And rare deposits of bitumen coal. Which, with his geologic lore and skill. Within a year made Jack a millionaire ! Sir Hugh. Prodigious, truly! Where's the wastrel now ! Trav. His wooing-time he's lengthening still in France, Young, healthy, wealthy, honour'd and esteem'd ! Sir Hugh. And he has sent you here ? 56 DOUN I' TH' LOUDONS [act hi. Trnv. Coming- to Scotland, He knew I was, so beg^gf'd me to see you, Because of Major Hug-h he'd heard the fate — • Sorrowing- and pitying" both you and him — As well as of vour disentailing- aims, Urgfed by financial ills and land distress, Solely with the view, and your pen-nission, Humbly to help you to his utmost power. Letting- byg^ones be bygones now and aye. Sir Hugh. Throug-h what, or whom ? Trav. Himself or me. Sir Hugh. He's betrothed to the lady I divorced ? Trav. Thai had been doom'd when first they met. Sir Hug-h, Thoug-h't had not mere divorce bvit death incurr'd. Sir Hugh. I fear that's true. When purpose you to leave ? Trav. After I have convinced you of the wealth — Enormous mineral wealth which you possess. Sir Hugh. In sea-weed cover'd rocks and barren sands ? Trav. Already to the west of Bents 'tis tapp'd — Your son, " the scientist," has known it long- — And, briefly, I am here to prove the fact. Sir Hugh. A North Pole search and Darien Scheme combined ! Them both outrag-eous and infatuate ; But have your play, and let me know your luck. Trav. My dear friend, bravely said ! Then, by your leave, But wholly at my risk and cost, with care Shall I to-morrow demonstrate this truth ! Meanwhile, at your old Sea Horse Inn I'm found. Sir Hugh. What ! At The Inn ! This House of Bents make yours. None is so welcome here as one from Jack ! Trav. Thanks ! Morrow morn at ten I'm here ag-ain. [Exit. Sir Hugh. Donald ! Are you here ? Shiels. Yes, I am here. Sir Hugh. What think you of us now ? SCENE 3.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 57 Shiels. Sir Hugh, On all men's matters, save your own, you are Exact and logical to a degree — A very modern Solomon on these — But in your own concerns you squash at once, And welter like a specious James the Sixth ! Did I, did not young Hootsman tell you this, And all along get sneer'd and mock'd at for't ? Where are ye now. Sir Hugh, where are ye now ? A spunkie Yankee coalman from athort the seas Comes on a wintry day, and, with a breath. Blows o'er the moon like reek your curst despair ! O ! Are ye not ashamed to look at me ? Sir Hugh. Donald! Leave me alone — I cannot speak — My head's a maelstrom of surprise and thought ! Shich. A hotch-potch rather of stark bosh and fear ! \Exeitnt. Scene HI. Main Street, Linkside. T]ic vilhigc adjoining Bents. En/er The Traveller. Trav. An odd, old, little Scottish town this is ; Its very air smells of antiquity ; What lanes, what streets, what alleys everywhere I All angles are observed, no order rules, Except its own old order of disorder, Which is as gross as it is general. Enter Tweedie /ro;;/ his sviifhy. Tweed. I heard at the Sea Horse 'twas there ye stey'd, And hang it, sir, I've watched here ever since, To thank ye owre again for what ye did ! Trav. No thanks — only keep mum, my friend, a while ; Sir Hugh by me will soon be paid in full A great sum owing to him through his land. Been here long, have you, here in Bents, I mean ? Tweed. Hm-m ! Sir ! Weel, yes ! let me see — yes — I'm richt ! 58 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act hi. I cuist out with the Markis — or, at least, His factor, Maister " Roupemout," ye ken — An' flittit here frae Garfuird doun next term. Six years come Whitsunday. Trav. From Garford town ! Came ye so far ? Then Swacker you must know — The landlord of the Gray Sheep Inn up there ? Tweed. Sandy Swats ! Ken Sandy Swats, speir ye? Lord, man, as weel's my ain wife Jean, I do, An' hiv dune. Sir, sin' I was man-hicht hig"h ! Trav. Indeed ! Then, no doubt. Smith, you've had even time To read him through — a tight, smart man hke you ? Tweed. Na ! na ! I ken him weel, but as for that — The man's no hvin' could read Swacker throo ! Trav. I know it, and I don't want to either. Only, because I mean to call on him — Entirely in my way of touring" round — I'd like to learn a little of him first. Therefore, if you the information wish'd Could now afford me, 'twould be worth your while ! Tweed. Hang it ! Tit for tat. Giff-gaff vuik's gitid freeuds ! A' that ye want to ken that I think fair I'se answer gin I can, sae speir awa. He needs a lang spiine that sups wT the Deil, But poortith is the mither d d airts ! Have at ye. Sir. Trav. Well, Blacksmith, is he married? Tweed. Ay, mairried and bairn'd baith ! Up in Lon'on His son's a doctor, an' his lassie bairn Is mairried to a writer chield ca'd Keggs. Trav. And who are Mick and Peg? Tweed. His servants, vow. Puir orphans baith wham he stown aff the street Frae rags and destitution — sair to see. An' doubtless waur to thole — an' braucht them up ! Trav. Gad, is that so ? Well, ^o a-head, old man. Tweed. The callant first. Weel, Swats had been in bye. SCENE 3.] DOUN r TH" LOUDONS 59 At Embro', as a juryman, ae day, An' whan the Court skailt he was skelpin' doun The famous High Street — hurryin' to his train — Whan, opposeet the Tron, a laddie bairn, As pinch'd an' wan-faced as a kirk-3'aird wraith, Bare fittit, capless, shivering- in clouts, That 'twas a shame to keep outside a grate, Slank in afore him, axin wad he buy A bawbee box o' matches for his lunt ? Noo, Sandy kind o' mindit he had seen That lad before — but where ? He thocht a-wee, Syne, a' at once, it flasht athort his mind 'Twas in The Inn at hame last harvest time — The harvest time, tak tent, that was last than — Whan he had saved him frae a wallopin' Frae his step-mither — a coorse Irish drab, Wha had a maw for drink as grit's the Firth's. Trnv. Did he kidnap the boy then right away ? Tweed. As sune's he heard Mick's tale — a waesome ane ! Swats bang'd him up, an' owre across the street To where a callant's tailor kept his stores, An' had him weeshin' weel, an' scrapit clean. An' clad a-new frae heid to heel at wance. Tniv. Some food he'd not forget ? Tweed. Swacker forget ? Ye little trow the Carle we're crackin' o' ! Bolt frae the cleeders to the feeders. Sir, The boy was hurried pell-mell, ay or no. An' stuff't outside an' in like a prize pig. Or some young faither coming frae a fair ! Tniv. Starvation kills itself! Then, after that? Tweed. Down to the Waverley as fast as hawks, An' hame to Garfuird wi' the South express. Trav. And what made he of Mick ? Sent he him back ? Tweed. He sent a letter to his folk, I heard — Whilk hasna yet been answered to this day. As far's I ken, but, onywey, young Mick Stays on an' serves him like a gratefu' tyke. An' will do till death pairts them — little doubt. 6o DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act hi. They fit ilk ither weel — tho' baith are deils, An' unco deils at that, in mony ways ! Trav. And what of Peggy? She's an orphan, too? Tiveed. A Garfuird orphan wench whom Sandy's wife Brang up an' schuled sin' e'er her faither dee'd — A wordy man, wha wrocht the Common land Whilk Swacker teuk a tack o' afif the toun. Tniv. Bravo "Swats!!" Know ye the Marquis, \'ulcan ? Tiveed. Tho' for lang years I did his smiddy wark, I canna say I ken him person'ly. His line o' life an' mine lay aye abreid ; I shod the puir brutes that he raced to death — • Hang it, the toil was sair, the profit sma' ! He is a Cath'lic — if he's onything — A patchy Pawpist an' a Tory, tae, A strick laird wi' his tenants, ane an' a', Tho' no sae bad's his factor, " Roupemout " — A monster that sud herd wi' cannibals. Serpents and taeds in Darkest Africae ! Trav. Pve heard as much before. How old is he? — I mean the Marquis — let the factor go. If he's unmarried I might call on him, I understand his place can stand a look ? Tnvccd. Nae grander bit in a' the Loudons, Sir! Cleuch Glen itsel' is worth a jaunt in June, Tho' on Shanks-naigie it were ta'en frae France ! The Markis is a seeventy-year-auld rogue — A turfy spendthrift n'ar his tether's end ! Nae greater stickler for his caste an' class Lan'-lords it on the Europe Continent ! Trav. He's married and hath issue ? Tweed. Ay, them baith ! His wife's a leddy — guid, but unco still ; Some g'ang their lenths an' say she grieves for him — But she's a subjeck I ne'er bather wi', Haein' eneuch at hame to mind my ain ! His sons naebody kens in Garfuird toun ; They baith were schuled in England, an' sin' syne They've been Life-Gairdsmen ofifishers, I hear. SCENE 3.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 61 Tall, wice-like chields, but delicate in health, Yet baith far travellers when off on leave. Trav. He has no daughters? Tweed. Nae daiichfcrs, shairly. But, Sir, he has a ^liece that wad mak up For a haill raijment o' the ither kind ! Eh, Sirss, what bonniness an' sweetness is ! Dinna gang near the Castle, an ye wish To keep hairt hale ! She'd mesmereeze you, tae. As she has dune a multitude o' swells, Forbye young Hootsman — her man-match only, I do believe, that Britain bauds this day ! Trav. Ay ! What of him — I've often heard him named. And even praised beyond the meed of men ? Tweed. Weel ! like his gutcher — his gran'faither, Sir — Folk o' a' ranks do a' but worship him. An' never think it wrang ! Tmv. Great Scott ! What for ? Tweed. Baith for his gallant heart an' clever heid — His matchless bouk an' his heroic sowl — His noble deeds dune for his fallow men — They've saved the lives o' mony in his time ! — Ance, Sir Hugh's son — the youngest ane — wild Jake, Ae day at sea, before the very een O' Leddy Mab hersel', an' mony mair ! — No speakin' o' the race frae whilk he's sprung, A breed o' sturdies, Sir, nae shire can bate ! Trav. Well, grant all that. What is he in himself? Tweed. Did you e'er read the Life 0' Wallace Wicht? Trav. Half a score of times — I'm an old Scotty, At least, my daddy was a Bents boy born ! Tweed. I'm pleased to hear't. Weel, Hootsman's Wallace back, An' gin' ye want to ken aucht mair o' John, Rax doun " The Life," an' read wi' micht an' main — I maun gae in, I hear the 'prentice ringin' ! Trav. One moment more. But, first, take this — sans thanks. And e'en without so much as scanning it Until I'm gone [puts a '•''tip'' i?iio the sniitJis waistcoat pocket). 62 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act hi. Know you if it be true That Hootsman is eng-ayed to Lady Mab ? Speak me your mind, I am concern'd to know. T'-dYcd. "Engag-ed?" Hang- it, I canna say for Me//, But, I could threep the deil they're unco cosh ! Ay, oiprc the lugs in liivc, baith tane an' tither. For ance I saw them, when they sawna me, StrolUng- afore me doun the avenue ! Tmv. That's all We'll meet again perhaps, old man ? I'm at the Sea Horse Inn, a week or more. Tweed. Sir, Hootsman's a' ye ever heard o' him, An' muckle mair ! The Markis is a vratch ! An idle wastrel a' his haill born days ; He's spent three fortunes- -a' the produce. Sir, lord hoo mony scores o' term folk, Wha toil'd, an' toil'd, an' had to toil ag-ain That he micht sport an' spend, horse-race, an' sin ! [Exeunt Scene IV. Castle Cleuch. A Room in the Castle. Enter The Marouis and a Policeman. Mar. Ten is the hour, and he's a punctual wretch. I hear him now ! Enter Hootsman. Mar. You come here by appointment, do you not ? Hoots. I do — to fix the clauses of the lease, The new lease I'm to have of Leddyslove. Mar. Ladies' love! try hate of gentlemen instead. For all their malisons you've richly earned ! Where is the Lady Mabel? Where's my niece? Hoots. She's in the Castle, is she not, my lord? 1 do not understand why you speak thus. Mar. You know not where she is? Then, officer, Make him your prisoner, without ado. And in the county jail immure him close Until the hangman comes and lets him out ! Pol. Sir, I am sorry, but lend me your wrists, I do but do my duty doing this. SCENE 4.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 63 Hoots. Stand off. Of what am I accused at all ? Pol. Abduction of the Lady Mabel Drewe, Of Werpe, Northumberland, the rig-htful heir, — And Ward in Chancery of this noble lord And Sir Hugh Seafaem, Baronet of Bents. Come, now, give me your hands I Hoots. How will you to the county town proceed? Enter anotJici- Policeman. Second Pol. In custody, we'll take you in our coach ; Perhaps you may get home when you explain ; But we must take you there— no choice is ours. Hoots. Before we go, O tell me, is she lost ? Second Pol. On Saturday the Marquis spoke with her, Since when she's not been seen, nor can be found. Hoots. Has Garford town been search'd ? Second Pol. All — twenty times, And all the country side around as well ! But, come along, we may not answer you. Mar {pointing to the handcuffs). Is this the union which thou schemed so for ? A holy nuptial, truly ! Links of steel Its certain bond, till Berry* shatters them ! Have off, thou hypocrite, with thy fit bride ! Hoots. I ^o., but I'll return, and when 1 do, Relations may be changed — yet all I wish Is that this blunder unto thee may bring No more pain than to me. Gyves only hurt And are an anguish to an evil mind ! The soul that's innocent they neither ban. Nor burden, bar, nor bind — thus all my care Hath for its object one I shall not name, So, please, set out at once ! \Exeunt the police, with Hootsman iii custody. Mar. {alone). If that youth's a true sample of his kind, Our peasantry, by heaven, then from me Do draw this day reluctant reverence — A feeling of mixed hate, regard, and spite ! A physique like a hero's of old time, The public executioner. 64 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act hi. A port like Hector, a majesty and power, Out-doing" Caesar's, and withal repose, Beneficence, and sjentleness divine ! that he had been Hogg — informer Hogg, And not the glory of mankind he is ! Enter Tipem. [To Tip.) Nothing further heard of her ? Tip. Not a breath. 1 call'd, my lord, on Swacker, as you bid, And question'd him along the lines you sketch'd. But — Shoo ! No matter — yet I might as well, I'm sure, have tried to coax the new town clock, Which now adorns the Free Church spire, to strike Backwards, the hours that it toll'd forth last year, As to get " Swats " to say what he would not. In sooth, my lord, I met a questioner. And left him as a lawyer-worried clown Flees from the witness-box when pump'd bone dry ! Mar. I fear'd as much — knowing the rogue of old ! What of the searchers ? Are they still astir ? Tip. More so than ever. All the villagers, Estate hands, countrymen, and boys. Have scour'd the woods, and have had Garvie dragg'd As far up in the moors as Brocklie Howes, And down to where, emboguing in the sands. It splits in tiny rills and disappears. East of Bents mansion-house — long leagues from here. Mar. No more word from our agency at Werpe ? Those rough Northumbrians like Mammoths move, To quicken them an earthquake's not too much ! What did her factor, Tom Yorke, telegraph ? Tip. Only the wording of his "genuine sorrow. And sympathy with you and family ! " But of his lady he had nought to tell. Further than that she'd not been seen at Werpe Since 'fore May-day last year. Mar. What's your own thought ? Think you she died because I thwarted her ? Tip. No ! not at all. I think, my lord, she fled. Mar. Whereto? I've sounded all her friends, old Tip, SCENE 4] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 65 Both near and far ! Even Hootsman, I am sure, To-day is all uncertain of her fate. Tip. Perhaps. Perhaps. 'Tis hard to say, my lord ! Was he arrested while I was at " Swats"? Mar. He was. Handcuff'd and hustled by the police, And yet no further vex'd than Wallace was. Confronted with the hordes at Stirling Bridge ! Where is the chaiiffenr, know you ? Tip. In his shop Next the machine-house ; I heard him at work. Mar. Warn him to keep the newest motor fix'd, Ready to start instanter, day or night ; And publish this Reward in every print Issued to-morrow in the British Isles. {A rap at the door heard. ) See who is there, and, Tip, leave us alone If it be Father Peter, as I think. Tip. My lord, I will. {Goes and opens the door.) Enter Father Peter. Mar. Good morrow, Father. You are early here ? \Exit Tipeni. F. Peter. Down at your north lodge Widow Hesslin pass'd Within the hour : An exit sweet had she. Mar. What, Father! Is the Widow Hesslin dead? She ope'd the gate for me on Saturday, And she my junior was by two full years ! F. Peter. O that we might, my son, as quickly open The gate which bars for us the narrow way That leads to peace on' earth and bliss beyond, As yon weak, trembling woman did for thee The gross material one to strife and sin ! Mar. That prayer finds echo in my inmost heart ! But other things claim our immediate care. Which we must tackle to with all our strength ? F. Peter. Verily, my son, and therefore, let me ask In this world's style, as it is of this world. Has nothing more transpired of your lost ward? Mar. No. Nothing. Only confirmation strong E 66 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act hi. That she has fled, and means her flight to be, F"rom our control and guardianship, for good ! F. Peter. The prison van pass'd by me coming here, Was that vain heretic, young Hootsman, in it? Mar. Undoubtedly, hand-cufif'd and guarded too ! But if the fiscal find no evidence Aff'ording strong suspicion of his guilt. The law^ binds him to liberate him straight ? And there is none — save those two lines of script, Upon a portion of a mislaid note. Found by her maid and given me by Hogg ? F. Peter. And that script only indicates withal Their mutual sworn love and fix'd resolve To die the death rather than wed apart ? If so, farewell our proselyte to Rome ! Our whole lures thitherwards were vanities ! Both socialist and heretic are free To propagate henceforth their "modern thoughts," And poison deathless souls with draughts from hell ! Mar. With due humility and all respect, I beg to diff"er, Reverend Father Peter, From this too-hasty — hence, mistaken view Of our position now. Were she but found, I think rd find a way out of this slough — A way less dread than yours. F. Peter. Announce it, then. Mar. Great ills need whiles great remedies for cure ? The hour she comes within my power again. That happy hour sees us for Dover bound In my new carriage motor, shut from view, And whirling southwards, swift as mercury With some love-gift for heaven's Queen from Jove ! F. Peter. And then ? Mar. Then, doubtless, Neptune o'er his gulph would find A ready mean us to convey to Gaul, And re-install us in our autocar. In which the priory of Aix were near As I am now to you. F. Peter. " First catch your hare ! " Persuasion, too, the convent must precede — I could not give it sanction otherwise. SCENE 5.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 67 Mar. Her acquiescence, Father, is secured In this seal'd document {holding up a packet)., and all were well Were she once found ! F. Peter. No tidings of her yet ! What can it mean ? Mar. Or flight, or suicide. Impossible to tell. But O'Rourke comes — Yon dour, dark man, M*Levey's relative — From Scotland Yard, and by to-night's express, And I g-ive room for hope this mystery. So dark and painful now, will, in his skill, And intellectual search-light, be made plain, Yea, plain as night's is by the orb of day — Renewing for us floods of light and joy ! F. Peter. The Lord, His angels, and His saints I pray Thy hope emerge in fact ! Mar. That it may do. Hold thyself ready. Father, every hour To leap and ^o with us — O'Rourke will win ! F. Peter. Keep him from Swacker's ken! An revoir ! \Exeunt. Scene. V. Garford. Before Swacker's Inn. Enter Swacker and Kate MacNiven. Swack. Keep lown, lown, Kate. I ken ye like a job ? Gang ye, then, up to Leddyslove ferm road, An' wait, an' watch, an' linger there until Ye see young Hootsman. Kdlc. Young Hootsman, quo' ye ? Young Hootsman's i' th' jile sin' brekfast time ! O wae an' lack-a-day ! A truer man Has no been penn'd within a prison's wa's In Scotland sin' the awfu' killin' days In Co venantin' times ! Swack. He's no' there lang ! They daurna keep him ! They've nae reason for it. Tell him that auld " Swats " trows where Maaby is, An' bid him write, throo you an' me, at wance This wey, nae ither way than this, syne, Kate, 68 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act hi. Ye'se preen it on the inside Shonnie's coat, On here [hikes of his own coat, and explains iv/ure she is to pin the letter on Shonnies), syne, after that, sen' Shonnie doun To g-et — ye understand? — yer usual books. Which, neist time he comes doun, ye should return. But no' until ye hae a note for Mab. D'ye see ? Kate. I ye absorb hke fire. O Sandy Swats ! O Sandy, Sandy Swats ! O that ye'd been About Queen Mary when Langside was lost, Yon morn at Fotheringay had never daw'd ! Sivaek. Shut up ! Tak' this {gives her money), an' tramp without a word ! [Exeunt. Scene VI. [The same) An upper bedroom in Dr PauPs Manse. Mrs P.\ul and Ladv Mabel discovered. Lady Mub. Does still the minister not know I'm here? Mrs Paul. Not yet — the time's not yet ! Lady Mab. Why comes not John ? Mrs Paul. He will be here. He knows that you are here. But prudence stay's his coming till fit time. O my dear lady, rest ! John says himself Our Counsellor is a friend deserving- trust Unlimited of us — confide in him ! Lady Mab. Whereat and when did my John tell you that ? Mrs Paul. Why, in the note I told you of last night. Lady Mab. Where is that bless'd note now, dear Mrs Paul? Mrs Paul. It being- but a hasty pencil scrap. To reassure me things would all work well. For safety I did drop it in the fire. Lady Mab. But surely you may name our Counsellor? Mrs Paul. Indeed, he said you were to be inform'd. So that on knowing you might doft" suspense. And, under felt assurance, find repose. Lady Mab. I sl-iall, when John has said so ! Tell me, then. SCENE 7.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 69 J/r.v Paul. He is the gentleman you were to seek If John's conference with the Marquis closed Unfavourably for your union — any time. Lady Mnb. I thought so, and 'tis well. I know our man ! In foresight and resource few fellow him, While his whole all is for those needing aid. Dear Mistress Paul, thanks, thanks! I'll sleep to-night! Mrs Paul. And may your dreams match your supreme desert ! \Exeiiut. Scene VII. [The same) The private apartment in Swacker's Inn. Enter vSwacker and Mrs Paul. Sivack. Come here nae mair, an' steyna lang 'enoo ! The Markis an' his priests are a' on hunt. An' e'en the great O'Rourke frae Scotland Yaird They're fetchin' doun the nicht to help their hounds — I worm'd it a' out Tipem here mysel' ! Mrs Pant. O Lord ! What shall we do ? Swaek. Nae whingeing here ! But gae ye hame at wance, ma'm, quite the thing — As smiling, an' jocose-like as a saunt, Gaun up for his reward at the last day ! Leave a' to me — believe me, ye hae need ! An' ilka nicht afore ye gae to bed Slip out yer lane, an' 'neth the aipple tree Lift up the flet stane that I tauld ye o'. An' tak what's lying there, and there lay doun Whate er ye hae for me, or 'tither loon. Mrs Paul. May I not yet consult the minister? Swark. Na ! neither minister nor servant lass ! Blah not to livin' sowl of woman born. Do as ye're doin' now, until I sign ! \E.xit Mrs Paul. E//ter }amie Horsman. //ors. A-lord-a-mercy, Sandy, what is this — They say the maister's putten in the jile ! An' that the term, tae, in the Mid-day Neios, Is adverteezed to let at Whitsunday,' 70 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act hi. The praisent tenant no' to offer for't, The Lord preserve us, Sandy, is it true? An' gin it's true, g"uid guide us, what does't mean? Swack. It just means what ye've said. Sit ye doun there. An' tell us hoo far on yer plooin's noo? The snaw has gotten this time quick dispatch ? I think the spring means to be late this year, But that the simmer slap will back her up? The mercats, tae, are rising, south an' north, Corn, spuds, an' butcher meat, an' even oo\ Are selling muckle better than they've dune. Ye'll tak ae nip frae me afore ye go! Hors. "Nips"! Sandy Swats! an' crack o' ploos an' snaw Wi' a' this heapit on our heids this day ! Ye surely think I'm daft ! Swack. An' sae ye are, An ye gang howlin' like a howdie wife, Because something unwish'd is what has come ! If Hootsman's in the jile, is't Hootsman's meed — The richt reward for aucht that Hootsman's dune ? Hors. No' that I ken o' — jist the opposeet ! A wee worm on the wildest wilderness It's no' in him to wrang ! S^vack. Then let him be. The jile can neither harm nor hold him lang, An" what seems noo a deevlish bitter straik May pruve ere lang Dame Fortune's kindly clap, Afore she turns him owre to lasting guid. Hois. I downa see hoo that can be ava ! Swack. I ance was " taken up " in Lon'on streets, And I, to pruve slap-bang my innocence. Had to accompany a bobby to A gent.'s place, name o' Cavendish, whereat. As it sae happen'd, Jean, my wife, was cook ! So there the twa o's met for the first time. An' teuk an' clang thegither like twa burrs Wham time has fail'd to sinder to this day ! What think ye, James, o' that? Had it no' been For that affront, whilk at the time to me SCENE 7.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 71 Felt waur than death itsel', we ne'er had met, We ne'er had courtit, cuisten out, nor mairried, Ne'er haen our bairns, hiijh-times, nor tirrivees, In ane anither's fallowship, atweel ! Hors. But what in a' the world's he jiled for? An' what for is the v'era ferm to let? The bonnie Leddy Mab that's run awa, He's surely no to wyte for — is he, Sir? Swack. ' Jamie, look here ! It's just as plain to me That wi' the Markis John's at loggerheids. As that we twa are met, but what's the cause O' either ane or ither's hard to tell. Hors. Div ye no ken ? or dinna want to tell ? Swnck. I hae my thochts, but thochts are onl)- thochts, An' no' like facks that folk ken " winna ding," But ehiels, instead, uncertain, and untried. As strangers are, wha may be seers an' saunts. Or sumphs, or scoundrels o' the blackest dye. For aucht that ane can say whan first they meet. Hors. Weel, gie's yer thochts, yer true thochts o' this job, Sandy ! let me hear — it's necessar' ! Swack. The thocht on this job I think best o' mine Is that John Hootsman is a gentleman, A gentleman be natur' an' be breedin', A gentleman be a' that he has dune Or e'er intends to do — true blue a' owre ! Hors. But that's o' him, an' no' about this fricht? 1 want to ken what we're to think o' that, An' gif the babble's been brocht on be him ? Swack. Nae doubt it has — be him, or some ane else. Hors. The Leddy Mab?— dy'e think he egg'd her on To rin awa — maybe to Gretna Green — Whare he could jine her whan the lease was sign'd, And a' was safe, hooe'er the Markis raged? Simck. John Hootsman, Jamie, is a gentleman, An' no' the back-door plotter ye wad hint ! He couldna " Qi:;^ her on to rin awa," Not even to win that angel for his bride ! An' I'm dooms sure he trows as little noo — This vera Iwur — whare that puir lassie's gane 72 DOUN I' TH' LOUDONS [act hi. As e'en the " noble " Markis does himsel', Tho' he's her uncle an' her warder baith ! Hors. But what syne, Sand}', made the kimmer flee? An' what is't mak's the maister lose the ferm — A place his folk have held for centuries? Swack. Wow ! ye're a cute an' cog"itawting" chiel. An' should, by pittin' three an' three thegither. Be able to mak half-a-dizzen out. As swith as mony folk ! Weel, Maaby flees, An' Hootsman gets the sack within a week. Does that "remarkable coincident" No' to yer noddle hint the Markis kens — Has come to ken — something" he didna ken, Whilk in his absence, far awa abroad. He had nae chance to ken, that whilk to him — A proud aristocrat, a people's scaur, A run-dune turfite an' n'ar-ruin'd rake — E'en on the vera naming o't, I say. Wad mak' him act, as he has doubtless dune, To'rds baith young Hootsman an' his leddy ward? Hors. It seems gey like it, Sandy. Wliat cant be? It canna be the young folk's been owre thick? Swack. What wey? Hors. What wey ! Because the lass helangs Thae blazin' Suns an' Stars, the lan'lord toff's. And deuks, an' millionaires, an' walthy Jews, Sic as the Solomon an' Rothchild set, An' durstna even look sae laigh, I trow, As half-wey doun to whare the maister is, For fear they'd be defiled, or scaur'd for life. Sivack. Jamie, ye little guess what Maaby is ! She's no' the same as them ye read about. Man ! She's a brainy being — far abune — A thousand miles abune— the general ruck. An' tents not ae sark button of the class To whilk her joe belangs, sae lang as he Is what John Hootsman is — a gloris man In bouk, an' brains, an' sowl. Hors. Sandy, yer hand ! The maister is a' that, an' even mair, An' weel, in sober sooth, micht mate a queen .' SCENE 7.] UOUN r TH' LOUDONS 73 Enfer Peter Stoure excitedly. Stourc. Freends ! freends ! O freends ! It ne'er rains but it pours ! Sich awfu' news — a muckle city noo — Three hunder thousan' folk clean swallow'd up — An' crusht flet like braized beans 'neth tum'lin' wa's — A' in the time that ane micht tak' a snuflF ! An' puir Lord Bob, tae, in the stramash kill'd ! Sivack. Pate ! stop that roarin' an' explain yersel' ! What city do ye speak o' — San Francisky? Sioure. No ! that's no' it's name, it's Valparaizy, No' Francisky, anither yirthquake. Sirs ! A new ane a" thegither, stoop and roop, Whase like was never seen on airth afore — Three hunder thousan' victims at wan whup ! — An' mang- the lave Lord Muircleuch's second son — The sojer ane they ca'd Lord Bob round here ! Swack. Great God ! If this is true ! Wha tauld ye, Pate ? Stoure. I read it in the Mid-day Xews mysel' — The seeventeenth edition, fair an' square, It is the first bit o the Garfuird notes — ■ Ay ! here it is [takes a copy of this ividely-circiilated and usually fairly loell-informed Newspaper, " The Lothian Mid-day News," from his pocket and hands it to Swacker, who reads aloud from it the first in- timation to this country of the terrible South American Cataclysm referred to. Swack. What think ye, freends ? The Markis is. An' aye has been, nae flatterer o' mine. But I would be a brute indeed if that Kept me frae feeling- for him keen this dav : His favourite tenant forcely laid in jail ; His wife, the Marchioness, in London, ill ; His son an' heir, the Yearl of Garfuird, ill ; His dear an' only niece, lost — wha kens whare ? — His ither son, in a brave search for health, Crunch'd in a yirthquake's jaws, out owre the seas ! This were eneuch to mak' a Job complain, An' for his " freends" to fa' an' burst themsel's. 74 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act hi. Were 't no' ag^ainst the laws o' God an' Man. Na, Pate, an' Jamie, tae, ne'er dream o' that — The mair sae being, as ye ken ye are, Twa o' the New Club's sworn Committee men, Appointit at the meetin' whilk saw me Made Treasurer an' Saikretar' aff hand. By vote yoonanymous as fryin' fish ! Hors. This monstrous bout o' ills will kill the Club ! The Maister, to be Praisident, ye ken. Agreed to come neist meetin' for that end — Ne'er dreamin', honest man ! to hae, insteid O's Praisidenshal chair, a prison stool ! Snmck. Ye're wrang there, Jamie ! nae jile stool for him ! John Hootsman on a jile stool wad look waur Than a croun'd Monarch in a herrin' cairt ! He maun be hame the morn — if no' the nicht. They daurna keep ane 'cept there's reasons for't, An' that they've feint a haet, jot, styme, or tittle, It needs nae Solomon to sweir o' John ! Stoiire. Than the neist meetin' hands on Friday nicht ? Hoo mony members, Sandy, have we noo ? Swdck. Abune fowre hunder, Peter, a' paid up. Assuredly, as fix'd, neist meetin' bauds, But, as it's only of the Commytee, We weel may rearrangfe our future wark To suit the alter'd beirin's o' our Chief, An' a' our ain domestic fireside jeegs ? Stoure. (g'oi'igj- A' richt. Here's luck ! — this beer will do. Ta-ta ! I've been but at the Smith's, and maunna stey ! \Exif. Hors. I maun be stappin', tae, to start the folk. We're dungin' a' the stibble land we can. An' it needs management an' lookin' owre. Swack. Nae doubt, nae doubt. Send me doim word the morn If he's no' back. He needna fash himsel', Tell ye him that, should he come hame 'tween hands. \^Exit. SCENE 7.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 75 Swack. (alo)ie). A's richt, so far. Noo, Swats, for the O'Rourke ! For I do trow, as sure's I trow my thoomb. This yirthquake in Chih the Markis sail Rouse up beyond a' measure Mab to find An' get her housed abroad in France or Rome, Until the puir thing" either do consent To wed the Yearl his son or tak' the Veil. Sandy ! ye ken what Hootsman said what she had said — " She'd sooner poison take than either fate ! And that, after her God and Maker, she Placed her whole confidence in John and me ! " O were I Rob MacSqueel* hoo I could sing" ! But tho' plain " Swats " I'se try a stave, by jing ! Sings — O'Rourke, O'Rourke, O'Rourkie, O, Is coming" doun to burke ye a' ! But, by my sang", fair tits for tats. He'll meet his mark in " Sandy Swats ! " O'Rourke, O'Rourke, O'Rourkie, O, Ye watna hoo he'll quirk ye, O, Like clay he'll knead an' work ye, O, An' bake ye broun, sail " Sandy Swats ! " (Opens the doors, and calls ) Mick ! here Mick, here ! Enter Tubes. Yont to the Station, Mick, An' wait the twa last trains. Frae ane o' them A tall dark countryman o' yours may come. An' tak' his seat within the Castle trap, Which will be waitin' there to drive him up. Tubbs. But if he cooms inside the first wan, sor, Oi needn't wait the second, sure, for him? Swack. Ye Irish eedywut, a-daursay no' ! Come hame ye Paddy rufiian, hame to me. As sune's ye spot him, an' let on to nanc ! Tilths. Not Oi — not even for gold from Father Pether's silf ! \Exeunt. * A famous local poeU DOUN r TH' LOUDONS ' [act iv. ACT I V. Scene I. The Kitchen of The Grav Sheep Inn. Enter Tubbs. Tiibbs {siiigs) — " Ach ! how my heart leapt boiild an' big- Whhi off I trip't wid dearie ! Roth hip an' elbow lithe an' trig- As e'er left Tipperary ! " Enter Peggy Dishie. Spake even av Sathan, the ould neig-hbour.s say, An^ wan will see him! — sure an' that is thrue ! For, by the Powers, his young-est colleen cooms Whin Oi but sing ov her ! All fair an' fresh, As praties in the marning whin in flower ! Peg. Weel, Rattleheid, what are ye up to noo ? Tubbs. Singing swate hymns forninst our marriage day. Larning an' rehearsing thim I am in thruth, Knowing the toime's so short betwane, ma chree. Peg. Lord-hae-a-care-o'-me ! maun ye splice, tae ? The young folk's a' grown fules sin' Yule round here ! Wha is the eedywut ye're gaun to get ? Tubbs. Swate Piggy Dishie is mine angel named, The natest cook an' kitchen maid aloive ! Peg. Ye gomerell, an' ye think I'd marry ye, That pruves at ance the eedywut ye are ! Me tak' a Roman Cath'lic for my man ! I'd suner mairry Kate MacNeeven's son, Wha's six feet high, an' yet is but a bairn In ilka thing he either says or daes ! Na, na, nae priest-guU'd loon for me, I trow ! Tubbs. No more now, Peggy, let the prastes alone, Yiz are not questioned, stire, to marry thim, But )ne, vour own thrue bhoy an' swateheart ivermore, SCENE I.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 77 The first-prize spalpeen av this counthry side, An' sarvingest o' slaves that kiss yer fut ! Arrah, what ails ye at the Father praste ? Sure 1 don't bother you vvid Docthor Paul ? Pe^. It's neither Faither priest nor Doctor Paul, But it's the wicked faith ye put in Popes, Yer " Vargfins " an' yer " Saints " — abune a' count — A queer clamjamfry o' misleerit fules ! An' then, yer saicraments ! besides a' ours, Ye still believe an' practeeze " confirmation," Vain " penance," an' " aixtreme ung"kshon," vainer still ; Forbye hand on be " transubstansheeashon " — A doctrine whilk the common sense o' sheep Wad mak' them stint at, could they tak' it in. As Guid be praised they canna ! No, Michael, no, UAless ye change ye're no' the man for me ! Tiibbs. What would ye have me " change " to, purty Peg ? Tell me this night the laste ye'd have me do, And, sure, PU do it, darlint, back an' fore ! Peg. Renounce a' supersteeshon, like mysel' ! Tubbs. Musha, what's that ? an' what must I re- nounce ? Sure I cast all whin I give you meself ? Peg. Yes, Micky, yes, but, as ye are 'enoo, I couldna' think to tak' ye at yer word. Our mairried life wad be wan constant flyte ! Tubbs. An' what would it be did we live apart ? Meself would drown in the first pond I found ! Peg. O Micky, Micky, dinna brek my hairt ! Ye maunna drown yersel', my bonnie man ! Pm sure a vveel-faur'd, clever lad like you Wad ne'er do sich a sin for sich as me ? Tubbs. Begorra, thin, I would, tho' Father Pether Says that silf-murther is the sin av sins ! Peg. Gosh, gosh, O gosh ! whatever sail I do ? Could ye no promise, Micky, to reform. An' no' be sich a Cath'lic as the rest — No' sae dougmatick about saunts, an' Popes, An' consaicratit wafers, an' sic trash As Eemages, an' Masses in a tongue 78 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act iv. Ye trow nae mair o' than 1 trow o' that The hoodie craws, up bye at Castle Cleuch, Wheelin' owre their hich trees, craw morn an e'en ? Tubbs. Swate darhng-, marry me, an' let that wait ! Ye're all ontoirely wrong" about my crade ! I'm of another cult than that ye think ; I do not trust in balderdash, but truth, Which I do W'Orship, dear, wid me whole sowl ! Peg. That I do, tae. But ca' ye stookies truths ! Or rallies, or indulgences that sell ? Or makin' men lite-bachelors be force ? I tell ye gif ye think that thae are truths, Ye are for me as little's I'm for you, So there's an end, and woo me, please, wo more ! Tubbs. (Putting his arms round her). Ach ! do not cry, me flower in spring-time, don't ! 1 shall be what you will, aloiv'e or dead ! Peg. Mick ! Mick ! quit me ! I hear the Mistress coming ! Tubbs. ( Kissing her ). An' so do I, but there's yet time for this. An' this, an' this, an' this besides, my swate ! Enter Mrs Swacker. Mrs Swack. What's a' the rumpus wi' you sweet- hairts noo ? I think, for my pairt, ye should seek Mess John, An' that ye canna do't owre early either ! Am I richt, Micky ? Tubbs. Indade, ma'am, that yiz are ! And sure it is meself you would oblige By ordhering Piggy up wid me next week. Peg. Where to, ye gumpus ? where should I be ordered ? Tubbs. The althar, sure, to plidge yoursilf to me — Never to go agin until we die ! Peg. The Cath'lic " altar," doun in Battle's Loan, Whare Daidy Peter sleely plucks his gulls ? Is that the ane ye mean ? Mrs Swack. Wheesht, Peggy, wheesht ! Ye maunna be sae contrumashious, lass. SCENE i.j DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 79 An' learn to be mair tolerant an' just, Folk canna a' be Protestants, ye g"owk, A guid thing", tae ! There's few like some we ken ! (Aside to Peg). Tak' ye my counsel, an' cleek Micky fast. Let priests an' parsons owre their auld creeds threep ! Nae creed is aiqual to ane's ain g"uid man ! [Exit. Peg. I'm gaun awa. My time is up, an' mair. An' Granny will be wearyin' for her bed. Ye needna come wi' me — I ken the road. Tubbs. O wirra, wirra ! So do Oi — to this, (Kisses her J. And till ye give me hope ye stay wid me ! Peg. Let go ! let go, or I will shout an' bring The Maister here himsel' to speak to ye ! Tubbs. Say, thin, what that is ye would have me do ? Think ye I'm more a Cath'lic than yourself? Ah, Piggy, Piggy ! The thruth is I am now — Having not been wid Swacker years for nought, But through his influence and converse grown The outest doubter of the churches all ! Not that I'm irreligious or profane, But, Pigg'y, I'm no more Cath'lic, dear, Than I'm Mohammedan, or Jew, or Grake ! Peg. But still a Christian o' some seek or ither ? The Maister ilka Sabbath's at the Kirk, An' ye gang to the Chaipel doun the Loan ? Tubbs. Thrue for you ! but we're no more than that. And, till we be convirted to be more. Just Kirk an' Chapel goers we remain. Now, darlint, twig your chance ! You marry me. An' thin convart me if you can, and Oi Do swear to be that you convirt me to, No matther what it be — Protistantism, Catholicism, Judaism, all the same, Whativer I'm convirted to by you, Afther we're married, sure in that swate faith I'll be a burning and a shining loight, An' a sthrong pillar in its Timple, too ! Peg. Ye are nae Cath'lic noo — deid sure, ye say? Ye've outTan'-out abjured a' Pawpist bosh ? Tubbs. Yes, Musha, an' all other " bosh " as well ! 8o DOUN I' TH' LOUDONS [act iv. Peg. But ye believe in something, surely, still ? Tubbs. I can't belave, or disbelave, in owg-ht That is beyant the power o' me to know ! I kape an open moind for thruth an' you, In whatsoiver g-uise an' time ye coom ! So name the day, swate goddess, name the day, The thither side o' which convarsion shall See a life-proselyte bound at your toes ! Peg. That I sail not this nicht, nor ony nicht, Until I hear what Granny thinks o' you, Efter I've tauld her a' ye've said to me. Enter Swackek. Swack. Mick, follow me up to the private room. [To Peggy). Be aff, ye limmer, unman men nae mair, A-back o' granny, is the post for you ! \^ExcunL Scene II. The Private Room of ihe Inn. Enter Swacker and Tubbs. Swack. Biz, Mick, biz ! Come forrit an' sit doun. A customer was here — a wife ye ken — Auld clashin' Nancy Cairns, frae Craigfell, Yammerin' about this an' that, and onything That had an unco in't she'd seen or heard. Weel, in her clavers here to me the nicht. She spak' o' a big wife — a " Gipsy Queen " — Heid o' a Yetholm tribe, camp'd on the moors, Somewhare atween Scaurden an' Deidman's Moss, An' that this gangrel monarch to Craigfell Cam' air this morning, selling heather besoms. An' ca'd, of coorse, at Nan's among the lave O' ither neibors at the ferm toun. Nan sweirs this " Oueeiis" the biggest woman gaun — A fair Meg Merrilees alive again — Strong, black-a-viced, mair stalwart than the " Caird," Or " Sturdy vagabond " of by-gone days. Tubbs. Begorra, masther, she's a Quane indade ! We'se see her down here I do hope hersilf ? Swack. Nae doubt, nae doubt. But hearken, Micky mine ! SCENE 2.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 8i She cam' to Nan's, I said, an' whan she saw — As sune, nae doubt, she wad — the kind Nan is — A bletherin' rustic g-ossip every inch. She made hersel' at hame, and stalkit ben. Taking a bacca pipe as black's her heid Out o' her pouch, an' Hchtin't at the fire. Syne sat doun neibor-like atowre the hearth, Glowerin' an' puffin' Hke to end hersel'. Until Nan askit was she weel eneuch ? Wi" that the Gipsy Queen loot out her pipe An' stow'd it in her bosie, an' quo' she, ' Good woman, let me see thy palm to-day, ' And I will read thy weird, for no more fee ' Than just one g^lass of water with g-ood will." ' Hout, ay ! " says Nan, " my fortune's eithly spey'd — ' A sair-trasht plooman's wife, arled for the grave ! " ' Thou'st had," quoth Gipsy, fingerin' at Nan's loof, ' Nine children — four dead, for only five survive ! " ' Hoo ken ye that, uncanny wife ? " cried Nan, ' I'm sure I'm kenn'd be nane round Yetho'm gate ! " ' No, thou art not, yet read I here," said Gip, ' That a great blessing to thee, even now, ' Is hastening o'er the waters of the deep, ' That stretch from far Columbia to these Isles ! " ' To me ! " screetch'd Nan. " Tell me what blessing's that ? " ' I may," the Queen agreed, " before I go, ' If thou wilt truly answer, and inform ' Me of the dreadful rumours flying round ' About some lady who hath disappear'd ' Mysteriously and suddenly from here." ' O, that's the Leddy Maaby ! " answered Nan, ' The roomir's true eneuch — owre true, atweel ! " ' Was she of Castle Clew ? " syne quizz'd the Queen, ' Good woman, tell me all, and, for thy pains, ' I'll let thee know all that thy palms declare ' Anent the splendid fortune seeking thee ! " Tubbs. Which, sure the humbug did wid supple tongue ? Swack. That's flat — seeing that they were hours in tow. F 82 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act iv. Tubbs. An' what came av it — onything" at all ? Simck. Mick ! wha's this " Queen " ? Tubbs. Arrah ! how should I know ? Sivack. Ye w^ere at Scaurden last nicht wi' the trap, Did ye no' see, or hear, aucht o the " camp " ? Tubbs. The devil a camp or tint ov it saw Oi, Or heerd ov either from wan morthal sowl ! Swack. Wad ye ken ane ag"ain ye said ye saw — I mean the tall dark gentleman, wha cam' Wi' the express last nicht, an' took his seat Within the waitin' car frae Castle Cleuch ? Tubbs. Troth, thin, an' that I w'ould ! bekase his phiz Put me so strong in moind ov wan I knew, Long, long ago, in Edinboro' strates — The drid detictive we Maclavey call'd. Swack. Nan's " Queen's " that man ! The man O'Rourke, Maclavey's relative ! Tubbs. Arrah, get out o' that ! a man a quane ! Swack. It's true. Pit this an' that thegither, lad. An' say syne what ye'd ca'd else than O'Rourke? Still, keep on the alert. Maist-like the morn doun here His brushes he'll be trockin' throo the toun, Sae, hing^ about, an', gin ye see the rog"ue, Contrive to vizzy him at quarters close. Then hurry back to me as hard's ye dow. Tubbs. All roight, but if ye're roight in this, why ! thin, There's no man's head like — Srvack. " Swats'," this side o' Cork ! Hooever, let that pass, an' tent me still. Ye ken the Airmstrongs o' the East-gate end ? Tubbs. Av course I do — six brother bachelors — Dykers, horse-muggers, crofters — poachers all, Jock, Hairy, Geordie, Adam, Ned, and Will — A lot as forcible as thim of owld From whom they sprung — the owld Moss-throoping thaves. Swack. Tip-top ! ye skaitch them to a naething, held an' tail ! But wha, think ye's the wildest o' the pack — The out-an-outest deevil o' them a' ? SCENE 2.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS St, Tuhbs. Whoy, Ned, av coorse, whin Ik- is not loo dhrunk. Swack. True for you again! I had waled Ned mysel'. Then, Mick, betimes the morn bring Ned to me ; They have in hand some dry-stane dykeing wark Owre at Mali's Hag, an' likely leave for't sune. Sae ye micht need to see him by day-brek ? Tubbs. If it's to-morrow morning, sor, ye mane. Why wait till thin? Sure I could go to-night? Swack. Yes, an' it may be safer if ye do. Say little to him — only, in his ear, Discraitly whisper that this job has in't Adventure, derring-do, an' fun galore. An' rowth o' pickings for the winning hand. Tubbs. If he be in his house, or in the town, Depin'd he's here " slap-bang," as you would say. [Exi/. Swack {alone). If Ned is workable, O'Rourke is nail'd. An' Leddy Maaby may be Hootsman's yet ! God send she may ! She couldna better do. An' I am conscience clear in this mysel', It being clear to a' whase side I'm on. I'd brek the law nae mair than they wad do But for my hindrance. I'd stop them bv a ruse Frae doing that they canna do by law. And if I brek the law thus aiding law, The law may vera weel excuse the means. Especially when they're plied for sich an end — The mairriage o' twa glorious souls like John An' bonny Leddy Mab — perfection's sel' — A Mary Stuart an' a goddess born. Re-enter Tubbs. Tubbs. Hooch, masther, masther, Ned is in the Bar ! Swack. Losh, is he? Send him ben at wance, my son ! [Exit Tubbs. Enter Ned Armstrong. Ned. Your porter, sir, said that ye wantit me ? Swack. Ay, ay, sit doun. I'd like a word wi' you. Ye hae an uncle in St Fozzel's, Ned? 84 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act iv. Ned. Yes, " Uncle Ned." I am ca'd efter him — He trocks in horses, coUie dougs, an' kye. An' has some scraps o' land, or maybe mair. Swack. Is he weel oflF? Ned. Weel, that I couldna sweir, But onytime that I've been in * \vi' him He aye could meet the lawin wi' his share, Be that or g"rit or sma'. S7vack. An honest man ! Ye've wrocht for Hootsman mony times, I trow ? jVed. Baith for the auld man an' the young ane, tae, We've run up miles an' miles o' dykes, forbye. Building new stables, sheds, an' cattle coorts — Tho' ihe_y were for that ne'er-do-weel, his laird, An' oversee'd by ane that's ten times waur. Prim, sleeky Roupemout, the factor carle — Ane, ye wad think fresh butter in his mou' He couldna melt — he is sae smooth an' kind — But, straik him 'gainst the hair, ye sune fand teeth, An' tiger jaws that could crunch granite sma ! S^vack. Ye'U work at Leddyslove, nae mair, I fear — At least for Hootsman — kennelt in a jile ! Ned. U that's \.he "job" Mick spak o' — I'm yer man ! For ten pound sterling doun, an' he is here, Or onywhare within a ride o' here, Be six the morn's morning ! Just say the word, An' county jile, or county dungeon, sir, Sail not keep him frae you beyond this nicht ! Swack. What! are ye fou, that ye sae miss the mark? John Hootsman's safe — that's no the help he needs. No, no ! Look here, my boy. Owre to St Fozzel's toun We want a carle convoy'd as sune's ye dow, An' kept there till sich time's he may be free'd. Without endangerin' Hootsman or his lass. Ned. Exackly ! Easy dune ! I am yer man ! An' as it is for Hootsman — och ! I'll do't For naething and a wullie-waucht o' yours ! What's the carle's name, an' whare's his house? Swack. His name's O'Rourke, an' Scotland Yaird's his hame, Drinking" in a public-house. SCENE 2.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 85 Tho' he bides here 'enoo— at Castle Cleuch. Ned. At Castle Cleuch ! an' doun frae Scotland Yaird ! ! The devil, maister ! he may be a spy, Or e'en ane o' the g-reat detective crew. Sent doun to help the Markis in his sairch For the lost leddy there's sich steer about ? Sivack. Ye've guess'd it shrewdly — lord jove ye have ! Haith, ye're a queer ane, Ned ! Weel, I am tauld, By ane whase kennin' 's sure as truth itsel', That it wad either bring, or tend to bring. Misfortune to the lovers nearer far, If this great hunter out o' mysteries Were left to scent out Mab before sich time As she an' Hootsman could defy them a'. Ned. I see yer meanin' plain, an' think sac, tae. And, gif it's necessar' to lick O'Rourke, By hiding him athort the Moor a-while, I'm quite agree'ble. Uncle at St Fozzel's Has holes an' corners that could stow a mob, An' wadna chairge me ae broun penny piece Tho' I did quarter in them for a month A' the detective spies that e'er were spaned ! Gie me his marks. Swack. Ye dinna ken him, Ned ? Ned. No yet, but that is naething". What's his marks ? Swack. His present marks are that he shams as "Queen" O' a grit auncient Yetho'm tinkler tribe, Whilk he, or she, declares is camp'd 'enoo In a near corrie on the Moorcleuch hills — Atween Scaurden an' Deidman's Moss, I think. Ned. Does he pretend he's queen ? Sivack. So Nan Cairns says. An' I believe in my ain sowl it's true — For he,_togg'd for't, hawkit Craigfell this morn, Shammin' to sell broom besoms, an' to spey The fortunes o' the cottars gratis free, An they but redd to " her ""^ the clashes whilk The country side is deaved wi' 'bout lost Mab. 86 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act iv. Ned. Ha ! ha ! the fox ! Sivack Ay, deevlish "fox" at that, Being seemingly convinced Mab's hiding place Is no' sae far awa' as Jewry is. Ned. Think ye the same ? Sionck. Whether I do or no' Is a sma' maitter, kennin' Hootsman needs Baith time an' opportunity to stem This strange an' sudden back-set in his life. An' that he may hae baith, it's necessar' That Mab be kept meanwhile 'yond meddlement O' either gairdian-uncle, peer or priest. Ned. As that's sae, sir, then the haill question is — Hoo, an' whan, an' whareabouts this Lon'on loon Is to be nabbit an' whusk'd owre the moor? Swack. Do naething till I give the sign by Mick, An' tak him in the mirk by weel-mask'd chields — Wha'U treat him as they would a rale live queen — BHn'-faulding only whan they must the " jaud." Ned. Not wan stitch o' her kirtle sail be scaithed ! Simck. An' whan ye free "her," drive "her" saft, asleep, Close to the City's edge at brek o' day ; An' ere ye leave "her" to come tae "hersel'," See she's weel haversack'd wi' food an' drink. An 's clad to stand the waather like a Queen ! Ned. We'se rig her out to stand auld Scotlan's breath As snug as ony queen it ever cool'd ! {Rising) So long, 'enoo ! I may taste in the Bar? S^mck. A mouthfu' only, till this job is dune ! \Exeunt. Scene III. Bents. A Room in the Mansion-house. Enter Sir Hugh, The Traveller and Donald Shiels. Sir Hugh {to Shiels). Come, give us now your budget of this news. Shiels. It's in a note by special messenger. SCENE 3.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 87 Sir Hugh. Well, read the note, and let us have it all. - Shie/s. It is from Tipem, the English butler, there : {Reads) '^ Dear friend and brother Major-domo, — By reason of his grief s and cares, which, indeed, are tiumerous and awful, my Lord the Marquis has deputed me to breaJz through you the impact of this spring-tide of calamity unto Sir Hugh, his relative, a)id fellow guardian of Lady Mabel Drewe, and god-father of his favourite, the second son of the Marquis, Lord Robert Mickleman — whx) hath so miserably perished, whilst travelling in search of health, in the fearful catastrophe of Val- paraiso — " Sir Hus^h. O good God! How? When? Young Lord' Robert kill'd ! Trav. I heard this morn as I came through the town The first faint breeze of this blown storm of woe. Sir ILugh. O, was it in the papers? Trav. No, not then ; But from New York it had been cabled here — That is, the bare fact of an earthquake in Chili, Awful as that of San Francisco was. Sir Hugh. God, God ! O God look down on helpless man, And let Thy love infinite be felt now ! Trav. and Shiels. Amen ! Amen ! Sir Hugh {to Shiels). Proceed. The letter can't read worse than this. Shiels {reads). " IVith ?'espect to his 7vard, the Lady Mabel, she hath been completely lost to us since Saturday night, whe)i she and his Lordship had sonic cross words concerning her well-known Socialistic leanings, and particularly about her correspondence with the chief tenant on the estate, Mr John Hootsman of Leddyslove — a popular speaker and leader of the people, especially of the farnu-r and farm servant classes of this acute and industrious hillfoot community — " Sir Hugh. Tuts ! She'll just have gone a visit to a friend, No fear of Mab whilst Mab can mistress fear. Shiels {reads). '^ Ln consequence of Lady Mabefs 88 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act iv. disappearance., young Hootsnian was arrested here when he came to adjust -mth his Lordship the several clauses of the new lease of his farm, and conveyed by two police officers in a prison vanjo the county jail — " Sir Hugh. Stop, stop ! The world is bearing" puzzlers now, Not twins, or triplets, but whole families — A monstrous progeny of killing facts. Which come full-grown at birth, and make earth hell Ere we can see it's not. Young Hootsman jail'd ! My paragon, the life preserver of my boy Twice over — both on land and sea ! Hand-cuff" 'd ! Shoved in a prison van ! and run to jail ! ! Shiels. Sir Hugh have mercy on yourself, I pray, Or you will surely burst or die perforce ! It cannot be so bad as Tipem writes ; John Hootsman, sir, is sib to no jail bird, And he who snared him there hath trapp'd himself ! Trav. I would suggest we wait until we know ? Sir Hugh. I know already — for I know the man — As dear to me as ever son of mine ! — And certainty itself is not more sure. Shiels (reads). " Shortly after this exciting episode the mid-day post-bag was delivered at the Castle, and from it we fiist learned of the South American earthqiiake and its so lamentable consequence to us. From it as well came to us the first ijitimation of the serious turn for the worse of the illness of the Marchioness in London, whither she had quite recently gone to consult the great specialist in her class of disorders. Professor Hifees, B.S., F.R.C.S.L., M.R.C.P., &c.— " Sir Hugh. Pshaw! Blarney! Her growling midst the rest Is as a lap-dog's youff" to thunder is, So of what import when earthquakes do crash ! The fancies of a life-long hypochondriac ! Go on again. Shiels [reads). " This so sadly J'ruitful post also brought us the acceptance by the War Office of the Earl of Garford's resignation of his Lieute^iani-Colonelship of the R. H. Guards, he having now becojne, by delicate SCENE 3.[ DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 89 health., utterly unfit for the o)ierous duties of the position — " Sir Hugh (uside). Thy soldiering- days, poor Albert, have been few ! And those remaining- thee be fewer still ! Shiels {reads). " — and a telegram from Seolland Yard inforviing us that O'Rourke, the eelebrated detective, had left for Castle Cleuch by the 10 a.m. express. All this (what ivonder!) has upset his Lordship — so much, indeed, that Doctor Blisterwef the local physicia>i, ordered him at once to his room, which in fact he kept till Blisterwel departed, and the chauf^etir was got ready to run him in the new car as far as his laivyers office in Edinburgh and back. With lume of these horrible items of news has the Earl of Garford been yet made acqnaiftted, old Blisterwel sagaciously dreading the evil effect it might have upon his patient in his present enfeebled condition. Dear S., kindly give the terrible substance of this hurriedly-scrawled epistle to your esteemed and voierable master. Sir Hugh, in the way which you may think mildest and safest yourself. The Marquis anxiously wishes you to do this, he feeling, he says, utterly unable to undertake this urgent family duty himself at present. I am further desired to say, that you would oblige his Lordship still more by [if possible) informing him, per return messenger, of Sir Hugh's present state— financial and personal — and when it may be convenient for him to call at Castle Cleuch. . . . Of all the nuniy and serious troubles now assailing the Marqnis, I consider the running off— or at least the mysterious disappearance — of his angelic niece is testing and afflicting him most,' more even than the death of his so)i—for he has asked, J think, more than a score of times to-day if I thought the great O'Rourke iwuld succeed in re-discovering her? . . No doubt you and /, Donald, will meet and discuss all these sad^as well as some other matters — over a bottle of Old P. soon. Till which happy time, I remain fratern- ally yours, — Mat. Tipem." S'ir Hugh. A bottle of what ? " Old P. "- old port, no doubt ! 90 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act IV Shie/s. No, no ! Not at all ! P. stands for more than port, Pale ale, for instance, an old fad of ours ! Sir Hit oh. P. also "stands" for pounds, which we " stand " you. Most times when Tipem with his Donald meets ! But truce with badinage. Where is the man — The messenger, 1 mean — from Castle Cleuch ? Shicls. In my room resting" after his hard ride. Sir Hugh. Haste thither, then, and ask him to rest on, Until my guest and I have thaw'd ourselves Out of our non-acquaintanceship a bit, And can with comfort move, and think, and act. [Exit Shiels. Trav. Talking of liquors — port, and other drinks — This news would crave a draught from Lethe's stream Capacious as its fearfulness for all. Whether of kin or not unto the dead ! I am amazed, and hesitate to tell What I, by our compact, should now disclose Regarding both your son and your estate. Sir Hugh. Why ! summarise it briefly, and be done. Render the gist of it concise and terse — A thousand leagues aloof all Yankee drawls ! Jack is still living, and in clover, too ? He knows, then, he's sole heir — legitimate — To this old title and baronetcy. Now Major Hugh, his only brother's dead? Trav. He does. But permit me a minute to revert Unto your interest in the land itself. You're now convinced it is one mine of wealth ? Sir Hugh. So you assert. But I'm no scientist, And therefore cannot -my unaided self Either affirm or gainsay now its truth. Trav. The whole estate is part of one vast field Of most superior minerals, my friend. Coal, limestone, sandstone, shale^ — to an amount Which simply is inestimable by man. Alike in bulk and value. SCENE 3.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 91 Sir Hugh. If that's so, How is it no one knew it till you came? Trav. It has been known a hundred years, or more, And Master Jack, your son, and Hootsman, too, Did verify it ere of their young" da3^s They had a-many given Alma Mater. Sir Hugh. But, if these minerals are of such worth, Why have they not been seized on long ere now ? Trav. They have been — farther west, and where their depth Is not so great as here. Supply of means — Machinery, and skill, and capital — Hath hitherto been all inadequate For rightly coping with the lower beds ;' But' now, the lack of such equipment is No more a fact, and coal successfully Is largely raised from three times greater depths Than could be done but sixty years ago. Sir Hugh. What led you on to think of this at all ? Trav. At first, I was indviced by Master Jack, Who, as a geologic student, knew. Even when a lad, your local strata well — The carboniferous system, every bed Between the Permian and Devonian rocks. He had discover'd, classified, and styled. Along with Hootsman, ere his sixteenth year. Sir Hugh. Ha, ha ! Those boys ! They ne'er were separate, And, being both Jacks, the people joking said. They were the truest " Union Jacks " extant ! Well, sir, I cannot but accept your proofs That Bents estate is truly what you say. Well, well, what though? The coal would needs be work'd. Unearth 'd, and brought within the reach o'i trade, Ere it were worth to me a copper coin ? Trav. Not so. It were as feasible as legal to Assign your rights to some one for a price — Say, either Jack or I, or both of vis. Sir Hugh. What price? How might one estimate ? Trav. Thai were impossible. But for these rights \ 92 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act iv. A draft might be agreed upon and pass'd To you immediate — say, a sufficiency To liquidate the property in full, And for the next five years uphold you in't. With all your dignities — pomp, power, and state — Intact, as in possession long ago. St/' Hugh. And at the five years' end the auction block ? Trav. Never ! Full restitution of your lands and rights, Did you then wish, would be provided for — And with your present debts and burdens quash'd ! — You read o'er my credentials, sir, last night ? Sir Hugh. I did right thoroughly and well, and found Nothing in them of you but honour bright. Trav. Well, what say you ? I guess we can agree ? I'd start and work the mines, and run all risks, The other items can be fix'd anon ? Sir Hugh. Without conditions ? Trav. No. But these only : Your written assent to Jack's early marriage With Lady Julia, and to his renouncement Of all his claims, as lawful heir to Bents, In favour of his first and dearest friend, The saviour of his life two times in youth, John Hootsman, tenant now of Leddyslove — Re-enter Shiels hilariously. Shiels. ( Wildly). Yo-ho, yo-ho, yo-ho ! Yo-ho, yo-ho ! ! Stand all aside and let me jump and dance ! (To Sir HuohJ. If you were mad yestreen, I'm red- wud now ! Our boy still lives — as grand as Solomon, Riches and honours are upon him heap'd As high as they will lie on mortal man ! Sir Hugh, you rascal, loup and sing for joy. And let young Hootsman marry Lady Mab, The only lass in Scotland fit to sew One button on his trews ! O Lord, my God ! My poor old Master! (To the Trav.) Heaven bless you, sir ! SCENE 3.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 93 America itself has few like you ! You've done a work since comings here I'll swear Bents never trow'd the match of — Sir Hugh. What, man, what ! You're surely worse than usual altog^ether — Have you not pree'd the old port rather soon — Mat Tipem's not here yet, so far's I know ? Shiels. O sirs, I cannot speak, I'll burst with joy ! Look out for a new earthquake here this night One not of woe, but rampant boundless glee ! I overheard, as usually I do. When I am in the Gallerv, ev^ery word Which then is spoken here, so I know all, As varily as I'd been between your knees ! O then. Sir Hugh, accept the Traveller's bid. And have done with this life of stark anxiety. Which monstrously is hastening you away, Long, long before your time ! Sir Hugh. Donald, old friend, Too fond familiarity makes you Most times my equal with impunity, But further do not ^o and order me. As if you were the laird and I the loon ! Give wa}^, then, to me and this gentleman To settle all this matter up ourselves. And when we're through, I swear thou'lt know the end. Shiels. Joy carried me away, I "tint my tap," But I've come on't again, so give you way ! \Exif. Trav. Who are your lawyers ? What is their address ? Give me carte blanche and let me call on them ? Who are they do you say ? Sir High. The old stock still — To wit, the Messrs Hum & Haw, 9 Drowsy Square, A firm who thriftily have had their fees And done their " best" for Bents for centuries. Trav. All very good. I'll seek them out betimes Sir Hugh. About carle blanche, no doubt I'll give it you. If, after Jack's conditions are discuss'd, They seem to me all right. Just now, most strange — Strange, and unreasonable, do they appear. 94 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act iv. Tniv. In what respects ? Sir Hugh. In all respects, I think. First, take my assent unto his marriage scheme — Trav. Your grant of which we'd hold equivalent To your resolve to let the past be past. Sir Hugh. And meet the Lady Julia, as I did In Paris years ago — where first we met ? Trav. You need ne'er meet each other once again, Should such be your desire — the more so, as, I learn 'tis stipulated in their marriage deed They are to live in France continuously. Where Jack a chateau recently has bought, Along with vineyards, and a large demesne. Sir Hugh. And does he mean to give up Bents for good. Trav. Being of a noble mind, his gratitude Is as its fountain, and flows nobly forth. Remembering his rescuer twice from death, Hootsman to Jack is more than brother born. Sir Hugh. But he'll come back and see the old Dad yet? Trav. Why, France is not in Jupiter these days ! I reckon he will much divide his time Between his native and adopted lands — Which a mere distance of some hours doth part. Sir Hugh. You've said enough. Go into Hum & Haw, And tell me " All is settled," on return — Much business racks me now as bad's the gout. Trav. (going). I'll catch the city train — I'm in time yet ! \Exeunt. Scene IV. Garford. The Scullery of the Gray Sheep Inn. Enter Tubes and Peggy. Tubbs. [sings). — O Pig-gy, Pig-gy, Pig-g-y ! Me lovely Pig'gy Dishie, sure, That is so swate an" trig- aye, Yez do now what I wish ye, sure ? Look but at me, an' name the day, Let all the g-ossips gab away, 'Tis toime now you should have your say, Me lovely Piggy Dishie, sure ! SCENE 4.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 95 Is that not so, me love, me life, me soul ? Peg. I could bet onything- ye made that saiij^ ! Tubbs. Wan of a thousand that I drame av you An' sing meself to sleep vvid, night by night. Peg. Mair need ye mourn'd yer sins, an' said yer prayers. Tubbs. 0\ niver sin, so have no cause to mourn, And as for prayers, whoy, they're ne'er out my mouth ! Peg. Eh ! O ! ye villain ! Growin' waur an' waur ! Hoo daur ye say sich things 'fore God an' man, Whan that ye ken, as weel's 1 do mysel'. There is nane righteous, no not ane on airth ? % Tubbs. Sure 1 don't say that Oi am righteous, ma'm ? I'm elear av that, altho' I niver sin ! It all depinds on what one manes onesilf. Come, name tl*e day, me jewel, name the day, And I'll grow righteous aftherwards complate. Peg. I spak' o't to my Granny yestere'en. She disna like ye no' being Protestant, An's feart ye'U freend the New Theology ; But gin ye gie yer word ye'll no do that An' promise faithfu' to be that whilk I, Efter our waddin', may convert ye to, I think I'll lay my loof whare my luve lies — Some efternune this year — in your strong paw ! Tubbs. Now blest be all the hours that make this day ! Sure it's Sint Pathrick's, or at laste Parnell's ; For sildom Irish bhoys get such a prize As this has given me — Micky Tubbs — bedad ! Now say, me love, ye love me, and how long Ye've cherish'd it for wan who loves ye more Tin million toimes than any lass on earth — Even more than he does Swacker and his wife. Who have been more than parents to us both, Yis, more than parents and grand-parents, too ! Give me a kiss, me flower, me own, me quaine, An' let me press thee to this breast o' mine — Thy homestead evermore, aloive or dead ! Peg. O Micky, Micky ! this great happiness Is that sae very great, it seems a sin. An' even a pain, to len'then'd out a crinch ! 96 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act iv. Tiibbs. You. loved me always, darlint, from the first? Pc'o\ Ay, Micky, frae the vera first, my joe, Whan Swacker sent us hand in hand to schule, An' hame to Granny's ye teuk me at e'en ! Ttibhs. Me schoolmate ivermore ! now name the day ! Peg. I canna do that yet. We'se baith get ready tho' — - (A bell rings loudly ). Eh ! that's the Maister's bell ! Rin, Micky, rin ! \Exeunt Scene V. A Lone Part of the Highivay near Garford. Enter Ned Armstrong and Two Others disguised as tramps, and Tubes. Ned. (To Tubbs). Shairly it's him ? Tubbs. As SLire's Sint Pathrick swore it. Ned. The g"ag an' belt's baith here ; whare is the cab ? Tubbs. Down by the wather side, as nate's the moon ! Ned. Fetch't up ahint the wudd, I hear a fit ! (To the others). Stand close, an' mind yer orders baith o' ye ! (Looking out J. It's him ! an' still full buskit as a queen ! Whan I have thrown the belt, sairch him a' owre. He'll likely hae revolvers — twa or three. Here he comes ! Hide ! Enter O'Rourke iti his Gipsy Queen's disguise. O'Rourke [soliloquising). In spite of Swacker and the praste's wife both, I'll have her sure ere other forty hours The colleen's swaten'd more her Scotch praste's crib ! A'ed. [In a/nbush). A thunderin' lee! {With these words from behind a hawthorn tree a long leather belt like a lasso is suddenly and deftly thrown over the great ex- ploder of mysteries, and he is rapidly bound, searched, a7id deprived of two loaded revolvers and then carried by the gang to their trap in waiting behind the wood, into which SCENE 4.] DOUN I' TH' LOUDONS 97 he is gently lifted — blindfolded — and swiftly driven aivay by his captors up the hill foad and over the moors. ) Tiibhs. A rapid transformation, by my sowl ! {LooJis at his watch). 'Tis not five minutes since he came in soig"ht, And now he's o'er the moor and out of soij^'ht ! Swacker's the man for Nid, and Nid for him ! Betwane the two, O'Rourke, thy chance was sUm ! Now both are g'one ontoirely, I'll haste back. An' wid ould Masther have some roaring- talk ! [Exit. ACT V. Scene I. Garford. The Manse Garden. Night. Enter Swacker and Mrs Paul. Swack. Wheesht, wheesht. Hootsman is free, an' noo is with The Traveller, wham I tauld ye a' about. Mrs Paul. Thank God for that ! The Lady Mabel frets, And yearns and harps so for John's coming now, I'm frighten'd night and day she hurts herself! Swack. Kens she aucht yet o' his imprisonment ? Mrs Paul. O no\ I dared not tell her, she'd have kill'd herself Had she but even suspected that, I think — She's so wound up in him, her love's so forceful, She could not brook such hindrance and survive. O when may she leave here ? Their banns, you know. Were duly proclaimed in our Parish Church, And Doctor Paul for Bents left here to-night. Swack. She leaves the nicht ! Gae fesh her doun Saying naething, but that I am here. Ready to hurl her furth to John an' liberty — Shawl her weel up. 98 DOUN r TH' LOUDOXS [act v. Mrs Paul. O Mister Swacker, dear, How in the name of all that's wonderful Have you this miracle accomplish'd, sir, Despite their peers, and priests, and police spies ? S^vack. Gae bring the lassie doun ! A' else, some day. Whan ye come yont to me, ye'se surely hear. [Exit Mrs Pall. Swack. {alo?ie). I hear the faithfu' Tubbs is at the gate. " Auld Cobbler" for the road is in rare fettle, An' will the distance atween here an' Bents Yerk easily ahint him in three hours. Re-enter Mrs Paul, with Lady Mabel, wrapped for a journey. Lady Mah. Good Mister Swacker, well ! But where is John ? Swack. Awaiting you, of coorse, alang the road, Countin' the meenits ages till )-e come ! Tak' haud o' me the noo, and. Mistress Paul, Slip in to me some day, an' get yer thanks ! \Exeunt Ladv Mabel and Swacker. Mrs Paul [alone). There went the shrewdest and the sweetest maid. And eke the deepest and the deftest man. That e'er Time link'd together arm in arm ! \Exit. Scene H. Castle Cleuch. A Room in the Castle. Enter The Marquls, Father Peter and Tipem. Mar. Days flying by, and nothing heard of him ! His disappearance beats in mystery Even that of hers which he came down to solve ! {To Tipem). Have you been at the local constable's ? Tip. I have been there six times. At Swacker's, too. Mar. And what said they ? Tip. Swacker, at length, did hint, O'Rourke's "strange flight" might be accounted for, If it were thought he had received a clue SCENE 2.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 99 Of Lady Mabel in some distant part, And that he'd left straig-htway to run it up. As for the constable, your Lordship mig-ht As well have sent me to the local fool, The idiot man who plays with children's toys. And cracks his whip, and sings his nurs'ry rhymes, Where'er he goes with " Mammy "—Kate MacNiven. Father Pet. I came now straight up from the County Town, And 'tis asserted there that Hootsman's free — The Fiscal being, through lack of evidence, Even reasonable suspicion, forced by law — And sense of fairness, too, I fain would think — To end his brief imprisonment forthwith. Mar. With reverence. Father, let me thee remind. Thou did'st not always think of Hootsman thus ! FatJier Pet. Pardon. I ever thought of him as now : A dangerous man, by reason of his gifts, Both to religion and society — But, I see now, all arts to stifle him, Other than moral ones, were worse than vain, And would, indeed, rebound from his firm front Back on their users, to the serious hurt Both of themselves and of the cause espoused. Mar. Now were O'Rourke's time, I'd think, for tracing Mab, They being, as we know they are, aflianced. Close watching him would likely early lead Our famous " Sherlock" to his wished-for goal — [A knocking heard.^ Prevent that horrid knocking, Tipem, please. Tip. Someone has come. I heard a motor tout. {Exit. Mar. It may be Rourke, come back with news of Mab! Re-enter Tipem, ushering in Sir Hugh Seafaem. Sir Hugh. Good morrow all ! I've motor'd up from Bents In one hour neat, by my chronometer. {To the Mar). The world hath revolutionised, my lord. Somewhat I think since we two met before ? loo DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act v. Death, flight, arrestment, ilhiess, marriag-e ev'n. Enough for half a Hfetime, in a week ! But I am come to cut the catalogue Of these so stressing evils down to-day, By changing two of them at least to joys ; John Hootsman's free, and well to Mabel married, And both are now my honour'd guests at Bents, Which they from this time forth will call their home. Until their own one's ready — building now ! Mar. Bents ! Bents ! ! Sir Hugh. Ay, Bents, my lord, which, for full thirty years, Hath been insolvent — yea, a sad land wreck. Whereon myself, her captain, have fared worse Than e'er did landless waif, ship-wreck'd at sea. Upon a crazy raft or barren rock ! Mar. What do you mean ? Is my ward, Mabel, there ? Sir Hugh. Our mutual ward, my lord. Yes, she is there. And there shall she remain while she so wills. Mar. Sir Hugh ! We were as comrades long and long. And many a raid ran we — all Europe o'er — This way and that — alternate right and left ! Sir Hugh. Until at Rome you linger'd, and I chose Advancing with the age by Nature's law. Immediate, where'er Reason pointed Faith. Mar. A renegado from thy Church and Class, A Secularist and Radical to be — Or something else and worse, but kin to these ! Sir High. I deign not even to hear these words, my lord! Father Pet. Refrain, O friends, from vile recrimi- nation. And discuss as becometh Christian men The present and the future common weal Of thy two Houses, now, alas, distraught — Even to collapse, with poverty and woe ! Sir Hugh. No, Father, no ! Connect not Bents to-day SCENE 2.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS loi With either woe or want — save in so far As Bents is grieved for Castle Clench, and poor Because he rnay not his old chum rescue From cares, the consequence of Folly's rule, Till Castle Clench himself abjures that rule. Mar. I ask again what thy veil'd meaning- is ? Thou wert not wont of old to be obscure. And much that honour'd style would serve us now ? Sir Hugh. And my pride still is terse lucidity — Literal lucidity, in speech and act. Therefore, my lord, keep mind that I am still The guardian jointly with yourself of Mab, And may not stand aloof and see her wrong'd, Even by my partner in this sacred trust. The law of combination for a peer Holds just as surely as for lower men — Trade unionists and such — who dare coerce ! Mar. "Coerce"! Dare you suggest that I coerced our ward ? Sir Hugh. More than suggest, e'en state it as a///c/, A damning fact, which I can prove at once, By your own words ! Letters are sometimes " lost," By age as well as youth ! This one was found — [Takes one from his pocket-book, and holds it up). I mean the origin of this true sheet — By Shon MacNiven on the public road, A minute after your new car had pass'd. And given to his mother, who in turn Let Swacker see it ere she'd pass it on — As she had purposed — back to Castle Clench. Mar. What is it? Let me see it? Is it mine ? Sir Hugh. Yes, and enough to lay the pair of you — Yourself and Father there — fast by the heels. Inside the Calton for a term of years ! [Hands the docu^nent to the Marquis, who, ere he has read it through, staggers, and sits down helplessly). Mar. The note, I must admit, is genuine. But it was only ^urit — ne'er acted on. And would not have been writ, but that herself Consented once unto the scheme in it. I02 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act v. Sir Hugh. Knowing" right well thy purpose had she not ! Coercion from the first hath been thy rule. Self-ag'grandisement, and the means to sin, Thy ill-hid motive force all through thy life ! Father Pet. Unknown by me as by the babe unborn ! Sir Hugh. I'd fain believe you, Father, all the same. You join'd with him to exile Mab perforce, The surer to effect your priestly ends ? Father Pet. I did agree to her retreat to Aix, Believing 'twas her own free-will'd desire — Entirely uninduced by friend or foe. Sir Hugh. Well, well ! But thank your stars, my friends. For having Hootsman and the Lady Mab As your opponents, for had they been placed As you are now, and you as they, I fear They would have lain to-night in other beds Than their own downy one at friendly Bents ! ]\Iar. That is not undisputable, perhaps. But let it pass. What is that which you crave ? Sir Hugh. As her joint-guardian, your approval of Her happy union with John Hootsman — now. Or as soon as it seemeth good to you — Plus full admission and apology Of, and for all your harsh coercive acts. Of which she was the victim here for vears — The silent suffering victim, much too proud Either to breathe complaint, or sue for aid. By writing meek appeals to me or anyone. Mar. Seeing how things have gone — poor Robert kill'd, And on a bed of sickness Albert laid ! For sake of peace, I will relax and say That in my striving to secure her weal. And settlement with one of her own rank, I may at times have overstepp'd my rights ; But, if I did, I did it for her weal — Or what I in my soul believed her weal. Sir Hugh. And eke your own enrichment? Mar. Well, of course ! SCENE 2.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 103 Sir Hugh. My lord, had you exceeded your top wish, You would not have ennobled Mab one half What she hath done herself by marrying- John, For in himself is Nature's noblest found. And one his deeds make heir to an estate, To which your own, Moorcleuchs, is as a bog, A bog of peats, to gem-paved Eldorado ! Your Lordship had my letter yesterday ? Mar. I had, and thought it wonderful, of course. Who is this Traveller, this new Yankee god. This Western magician with the waves That waves a dreary beach of scrub and weeds — Worthless for all but donkeys' pasturage — Into a field of wealth incalculable — Limekilns, stone quarries, and coal pits and all ? Sir Hugh. A partner in the mighty iron works With resurrected Jack in Pennsylvania. No more of this from me — see him himself. He'll visit you before the month expires. Re-enter Tipem. Tip. Father Peter, you are asked for in the Hall. Father Fet. O that's our acolyte ! Excuse me friends. [Exeunt Father Peter and Tipen. Enter O'Rourke. Unaniiouneed and undisguised. Mar. O'Rourke ! O'Rourke ! ! Whence do you jump up here ? In stupefaction have we all been lost. Since you to us were " lost " ; and now, restored, Your restoration doubly stupefies Even those your loss quite stupefied erstwhile. Where in the name of heaven have you been ? O'Rourke. I'm darned if I know ! But, sure, this morning, I found mesilf a-waking in a ditch, A dry ditch on the roadside, south by aist Of Eedinboro town. Stuck in me fisht A five-pound note, an' by me side a sack, Stow'd full of grub an' grog — the very besht ! ro4 DOUN I' TH' LOUDONS [act v. So here Oi be, amazed as mooch as yeez, Who vvor so 'mazed at mv amazinof " loss " ! Sir Hugh. But what took you away? O'Rouike. Och, ax no more ! I was kidnapped the third night av me stay, An' thim who skaim'd an' carried through the thrick — Divqls, whoe'er they wor, in head an' hand ! — I wid me sowl excuse fur their dixtirity ! Enter Doctor Blisterwel. Mar. Well, Doctor, now? Doc. No pain — but no amendment. He must have quiet, absolute and long-. In that lies much of hope, and but in that. Sir Hugh [to the Mar.). Since such is so, I'll not go up to-day. But call again. Mar. O'Rourke, you'll come with me? O'Rourke. Ten minutes, yes. Thin back to London, ho ! {Exeunt. Scene III. Garford. The Tap-room of the Gray Sheep Inn. Swacker discovered redding up. Swacli. (alone). Things arena gaun sae bad ; John Hootsman's free ; An' that dear bonnie lass, young Leddy Mab, Is by his side at Bents, as safe as Jean ; While that guid ither sowl, puir auld Sir Hugh, Has throo the Yankee Traveller found his son, An' his estate pruved to be worth some mair Than what frae Adam's time to this it seem'd — A wilderness o' weeds an' winnelstraes. Fringed round wi' links an' rocks an' blae sea waves. Enter Tweedie. Hullo ! Sandy Tweedie ! What's braucht 3'e here. Up a' the gate frae Bents ? Is it Coom's debt ? Tweed. Yes, Sandy, but I've gat it aff at last, Tho', hang it, it hung fire sax towmonds guid. SCENE 3. J DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 10: S^mck. Coom's slow but sure. What's gaun on doun by Bents, Bides still the Yankee at the Sea Horse Inn ? Tweed. " Yanky ! " He's nae mair Yanky than I am mysel' ! S7vack. H 00 ken ye that ? ' Tweed. Himsel' I ken it throo. He tauld me in a crack we had ae nicht He was a Scotty, tho' no' a Scotty born, For that his faither, native born o' Bents, Did aimygrate, whan only in his teens To Painsalvanv in Amairik}^ — Swack. [startled). The Devil hear to this ! What Ts his name ? Tweed. That I can tell ye, Sandy Swats, an' a'. For, hang- it, jist last nicht, I had his note. About some rods he wants for borin' coals. It's in my pouch, dad ! hang- it — here it is ! His full name, Sandy, is [reads from the note) " Abe John Brig-ht Steele." Swack. Great Jupiter ! Give it to me, at wance ! This man's a multi-millionaire — an' mair ! [Studying the note). Steele ? A native born o' Bents ? Ye donnart ass ! What was yer wife ca'd 'fore ye mairried her — Was't no' Mag Steel ? Think, think ! Tweed. Of coorse it was ! A weel-kenn'd fack ! Her faither, Airchie Steel, For lang-, lang- years the g-rieve at Leddyslove, Had but twa dauchters — Mag- an' Kate, ye ken, An' Mag I gat, an' Dave MacNeeven, Kate. Swack. Lord's mercy, man ! did ye ne'er think o' that, Whan ye had read this note ? Turned. No, hang it, no ! His name is Steele, but there's ten thousan' Steeles. Swack. Heard ye ne'er Mag, or e'en auld Airchie speak O' ony freend o' his that gaed abroad ? Hae ! drink up this, an' think. Tweed. Thank ye ! Here's luck ! io6 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act v. Noo, whan ye speak o't, yes ! I'v^e heard him aft Tell o' his brither, Wull, wha ser'cl his time Wi' Brig-gs, the engineer, doun in Linkside, Syne jined the Coonard Steam Ship Company, An' ne'er was heard of more. S7vac/:. Ye fib, you g"owk ! This Traveller is WuU's son — or I am daft ! — An' Kate, an' Mag-, an' you, afore ye dee, May yet ride in a coach an' fowre a-piece ! What train is yours ? Tweed. The ane that leaves at twal. S^vack. Mak' ready, then, an' I will see you hame ; I should see Hootsman onywey this week. \^Exeiinf. Scene IV. The Sea Shore near Bents. Enter Lady Mabel Hootsman and her Husband. Lady Mab. How pleasant is this day, tho' barely spring-, And such a number, John, of birds about ! Do you know any? — See, John ! What are these? Hoots. These? Flocks of terns, and geese, and guillemots, And there are gulls, and gannets, jags, and kittiwakes. Curlews, and plovers — migrating mostly. Departing northward some, and lots arriving From genial southern quarters, near and far — More wonderful each one the more observed. Lady Mab. O I must know them fully, by-and-by ! Was it a bird, John, Master Jack pursued When on the mcTuntain cliff you saved his life, That being the second time, as I well know ? Hoots. No, 'twas a flower, a little Stone-crop flower. He wish'd to have for scientific use. Lady Mab. How was it ? Tell me — I so long to hear ! Hoots. To reach the prize, one had to creep across The smooth face of a rock as steep's a roof. Jack dared the awful feat, but stuck mid-way, And there lay flat upon the precipice. Unable to progress or retrogress, When I espied him from a neighbouring peak. SCENE 4.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 107 Liidy Mab. O clear ! Was the cliff hig-h he lay upon ? Hoots. Six hundred feet from the next lower one, And from the basement of the hill itself Six times six hundred. Lady Mab. O ! O God ! poor Jack ! How did you save him, John? Hoots. With mig-hty toil, I got a-top the rock he lay upon. Then tore up into strips my farmer's plaid, Pants, shirt, and other wear and made a rope. And dropt the hasty make-shift down to him. Lady Mab. And did it serve ? Hoots. No, dearest, it did not. For,' though he caught it at my thirteenth cast, We found it much too slim to risk his weight. Ladv Mab. Alas ! alas ! But how was he saved, then ? Hoots. He wound the ta-rag tether round his wrist. Whilst I its other end held fast in hand, And thus we waited till relieved next day. Lady Mab. Next day ! Alone upon that dismal height The whole night long, having nor food nor drink ? Hoots. And not too many togs ! But it kept fair And on the road that skirts the hill — far down — Ere twelve o'clock, I spied Some Thing draw near — A market gardener in his van it proved. Who heard my cries for help and heeded them, And in due time, assisted by two herds. Had us convey'd, unconscious, to his house, Where soon with warmth and food he brought us round. Lady Mab. O John ! you had been lost but for these men — But who is this approaching with such strides? Hoots. Lo ! it is Swacker ! Something's happen'd him ! He hurries like the man late for his train. Enter Swacker, apparently in high glee. Sivack. Mornin', my Leddy ! Everything's a' richt ! I'm only here to hae a freendly crack Wi' Maister Hootsman about odds an' ends. io8 DOUN I' TH' LOUDONS [act v. Lady Mab. But you will join our luncheon ere you g"o ? If so, I'll leave you now, and so save time ? Siimck. Trowth, ay, my Leddy, it may be as weel. My news ye'se hear belyve — guid tiding-s a' ! \Exit Lady Mab. Hoofs. In one word, Swacker, what is on your mind ? Swack. Twa households — Kate MacNeeven's at The Craig", An' Sandy Tweedie's, doun in Linkside here. The Yankee Traveller's cousin to them baith ! Here is the proof o't frae the Session Clerk. {Sho7vs a paper) Ye'se read it efterhand — it's nocht but truth ! The Traveller's faither was ca'd Wullie Steel A young-er brither o' auld x\irchie Steel, For lang- your gran'-dad's grieve at Leddyslove. His dauchters, Mag an' Kate, were a' his bairns. An' Mag, in time, becam' wee Tweedie's wife. An' Kate, the hedger, Dave MacNeeven's ane. " WuU " was a fitter— ser'd his time wi' Briggs — Syne gaed to sea, as engineer a-board A liner, rinnin' 'tween the States an' here. An' sae in time becam' to Airchie lost — Maist likely owin' to him flittin' sune Frae Falla Mains doun here to Leddyslove, An' letters consequently gaun astray — As mony did in the first awkward days O' great Sir Rowland's Penny Post, atweel ! Hoots. No doubt. But does the Traveller know of this? He's at the Sea Horse still, and toiling hard. Swack. Nane kens but Tweedie an' mysel' as yet. For tho' the Traveller's seekin' for his freends, There being no' a Steele in a' Linkside, He hasna struck the trail o' ane o' them ! Hoots. He err'd in not consulting you at first. He is immensely rich, and as kind-hearted. And will, no doubt, if they prove relatives. Both the MacNivens and the Tweedies lift Up from their sloughs of poverty and toil. And roost them in safe seats of ease and peace. SCENE 4.] DOUN I' TH' LOUDONS loy Swack. I'se mak' that sickar ere I leave Linkside ! Hoo is your young" Coal Company ava' ? I noticed in the Mid-day News they had Made you their Pniisidciit at their recent meet, As weel's the Trav'ler Chairman Directors ? Hoots. That's so. The railways, too, now run with us ; New lines are shooting out, and many pits Will be up-casting" wealth within the year. Our shares found seekers ere they well were out, And holders now are deem'd a " lucky lot." Swack. Prosperity crouns ilka spec ye jine ! I ne'er heard o' a Hootsman failing yet ! There's guid-luck in their vera name, I trow ! Hoots. With greater truth might I return your praise, Witness your latest triumph, if no more, The Restored Farm Folk's Club, the age's boast ! Six hundred members drawn to't, ay or no, From out a populace as sparse almost As Twentieth Century ghosts in town churchyards. By nothing but your will and homely tongue ! Swack. Sirss ! wait a wee, the Club's weel mindit o ! Whan are ye gaun to gie't your first address ? Baith yours an' Leddy Mab's were promised us ? Hoots. Yes, in the days before O'Rourke's advent ! Since which, like wilder'd cattle in a town, A maze of wonders we've been driven through ! I fear those speeches must be still deferr'd — Perhaps till after our deferred trip To Jack's Chateau in France. When do you meet ? Swack. First Friday ev'ry month. The Committee Ilka alternate week, on ony nicht. Hoots. Well, then, Let them know this, first chance ; and, furthermore. Present the members in our separate names Each with a copy of those famous books : " Progress and Poverty," by Henry George, And " Nationalisation of the Land" By Doctor Alfred Russell Wallace, and Exhort each man to con them carefully. The volumes have been rail'd to your address. no DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act v. S^vack. They'll a' think mair o' you than ever noo, Gif that they can — a thing I muckle doubt. Hoofs. They'll have cause — "muckle mair" — in times to come, Take my assurance straight. Swack. What ! is the ferm let? Hoots. The Marquis in a note apologised, And begg'd me to forget our differences. And take the land again. Stvack. An' have ye dune't ? I heard, twice owre, they've haen nae offers fof't. Hoots. Then you heard bosh. You know my cousin Joe- He whom, some years ago, to learn to farm, I got placed under J ope of Rowthy-barns — Great Jope, the world-famed agriculturist ? Sicack. The laddie, Joey Hootsman? Yes! Is'thim? Hoots. It is ! He's got it — on tip-top terms too — And takes possession forthwith ! Sivack. Jeerooselem ! There still will be a Hootsman then beside us ? The Poo'rs abune be praised wi' micht an' main ! Tell me but this — for I maun hurry aff. An' see the Traveller ere I catch the train — Whan do ye leave to tak' yer honeymoon ? And, O ! mak' my excuse to her this time, But I'se come back, first leisure day I ha\-e. — Here is the Linkside road. Say whan, say whan? Hoots. Next week — but you'll be duly notified. And o'ersee mine, I hope, while we're in France ? Swack. Ye'll no' stey lang ? Hoots. The honeymoon, no more ! But, first, in Garford I will call on you — On Thursday — afternoon, or evening time, When I have settled things with Mistress Paul. S7vack. Hooch ! That's the mairriage day o' Micky Tubbs ! I've gien them our Big Room to hand their ploy in ! Hoots. O, man ! O, man ! Mick is a genuine soul ! Swack. Sae genuine that his hinmaist pey frae me Sail be the Inn itsel' whan I retire ! SCENE 5.J DOUN r TH' LOUDONS in Hoots. Not yet? You're in your prime. Sivack. I wad, next week, An I could find some ither canny berth. Hoo'ts. Become our Factor ! SiiHJck. Are ye needin' me ? Hoots. Greatly ! Both Lady Hootsman and myself. Sivack. I'se think it owre, an' whan we meet up bye We'se sattled — ay, or no. Enoo, I'll flee ! We've blethered far owre lang — Ta-ta at wance ! \Excunt. Scene V. Linkside. A Room in the Sea Horse Inn. 'The Traveller discovered at a table writing. Trav. {alone.) The strain involved in floating- companies, Commensurately with ideal ones — Such as ours must and shall be, if live born. Is taxing to a man not now a youth. Enter Swacker. Ho ! ho ! Old friend ! You have forestalled me quite, Though I was firmly fix'd to see you soon. Swack. I couldna thole to wait till you cam' up Efter I fand what ye are seeking for — Thae living relics o' your kith an' kin, At least the main bits o' them — Mag an' Kate. Trav. Mag and Kate ? great Greeley ! who are Mag and Kate ? Swack. The lawful dauchters o' yer faither's billie, Auld Airchie Steel, the grieve o' Leddyslove For thirty years an' mair afore he dee'd. — Mag, honest Mag, sair-taigled, eident Mag, Is wife to Sandy Tweedie, blacksmith, here ; An' Kate, the clever-tongued, God-fearing Kate — New Woman, Suffragette, an' Socialist — Is e'en the widow o an ill-starr'd chield, Wha tint his life saving his maister's gear. Trav. Are they in poverty ? Are they distress'd ? And are you sure that they are whom you think ? 112 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act v. Swack. " Sure," quo' ye? Ye no' ken me. Read that! {Gives Iiiiii (III official-looking document) It is twa extracks frae the Session Beuk, Made an' g"ien me by Tammas Broun, the Clark, This vera day doun here, sir, at Linkside ! Trav. {after perusing carefully the somewhat diff^use paper). Most wonderful ! and after my long- search ! How did you find them out? In vain all round I raked the depths for what, not seeking aught, You have discover'd, 'neath my very nose. Life-size, upon the top ! Ten thousand thanks, And, as you hint they're steep'd in poverty, O sir ! take this {handing him a bank note) and give it them for me. And drive with me to-morrow to The Craig ! A gentleman — a mining engineer — I'm fix'd to see to-night, I may not slip. Swack. Ne'er heed ! The morn 'ill do. Come ye to me An' I sail drive ye to The Craig, atweel. As proud as ca' ye into Paradise ! Trav. God bless you, Swacker. That is settled? Then Look for me at your Tavern prompt at noon. What sort of lady's Kate ? How old is she ? S^vack. The same's yersel' — or something there abouts. The sort for you — great-giftit, an' hard up ! A rauckle carlin, few daur tackle to ! Trav. Hath she no children ? S7vack. Yes, ane, a bard — "the wonder of the age" — Wha'U rhyme ye for a snap as deefs a god, Gin he's no busy cairtin' hey or strae ! Trav. A second plough-boy Robbie Burns, I guess ? Swack. Ay, ay ! a workman musical an' michty baith — At either chants or cairts worth ony ten, Whan his wee horses hae nae broken legs! Ta-ta ! Auld Tweedie, I'll salute as I gae bye. ^Exeunt. SCENE 6.] DOUN r TH^ LOUDONS 113 Scene VI. The Same. Before Tweedie's House. Enter Tweedie atid Mrs Tweedie, meeting. Mrs -Tweed. Eh, Sandy ! a puir tea, I trow, the nicht — A red-herrin' only, an' a crust o' scone ! An' you sae hard wrocht, tae, my puir guidman ! Enter Swacker, loaded ivith provisions. Swack. (throwing the parcels down). There, an' be hang^'d ! Fetch here the lave wha likes. I'll be the donkey to no mortal man ! Mrs Turned. What ! Maister Swacker ! What is wrong, ava' ? Swack. The Devil ! The Traveller sends ye thae. Because, he says, he's fund out ye're his freends — Cousins, or something — but speir him yersel's, Or else send Sandy to him, — I am aflf. The Garfuird train is due at five fifteen. [Exit. Mrs Tweed. The same auld man! But what's thir things ava' ? Tweed. Hang it, lug them in ! I'se tell ye a' inside. [Exeunt, carrying in the groce?'ies, etc. Scene VII. The Craig. Kate MacNiven's fireside. Ejiter Kate, Shonnie, and Nanny Cairns. Kate. 'Deed, Nanny, was I ! Sair forfochen lass, An' maist forfairn, tae, wi' my ill-luck. For, weel-I-wat, I had my trail for nocht ! Jean said he wasna in— he'd left ere twal, Wi' little Sandy Tweedie for Linkside. Nan. That's you're guid-brither, Kate, Yes, I ken, Jess Coom, the auld smith's wife, said he'd been here. Shon. (sings). Maister Swacker's far awae, Aw'm shair he'll no be here the day ; Our wames'll suffer for't, aw say, As am as yap's a soo ! Kate. Wheesht, Shonnie ! Haud yer tongue ! Haith, Nanny Cairns, H 114 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act v. I've miss'd the Leddy an' John Hootsman sair E'er sin' thae troubles cam', an' noo that Swats — The only bield that's left me — strays a-wee, I'm strein'd to drap a'maist wi' fag an' weariness ! Shon. (at the window). Ho-ho ! ho-ho ! ho-ho ! Maister Swacker an" anither man Are jumpin' at the door out Micky's van ! ( A knocking heard. ) [^:rzV Shonnie. Kate. Come in ! Enter Swacker, carrying a big basket. Swack. Company? Hoo's a', Nanny ? Are ye dune ? The gentleman outside has business here. An' maybe he wad like Kate be hersel' ? Nan. That's true, guidman ! I maun hame, ony wey ; This is our ferm folk's denner hour, ye ken. \Exit. Swack. O Kate ! I no' ken hoo to speak ! Shake hands, Kate ! That man ye see outside's the Traveller, And wha but he ! Your ain full cousin, Kate ! Your Uncle Wullie's son — a millionaire !^ Yet leal an' simple mindit as yersel' — A vera gentleman in word an' deed ! Kate. Uncle Wullie ? 'Deed, ay ! I've heard o' him ! An' is that gentleman in truth his son ? O Sandy ! Sandy ! — Help me throo wi' this ! I'm weak as water, I've been ill a' week, An' ablins I have taenna food eneuch. Swack. (Perceiving at once her real state J. I see ! Guid gracious, ye are stervin', Kate ! Sit doun ! Tak' that. (Taking a flask and a parcel of sandwiches from tlie basket, and placing them before her). I'll baud yer cousin gaun until ye eat them up. Rap whan ye're dune. Kate. Send Shonnie in — the bairn's gaspin' tae ! \Exit Swacker. i SCENE 8.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 115 Scene VIII. Outside the Cothoitsc, the Traveller standing by the head of the horse in the trap. Trav. Thoug-h I am Yankee born, this house, this scene, Seem strangely quite familiar unto me— As some old haunt known well, long-, long ag-o ! Enter SHONNiEyVom tlie house. Shon. {coining forward to the Traveller). Are ye haudin' the horse, ma mannie ? It's Micky Tubbs's Cobbler, aw ken him fine. He'll no' rin awa' as lang's aw'm.here, for tho' he's soople, he's no' half as soople as ma new ane, an' he's no' on wheels either like mine. Aw bocht him frae Maister Swacker jist the ither day, an' a fine soom he cost me — guess hoo much ? Ah-ha, ye canna ! Weel, aw'll tell ye — nae less than a smokin' cap, an' a new sang book aw fand owre i' th' Howes, but he's worth his price. — Ho-ho ! here he comes his-sel ! Enter Swacker. S^vack. Shonnie ! In to Mammy ! She's sich a feed ! — Pies, curn-baps, an' plates o' whangs o' cheese ! Shon. 'Od-have-a-care-o'-me ! has she a' that ? They maun hae fa'n like hail-stanes doun the lum. [Exit. Swack. I've tauld her a'thing. She's beside hersel'. Trav. I long to know her — you have sketch'd her so ! Her struggles hard, and Fortune's harder hits, Years of self-sacrifice, maternal cares. Mixed love and worry for her weakling boy ! Yet, notwithstanding, for the multitude Ne'er-ending thought and travel, far and near ! Come ! let us pass inside. Swack. Let her rap first. I tauld her we would wait till she was dune Eatin' her frugal denner. {A tap on the 7vi)idow heard) Hark ye, that's her ! Come on, ne'er mind the horse — auld Cob will stand. Until he's driven, like a landed Tory ! [Exeunt. ii6 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act v. Scene IX. Inside the House. Present, The Traveller, Swacker, Kate, and Shonnie. Swack. Nae nonsense. Here we are. Shake hands, an' syne Fa' hard to wark, for our slack time is short. Trav. [To Kate). My friend ! I've heard your story. Then, at once. Please say if you would wish to live up here — I mean near Garford — or would rather shift Back to the very calf-ground of our race, Down near the sea at Bents ? Kate. O, sir ! the sea I durstna stey n'ar, for puir Shonnie there ! He's only seen it ance, and, O, dear sir, The fricht it gied him nearly endit him ! It fairly brak me doun to hear his screams. An' whan I brang him hame, for weeks — for months, He saw it in the visions o' the nicht. An' dree'd the terror owre an' owre again, Skirlin' like ane in Bedlam wi' the blues ! Swack. Imagination dings him nicht an' day. Trav. Poor, poor fellow ! [To Kate) Well, you will know that house — Call'd Garvie Vale, south side of Garford town, I see it is for sale — could you live there ? You would be near old friends, and frequently I might run up from Linkside pits myself, After returning from my trip to France. Kate. Garvie Vale ! What ! That Garvie Vale doun bye ? Losh, sir, the house is a twa storey house — Forbye its garrets, cellars, an' hothouses — An' weel micht lodge an Empress on a throne, Wi' a' its lawns, an' plots, an' gairden chairs ! Swack. The vera place for Shonnie ! Made for him ! He'd sing there like a paitrick a' day lang ! An' gif yer cousin does present ye wi't I'll manage your removal there mysel' — If, Madam Catherine, it be your will. i SCENE 9.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 117 Trav. You would be near our friends the Tweedies too, As they return to Garford presently. Kat^. Is Sandy giein' Linkside Smiddy up ? Trav. He's going- to retire, and, for that end, I hear that he has purchased Hadden's land, Intending there to build his future home. What say you then to Garvie ? Is't a deal ? Swack. Kate ! let me speak for ye, as ye aft hae dune. An' say " it is," slap-bang ! Kate. But, mercy me. That house wad need a fricht o' furnishings ! Trav. Which I'd supply — even if it needed tivo. Swack. An' I'd fit up— altho' ye double doubled it ! Weel, say that's sattled. What about the means? Could ye, Kate, get alang in Garvie Vale On what ye're makin' here by knittin' socks. Added to that our Poor Law Shonnie grants ? Trav. Neither my cousin, nor her stricken boy. Need ever be beholden to the rates For but another bite — if they accept, What I now humbly here do proffer them : An adequate annuity for each, Beginning now, and ending but with life ! K'ate. I hae nae words that could half say my thanks, Sae I'll say naething but God bless ye, sir ! Ye've pruved yersel' to me a freend atweel ! A double freend, for reasons no' to name. An' whilk are far abune me to excuse, Tho' I cou'd faced them by the force o' want, An' seeing naething else for us but death, Whanever Maister Swacker bade atowre ! You are my cousin. Uncle Wullie's son, Tell me your Christian name, that I may worship it In unison wi' Swats' and Hootsmans' anes ! Ye'll mak' a trinity that heaven will find It fell hard to deny the blessing to That I'se petition for ye morn an' e'en ! Trav. My name is more uncommon than myself. Compounded as it is of those of two ii8 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act v. Stars of great magriitude in Fame's high vault — Abraham Lincoln of America, And John Bright of the Mother Country here — Who were my father's idols in his prime ! — Abbreviated, as our method was, Even in my early days, down to " Bright Steele " ! Kate. A gallant name, nae doubt, but, wi' your leave, I'se much prefer to ca' ye " Cousin John," That seems to sound mair hamely, nice, an' kind ? Shonnie wad mak' dreid havoc o' the ither ! Szmick. Ay! a rhyme for " Aubraham " micht fickle pruve For even Shonnie. But, dod ! had we haen time, I'd tried him at it e'en this efternune — But we maun aflf— this is Mick's mairriage eve, An' Peg wad augur ill were I awa ! Come doun the morn an' arrange the flittin' An " Cousin John " will stay till this is dune ? Trav. Gladly — at least one day. Come, Shonnie, too? Shon. {much uplifted). Sings — Micky Tubbs an' Peg-gy Dishie, A gfloris waddin' day aw wish ye ! Whan doun at Swacker's on the spree, Pegf aye was awfu' guid to me ! — Giein' me scones, an' milk to drink, An' whiles a bawbee, tae, o' clink ! {Dances round. ) Fal-all-dee-loo ! baith gfuid and bonnie, Was aye young Peg, an' kind to Shonnie ! Trav. A miracle ! How does he it? Take this ! And ta^ta, both of you, till the morrow comes. [Exeunt Traveller and Swacker. Kate. What's that he's gien ye ? Let me see it, sonny. {Looks at the present.) Preserve us a' ! What's this ? — a ten-pound note ! ! If he is rich, it winna be for lang — Sawing his bank-notes braidcast onywhare ! My certie, but he'll hear o' this the morn ! But, Shonnie, let us yont to Maggie Glen's, I'm keen to hear noo hoo the Markis is, I SCENE lo.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 119 For, sin' that accident, he's no^ been weel — But, lord sake there's his man, as white's a clout ! {Goes to the door and shouts.) Hey, Maister Tipem ! TiPEM comes to her., startled looking. Tip. Mistress MacNiven ! O his Lordship's dead ! He has succumbed unto the injuries Which he sustained in that sad accident. When, motoring- from Bents to Castle Cleuch ! — Within a stone-cast of his own Park gates, The new car slid into the old dry ditch — Killing the factor, Roupemout, at once — That skirts the " Near Cut " leading to the Lodge. I speed to telegraph the news to Bents, To London, Paris, Rome — to all the world. For poor Lord Garford's on his dying bed. And may not even hear of this fell stroke — Which will leave Lady Mabel, after him. Sole lawful heiress of these vast estates ! \Exil. Kate. Eh, sirss ! but this is sorry news, an' yet, Tho' he'd been ten times waur than what he was. He had been human still, therefore his end, Sae painfu', eldritch, grim, may weel in us The memory o' his fauts — greed, Papish weys, An' life-lang wastefulness — end evermair ! Come ! Shonnie, let us in an' hae some tea, An' thank the Giver o't, an' His leal lad, Our new found Cousin John, His servant born ! \^Exeiint Scene X. Garford. The "Big Room" of the Gray Sheep Inn. Enter Hootsman and Swacker. Hoots. This room's dismantled ? Swack. Ay — for the dance to be, Efter the grand dejeuner in the Tent, Hoots. Well, are they well married now? Swack, That they are ! Man, I ne'er saw the tane or tither o' them Look half as weel's they did in yon Manse room, I20 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act v Before grave Doctor Paul an' a' the croud. Peggy was charming- — buxom, sweet, an' fresh, The " op'ning' g"owan wat wi' dew" a' owre ! An' Mick, our jolly, cle\-er, manly Mick, The vera pictur' o' pure Irish bliss ! Hoofs. Where are they now ? Sivack. They're a' doun i' th' Tap- Whare a' the waddin' g"ifts are spread abreid — Twa hunder o' them — for the warld to see Under the Traveller's ciceroneship — A' shaking- hands, an' wishing- joy a' round. For, say the twentieth time sin' twal o'clock ! Hoots. . Yes, yes, of course. And it may be as well If we do snatch this opportunity And discuss our affairs, and settle them — If that to-day be possible to do ? Sivack. Ay, ay ! Go on — as short as sand itsel' ! Were ye up at the Castle 'fore ye cam ? Hoots. After his father the old Marquis died. Last night Lord Garford sent for me to come. And he received me in such friendly wise, O Swats ! I felt as if I could have ta'en His ills upon me, if so he might live. But, O, that might not be — yet wonderful Is he to look at, sitting up in bed, Well knowing he'll ne'er rise from it again. Albeit his trouble lets him linger months. Swack. Kens he now o' your new relationship ? Hoots. His doctor told him everything, he said, So soon's he had perceived no bad effect The awful story of the motor smash, And its resultant deaths, had had on him. S^vack. The ditch they coupit in's an open trap, An' should have been fiU'd in whan motors cam'. O'Rourke himsel', they say, was bouch'd in it ! But tell me o' the Yearl — the new Markis noo ! — He'll ne'er be fit to steer his heritage, Thae grit estates o' hill an' lowland ferms ? Hoots. No. I am to do so for him, and if you Would take the factorship — do. Swats, at once. And so relieve me of a world of cares ! SCENE lo.] DOUN P TH' LOUDONS 121 Swack. Succeed auld Roupemout himsel', ye mean? Hoois. Yes, and administer Bents' lands besides. To you, an old-experienced farming- buck. The work would not be bothersome a bit ; No present leases will expire for long — Saving those of Hogg's, and Cowe's, and Sanderson's. S7vack. Hogg's gaun to Africa — the Lord be praised! An' as for Sanderson, he's drucken dune, An' threatens to succumb afore his tack ! Hard-strugglin', honest, thrifty Wullie Cowe Should hae his place revalued, an' sit still. At what a man can live, an' let live at ; John Hetherbel is snifting efter Hogg's An' Peter Stoure on Sanderson's has een — They're weel-doing shavers baith, an' sworn freends ! Hoots. But have they capital for such fine farms ? Swack. Jock Hetherbel will hae, an' as for Stoure The ferm is sma', an' he can cadger weel, Nae fear o' Pate ! Hoots. Well, but your factorship, What say you now ? Swack. I do agree to grip it — Your ferm policy being that of auld, As on the Stump and in the Press declared ? Hoots. Consideration, justice, mercy are. Have been, and shall be, our whole policy. Well, you'll remove and take your duties up At Tander Brae, the Estate Offices, Where Roupemout, as in a fortalice, Den'd like a Russian autocrat, and ruled O'er forty miles of Scotland, north and south ! S7vack. Ay — by my sang! — an' noo whare "Swats" will brush Injustice an' a' tyranny frae thae miles, As erst he soopt the pipe-ase aff his bar ! Say that ye'll favour Stoure an' Hetherbel An' Pm yer thrall. Lord Hootsman, bound an' sworn ! Hoots. Both Stoure and Hetherbel shall have those farms. If you approve them and their capital— But, hush, the marriage folk are at the door ! 122 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act v. Enter, arm in arm, Mk and Mrs Tubes, Mr arid Mrs TwEEDiE ; and, singly, Mrs vSwacker, Kate and Shonnie MacNiven, the Traveller, Horsman, Stoure, and many others — all of nahom shake hands with HooTSMAN, and then mix and converse promis- cnously. Simtck. Mick, Jean craved me for a mairriage gift foi" you, But I did pit her afif until the day. Tubbs. Only a little thing- I wanted, sor, Some thrifle, showing ye wor plazed wid me. Swack. Weel, I'm nae freend o' hole-an'-corner wark, An' sae afore this croud I'll name my gift. An' the conditions, which ye maun respeck, Gif ye wad have what noo I proffer ye — To wit, this Inn, an' a' that it contains, For five years at the rent o' forty pounds. Paid me per annum freely. — Efterhend, If ye, in Peg's opinion, hae dune weel The haill o't to yersel — House, Inn, an' a' ! (Loud applause, and a voice, "■ Jist like Swats f) Swack. {continuing). That is condition first ; the second is. That ye, slap-bang, do tak' anither name. An' let " Tubbs " sink, as low as tubs can sink That lack a bottom an' are left to sink. The new name I propose is " Dishie," Mick, It is your lady's — a guid cross between The English " Dishington " and Irish "Tubbs," A sort o' Saxon-Celtic true blue Scot ! What say ye, Mick ? Peg {intervening). The vera thing, atweel ! " Tubbs " ne'er was meent by God for man or beast ! It's no a name to ca' a black-a-moor ! Eh, Maister Swacker, hound him on to mine ! Tubbs. I lave it all to Piggy, being now Undher a promise to becoom convarted. In crade and practice, to all she succeeds In making me belave is thrue an' roight ! SCENE lo.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 123 Swack. I'll have the Sign this vera week re-letter'd As — " The Royal Garfuird Gray-Sheep Lin : Drink, grub, an' beddin\ prime, for man an' horse : Proprietor {or Renter) " Miehael Dishie, Successor to the sair-lanientit Stvats, Of happie memorie f" ( Loud Laughter). Enter Lady Mabel Hootsman, Mrs Paul, and Sir Hugh Seafaem, attended by Donald Shiels. Shon {recognising Lady Hootsma7i, he runs to her, and sifigs) — Govy-dickie ! Govy-dickie ! Ken ye wha has gfotten Micky? , Pegfgfy Dishie's g-otten Micky, An' a' the toun cries, " Govy-Dickie " Fal lal de lal lay, fal lal de lal loo, We'se a* at the waddin', eat pies an' greet fou ! {Great laughter). Kate. Shonnie ! Wheesht, wheesht ! It's owre sune yet to sing". Lady Mab. I pray you, do not heed us — laugh away, A marriag'e party should not mirth restrain ; Tho' our stay must be short from Castle Cleuch, Because of what is there of care and death ; But we could not, being here, but visit you. And give an earnest of our ardent love. And warmest wishes for the future weal Of those whom we have known so long and well. {Applause). My husband and the Traveller and I Have talked about your revived Club together, And now do see our way jointly to gift The members of it with a spacious Hall, Library, and a Reading Room to match, If that they kindly will accept of them On this condition only — That Ned Armstrong Be duly chosen architect and builder. {Much clapping of hands and other applause). The site of them would be Hare Shaw, on land At present owned and till'd by Mister Swacker, Who'll give it gratis — without charge or price — 124 DOUN r TH' LOUDONS [act v. As he, he says, will have enough of charge In his new factorship at Tander Brae. {Renewed loud applause). {To Swacker). Hand me a glass of wine, sir, if you please, That I may drink their healths before we go. {Taking the glass). Mister and Mrs Dishie, Here's to ye. An' may there ne'er be waur amang's than this f {Hear, hear, and great applause). We start in matrimonial yokes together. Two pairs, to pace our destined tracks through life ! may we ne'er run counter to our good, And at our goal find what was worth our race ! Fareiueel to a' our several freends at wance. Until ive meet again safe back frae France ! {Great and prolonged applause). Exeunt Mr and Lady Hootsman, Shonnie, and Mrs Paul. Sir Hugh. What Lady Hootsman and her husband said 1 won't repeat, but approve every word, And fain would to them add a few of mine. {Hear, hear, and cheers). Among the members of the restored Club There are a number, doubtless, keen to be Possessors of a holding of their own. Either as owners, or as renters simply, To such Pd point the way straight down to Bents, Where all arrangements may be made henceforth With our new factor, Alexander Swacker — {Deafening applause). Whereby the laudable desires of all May be most amply served and gratified. {Hear, hear). Hors. I'm awfu' pleased that Maister Swacker, Sir, Has been appintit factor o' the Bents, As weel's o' grit Moorcleuchs estate an' a', Kennin' for certain hoo they'll flourish noo ! But I am no' sae sure about sma' ferms, — SCENE 6.] DOUN r TH' LOUDONS 125 Few ploomen hae the brass to start ane wi', Altho' it was nae lairger than a plot. Trav., Mister Horsman, if those would call on me — Me7i fit in all ways else lo farm land — I might be able to encourage them ! I've seen it done, both in the States and France, And 'twould be practicable at Bents as there, And even more so, with your large consumpt. Sir Hugh. I think so also. But we must be gone — I see how Donald's fretting to be back With Tipem at the Old Port bins again ! Shiels. I fret. Sir Hugh, but not for Tipem's port, But, rather, now the talk's of your affairs, For f6ar you'll mess them — as ye've always done, — So please shake hands with all, and do so now ! \Exeunt Sir Hugh and Shiels, loudly applauded. Swack. {approaching the Traveller's coterie). Haith, sirs, Richt wordy waddin' guests ye prove yersel's ! As weel hae Calvin ministers as you ! The forlorn lasses yawn as they wad sleep ! Jean ! is your banquet ready in the Tent ? Mrs Swack. Ready an hour syne, by the new toun clock ! Swack. Then hook yer leddies, gents, an' fallow me ! We'll come back here sae sune's we've fill'd oursels, An' dance an' sing, an' speechifee an' booze. Till e'en the stoutest cry " Eneuch for ance ! " Exeunt Mrs Dishie, arming Swacker, Kate MacNiven, the Traveller, aiid the others following in like order. FINIS. OTHER PIECES. THE LOVE OF LIFE. ("To BE, OR Not to Be?") Annihilation ! nothing-ness ! Death absolute — unknowing end ! All unperceiving — woe, or bliss, Or peace, or strife, or foe, or friend — A dead thing, like a stone, to lie — , A neutral all eternity ? I'd rather live, if man had choice, A thousand ages in a slum, 'Midst slum surroundings — raucous noise — All that to moral men may come — Than sicken, sink, and be no more, Like a spent wave upcast inshore ! To hail no more the gladsome spring. Nor note her flush o'er bleak earth steal ; To hear no more the woodlands ring. No more the summer sun to feel, Nor clasp of friendship, nor the joy. And meed of love — bliss, sans alloy ! Than this, could I fore-known, I would Ten thousand times have never been, For, then, choice possible, 'twere good Timely to shun all evil seen, And, by an act of will, defeat That which, without it, I would meet ? But, "being" 'sfact, so I'd still "be," For being ever wars with death — Tho' oicr annulment's " certainty " — (So the old dismal prophet saith) — And but a matter of the days. Or months, or years, despite delays ! 127 128 OTHER PIECES 'Tis writ — " Man giveth up the ghost, And where is he ?" Ah ! 7vhere is he ? In Death's eternal midnight lost ! Or wakening in Life's morning — free, And strong for flight from world to world, Till the last shred of sin is furl'd? What whispers Nature's self? Are there No felt pulsations in man's soul Bespeaking likelihood of fare, And life when earth hath swallow'd whole His husk of clay ? Or must ev'n faith Cower its white wings and roost in death ? I wot not. Progress is her law — And not Destruction — ceaseless change — Which, from moUue to man, didst draw Through myriad years this wonder strange- That, when need rose for further power. She, prompt, stood ready to endower ! All races shrink aghast from death, The more endow'd the more aghast ; Therefore, with need dame Nature hath Their faith and hope perfectly cast. Commensurate with each desire,—- Though some to endless life aspire ! In this hope nourished, I survive. Awake, alert — albeit " old ! " Around me — millions teem alive. Behind me — millions in the mould ! Before me — rushing millions rise To fill the void the former flies O'er this part-visionary crowd Of present, past, and future folk. War faith and doubt in shine and cloud. Their ancient feud — shock after shock — ■ Renewing for the final good Which yet shall bless the multitude ! BLACK AGNES OF DUNBAR 129 BLACK AGNES OF DUNBAR Part First. — Montague's Commission Like ane sea-born leviathan, Dreepin' brine frae limb an' crest, Behauld Dunbar,* invasion's path in, Ag'es on a' sides opprest. See her stronghold, ever braving" Faes in shore, an' air, an' sea ; Owre its Keep, alternate waving- A' their banners loose an' free : Now for Baliol, neist for Edward, Syne for Bruce of Bannockburn — Ev'ry victor, weel or ill-faur'd, On her turrets gets his turn ! England, neth her brisk Third Neddie, Feeling some reviving spunk, Lang years after his slim daddie Had to sheer despair her sunk, Glower'd towards Dunbar an' shiver'd. Kenning conquest owre the Scots Was as bosh, whilst " undeliver'd " Stude that strength, whare noo it rots ! " Leave't to Us ! " cried this young Edert, " Leave the ruckle to Our power, And arraign me ev'n in Jethart Gifna svme We ding it owre ! * " Dunbar Castle stands at the north end of the town hi a situa- tion pecuHarly wild and romantic. It is founded upon a reef of rocks that pi-oject into the sea, and which, in many places, rise like bastions thrown up by Nature to g-uard these stern remains ot feudal g-ralndeur ag-ainst the power of the waves, that yet force their way through rug'g'ed caverns and fissures in the stone, and, with a thundering- noise, wash its dark foundations," — The History of DiDibar, by James Miller, Ed, 1859, p. 9. I I30 OTHER PIECES " To this wark We'se set on twenty Thousan's o' our stoutest knaves, Airm'd wi' picks an' rams a-plenty To owre-coup it in the waves. " Summon me Arundel quickly, And wi' him hail Montague ! Baith maun pack, or weel or sickly, To this last grand Siege, I trew ! " Whan they cam', out-spak' King Neddie "Arundel, an' bauld Montague, We're for Gaul, sae mak' ye ready. For Dunbar We leave to you ! " Yerk ye to it, ding It sheerly, Souce it in the brine for aye ! It has cost Old England dearly Sin' our gran'-dad Lang Shanks' day ! " Hurl it into Lammer Haven ! * Put its boor-cubs to the sword ! Naething lats, for noo that raven, Cospatrick, its forsworn lord, " Flits unshackled throo the Hielands, And, with Douglas, gluts his gorge On the fat bucks of those free lands. Lustier than our St George ! " Sae his ladye wards his castle — E'en that Scots-key cleped Dunbar ! Jesu ! wdth a wench to wrastle, What can stay ye dogs of war? " The old port of Dunbar — immediately below the Castle BLACK AGNES OF DUNBAR Up-spak' Montag-ue the noble — " Sire, this mission grieves me sore ! I'd as lief besieg-e a coble Stalking- partans * on that shore, "As that Scotch barn, whare a woman Lords it owre a batch o' boors, Nae mair valiant than their common Gray goats on the Lammermoors ! " " But," rejoin'd far-keeking- Neddie, "Whilst We, tae, those clowns contemn, Before «' wad We be rid aye O' the houff that houses them ! " 'Tis the gateway to their Kintra ; The rock fastness that hath barr'd Frae rare spoil our Southland gentry. And their conquest doth retard. " Wharefor, Montague, depart ye ! And, whan We frae Gaul hie hame. Hail Us wi' this news, my heartie — ' Nnething's left dt hit the name ! ' " Syne, belyve, wad come the final Of our tuilzies for the land. Which ev'n Ceesar couldna win all Wi' the airth at his command ! And our princely aith we swear ye, Sune's its conquest's proven true. Our High Govkrnor sail there be No man but The Montague ! " * Crabs. 132 OTHER PIECES Monty crouchit — loutit humble, As a vassal meted out Honours that precluded grumble, An' the lack of " means " to boot ! " Sovran liege lord ! Royal Edert ! Here, afore ye on my knee. For that stake I'd swear with glad heart To daur aucht on land or sea ! " Ere this year is ae mune aulder Dunbar's ruckle laigh sail be. And its Ladye's doup feel caulder At the bottom o' the sea ! " Brummel, my young engineer chief, Has devised me a machine. With whilk ane may bring to sheer grief Wa's the thickest ever seen ! " In the woodlands here at Berwick * He's been at it sin' we came ; Logs of aik, an' beech, an' lerrick Doth comprise its monstrous frame ! " Run to Dunbar's rock-like ramparts. It will shield a mining crew Of some scores of navvy stalwarts. Worthy of their dam — The Soo ! " Sae, my liege, this Wonder's titled By admirers, sib an' frem — Multitudes whase wits are kittled Wi' the merits o' this gem ! " * It was at Berwick that Montag-ue received the chief command of the forces intended for Dunbar, BLACK AGNES OF DUNBAR 133 " We have heard o't ; therefore, forward ! Lug- it to Dunbar the morn ! We gae South, while you gae Norward — Baith to deeds heroic borne ! Part Second.— The Siege* The Ladye t awoke by break o' day And a wilyart dame was she. Crying wild aloud, or yea or nae, All unto her maidens three : " Ho, Dods ! Peg Dods ! ho, Merrilees ! Ho, Nell MacGregor, tae ! Whare are ye, hussies ? Fetch my claes, My sooth, it's n'ar noonday ! * " In January 1337, William Montag-ue, Earl of Salisbury, to- g-ether with the Earl of Arundel, to whom the King: had left the chief command of the forces in Scotland, attempted this enter- prise" (the Siegfe of Dunbar) "with a larg-e army. At this im- portant crisis, the Earl of Dunbar was employed with the Guardian in reducing- the fortresses in the North ; so that the defence of this fortress devolved upon the Countess, a lady who, from the dark- ness of her complexion, was commonly called Black Agnes, and whose vigilant and patriotic conduct has immortalised her name." — Milkf's Hist. , p. 43. t " Agnes, Countess of Dunbar, was daugfhter of the celebrated Thomas Randolph, Earl of Moray, and sister to the Earl of that name who fell at Duplin ; and of his successor who was made prisoner in the affray with Count Namur, and who was at this time a prisoner in England. These circumstances inspired senti- ments of resentment agfainst the Engflish in the breast of our heroine, which neither the stratag-ems of art could surprise, nor the terrors of danger dismay. The Castle, which was newly fortified, from its situation on rocks nearly surrounded by the sea, was deemed impregnable. But against the natural strength of the fortress we must bring the most consunnnate g-enerals of the age. Arundel was afterwards constable at the Battle of Cress)-, and Salisbury commanded the rear at the Battle of Poictiers, while the besieg-ers were the chosen troops that had been victori- ous in the late invasions. — Miller's Hisl., pp. 43-4. 134 OTHER PIECES " Ane rin for Brand, the lang Captain Owre all my men-at-airms ; Anither to Christie — our out-look swain — To hear hoo the Southron swairms ; "Anither to Provost-mairshal Dan, And bid them all repair Up to the Watch Tower, man by man, Gin their craig"s frae the rape they'd spare ! " Ha, here comes Christie ! News — news — news ! What news frae the ruif o' the Keep ? " " Ladye, O Ladye ! eneuch to arouse An' drive the deid out o' their sleep !— " A Southeron swairm fills up the gfap 'Tween the moorlands an' the bree ! This Peel is held in their living- trap As a ship in ane stormy sea ! " " What stores, what stores ? Ca' Kelly here My Purser an' Provider ! Ho, Brand ! an' Provost Dan, O dear ! Dunbar — g^uid luck betide her ! — " Dunbar's beleaguered by a swairm O' the ill-thieves frae the South, Showing- ag-ain auld Scotland hairm — An' she be na sunk in sleuth ! " Our lord the Yearl is i' th' North, Sae mayna Dunbar see Till Winter's g-ane for a' his worth, His Courier says to me. " But, Yearl or nana, I vow by Christ, An' a' the saunts thegfither ! Dunbar sail keep Auld Scotland's tryst Tho' Tophet's hordes "draw hither ! BLACK AGNES OF DUNBAR 135 " Randolph Moray's dauchter Nan Sail ne'er defame her sire ! Dunbar is hers, an' lat wha can Win it 'gainst her desire ! " Kelly ! what reck ye in the Keep ? " " A fouth, dreid Ladye, for sax ouks Meal frae the mill, fish frae the deep. An' rowth o' geese an' deuks ! * " Notarie Notman, my auld freen' — A Scot baith slee an' true — Says twenty thousan' Southrons keen. Led by grit Montague, " Invest Dunbar, a' sides, this day — Deid-set to wrack this Peel, An' raze it to the rocks for aye, 'Spite a' our pith an' skeel " — "Ay, ay, auld man ! — there, baud thy peace. Until thou's looten free ! Look to thy girnels, deuks, an' geese, An thou wad shun the Tree ! \ " Brand ! — Captain, Maister-man-at-airms, What credit haveth thou ? Is there 'mang a' thy harum-scarums Nae loon can please me now ? " "Yes, ma'm ! The porter at the gate — Joe Imrie o' The Inch — Kens something that he fain wad state-- He micht serve at a pinch ? " ' Weeks. t The " Woodie-tree," or gallows. 136 OTHER PIECES " A heidy knave ! I like him weel ! He's ane whase quest's ne'er vain ! Stand all abeigh — the loon's richt leal — Bring him to me amain ! Ho ! he is here ? Porter, my friend, Say what thou would'st with me." " Great Ladye ! that whilk weel may end Me on thy Woodie Tree ! " For I'm in league wi' Montague, An' sworn to ope the gate At nune this day, to lat him throo. That he on thee may wait ! " " Now Jesu comfort thee, my man. As happie as I wis ! For me — for this, thy weel-laid plan, Thine age wi' rowth I'se bless ! " Gae back, and do what thou hatli sworn- At noon — to Montague ; But, than his band — iDhaUl ne'er return! — Nae Southron else lat throo ! " Lat the portcullis drap, slap-bang, Sae sune's this wooer's won ! He'se needit little, by my sang. Whan our short courtin's done ! " An' it work weel this ruse, young Joe, Thy meed sail be nae crinch ! — Thou shalt all vassalage forego, And sit rent free at Inch ! " Noontide is nigh, hie to the gate, And usher in this storm ! Here, in this South-side Tower, I'se wait, And note how thou perform ! " BLACK AGNES OF DUNBAR 137 Punct at the hour, bauld Montague She saw ayont the fosse, What time slee Joe the draw-brig^ slew To let the Southrons cross ; Besides, some thousan's o' his force, Nae far atoure, mark'd she, Cheering their leader on his course. An' roosin' Joe richt free ! Athort the draw-brig" in a trice Begoud to race the band. Their leader in their midst, fu' nice Squired by ane ca'd Copeland. This henchman spied young Joseph smile, An' keek up at the Tower, Which gart the knave jalouse some wile To get within her power The person o' that General great, E'en the bauld Montague, Sae, to mak sure, contrar' to state. He round before him flew. Doun the portcullis instant crash'd, Joe weening Mont was trapp'd, Till, turning round, he stude abash'd To see what had mishapp'd — Copeland was in, Montague out,* Was e'er sae foil'd true man ! Wi' mony an aith withouten doubt He wad his owre-haste ban. * " Finding- the arts of assault unavailing-, Salisbury next at- tempted to g-ain the Castle by treachery. Means were employed to bribe the porter who had charg-e of the gate. This he agreed to do, but disclosed IIk- transaction to the Countess. Salisbury, at the head of a chosi'ii paity, connnanded this enterprise in i3« OTHER PIECES But Brand an' Provost-mairshal Dan Weel vended him on the lave — Ilk at a rape's end swith they ran Tower-hicht abune the wave ! For this Montague logs an' rocks, Against the Stronghold hurl'd ; But as the fiercer grew his knocks The merrier Agnes skirl'd, An' bade her maidens three rax owre, An' mi' their dowlies dicht, The stains his shots made aflf the Tower, As weel's to flout the wicht ! Syne naucht else wad his ire appease, Whan three-score o' his crew He saw deid-dangling in the breeze, Than ordering furth The Soo ! Its sicht* the Ladye on the Tower, Gart to Montague cry — " Come on, Monsieur! bravo. Monsieur! Thy heroine o' the sty pL-rsou, and found the g-at.es open to receive him. The officious- ness of John Copeland, one of his attendants, saved the gfeneral from the snare. Copeland hastily passed before the Earl, the portcullis was let down, and the trusty squire, mistaken for his lord, remained a prisoner. Ag-nes, who from the southern tower observed the event, cried to Salisbury jeering-ly, ' Adieu, Mon- sieur Montague ; I intended that you should have supped with us, and assisted in defending- this fortress ag-ainst the robbers of England.'" — Miller's History of Dunbar, pp. 46-49. * " The Sow was a military eng^ine, resembling- the Roman testudo. It was formed of wood, covered with hides, and mounted on wheels, when, being- rolled forward to the foot of the besieged wall, it served as a shed or cover to defend the miners, or those who wroug-ht the batteringf ram from the stones and arrows of the garrison." — Border Minstrelsy, Yq\. I., p. o. BLACK AGNES OF DUNBAR 139 "We greet wi' glee, tho' we, this nicht, Had fondly hoped that thou Wad sup with us, and with thy micht Have aided us to cowe. " Some thievish knaves, wha brag- the3''ve come Frae hame Dunbar to wrack, But wha, ere lang", may sigh for some Guid wind to waft them back ! " * Red-wud, Montague rair'd an' raged " Lug out that Soo ! " he cried : " Now let Satanic strife be waged, All rocks an' wa's defied ! " Mine ! nether mine, an' countermine ! Haul every engine furth ! Steep tower an' dungeon deep in brine, And our Soo pruve her worth ! " * " During- the siege Ag-nes performed all the duties of a bold and vigilant commander. When the battering- eng-ines of the Eng-lish hurled stones or leaden balls ag-ainst the battlements, she, as in scorn, ordered one of her maids, splendidly dressed, to wipe off, with a clean w-hite handkerchief, the marks of the stroke. The Castle continued to ' laug-h a sieg-e to scorn,' when the Earl of Salisbury, with v^ast labour, brought that enormous machine, the Sow, to bear ag-ainst the walls ; but, like, the Roman at the Siege of Jotapata, it rung- harmless ag"ainst the rock. The Countess, who awaited the approach of the new- engine of destruction, beingf full of taunts, exclaimed : — ' Beware Montagfou For farrow shall thy SOW ! (meaning the men within it) when a large fragment of the rock was hurled from the battlements, and crushed the cover to pieces, with the poor little pigs (as Major calls Ihein), who were lurking under it. And although there is no royal road to poetry, upon the authoritv of this couplet, Ritson has admitted Agnes into the list of the Scott isii poets !" — Mi/Ur's Jlis/ory, pp. 44-5. I40 OTHER PIECES The Ladye, skirling, lootit down, Bidding" great Montague — " Beware ! " — (in tones heard owre the toun)- " For farrow shall thy Soo ! " Instanter owre the ramparts crash'd, DoLin throo puir grumphie's banes, As muckle rock as micht have smash'd A Kirk to chuckie stanes ! The Soo, an' a' her "pigs," bedeen, Sank out o' sicht for aye ; Nane o' her breed has e'er been seen Doun to this vera day ! And, forthwith, Montague the siege Changed to ane close blockade ; An' wrate to Gaul an' tauld his liege The subtle shift he'd made ! Part Third. — The Blockade The Ladye sat up on her Watch Tower hie. Leisurely scanning a' airths at will ; To her Provost-mairshal chatting was she, An' wonnerin sair why their faes were sae still. Quo' she to the Provost — " Dear Provost Dan, Rin down to the Porter an' fesh him to me ; It's time we were thinkin' an makin' some plan Or sune ilka saul in this Castle maun dee ! " Auld Kelly, our Purser, an' Store-keeper baith, Was here wi' a phix n'ar as long' as his airm, Gruntin', an' greetin' wi' mony an aith. Like a man dung clean gyte wi" dule an' alairm ! BLACK AGNES OF DUNBAR 141 " He declares that his girnels, an' bunkers, an' kegs Are as toom an' as dry as his ain innards are ! Sae ' his Ladye ' he counsels, beseeches, an' begs To surrender aff-han' this great strength o' Dunbar ! " Awa an' bring Imrie the gateman to me ! He's worth ten o' ye a' for a big brainy heid ! He contrived the Soo's end, an' my faigs it was he Wha'd hae taen Montague, gin his scheme hadna gley'd ! Whan the Porter cam' up, quo' my Ladye to him, " Young Joe, I'm distress'd, an' sair nettled, atweel ! A' owr meal-boats are toom, that were fou to the brim Whan the English sat down to wrack this our auld Peel ! " " Ma Leddy," Joe says, " ma dear Leddie, look here ! It's a fack I loot slip the rogue Muntygee, An' for doin' sae beastly forfeited, I fear. The gloris reward I was promish'd by thee ? " "I'd renew it, dear Joe," quo' the Ladye belyve, "I'd renew and add to't a gowpen o' go wd. Gin thou'dst only ane plot to relieve us contrive, An' lead free Dunbar out aneth this black cloud ! " " Ma Leddie, Gude keep thee ! I sail ettle at it, Altho' the job's kittle — as kittle's can be !■ — Gif thou'lt niflfer the gowd for thy maiden sae sweet — E'en Peg Merrilees, wha's sae dear groun to me ! " " Peg Merrilees, Joe ! My souple hand-maiden ? A wild gipsy jilt, a ward o' Auld Faa's ! * Surely my back wi' its burden's owre-laden Whan on it I buckle a third wooer's cause ! * Query — Would this ancient g-entleman be the father or an ancestor of the family of the Faas, or Falls, who were connected with Dunbar as merchants down to at least the end of the eighteenth century, as one of them, Provost Faa, entertained Bums when on his visit to the town in 1788? 142 OTHER PIECES " For lang--backit Brand, an' gleg Provost Dan, Hae been on their knees for my twa ither maids ! An' Mess John Buchanan's to tie them aflf-han' As sune as thae siegfers lat louse the daft jades ! " " Weel, ma Leddie," laug-hed Joe, " we'se be tied a' at ance Buchanan's a priest that could knot a haill toun ! Sae, an thou consent, frae this task I'se no' wince But relief to Dunbar sail I bring sure an' sune ! " " Now my benison wi' thee gang" wharever thou gangs ! Leave thy post at the yett whane'er thou incline, An' thou start, lad, at ance, an' allay our dreid pangs, Baith Peg an' the gowpen o' gowd sail be thine ! " " Yon wee pirate's postern that butts on the sea, Whare quate Lammer Haven lies lown as a dub, As lang's I'm awa keep thou open an' free An' never alloo there the sma'est hub-bub." "What is't, lad, thou wad do? maun e'en I no' ken? " " Na, na, genty Leddie, bide thou yet a wee canny ! I maun afif to The Inch, syne frae there, a' my lane. Find ma wey to The Bass, tho' it cost me a penny." " Weel, weel-a-weel ! tak' thine ain way o't, Joey, An' gae awa thou ere cometh back Kelly Wi' his lang-windit plaints me mair to annoy, 'Bout his barrels as toom a'maist as his belly. " Ho, Kelly ! What now ? Tell thy waest tale first ! An' gif we're to starve, man ! /"o starve s but to dee?'' " My Ladye it is ; but starvation's accurst, The vera rats shun't, baith on land an' on sea ! "Whan our pantries were fou the rattons were here. In swairms n'ar as grit as thae English at airms ! But they've gien up their siege it doth plainly appear. An' wisely fa'n back on the roundabout fairms ! BLACK AGNES OF DUNBAR 14- " O my Ladye, consider ! What arc we to do? Our fish winna hist owre Monday morn ! An' as for our meal, there wad not be enoo For a soup for a mowdywart, I could be sworn ! " ' Low rations,' say thou ? They are e'en noo sae Io7v That they canna be lower, sin' we're eating- grass. An' dockens, an' nettles, an' sourocks that grow In the chinks o' the wa's an' the causey, alas ! " " Weel, Kelly, I say, hing on as ye dow. But ' surrender ' there's nane — anither week yet ! An' ablins or than this blockaad stick-an-stow Some yauld freen' o' ours at defiance 'ill set ! " Nae time for mair words ! — that dictum's my mind ! Send Brand, Captain Brand in speed up to me ; And, auld man, tak' tent ! /<■// my hope /lae thy wind, Or it may be ivaiir tint on our slick Woodie-tree ! " Speak nae word o' fear to a saul in this Peel ! I wad dee twenty deaths ere ance I'd cry hain ! Tho' the last herring- bane, an' the last lick o' meal Were ahint me a week, yet my course wad be plain ! " Send the Captain to me — but, na ! — he is here ! Be thou aff an' awa, an' throttle thy fricht ! Ha, Brand ! thou art dreeing this famine, I fear. Sax feet sax o' bouk 'ithout fude is a blicht ? "Trowth, my Ladye, it's that, an' a drouthy blicht, tae ! It's coming ten days sin' I slocken'd my spleen ! What wi' hunger an' drouth I'm fa'n awa sae That my bouk in my claes is to seek ilka e'en ! " " Yet thou wadna ' capitulate,' gie in, or flee ? " " By the lord, no ! nor wad ony my men, Tho' they're knawing their boots, an' aucht that they see That'll chow, sook, or swill, an' help to stey pain ! " 144 OTHER PIECES " Brand, gie me thy loof ! thou art worthy thy bride, Even Helen MacGregor, that maiden so proud ! An' whan endit's this siege — weal or wae us betide — Thou shalt have wi' thy princess ane pension o' gowd ! " Meanwhile, stap thee doun, and appoint to the gate A warder for Imrie, wham I, by Ninewar,* Have dispatch'd to the North on ane message of state Anent our relief to my lord of Dunbar. " And, as thou gae bye, thou sail see i' th' yaird Our freend Provost Dan, wham thou'lt bid rin up here, As swith as he dow, for Pve that maun be heard. An' kenn'd by him tae — e'en throughly an' clear." " Quite so, my Ladye. He'll be here in a blink — For Dan's as a Jew whan the main-chance is track'd ! " " I trow sae are ye a' — even Brand is, I think, Nae slack for himsel' whan a garrison's sack'd ! "Ho! Merrilees ! Here! Ken thou whare thy Joe's gane ? " " Oh, weel-I-wait, no ! has he gane frae the Peel ? " " He has gane to The Bass,t wi' a scheme o' his ain, An thou help him safe back it sail serve thee richt weel. " He'll slip by the port that leads in by the Haven, In the deid o' the nicht — some nicht afore lang — An' the wey thou canst aid him's to croak like a raven Ben that hole in the rock baith eerie an' Strang." *• A place on the Biel estate, about three miles west from Dunbar, supposed to have been then in the occupancy of Joe Imrie's grand- father, the then Governor of the Bass. t The celebrated rock island, which is situated two miles off the East Lothian coast at the mouth of the Firth of Forth, and a few miles north-west from Dunbar. It is about one mile in circum- ference, contains the remains of an old fortress and state prison, and is otherwise famous for the vast numbers of gannets and other sea-birds whicl: annually frequent it. BLACK AGNES OF DUNBAR 145 " My Ladye, I'll do't ! Oh, I see his trick fine ! He wants me to croak sae's to guide him safe in — An' he'll mind hoo the croakin' we learn'd langsyne AflF the corbies yont by at the Brig- o' the Linn ! " * " Ay, ay ! Start the nicht, an' craik till the daw, Ilka nicht till he's back. — But hist to thy cell. For here comes gleg Dan, in response to my ca'. To see gin the strength o' our faes he can tell. " Ho, ho, Provost-mairshal, I've spoken to Meg ! TJie limmer's fair daft wi' delicht at the news — Sae daft, that afore me she'd fa', an' she'd beg, I wad help her to get thee as fast as I choose ! " " The Saunts keep thee, Ladye, for ever an' ever ! For afore I'd lose Meg I wad hing on the Tree, Play the deil wi' my panuch, an' damn my ain liver, Or skyte clean aflf this Tower an' droun i' th' sea ! " " Thank The Lord for the gift, then, of a nicer berth, Whilk I, His puir servant, do now proffer thee ! Imrie's gane on my errand, an' comes by the airth That throo Lammer Haven inlets frae the bree. " But the time's a' uncertain — save it'll be nicht, An' n'ar the deid hour — sae. Provost, I want Thou should'st see ev'ry e'en that a'thing is richt For his safe coming in wi' some freends to this haunt. " Alang wi' grit Brand, thou sail hae a force ready To secure his 'oack passage in case o' dispute ; Every peak an' pint gaird, ev'ry cliff, lown or giddy. Thou sail see has its kite, an' its sea-hawk to boot ! * East Linton, six miles west fi-oni Dunbar. K 146 OTHER PIECES " And lat thou hear the gree, I swear to thee, Dan, Meg Dods, as thy bride betrothed an' avow'd, Thou sail lead to Mess John, an' have free frae my han', The moment thou'rt mairried, a lau'd's waucht o' g-owd ! " " I sail for that prize — The Lord abune kens ! — I sail do what I dow, tho' the ships on the seas * Are as thick as skep bees whan they cast frae their dens, An' sting interlopers as aft as they please ! " Part Fourth. — Relief and Victory Frae Dunbar to The Inch,t frae The Inch to The Bass, Joseph push'd on wi' speed ; He was wae for his freends, he was wroth for his lass. An' fatigue didna heed. — The spirit o' man, whan it's quicken'd by love, Owre the warst human ills soars scaithless above. To the auld Captain there — (his grand-sire o' Ninewar) — Spak he bauldly an leal ; "John Imrie, my gutcher,| I've come straucht frae Dunbar, To speir thee o' thy skeel Gin it canna rede me to ane fine Scottish Chief, Wha for fame 'ithout end wad insure our relief? " Now, this auld couthie carle o' some auchty odd year Was King-proud o' young Joe, An' gif ony on airth he thaucht o' as his peer He did never say so. " Ay, speir me," cried he, " thou last chip o' Ninewar, For thou'rt no my Joe's 'Joe ' an thou save na Dunbar ! * The vessels comprising- the sea-part of the blockade of the town and Castle. t A country place a few miles north-west from Dunbar, tradi- tionally owned by Imrie. J Grandfather. BLACK AGNES OF DUNBAR 147 " I mysel' raced wi' Wallace ! — focht lang- by his side, E'en afore Stirling Brig ! To red Loudon Hill did I first wi' him ride, An', lad, wasna I big ! On the back o' a Gallowa baith o' us sat, Yet it wasna that lang till to Fenwick "^ we gat ! " Sin' Menteith's cursit deed, I've jined in wi' The Bruce, An' was at Bannockburn ! — An' some Border raids, tae, but, sin' ever this truce. Here I've served Scotland's turn. In this Strength o' The Bass, whare, frae dungeon to cairn, I do rule like a King, an' have for't a King's fairin'." "Wow, granfaither, wow ! A' thae stories sae rare Thou'st me scores o' times tauld ! Sae what is the use o' palaaverin' mair, Stannin' here i' th' cauld ? 'Tisna stones but stores that Fm efter the day. An' gin 1 no get them Dunbar's dang'd for aye ! " " Ha, ha, my Joe's ' Joey,' an' wv joy, as weel ! " Laugh'd aloud the auld man ; " Thou cam' spaishily here to see an my skeel Couldna jerk up some plan, Thy famine-struck Strength o' Dunbar to retrieve, In spite o' the Block that noo hugs it sae steive ? " " Richt, granfaither, richt ! the richt nail on the heid Thou hast strucken at last ! An' gin' thou can help me, save us ! help me wi' speed To this blessing's up-cast — For onless it's served sune it'll no serve ava', An' Dunbar an' its Peel wi' stervation mun fa' ! " * The Eng-lish Officer in Command at both the first and second conflicts at Loudon Hill. Wallace was not present at the first, but his father and elder brother were, and both of them were slain. In the second combat the Scots were under Wallace him- self. Fenwick was slain, and the Scots, as was usual when Wallace led them, were entirely victorious. 148 OTHER PIECES " Stap in to my Pailace — to my Chateau marine, The maist g-orgeous on airth ! We've a giise on the speet, an' a keg" in the bin, For we downa thole dairth ! An' atweel, lat me say, we are feastin' at lairge A maist hungry tyke — ^jist the man for thy chairge ! " To the great Feeding Ha' in the Castle o' Bass, Whilk was aucht feet by fowre, Like twa brocks lang acquent our sib heroes did pass An' sat doun in atoure, Whare, close by the glim, on a muckle round stane. Sat a knicht in his airmour pikein' a bane. " Sir Alexander, sir ! " — quoth auld Imrie to him — " This is Joe frae Dunbar ! " " Haly Christ, can it be ! then he's surely in trim To stey frae it afar ! For, by what I hear o't, the end o' it's near, An' the Southrons are bent to down-hammer it sheer ! " " Na, na. Sir," cried Joe, "by the Haly-rude, na. Gin there's ane left alive O' our Auld Scottish Knichts wi' the least spunk ava Yet to daur an' to strive ! — A Chief o' the Spirit o' her wha now bauds Dunbar 'gainst sich odds wi' a wee wheen Scots lads ! " She's as stour as her dad, an' as guid as a Saunt — Ay, as Marg'ret the Queen ! 1 could dee tor her fifty times owre did she want Without weetin' my een ! " "Halt a wee!" cried the Knicht, "Kens thou no' a wey in To the Peel frae the sea, ane micht ettle an' win ? " BLACK AGNES OF DUNBAR 149 " Wha art thou ? tell me that, ere I speak yea or nay," Answer'd canny young Joe : " I'm a Scot and a Knicht ! ask thy grand-sire to say An I'm trusty or no^ ! " — Instanter bawl'd out our auld Imrie richt sprucie " He's Sir Alexander Ramsay o' Dalhousie ! " Joe was ta'en on the bit wi' suprise an' grit glee, For lang, lang by repute Had he kenn'd o' this Knicht, sae they sune did agree The Blockaad they wad shute. An' cairry relief — fude, an' a' kind o' stores, In the mirk o' midnicht, to the famish'd indoors. A' that day was weel wair'd cramming fou the Knicht's yacht — Ca'd "The Lass o' Cockpen " — Wi' boatloads o' geese, a lairge general fraucht. An' some forty waled men ; And at midnicht's drear hour, laden doun to the rail, On their mission o' ruth our twa heroes'set sail. A wild nicht was their freend — muneless, stormy an' mirk. In the bleak week o' Mairch, For The Lass o' Cockpen ne'er her rudder did shirk Throo-out the haill sairch For a gap in the fleet, an' the mou' o' the Haven, Till wysed intil her dock by ane craik, craikin' raven ! Then the eldin was thrawn on the muckle Ha' fire, The fou yill barrels broach'd ; An' ilk ane was pang'd to his outmaist desire, Lang ere morning approach'd, What time Joe an' Sir Knicht, on a job o' their ain, Slippit slee frae the Peel wi' a squad o' guid men. I50 OTHER PIECES In tlie huts an' the howlTs o' the fat Southron loons, In the dusk o' the daw, Thae Scots play'd at "drums" \vi' claymores on the crouns O' the indwallers braw ! Nor hack to the Peel wad a sauI o' them set. Till the feck o' their faes their " deservings " had met. Montag-ue, dumbstruck at this turn o' the game, Strade out-side his marquee, " What ! Shairt be said that a wench made me tame ? " To himsel' mutter'd he, " Yet the plain maitter is, I am doubly dung owre, By thae damn'd Castle wa's, an' their Witch in the Tower! "The best half o' my camp baith routit an' robbit ! An' haill troops o' men slain Like a wheen harried wasps whilk some callants have mobbit, Forbye prisoners ta'en ! It is waur than The Soo, muckle waur than Cope-land — An' it a' to be tholed frae a weak wench's hand ! " I swore, tae, to the King, I wad lay this Peel flat In the ooze o' the sea Ere ane change o' the mune, or to Gaul he had gat, An' behauld what I be ! — Flabbergastit outricht ! duped ! cozen'd ! spalpeen'd ! Wi' a witch set up owre me to fleer like a fiend ! " My ae saitisfaction is that I strung" hie, W^i' the teuchest o' tow. Yon rogue by the neck wha daur'd foist upon me His accurst wooden *■ So7v' ! That infernal machine, why, the Witch wi' ae stroke Like a snail's buckie crusht an' rhymed into a joke ! BLACK AGNES OF DUNBAR 151 " Noo, what's to be dune? Can the Castle be ta'en, 'Spite our grit loss this morn ? Auld Arundel thinks no, an' threeps trying is vain, Wi' deep, ill-hidden scorn ! Should I send a White-flag, an' request her to name Whatna fee she'd propone, did we gang our ways hame ? " It should be something guid, seeing Dunbar's the chief O' the keys o' this land ; Also, what's been our loss, an' what noo is my grief That this Peel still maun stand, — No ae chippin' the waur o' the warst we could do Wi' our best catapults, or yon monster. The Soo ! Yes ! I'se send a White-flag, for it's plain she's relieved, Tho' the deil hoo 'twas dune. It clean cowes me to guess, but whae'er it contreeved He's nae yip o' the mune ! The Blockaad is sae close baith by sea an' by land. Surely warlocks this witch maun hae in her command ! " In the Peel a' was mirth — love, courtin', an' feastin'. While up high in her Tower The Ladye, fu' blythe, wi' her Purser sat jestin' Whare he'd stow the grit dower, Whilk that mornin's Sortie had sae cuist on his hands, Whan a White-flag they saw drawing nigh owre the sands. In a jift'ey up ran Captain Brand frae the Yaird, Like ane man in the flts, Wi^ a scrip fcae Montague, wharein he declared It was past mortal wits Dunbar for to tak' or ding owre i' th' sea. What indemnitie, then, did he leave't, wad she gie ? * * "Thus unsuccessful in tlu-ir atlempts, the assailants turned the siege into a blockade, and closely environed the Castle both by sea and land. Amongst the ships were two large Genoese gallics, commanded by John Doria and Nicholas Fiesca, But 152 OTHER PIECES She hee-hee'd, an' she leuch * till her twa sides were sair Lang" afore she could speak ; "This wee note," she said syne, "is ane wail o' despair Frae a saul that is sick ! Brand, rin doun, like a man, an' tell the envoy That I'm sorry our air does his maister annoy, " But that I do howp, whan he backs to the South, t As he mints to do soon. He will yet be restored to the freends o' his youth The same auld harmless loon ! And as for ' indemnitie,' g"in he's no had enoo He can have for dessert the remains o' his Soo / " Or, we'll wake it, an' send it across in a coffin — A fit meed for his jig's ! — But g"if here in twa days its owner is loafin', Lat him look to his pigs ! The hunter wha trick'd them sae g"rossly this morn Wi' ten times mair pith to the sport sail return ! famine was threatening' to effect what force and art could not achieve. In consequence of the protracted siegfe, the garrison was reduced to the utmost extremities for want of provisions ; this intellig-ence reached Sir Alexander Ramsay of Dalhousie, a bold and enterprising- officer, who having- procured a lig-ht vessel with a supply of provisions and military stores, sailed in a dark night, with forty chosen companions, from the contigaious rock c>f the Bass, and, eluding the vigilance of the enemy, he entered the Castle by a pastern next the sea, and brought relief and refresh- ment to the desponding soldiers. Next mcirning, Ramsay made a smart sortie on the besiegers, killing and surprising them at their posts, and taking many prisoners ; and the same night he com- pleted the glory of his stratagem by passing from the Castle in the same manner, and with the same safety with which he had entered." — Miller s History, p. 49. * Laughed. t "The English having vigorously prosecuted the siege for six weeks, were compelled to abandon this hopeless enterprise ; Salisbury even consented to a cessation of arms." — Miller's His- lo?y, p. 49. BLACK AGNES OF DUNBAR 153 " Meantime, Maister Kelly, bring up Mess John to me, Wi' my maids an' their beaux ; And, likewise, dear Purser, mind the big coffers fhrec. An' this siege-farce we'll close Wi' the triumph o' love, wut, an' valour thegither On the ae an' same day that invasion we smither ! " Aff ! Here cometh Sir Knicht ! Oh, my maist gallant Sir ! — Pray this bluntness excuse ! — But thou'st boozled their 'block,' gart our famine play birr, An' gien Monty the blues ! He's fa'n sick o' Dunbar, says his coming was rash, Sae he wants to gang hame — gin I'll gie him some cash ! " Ho, what, Brand again ?" " My Ladye, frae Monty- Anither scrip for thee ! " *' Ha, the rascal in pride refuses my bount}' — (Haps the lichter to flee !) — But he profilers affliand, for anither day's grace, A full stoppage o' weir 'gainst the haill Scottish race ! "Captain Brand! Captain Brand! send the messenger back ! Lat the gongs sound a pa^an ! An' bid Monty at noon, gin he finds his time slack, In our Chapel here be in. To assist at ane righteous reprisal wi' me, Whan his last an' warst faes fall to my maidens three ! " Sune's Father Buchanan, the Mess John o' Dunbar, Had cleikit the couples, The Ladye stept furth, like the true Queen o' War, An' preen'd to their lapels Her medals o' merit, an' bade Kelly aloud Hand to each on the spot their due portions o' gowd ! 154 OTHER PIECES Syne Sir Kiiicht an' Monly made it up owre a glass, But g"aed slap on the spree, An' fient haet did devald till Sir Knicht for The Bass At midnicht teuk to sea ! And ere the week's end, a' were scatter'd afar — Baith the sieged an' the siegers that met at Dunbar. " BY AND BY?" [Written after Reading of the Death of a Friend.] I more and more do ponder The more they slip from me, And ever, ever wonder If our old friends we'll see Once we have pierced the " Dark Divide " — In heart of which they now abide. Or come out on its heavenly side. All pain and peril free ? Are they thus really faring. Those old friends that were here ? Are they, in strict truth, sharing-. On some far golden sphere. Celestial joys, than which earth's best Is as a mock, a cheat, a jest, A plain plague as a " pleasure " drest, A joy that turns a tear ? May we indeed forgather Beyond that fallen " Veil " ? One of them greet as " Father," And one as " Mother" hail? Whilst midst the wildering forms around, " Sisters " and " brothers " might be found. Whom erst on earth's grief-stricken ground We oft would weep and wail ? BY AND BY 155 The scene must needs be " hea\en That witness'd such rejoin ! To earth no spot's been given One whit enough divine ! Environment for it beseems Only Elysian meads and streams — All radiant with stellar gleams That ne'er on earth did shine ! Ambrosial breezes wafting Would there make me and mine As gods — ourselves ingrafting, Near some new " Tweed " or " Tyne " ; In a bright perfect " heavenly home," Round which for ages we might roam Scot-free from all " the wrath to come " — All penury and pine ! At this "home," too, betimes, What visitants might call ! Great souls from all the mundane climes, Earth's rare ones — big and small — Pilgrims to the Empyrean Heights, Seekers of Fame's envied delights. Old bards, and modern rhyming wights. Whom she ignores withal ! Can aught like this be real ? May we with reason hope That death one day shall free all. And give our spirits scope To range the Universal Whole, From star to star, from pole to pole, Empowering each remorseful soul Dead sins like rags to drop ? 156 OTHER PIECES Yes ! this, or something" better, Each one to his degree. When " flesh " no more shall fetter, May well our " portion " he ! Immutably the Moral law- Demands that Justice from the maw Of death all sentient being's draw, And set from sorrow free ! HAECKEL. [Verses to a Materialist.] Hae I read Haeckel, speirest ye? Troth ay, a' owre, Och-hon-a-rie ! And lang his " Riddle " * shored to be, Despite a' clatter, The only riddle furth for me That wad baud water ! Haill weeks owre this dreid " silencer" I brooded close, unfit to stir, Unable even ane lown demur To breathe ag"ain' it, And swithering" whether to defer Or straucht retain it. When life's sun's blearin' in the wast, And our eild days g"row sair owrecast, Haply, ere a' the glim be past. Things may assume A gloaming look — foretelling fast Mair than death's gloom. * The now world-famous book — Tlie Riddle of the Universe at the Close of the Nineteenth Centi/rv, hy Ernst Haeckel, Ph.D., M.D., LL. D., and Professor al the University of Jena, Germany. HAECKEL 157 A Hesper and a starry host May mak' up then Sol's g'lories lost, And twin us o' our bumptious boast That we kenn'd a' — 'Cause thro' day's bounds — frae coast to coast- Nae mair we saw! Great luck it is Nicht follows Day, And on our optics streams straightway Her loosen'd locks, whose myraid ray, Surpassing" thocht. Far g-limmers 'yond the " Milky Way" Till Wonder's nocht ! Haeckel subscribes the theory hoo 'Twas motes at first that cam' an' g'rew, And did time after time renew And stock afresh Wi' whirling orbs the boundless blue, Sans fuss or fash ! Mind, madness, living — deevig, even. Yea ! a' that is ilk side o' heaven, Thae Atoms had — (but werna ghvii) — Full power to mak' ! And syne, when a' a-while had thriven, To burn the pack ! "Thus, a's been dune," the Haeckels' shout, " Wi' deil the least help from without ! And we defy our faes to rout, Wi' wut or reason. From this impregnable redoubt One styme that he's in ! " Troth, Pate, I grant thou weel may say, Gif there be aucht than what braid day, And e'en, and morn do plain display An' set afore us. It's ta'en some deil fell wizard way To come Nick owre us ! i5ns — a' as plain As that' kirk's tiles ! What's he to " Sirius ? "—(Lord look on us !)— Or them like " Alpha Orionis ? " Bah ! much less than are Shetlan' pownies To dromedaries, Or city smouts to " Country Johnnies," An' their bang dearies ! An' then he is so close at hand, He's aften like to bizz our land ! O' million miles he does affstand But ninety-three ! — A snail's stroll, as Savants have fand. To swarms that be ! There's twenty million suns at least — No' counting" hosts they haena faced, Whilk, they declare, can weel be traced To flare ayont him, Sae mony leagues, that they, a'maist, It whups to count them. An' still the haill kenn'd host combined — Suns, planets, moons o' ev'r)^ kind. Comets — wi' peacock tails behind, A treat to see — Meteors, an' bolts— barth "live" and " blind " May weel but be LOOKIN' OWRE THE KIRKYAIRD WA' 167 A vera, vera tinv bittie^ A suburb o' great Beings city, A skitch, a toothfu', a mere spittie O' an Atlantic — Or grains o'ts sands, whilk, tho' fell gritty, Wee birdies can pick ! Beyond this Universe, wot I, Haill sets o' universes lie ! Space shows nae bounds, then why, oh why. Thou wi' thy " lens," Mete ye it but the paltry fry O' orbs thou kens ? t "Groups," "constellations," "clusters," seen Should wyse thee on, ye gowks, I ween. Thro' " milky ways," an' " mists," that screen Still far'er warl's, Yea, till thou's left to grape bedeen Like sand-blind carles. The inner e'e me mair reveals ! A dizziness upo' me steals. Imagination fags, an' reels, Syne shies awae, But leaves a memorie that seals It truth for aye. Sich whirling spheres, space, speed, and size, Amazement stretches 'yond surprise As far's the Coogate's neath the skies, Or mind's owre micht — Beyond conception everywise — Transcendent sicht ! Past telling it is, and, to thocht. It is a glorie like to nocht ! Men by sic visions plump are brocht Themscl's to ken ! — Some potter'd clay, made to be wrocht To dust amain ! i68 OTHER PIECES Throo the space wilderness — beyond The borders whilk do Savanfs bound, Can Fancy pierce — yea, the profound Abyss on hie Beyond " Beyond" — the nurs'ry ground O' What's To Be ! But fhat is nondescript, because It lies outside o' a' kenn'd laws ; And, therefore, haply seldom fa's Within the reach O' ony needfu' rhymer's claws, Whate'er's his streetch, Sae we'll stoup doun, an' leave aloof This boundless, awesome starry roof. An' at the ither end tak' proof O' Nature's wark — No' pleased except baith horn an' hoof We're looten mark. Hence our star-gazing- loom we niflfer For ane that shaws things unco differ — The keeker that to thocht's e'en stiffer Than that with whilk We scour'd the lift wi' scarce a sniffer. An' nocht did bilk. This keeker shaws what wee things are— A needle is an airn bar, A dot's a splairge o' dirty tar, A germ's a craitur, Mair fierce an' terrible by far Than maist in Natur'. A wee, ivec tate o' drumlie waitter. Is shawn to baud a ferlie greater Than ony Jupiter or Saitur' That ever wabbled In rings round fires, or ither maitter, Till they get babbled. LOOKIN' OWRE THE KIRKYAIRD WA' 169 A sing-le drap o' bluid's a hive O' countless beings, lithe and live, Xhat for a living- fecht an' strive. As tench's the g-iants Wha Fate at Flodden did survive An' bade defiance ! Forbye, thae craiturs hae as guid — Tho' sma'er — microbes in their bluid As we've in ours — chiels wha for food Will soom an' scour Like crocodiles in Nilus' flood, An' aucht devour ! "Size?" Size is stuff! Ilk inch o' cawk Doth forty million inseks mak' A " kirkyaird " roomier far, alack. Than this shall us, Wha maun sink in't, an' ne'er come back, Howe'er we fuss ! A pinch o' scent frae a musk-deer Perfumes a house for thirty year. An' doth as lairg^e at last appear As at the start, Tho' heaps o' bits o't doubtless steer Richt far apart ! Weel, what is't syne, sin' Bulk's nae mair Than what's the odds 'tween Stout and Spare ? Why ! that Saul's a'thing- ev'rywhare — Character, worth — An' naething wi' it dow compare In heaven or earth. Saul sees the stars, invents a g^lass. By whilk Man can around them pass ; Tells their richt wecht, describes their mass, Cause, course, an' speed, Distance, an' destiny — alas, Aft sad indeed ! 170 OTHER PIECES Saul marks behind the Past's abyss — E'en from Sol's nebula to this ; Reads ilka ag^e without a miss, Till Man, "to-day," Swithers g"if he should ban or bless. Or work or pray. " I hae sae muckle dune," quo' he, "That, were it richt to tak' the gee, I fain wad aft lie doun an' dee, Like ane age-struck ! But what were Cosmos wanting Me ? — Rot, waste, an' muck ! " A joke, ha, ha ! Saul sees I trow, Man ne'er was wanted mair than now, For what he kens ilk side the bow O' the star mesh, Is as a strae but of a mow That's still to thresh. His race is only but begun, He has nine-tenths o't yet to run ! Until the cause o' a'thing's fun'. An' purpose, tae, Nae stop, nae rest, nae ease is won, Nor shall he hae ! Being" born for life, and no' for death, Man must keep moving- in his path, Be't mountain gorge, or level strath, Waste, forest, sea — On, on for aye — nae halt he hath. While he is he ! "Then what mean thae kirkyairds ava?- Men's evanescence, sure, they shaw ? " Ay, here they do, but yet not a' Their haill careers. For men, being saul's by Nature's law, Do find fresh spheres. LOOKIN' OWRE THE KIRKYAIRD WA' 171 Wot thou that maitter's mair than saul, Because 'twill gulp thy carcase all ? Out on thee, Samuel ! turn, and bawl Thy fears to fools, Wha think, because what's up doth fall, Naucht else it rules ! Why, isna maitter pruved to be ' ' Compressible infinitlie ? " * Then, a' the michty globes on hie, The haill, vast number, Micht be squeezed throo a needle's e'e, An' leave nae lumber? Some trow that's sae, /wish it was — If, neath the ajgis o' her laws, Nature left ane, despite his flaws, His conscious Me In a " Hereafter" furth the claws O' poortith free ! Then naucht than Saul micht be extant, For whaten else wad ony want. If they'd the all-sufficing grant To live, an' be A striver in some heavenly haunt, Not fruitlesslie ? That a' seems clear — though, I confess, Sometimes it looks but a fond guess, Father'd by craving for redress Of sufferings here, An' " compensation " — naething less ! — In some fit sphere ! Sae I'll slip back to whare at first I frae this Kirkyaird upward burst. As frae a vile plague-spot, accurst By pain an' death, Wi' nae mair help to " face the worst " Than what's in "faith!" * Vide Sir Isaac Newton's " Priiicipia." 172 OTHER PIECES The " General Saul" I'd fain believe in, An' growing proof o't be receivin' ; But what aft sends me back to grievin' Is the new thocht — That death a' individual leevin' Micht bring- to nocht. 'fc) Within the " Universal Saul " To be absorbed for " good and all " Whanever death shall on us call, Or auld or young, Is to my will as bitter's gall Is to my tongue. Nay, to me aft, whan serious bent, The doctrine — that, w^han breath is spent. We'll in Man's race at lairge be blent, An' live on in it. Seems like for death giein' 'prisonment To rogues wha win it. The upshot, sirs, I take to be The same's it was — that, till we dee, We canna ken our destinie. If even then. For if death's death, an' is nae lee, We'se never ken ! Let Savants, priests, an' Haeckel-ers, Scripture, an' science taickle-ers — Harmony-murd'ring caickle-ers ! — Squall as they may. They'll ne'er to that add mickle, sirs, Doun to Dooms-day. Awa ! hame, hame, to tea an' Tib — The lass wha has a gab richt glib, Whether on gospel or on fib Her effort's wair'd ! Nae doubt she'll sune the " truth " unsnib O' this Kirkyaird ! HAIRYOOBIT /3 " HAIRYOOBIT." [A Pup ov Obscure Origin.] wha wad hear a true bit, A true bit, a true bit. Ye wha wad hear a true bit, Draw in to our fire-en'. It's a' 'bout Hairyoobit, This unco hameint new bit, Our dog-g-ie, Hairyoobit, That I wad let ye ken. 1 coft him for a saxpence, A saxpence, a saxpence, I coft him for a saxpence, Frae twa stravaigin' men ! An' wow, he was a grue bit. That month-auld Hairyoobit ! A gruesome but a true bit — A whalp wu'th ony ten ! I took him hame and nurst him, Wi' brose I near-haun' burst him, Tho' loud yauld Tibbie curst him. Whan first I brang him ben ! But when she better view'd him. Wow ! she flate nane ! she lo'ed him. An' kiss'd, an' pook'd, an' poo'd him, As gin he'd been a wean ! Quo' she— "Wee Hairyoobit ! Wee, bonnie Hairyoobit ! Fat, fluflfy Hairyoobit ! Mak' this fire-neuk yer den ! The bairns'll a' draw to ye, With milk and meal stow fou ye ! Baith auld an' young will lo'e ye. As sune's yersel they ken 1 174 OTHER PIECES This wey was Hairyoobit Establish'd in his new bit — His weel-won an' his due bit, Our peerless dog'gie's den ! A mongrel messin was he, But gentle as ane lassie, An' only snell and saucy Wi' wild stravaig"in' men ! Noo, e'er sin' Tib he'd got at, Whaure'er she g"aed he trottit, Till ae black day — deil rot it ! — He cam' na wi' her hame ! Far doun The Walk* she tint him — Some " blackgaird" slunk ahint him- Some fiend — sure, Sawtan sent him !- An' made her pet his " game." His grit loss Tib distrackit, Her heid it fairly crackit ! She but to Mucklebackit Rin hame and mak' her mane ! — " Sam ! Sam ! wee Hairyoobit, My wee, droll Hairyoobit ! Our doggie, Hairyoobit, We ne'er sail see again ! " I've gane this day an' lost him ! A loon — Auld Hangie roast him ! — On's red-het branders toast him ! — Has stoun him — bouk an' bane ! — Sam, Sam ! we've tint a true bit — A genuine, throo-an-throo-bit — In fozy Hairyoobit, Whase like on yearth there's nane ! " Leith Walk, Edinburg^li.' DREAMS 175 DREAMS. I.— A DOG DAY'S DREAM JAUNT TO THE PEASE BRIG.* Frae the city's din an' worr}'- Behold us scramble, hurry-scurry, lirae the cars at Musselburgh — At last at lairge — aince mair ! — In the open — breathing" free ! — In our glorious calf countrie ! — In the breezes aff the sea, An' auld scenes — " past compare ! " * On the coast, near Cockburnspath, and about forty miles east from Edinburg-h. As a late able and highly-esteemed writer re- marks, in his book of East Lothian " Sketches ": — " Who that has resided in East Lothian for even the briefest period lias not heard of the romantic beauty of Pease Burn, or learned sometliing' of the eng-ineering- skill that spanned its deep g-org-e with a solid bridg'e of stone ? The fame of both has penetrated far and near, and from Land's End to John o' Groats visitors have found their way to the Lammermoors, under the shadows of which they nestle. Very lovely are thy green banks, oh Pease ! and thy beauties will ling-er within the memory so long" as nature's beauties have the power to charm. . . . The burn, which takes its rise among- the Lammermoors, and which passes, in the last few miles of its course, the beautifully-wooded hill of Penmanshiel, crosses the hig;hway between Dunbar and Berwick. The road follows pretty closely the bending-s of the coast, and opens up from time to time some very fine views seaward and landward. . . . The g:round is famous as that on which Cromwell inflicted a decisive defeat on the Covenanters. This narrow strath between the hills and the ocean is also famous for victories of another character. Here have been won some of the most famous triumphs of Scottish agriculture ; for nowhere over the leng-th and breadth of the country will farming be found to be conducted on more scientific principles, or more successfully, than in the six or eight miles that intervent- hetwcin Dunliar anil Cockbuiiisjiath." — Davhj Ckoal. i 176 OTHER PIECES In our new brakes, swift as wind, Tirnent an' Gledsmuir's * left behind ! Our g"allant naig"s to haud or bind What leather could avail ! By Knox's toun — Crocker's hedg^es — Linton's "Pencraigs," "linns," and "bridges"- To Dunbar we whisk like midges In an evening- gale ! Change o' teams — syne on again, Fierier, fiercer than yon twain — Johnnie Coup, and' Ned the Vain,t Frae 'Pans an' Bannockburn ! — Our merrie maidens skirl'd an' laugh'd. Our men folk joked, an' smoked, an' quaflf'd, Our Jehus made our chariots waft Like cluds the Mairch winds spurn ! But lang ere we the Brig had reached, Thae same lads glower'd like chields bewitch'd, And even Roslin's Sel' impeach'd, An' swore that gif Skateraw, Doonhill, the Lammers, Dunglass Dean — (An' mony ithers in between) — Were whupt by aucht in Aiden's Scene, It was before the Fa' ! John Knox scream'd out to Andry Lang i — " Thou base desairtor ! by my sang This dings to dirt thy southland gang ! An' wha caused it but me ? * Towns passed throug-h on the route by road from Edinburgfh to the Pease. t Edward II., King- of England, who fled from Bannockburn, after the defeat of his army by the Scots, along this highwa}^, as did latterly Sir John Cope after his defeat by Prince Charlie in the "forty-five" at Prestonpans. X As this rhyme was suggested by a real dream, I intentionall}- wrote it in the broken, fragmentary, irrelevant and non-possible way in which I believe almost invariably 7-ea/ dreams are dreamed. DREAMS 177 I'm it's true maakar — certain shair ! My Pairish Schule — whan we were puir, Began it a' — ye needna stare — Ask Chammers or M'Crie! " " Weel dune, bauld Knox ! " kiugh'd Robbie Burns ; The Auld Licht folk — (noo in their urns !) — Were grit doun dingers ' whan, by turns. Each won ' the tug o' war ' ! " " Ha, ha ! that's so, my deathless freen ! " Rair'd Wattie Scott—" but. Wolf's Craig* seen. Amazement frae thy god-like een 'Twill soon pluck from afar ! " Fast Castle 'twas in truth we saw. But " Wolf's Craig" ca'd it ane an' a'. An' it an' Wattie Scott did blaw As yearth's one peerless pair ! Outrageous then our chariots flew, Mair furious our contentions grew, A noisier, mair Bohemian crew Ne'er argy-bargied there ! Slap ! by the foot o' Penmanshiel, We sudden on the Brig did wheel ! " The Lord preserve us ! " cried ilk chiel, " Is Willie Arrolt here?" " I am ! " rair'd Willie frae the glen, " I'm here, with twice twa hunner men ! Pic-nicing, tae ! sae ye may ken Here's rowth o' baps an' beer ! * Fast Castle, the "Wolfs Crag-" in Sir Walter Scott's cele- brated romance of "The Bride of Lammermoor," on a prominent headland east of the Pease ravine. t Sir William Arrol, LL.D., late M.P. for Ayrshire, the cele- brated builder of the Forth and Tay Bridg-cs, and the desig-ner and contractor of the magnificent new North Bridg-e of Edinburgh. M 178 OTHER PIECES " Doun by the Mill the swaird we press, Whaur Knox an' Burns, wi' ' Racer Jess,' An' ' Cutty Sark,' could skip the gress In reel or strathspey brav'e ! We Glesca folk, be it declared, Your love for this g'ran' brig hae shared Wi' a' the warld — sae hae we dared To view it like the lave." Sir William Arrol — canny man ! — Feenish'd his toast as he began : " What brig's like this? name ane wha can. It wad me muckle please ! O had this pearl been dune by me, Hoo gladly a' I'm worth I'd gie ! Hoo lovingly this dram I'd pree To him wha built the Pease ! " Sae we our chariots saucht again— (This time yerk'd to a railway train. At Co'path, on the line ca'd " Main ")— In tears we wended wast ; We did this 'cause Sir Weelim said. It was a new train he had made — A train that didna " rin " but " slade," As cluds do in a blast ! A " sliding-rod " frae Co'path, streetch'd Richt wast to whaur wee Joppa's * beach'd. Ran throo our cairriage-roofs, an' switch'd Them throo mid-air, I trow. Just like a string o' wild-deuks, keepin' Straucht for the moors when corn's a-reapin', An' harvest folk wi' sweat are dreepin' An' sairs drench'd painch an' pow ! * The most eastern suburb of Edinburgh. DREAMS 179 Doun n'ar the sands o' Portobelly We slap were set, syne bauld Sir Willie Lap on a dyke, an' (noble felly !) Made a' as dear's the faem About his sliding train — but hooch ! Just as the mystery frae its cleuch He by the limbs was hauling- — sheuch ! I wauken'd here at hame ! II. —THE ONLY TIB!— HER LATEST "UNCO DREAM."* " O' a' the dreams that e'er I dream'd, By nicht or day, last nicht's ane seem'd As it henceforth should be esteem'd To bear the gree, An' its forerinners a' be deem'd Unworthy me ! " I thocht, the day being fine an' dry, We were out walking, Sam an' I, When, a' at ance, wham should we spy — Without a fib !— Upon a car — upmountit high — But ' Sam ' an' ' Tib ' ! ! " The car, by guid luck, stoppit soon, An' our twa auld folk lichtit doun — Our vera sel's — frae cuits to croun — Our doubles lookit — In a' we've oval, square, or roun', Or straucht, or crookit ! A fact of the last " Dog- days," i8o OTHER PIECES " They saw "s as sune as we saw them — Fient haet surprised — nor we, the same ! Sam — my ane — leuch, as gin his wame He wad rive open, As Number Twa ' Sam ' forward came, Saying ' They'd been shoppin' ! ' " Says Sam the First to Number Twa — ' My Ither Sel', we puff an' blaw^, This day's sae het — come ! let's withdraw An' have some beer ! I watna hoo the deil ava' We meet ye here ? ' " To whilk Sam's Better Sel' rejined — ' We meet, for we are of one mind, Being both to-day by thirst inclined To pree somewhat ; And, also, that Old Tib behind Seems much distraught ! ' " The ither Tibbie laugh'd at this, An' thocht the Sams no' far amiss. For that e'en swipes wad taste like bliss To folk sae het ; Sae ben the Buffet o' MacBryce The fowre o's set. " Sam (Number Wan) had ' zvhetch,^ of course, But Number Twa he couldna force To lip audit else than what baith horse An' nowte drink aye — The jorum that in Talla's source * First sees the dav. Edinburg-h's new water supply. DREAMS i8i " ' We are thy Better Selves,' quo' he, My Tib of thine, and I of thee ; And tho' we never couldst agree Since we were born, Wouldn't it be wiser far for ye To us to turn ? " ' Let the Old Samuel die the death, And old Tib follow suit in faith. And be ye us till mortal breath Leave thee at last — Two saved souls, as the Scripture saith, All dangers past ? ' " My Sam bang-'d up, an' claw'd his heid, Syne toss'd his tipple aff wi' speed. An' quo' he — ' Number Twa, indeed. For lang- years back — I've had in mind your pious rede Slap-bang- to tak'. " ' Whyles ev'n I've thaucht I'd ta'en it sure, An' had it in my grip secure — Till yont our g^ate, wi' phiz demure, My Tempter cam', And did me than an' there allure Wi' some new flam ! " ' Ye are my Better Sel', ye say? Then, stan' yer hand afore ye gae. An' I'se believe nae far astray Thy words are spoken, Nay, dub them Truth's, this scorching day. By that same token ! " ' But, Number Twa, before we part. Reck ye i7iy rede — craw nae sae smart ! My Better Sel' thou aiblins art, For private reasons ; But Ither SeTs, sin' I did start, Man, I've haen dizzens ! i82 OTHER PIECES " ' ril rise, the auld familiar Mc^ But, ere I sleep again, may-be, Tib there will fifty Samuel's dree Of diverse kinds, A' wide a-part as sky an' sea In moods an' minds. " ' For our heredity is such, An' of a' types we share so much, That seldom do we tine the touch Of one or other Of the forefolk that in us hutch. To botch or bother. " ' Whyles like the apes we flaunt an' feign, Whyles, stane-age folk, grub, grind, or grain ; Whyles, Cannibals, gorge on the slain Oi beaten tribes, Straucht frae our butcher, wha, as kane, Their gore imbibes. " 'The savage, prehistoric man ; The Aborigines wha ran Wild o'er our hills, clan warring clan, Picts, Romans, Scots, Ere Norse an' Saxon heavy han' Laid on their throats. " ' Norman an' Medieval Knights ; Crusaders, palmers, priestly wights ; Inquisitors, whase work affrights Hangmen to ape — Witch-burners, wha pat ' Faith ' to rights Wi' fire an' rape. " ' My Better Sel ! a' these, an' mair, In our lang makin' had a share ! Sae what we were at birth — a pair Of new antiques — We were as we were ' fashion'd fair,' Like Paddy's breeks. DREAMS 183 " ' (An unco Joseph's g'arb, indeed ! A patch o' pkish, an ell o' tweed, A blaud o' frieze, of seek a screed, A' tag-s an' tails. Held fast or loose wi' twine an' threid. Or preens an' nails !) " 'Thus we're dump'd here, sa//s let or leave, To live or dee, to joy or grieve. And meet our doom without reprieve Whan time is fit. And in the mools at last receive Fate's fellest hit ! ' " 'True, true,' Sam's Better Sel' agreed, ' We were born so, old man, indeed ! But that's but half of our whole screed, For then began Environment to mould and knead The future man ? " ' W^as't not through circumstance that I, Thy Better Self, came by and by. And, in thy soul, betimes didst cry Like cradled child, Yelping for pap — nor soft nor shy. But loud and wild ? " ' 'Midst our surroundings, sure, we two, Strong fractious cubs, increased and grew. Alike somewhat in carnal view. But, in things higher, As variant man, as false and true. Or wet and dry are. " ' Since birth, with scarce a truce, at war We two have been — the same as are Our Tibbies now, yea ! similar To all mankind ! Struggling and striving, near or far, Their cuds to find. i84 OTHER PIECES " 'The problem is — Which is lo rule, The wise one, or the wayward school ? Dost thou elect to play the mule, As in the past ? Or to let me ingulf the fool Downright at last ? ' " As sune's Sam's Better Sel' speir'd this, I thocht in my dream Sam up-ris', An' met the query wi' a hiss, An' a great grane. Syne throo the Buffet croud did brise, As gyte he'd gane ! " Whan we gat hame, preserve us a'! Wha think ye in my dream I saw, Snod in our ain bed, but us twa, As cosh as craws — Sam snoring as Niag'ra's Fa' War' doun his hause ! " III.— PEGGY, THE HENWIFE'S DREAM [As Related by Herself.] On the wings o' the wind did I flee,* Frae the dyke-side whereat I did fa'. Coming hame frae the blythe waddin' spree O' Andra Scott's up at Cocklaw : The nicht was sae mirk, an' the road sae a-gley, I sat still to come tae, for a wee. * " Generally dreams are wanting- in coherence ; all probabilities of 'time, place, and circumstance' are violated. Friends longf since dead appear and converse with us ; and events longf since past rise up before us with all the vividness of real existence. We may be conveyed to the antipodes, or even to worlds beyond our own, without the difficulty of the distance at all standing: i" DREAMS 185 " But, what wi' the feast, the punch, an' tlic fun, I dover'd clean owre in a heap, Jist as a spring" g^ell o' wild, wastlin' win' Tore up to me on the hill steep ; Yet I didna rouse up, but lay quate as a neep, Or a baaby fresh rockit asleep. " In a jiffy, I thaucht, I was whuppit clean up An' hoisted aloft by the gell — As a wean by its nurse to its breid-meatie sup, Whan it waukens an' threatens to yell — Awa' throo the East, ay or no, an' pell-mell, Wi' a pith as of Clootie himsel' ! " Ow^e Duddyston, Pinkie, Carberry hills — Out owre that famed trinitie — I was blawn like a clud that Auld Reekie spills Frae her murky an' dun canopie, Whan it downa baud mair till some o't distils In a blash whan Waather John wills. " Awa' throo the East — ee'n to whare I was born — In a zig-zag, swallow-like flicht, Benorth, or besouth, as the g"usts teuk their turn, Or sweil'd round in their madness outricht, Like broken-out fiends in sad plicht, Ettlin' at freedom that nicht. " Frae the moors to the sea, frae the sea to the moors, Out throo a' the shire o' my birth, I was blawn here and there, I was blawai for lang- oors. Up an' doun 'tween the lift an' the yirth. Like a doo whan a hurricane scoors Owre the toun, displayin' its poo'rs. our way. W'c are not aware of the grossest incongruities, probably because we are unable to test the probability of the phenomena by our ordinary expeiience ; hence nothing- that we see or do in a dream surprises us." — Chambers s Encyclopcedia, vol., III., p. 666. i86 OTHER PIECES " There's Ceickinny ! * I cried, 'neth whare I noo flee, An' thonder's the Pans t an' Tirnent ! 1 An' that park that I see is whare Gairdner^ did dee, An' Johnnie Cowp's || mantle was tint, An' the bays aff his broos amaist ere he kent War' stown an' to Charlie war' sent. " Ho! Ormiston Ha! an' Elphyston Toor ! Whare Wishart was nabbit lung syne ! ChrichtounlH an' Wintoun !** — the tane n'ar the moor, The tither owrelookin' the Tyne — Neth that ' tane ' or that ' tither,' an' I had the poo'r. Hoc gleg' my auld wings wad I coo'r ! " Lord save us ! there's Soutra, Humbie, an' Keith, ft Whare Hornie his witches train'd lang ! We escaped frae him noo by the skin o' our teeth. Because slap doun on Saltoun we sprang — N'ar tirling the kirk, whare Burnet the bang, Schuled Fletcher li that ' Union' was wrang. * Cockenzie. t Prestonpans. J Tranent. § Colonel Gardiner of Preston, an ofificer in the Royalist Army, who fell at the Battle of Prestonpans, within sig'ht of his own family mansion, September 20th, 1745. 11 Sir John Cope, Commander of the Royal Army at Prestonpans, who fled precipitately from the field after the lirst and only furious charg-e of the Hig-hlanders, and only drew bridle after reachingf Berwick, fifty miles distant. IT The mag'nificent ruins of old Crichton Castle, near the head of the river Tyne, about fourteen miles west from the county town of East Lothian. ** " Winton Castle, on the Tyne below Crichton, is," as Green truly saj's, "admittedly one of the very finest examples of Re- naissance architecture in all Scotland." i't All in the extreme south-west of East Lothian, and notorious in the histories of witchcraft. Xt- Andrew Fletcher of Saltoun, whose tutor, then the parish minister, became afterwards the celebrated Bishop of Salisbury. Fletcher, famous for his patriotism, was strenuously opposed to the union of the Parliaments of England and Scotland, as is well known. DREAMS 187 " Port Seton ! Port Seton !* It n'ar set me a-greetin', Tho' aloft in the duds 1 did flee ! Here Mary, Queen Mary wi' Bothil gaed treatin' — Ere a week Darnley's widow was she — Galivantin', an' feastin', an' eatin' Wi' a bla'gaird waur than Beast Beaton ! " Gledsmuir noo, Gledsmuir noo, comes neist intil view, Whare Robison t wrate his g"rit beuk ; An' the witches war' brunt upo' green Birlie Knowe, Doun in Samilston's I cosy bield neuk ; Whare Yittmeal was made a' the warld did cow, Whan wi' brose folk did themsel's stow. " Bogflehill! Aiberleddy ! Bankrief!§ Gosfuird Pailace, Gairdens, an' Wuds !| On the wing-s o' the wind, sirss, fu' brief Is the vizzy o' them frae the cluds, Whan about ane wild flafifers an' thuds In tatters her braw waddin' duds ! * Seton House in this district "was a famous resort of Queen Mary. Only two days after the murder of Darnley she arrived here on a Sunday, and was attended by Bothwell, Argyll, Huntly, Seton, Lething-ton, and Archbishop Hamilton. The conduct of Mary on this occasion is hard to reconcile with a widowhood of two or three days' standing-. She and Bothwell openly amused themselves at archery, and having won a match against Seton and Huntly, the losers entertained the winners to dinner at Tranent. The house where this strange royal gathering was held was an old one at the foot of the town, a hostelry of very long standing, and only recently removed." — Mr Green's Eas^ Lothian, pp. 85-6. i Robertson, the historian, was parish minister of Gladsmuir from 1743 to 1758. :;: Samuelston, where, in 1661, thirteen witches were burnl. The place was also long famous for its oatmeal mills. § Well known places on the Haddingtonshire coast, II The seat of the Earl of Wemyss, and far renowned for its magnificent House and beautiful Gardens. i88 OTHER PIECES " Govy-dick ! there's Spinelsfuird !* Bye it I'm taen- CarrioUin' like a vex'd craw ! — Yont to Leidinton/i" ship, amaist ere I ken, Syne bel3^ve owre Bowton i I blaw, Whare Burns's mither an' brither hae gane To a tomb n'ar as honour'd 's his ain ! " But I manna halt noo ! Owre Ing-lesfield Toll- Or the place whare that toll used to be — In a blink I am whiskit, body an' sowl, Like a thrissle tap jist sheuken free On the brusk harvest breezes to flee — ■ The trig-est airship ye can see ! " Ho ! owre the dark forests o' Yester§ I sped — Owre the Auld Kirk, the Castle, an' ' Ha',' Ca'd the ' Goblin' ane, sin' e'er it was said It was fashion'd by Clootie's imps sma' For its laird Sir Hugo to fa' Plump intil his trap gu'id an' a' ! * Spilinersford, near Samuelston. + Letliing-ton or Leniioxlove, the seat of the old Maitlands, near Haddit\gton. J Bolton, a villaofe two miles south of Hadding-ton, in the churchj^ard of which lie interred the remains of the mother of the National Poet, togfether with those of his brother Gilbert, and several of the latter's family. § "The seat of the Marquis of Tweeddale, whose familv has owned the estate since the 14th centur}', throug-h the mtirriag-e of the orig'inal Sir William Hay to the heiress of Sir John Gifford of Yester at that earl}' period. It is a sti-ang'e fact that since the Giffords, who are said by Chalmers to have been relations of William the Conqueror, were in possession from at least the 12th century, these lanils have been in the hands of the two families for 800 3'ears. Of the Gift'ords the most celebrated was Sir Hug-o, the so-called necromancer, who in 1268 built the old Castle of Yester, with its strang-e Hobg-oblin Hall. For centuries a super- stition existed that it was even built by supernatural agencies, and that the perfect state of its masonry pioved this." — Mr Green's £as/ Lothian, pp. 246-8. DREAMS 189 " Wi' a swish, an' a gush, an' a rush to the north We swoopt down on the ' Goat's toun ' * unqucU'd, But cm the peak o' its Steeple f — for a' I was worth — I was hankit an' close pris'ner held ! Ay, lang tho' I rug-git an' yell'd, On the tip o' its peak was I held ! " On the spire o' Saltoun I had catch'd coming- bye, But sune, I trow, tore mysel' free ; But noo, on a pinnacle muckle mair high, I was speetit as clean as a flee ! What was I to do? dangle there till I'd dee. Like a second fa'n Deil ? Sirss, a sair doom to dree ! " In a wee the day brak', an' tho' the gell still Held on, an' was e'en indeed higher, Fu' sune a' the streets did wi' multitudes fill — Glowering up at me stuck on their spire ; An' some volunteers, led by their bit Squire, Brang their guns, an' on me open'd fire ! " But tho' scores o' leid bullets they ettled my airt Fient a ane o' them scuff''d e'en the tags O' my auld waddin' togs — ance sae stylish an' smert ! — Noo flaftin' a' like a wheerr rags O' auld-warld banners an' flags. Or the daddies o' scaur-craws an' hags ! " Guid time had I, sirss, to owre look the bit toun Whare Knox the Reformer was cleckit. An' thae mix'd Samils Three — Sam Smiles,! an' Sam Broun, § An' Sam, the sedate Mucklebackit,|| A Zealot that, gin he's no' chackit, Is eneuch to drive Auld Clootie crackit ! * Hadding-ton. ■\ The remarkably tall spire above the Town House. + The author of Self Help, Lives of the Engineers, etc. § Samuel Brown, a g-randson of John Brown, the famous preacher and commentator of Hadding-ton, was distinguished as a g-real chemist, and the uncle: of the author of Rah and His Friends. II A moie or less known scribbler, and all-round "Revivalist" in his day. igo OTHER PIECES An' weel could I note a' the places o' fame, Frae my fine ' coi^n o' vantag"e ' up there ! — Jeannie Welsh's dad's house, an' Croal's hinmaist hame Were as plain as thae chicks on that fluir ! An' the Kirks an' the brigs — an unco met pair — The auld an' the new — I e'ed a' wi' fond care ( " Weel I mindit John Broun, Irving, Carlyle, Doctor Cook, an' the Sams aforesaid, An' a chiel frae the Close that was lang ca'd the Goil, But whase name an' address I've mislaid ; Forbye dizzens mair — noo a' deid I'm afraid — But wha ' characters ' were whan I was a maid ! " In a rap it fell nicht, wi' the gell risen noo To a hurricane high aff the wast ; On my toor in the cluds I back an' fore blew — Like an inn's swingin' sign in a blast ! — Till, slap-bang, in a gust I was round the spire cast, Thence slung like a stane frae a sling at the last ! " The neist place I saw was the back o' the Bass,* As out owre by the May * I was blawn, Whare a queer swirlin' gust — the same airt I did pass- — Forced me back by Nor' Berwick affhan' — The jummeltest toun e'er yet made by man The auld an' the new — mean, middlin', an' gran'. " Syne owre the Gowfif Links — baith the Wast an' the East — Like some broken-lowse mad-cap balloon — I was whiskit alang at a rate that increased Aye the far'er awa I was blewn ; Sae Audim, Whitekirk, an' mony a toun I kenn'd brawly lang syne, I flew whizzin' aboon ! " An' whan crossing Dunbar, hoo fine I could see The Toun House, the Castle, an' Kirk ! * IsUinds in the mouth of the Firth of Forth. DREAMS igi By the licht o' the Mune, whilk at times shone a wee, I kenn'd even some folk in the mirk — Men leaving the pubs — men o' mony a quirk Whan onything ill for themsel's is to shirk ! " But the boats in ashore, an' the ships out at sea — (Lord owrelook us in pity an' mercy !) Hoo they reel'd in that gell — jist like fules on the spree In some auld-farrant herrin'-drave farcie ! — Which ye're owre young" to mind o', I daur say, But which lacking", mak's siller there scarce aye ! " Sirss ! Eh, I was gled to be blawn far'er east, Oot atowre o' the sick'ning" sicht far ! For thae boats in the sea I could never digeest Sin' auld Millar's beuk * did me sae scaur Wi' its tales o' tempests an' war, Whilk sae aft hae wrackit Dunbar ! " But oot o' the frying-pan intil the fire I fell whan I blew frae that toun Owre what was as dowie as Hedintoun spire — The tap o' Doon Hill,t whare Cromil, the loon, Knockit owre an' tred doun in the mire As routhy a hairst as e'en he could desire ! \ " An' what made it waur was — the gell a' at ance Fell doun lown as a saft April breeze ! Insteid o' cluds noo, owre clods did I prance — Noitin' my shins, an' skinnin' my knees ! An' hadna a gust come an' gien me a heeze, I'd knockit my brains oot 'gainst Thurston's big trees ! § * " The History of Dunbar," by James Millar. t Where the army of the Scottish Presbyterians was defeated by Cromwell on September 3, 1650. X Three thousand of the Scots fell, and ten thousand o{ them were made prisoners, in this disastrous combat. g Thurston Estate, in the parish of Innervvick, is one of " the most beautifully wooded in the county, the contrast between the masses of fine old trees and the bare hills around them being- strikingly beautiful." — Mr Green's East Lothian, p. 207. 192 OTHER PIECES " The clachan o' Innerwick's stuck on a brae, Which by gu\d luck I only jist scuff'd, Itherwise, I am sure, that had been my last day^ For that hillside's \vi' muckle stanes stuff'd. An' had I against them been whuflf'd, By naucht else could I mair been rebuff 'd ! " It was fortunate, tae, that still the wild g-ell Which bure me frae the crib o' John Knox, Did favour me noo, an' indeed only fell As I blew into dear Aul'hamstocks ! * Whare for centuries a' our auld folks Were ruitit like Lammermuir rocks ! " But, Guid save us a' ! wha is yon at the door O' the hoosie wharein I was born ? My faither, I sweer ! that's been deid owre a score O' lang- years come Candlemas morn ! But his wraith, ye're jaloosin', I'se warran'. Did my dream to sheer nonsense sune turn ? " Weel ! It is true that by the dyke-side — But a Scot's mile, or sae, frae Cocklaw — I open'd my e'en baith at ance gey an' wide Whan I deem'd the auld faither I saw — Lord keep an' preserve us ! in 's auld claes an' a', — Stan'in' plump at the door as in days lang awa ! " Hoo I leuch, sirss, to mind that in a' my lang- flicht I'd haen nocht but a gell for my team I An' losh, hoo I stared whan our Clock cam' in sicht, In our ain cosy kitchen fire's gleam. To see that this journey supreme Had ta'en less than a half hour to dream ! " t * The next village to the east of Innerwick. "The road from Innerwick to Oldhanistocks' vilkige is surprisingly prett}-, and in places finely wooded, especially round the site of the Branxton. If Oldhanistocks is quaint in name, it is almost quainter in reality. It contests with Garvald, the position of being the best hidden \^illage in East Lothian." — Charles E. Gi-een's Book, pp. 207-8. t "One of the most remarkable phenomena of dreaming is the rapidity with which long trains of thought pass through the mind. DREAMS 193 IV.— EAST LINTON REVISITED. A Tyneside Day-Dream. " Should auld acquaintance be forgfot, An' never brought to min'? " — Burns. ^'' In July moiith, ae honnie morn^ Whan Nature's rokelay green Was spread o'er ilka rig d corn. To charm our roving een,'' * A train rushed furth Auld Reekie's bourne, Out throo hig"h Calton clean, Screaming" fareweel wi' lordly scorn To a' the dingy scene That glorious day ! Jam ! Portobello's swung behind — Squeal ! shriek ! throo fields an' wuds, Snorting dark breathings on the wind To flare like April cluds — On, on ! Steam Stalwart warms up now, By farms and gardens fair — 'Neath brigs — owre burns that glint below Like Nature's braided hair Flung loose that day ! Defying jars, jams, jolts, and jerks — Or singly or in mass — At wayside stations, clachans, kirks We touch an' go — or pass — A dream requiring- hours for its accomplishment, is begfun and terminated in a few seconds. A person who was suddenly aroused from sleep by a few drops of water sprinkled in his face, dreamed of the events of an entire life in which happiness and sorrow were ming-led, and which finally terminated with an altercation upon the borders of an extensive lake, in which his exasperated com- panion, after a considerable struggle, succeeded in plunging him." — Chambers's Eiicyclopcedia, Vol. III., p. 667. * The initial quatrain of Ferguson's " Leith Races." N 194 OTHER PIECES Tremendous craps ! Oats — barley fiel's Laid flat as they'd been roU'd doun — Turnips an' tatties met in dreills Betokening" profits golden Some near-haun' day ! " Linton !" — " East Linton ! " — bawl'd we hear Within the hour o' startin' — Auld Tib, alert — the Linn a-near — Is at the lugg-ag'e dartin', S3'ne loups the car like ony lass O' towmonds ane-an'-twenty, Laugfhin', an greetin' those we pass Amang the croud she's kent aye This monie a day ! Doun the auld toun an' up the new, Kenn'd faces seldom seeing — And those of folk that were in view Grave, glum anes maistly being — We saucht fu' sune the Waterside, And traced the auld Tyne Vailley Up The Brae-heids—whaiVQ. we did ride To schule three sessions gaily Day after day ! There, in a corrie miniature — Kenn'd weel in truant auld days ! — We rested lang-, an' dozed, I'm sure. Ere back we gaed our yauld ways — For auld een kindly tak' to rest, And sleep is ne'er far frae them, Whane'er a cosy neuk is press'd By folk wha sadlies hae them At close o' day ! But wha is this that noo invades Thy sacred haunt, fond " Samil " ? Lord ! Ane — o' misanthropic blades As siccar's Sandy Cammel — DREAMS 195 Rob Edi)igto7i * himself, I swear ! His vera coat an' lum hat, An' brass-rimm'd specks whilk he did wear Whan " Sam " was but a schule brat — Alack-a-day ! " Hullo ! " he g^raned as he drew near — As cynic-like as Sawtan — " To see ' auld freends ' an thou'st come here, It's time new specs thou pat on ! East Linton's like a g-rave-yaird noo — Ev'n that g-rave-yaird I rot in — Whare grubs abound an' freends are few An' dee\41ish sune's forg-ot ane Whan gane's his day ! " My days war' auld Distillery f days — The days when Linton fatten'd On smugglers' traffic, smugglers' ways, An' bribes Excisemen quaten'd ; Then man an' maister war' in luck. An' deep, I trow, in 'nappy' — The merrier, aye the mair they tuck. An' tricked the gauger chappie Be't nicht or day ! " But 'Ruptions came. Distilleries gaed, Auld kirks an' auld cliques dwined sair. And fortunes, which the wheich had made. The new times featly crined sair ; Sorting folk's clocks becam' my lot — For I was fell mechanic — By't mony a jolly booze I got. An' mony a soup an' bannock, To my last day ! * A long and widely-known Linton "character," of a bitterly- witted and satirical nature, who, albeit an excellent " clock sorter," fell into straitened circumstances in his latter days, and eventually died in the "fifties" of last century in an Edinburgh Poorhouse. t Abolished in the "forties" of last century. 196 OTHER PIECES " A blessing was the Rooshian War — 'Haps e'en to them it slauchter'd — It sent the herring- to Dunbar In myriads to get flauchter'd ; It garr'd the farmers cock their lugs Wi' wheat five pound a quarter ; It made our Mess Johns jolly dowgs, An' ev^'n the U.P.'s smarter, Ilk Sabbath day ! " But evil was its dismal trail — To me, auld age an' frailty ; And to maist ithers, mvislin kail, An' poortith hard and haill, tae — Farmers in scores an' scores gaed doun ; Herring Dunbar desairted ; In a Poorhouse in Embro' toun Wi' life I gladly pairted, Ae blae Mairch day ! " For pliskies in my yearthly time— Haill fifty towmonds, Samil — Was I foredoomed thae braes to climb, And owre thae rocks to scrammel, Seeven hours a day — seeven mortal hours ! And noo, for fifty mair, Sam, Maun I do three — three., by the Powers ! — Three Jioiirs, for fifty year, Sam, Day efter day ! " But whan at last the last ane's sped. An' I am free for ever, Ye'se jine me, Sam, amang the dead, Ayont the Stygian river ? — Rare tales o' auld Distillery folk I'll crack ye throo the Ages ; In a lown neuk at Shakespeare's dock We'll whup his deathless pages Some lucky day ! " SOME CREDIBLE EPITAPHS 197 Sae saying-, Rob teuk to the stream, An vainished like an otter, The noise his splash made brak my dream- (Or maybe 'twas some motor Tootin' alangf the Brae-heids road, Some cairters giein' wairnin' ?) Whate'er it was, I cried, " By God, The Tyneside dream's a rare ane Sam's haen this day ! " SOME CREDIBLE EPITAPHS. On Wallace. Scotland's Hero — heart and soul — The mightiest e'er her sword to draw — From whose fell sweep her foemen stole — Not caring to be shorn like straw ! His guerdon was a traitor's doom. His death-bed was the gallows tree, Ten sev'eral pike-heads were his tomb, His burial chant a tyrant's glee — Plus all the world-wide envied store Of free men's worship evermore ! On John Tamson : A Very Poor Man. Honest John Tamson's body here Reposes its weary banes ; Should a King's soul e'er where his is steer 'Twere weel paid for its pains. On a Free-Living and Irascible Provost. Here lieth a giant of tallow and flesh, A late minor god o' this warl', ' With whom Bacchus himsel' in Hades 'twere rash To engage in a bout at the barrel — When the last was dregg'd dry he wad ring for a fresh. And if that cam' na forth — what a quarrel ! 198 OTHER PIECES On Jonathan Hall. As kindly a neig"hbour's in keeping below, As e'er in the mools to our sorrow did go ! A sage-minded Scot, profound and acute. With a heart that lo'ed a' — the humane an' the brute- Leaning strong to the poor, the widow, the bairn, Whom death or misfortune had coosten forfairn ! Gin the pray'rs o' the helpless can help a man's saul. Sure a blest man this day is dear Jonathan Hall ! On a Woman Suffragist. Tho' to this " monster meeting" got Hoo quate this nicht is Maister Stott ! Nae mair wi' wind-fiU'd lungs an' throat Commanding " tyrant man " To yield up " Woman " on the spot Her " Heaven-awarded right to vote," But mute, as if it matter'd not. The " cause " he'd bless or ban ! On Nanny Millar — a Nonagenarian. Up to ninety-an-'five Auld Nan ran alive Ere death could sae much as rax till her ; But anither short year Brang the couple sae near, He play'd dunt up against Nanny Millar ! On "Watty." Here auld Watty lies, Our Newfoundland dog ! Gin he's ne'er to " arise," Thy great dogma in vogue — " Resurrection of man " — I reject ! — For to leave in death's bog Watty — brave, good, an' wise, And to " save" the man-rogue — (The worst "dog" in disguise) — Were a creed fit to damn " The Elect ! " SOME CREDIBLE EPITAPHS 199 On an Old Haddington Preacher. A priest of mickle wut an' lear, As droll as Cook, as grave as Blair, As mindfu' o' the veriest puir As walthiest peer ; If e'er a man than man was mair, He's buried here. On an Auld Toun Character. Drouth)^ Davie, drouthy Davie, Drouthy Davie Duncan ! Muckle mair than a' the lave aye Drank drouthy Davie Duncan ! Doited Davie, doited Davie, Doited Davie Duncan ! To this graflf thy fell drouth drave ye, Daft, droll, auld Davie Duncan ! On "A Sair-Misguided Farmer," Within this graff sleeps cuckold Baird, Wha hanged himsel', to "do " the laird, The day before the rent ane ; His wanton widow sheuch'd him here. Her jo — the laird — -roup'd afif his gear For a soom twice the stent ane. On a Rich Hypochondriacal Spinster. Tho' from all real evils free, Living at home securely, In fancy " killed with nerves" was she, And morn and evening " poorly." At last she's here — at ninety-three — And dead and done for, surely? 200 OTHER PIECES On a Severe Old Schoolmaster. His dreadfu' tawse and cane are gane, And " Sam," wham \a.ng he whalpit, Is sometimes wi' the notion ta'en A rhymed revenge to skelp at ; But, g-uessing" he was "luna" born, This " Epitaph" maun serve his turn. On Mr John Cameron, Town Clerk, East Linton, AN Able, "Self-made" Man, and a Popular Leader and Speaker. If sterling worth and mind can win A passport to the Courts Empyr'an, Then I'm dead sure John Cameron's in And even now the gods inspirin' How best their regions they may rule — Drain, cleanse, ward, water, cess, and gas. In accord with that science school And earliest sanitary class O'er which he did himself preside. Long ere 'twas famous far and wide. On Dr Livingstone. A man whom every man reveres, Or prodigal or angel, Of all the vision'd moral spheres Writ down in John's evangel ; Hence in the British Pantheon * here The thousand races that appear. On a Gravedigger. Here lies in this grave our later maker of graves, Who hath got what he gave to so many ; And his share is so good that its gainer it saves From e'er making another for any. * Westminster Abbey, whither Livingfstone's remains from "Darkest Africa" were broug-ht and interred by the nation. SOME CREDIBLE EPITAPHS 201 On a Rosehall (Haddington) Cat which was Found IN A Bag, after a Spate in the Tyne, on the Seashore. In a poke in a pool This grimalkin grew cool And mewed her last moments awa' ; Now she's swept to the sea And's as still as can be, Tho' the mice run amuck at Roseha'. Wow-wow ! weel-I-wat ! Whan she was a wee cat, As playfu' as puppy or lamb, Ne'er an instant trow'd we O' the fate she wad dree. Whan the mice's aveng^er it cam'. And Nemesis o'ertook her Whan the " Scaffy " did douk her In the pool that is ca'd the " Lang^ Cram." EPITAPH ON ROBERT BURNS. Is there a bard with genius fraucht, Crusht doun by want, by toil distraucht, Hath hig-her up Parnassus raucht Than this " ploug-hboy " ? — Let him drink here a willie-waucht, An' sing" for joy ! Is there a man with saul erect, Howe'er the cloaks o' life protect, . Can with clear vision sham detect In lord or slave? — Draw nigh, an' thank the g'ods direct Upo' this g"rave ! * In the Tyne immediately above Hadding-ton. 202 OTHER PIECES " Is there a man whose judgrnent clear" Micht nations teach the course to steer, An' win' himsel' in Fame's bricht sphere Eternal place ? — Let him his pattern ponder here, And start apace ! Is there a man with heart sae pang'd, That, however hard himself s been dang'd, Can for the meanest creature wrang'd Feel Christ-like care ? — Rejoice that to thy kind belang'd This monarch rare ! And is there ane wha Freedom hails As his ae queen, nor dreads nor quails By word an' deed, when time avails To stretch her sway ? — Learn here her leal liege never fails To win some day ! The champion resting here below In Freedom's cause was never slow ! Let her but need — then, ay, or no, Or stand, or fa'. He, like a Wallace, furth did go, An' faced the ba' ! Comrade, tak' tent ! an' thou would'st seek Remembrance after death a week. Be thou like Burns, nor cringe, nor sneak To power nor pride, But, as a man, live, work, an' speak, Whate'er betide ! OUR SISTERS 20 J "OUR SISTERS." I. The Woman in the Street, feedrag-g"led, dirty, and tatter'd, Bleary, and bloated, and batter'd, She trails like a plague i' th' sun ! What is she, who is she, I pray ? Hath humanity thrust her away For sins unforg"ivable done ? " No, no ! She's but as many are here — Not sinless, but penniless sheer ; Friendless, and out of work long- ; Giving" for that which bring-s her a crumb — - Content, peace of mind, all her's that's to come Or yet may be wrung" from a wrong"." II. The Lady at the Fete. Bejewell'd, gorg"eous and splendid — Flatter'd, courted, attended, She sails like a queen through the hall ! What is she, who is she, I pray? Hath humanity made her so gay For that her past sins are so small ? " No, no ! she's but as others are there — Not sinless, yet wealthy and fair. Much friended, and wanting for naught ; Getting for these what limits her peace — Satiety, weariness, pleasure's surcease And ennui that gnaws like a rot ! " III. No Remedy. Then let them — the upper and nether — Commingle their fortunes together, And so end their troubles forthwith ; Divide up the ease and the care, Want and plenitude 'twixt the wrong'd pair, And both may fight Fate with fit pith ? 204 OTHER PIECES " No, no ! Such relief as you mention, Class prejudice — pride and convention — Would run all unheard out o' court ! The belle would the drab but deplore, And the drab would the belle only more Curse and upbraid by way of retort ! " ELEGY ON JONATHAN HALL, BANKER AND LITTERATEUR, EAST LINTON.* Her wintry Illness gone, now Nature seem'd As if again imbued with life and youth ; Aloft in cloudless azure Phoebus beam'd, And gentle airs were wafted from the south. The greening woods and meads grew starred with flowers ; The fields alive with teams, and herds, and flocks ; The pleasant plains spread round the wild birds' bowers, Broad from the Firth up to the moorland rocks. In peace the forests waved, the skylarks sang ; The winding river glisten'd in noonday ; The streamlets for the sea from hillsides sprang, And melodised the valleys all the way. From ev'ry bosky clump and sylvan shade The notes of merle or mavis sweet were borne ; The cushat's croon was heard down many a glade, And wee birds' lilts almost from ev'ry thorn. Beneath a hazy veil of gauze-like smoke How sweet the village lay towards which we press'd. Nestling amid its fields, where all things spoke Only of peace and plenty, work and rest ! * Died at East Linton, East Lothian, March 17th, 1905. ELEGY ON JONATHAN HALL 205 Alas, alas, that other tale is told ! That grief was sorest where joy seem'd supreme ! Within that villag-e fair lay dead and cold One more to us than all in life's whole dream ! For us, that spring- day sicken'd in its pride. All things were transform'd by that woeful tale ; Dark grew the sun and left the heaven void. The balmy breezes from the south grew stale ! The budding woods and flowering meadows now Loom'd bleak as savage cliffs and blasted heath ; The verdant fields and hills did deserts grow. And herds and flocks the victims fit of death. The skylark's lay became a requiem drear ; The gurgling of the brooks one mournful dirge ; The wild-wood warblers, Grief, incensed, did hear. And drove her, sobbing, to Distraction's verge ! The erst fair village look'd a haunt of plague. Whereto the joy of life no more did reach. But shadowy mourners moved, ghost-like and vague. Weeping and wailing in sad, palsied speech. Its patriot chief and hero was no more — The sleepless guardian of its every right — The fearless champion of its weak and poor, " Its public annalist and genius bright " — Lay stricken and close-locked with ruthless death, And round his open tomb the clay was piled, Ready to shroud him its dank folds beneath. As unresisting as a sleeping child ! 2o6 OTHER PIECES BACK AT THE AULD DASK. Alang- Tyneside how I wad ride Whan I was young an' fier ! Now I maun yield mysel' to eild An' ride Pegasus here — My rhyme an' pen the switch an' rein Wi' whilk this naig I steer ! Fractious at first — impatience curst — Peg bangs up and awa' Owre hills an' seas — whaure'er I please, E'en to Parnassus' Spa — Castalia named, whaur, fient ashamed. Our rustic drouth we staw ; Syne daur anon Mount Helicon, The Muses' sacred hill. Ere back amain to Loudon's plain — An' "Aither's Salt" an' " yill ! " Glad to licht doun whaur sense is foun' And ane may rant at will ! Awa', ye " classic myths," awa' ! Hencefurth my Muses be Our kintra queens an' matchless scenes 'Tween Lammer an' the sea — To me mair worth than this haill earth Of heathen trumperie ! A BAILIE AND A CITY ARAB. The Bailie. " Ye cam' barefitit to this warl', An' sae ye still remain, Becuz yer Dad's a drucken carle. An' siller ne'er has nane ! Besides, ma ain dear boy an' girl Use up a' I can gain ! " A BAILIE AND A CITY ARAB 207 The Arab. "Ye cam' staneheartit to this warl', An' sich ye still remain, Becuz bee Nature ye're a churl, An' g-umption ye hae nane ! Besides, yer maiks I'd scorn to birl, E'en braw new boots to gfain ! " The Bailie. " My lad ! for that ye hit sae pat, An' sib freens I hae nane, A hungry, wan, bare-fittit brat Nae mair sail ye remain ! Besides, I hae nae bairns, I w'at, Unless you'll be ma wean ? " The Arab. " My lord ! for that ye speak sae fair. An' drucken Dads I've nane, A sulky, auld stain-heartit bair I'se ne'er ca' ye again ! Besides, to be yer bairn and heir I wat, I am richt fain ! " IF IT BE THE END? [An Answer to a Communication from an Old Correspondent. ] Dear S., Thy list of sages I did note all From Haeckel back to Aristotle, Who have declared not worth a dottle Is man's old faith ! For naught of him can 'scape the shottle Of chested death ! 2o8 OTHER PIECES With admiration deep, sincere. Thy catalogued ones I revere ; Each of them stands without a peer In his own realm ; But not one of a bardic sphere Would faith o'erwhelm ! I note this well, and fain would know How minds creative here below Have all those centuries failed to trow The "plain truth" — which, Thou say'st the scientists do now So loudly preach ? " But what," quoth ye, " an they be right ?" W^ell, Saunders, well, our neutral plight — Hermetically " chested," quite 'Yond life and day — We but to bide in endless night, Or yea, or nay ! Even that might mean good for the dumb, Deaf, blind, deform'd — all whose sum Of comfort is the tiniest crumb Brains can conjecture — Ev'n brains of scientists — o'ercome With Life's false picture. In thought, for well nigh fifty years. Recking, yet facing, kindred fears, Through all Doubt's wild and dark frontiers. With lonely pain, I've trudged my way, and daub'd with tears, Life's stony plain. Alas, an death be its sure end ! But, true as I do thee, old friend, Didst Hamlet, Saunders, apprehend That much more lies Beyond things tangible or kenn'd Than men surmise. IF IT BE THE END? 209 Ye scientists, I dare aver, To reason much, too much, defer — .Mere human reason, which will err And miss the mark — Oft wilder far and readier Than madness stark. The proof that death is not the last Lay ne'er in science in the past ; Nor does it now, when faith's o'ercast By " facts " new found And theorised on, fierce and fast, As " ample ground ! " Like most we do — this, too, is wrong ! Man stumbles still, as all along ; The evidence for life is strong. And surely lies In life itself — yea, even among The ruck that dies ! Then, wot'st not thou the blunder's made, By overvaluing, as foresaid, Man's mind, and leaving in the shade. As scarce worth naming. His other features — oft display'd, And oft mind shaming ? Emotion, sentiment, instinct, Left free, and for no foible blink'd, Oft more than mind a.r'^ great when link'd To love or fear — Behold the play of woman rink'd With some one dear ! Behold the steed in darkness lost, The migrant bird, the pigeon toss'd O'er trackless seas from coast to coast, Strike home direct — Where mind, with all its power ye boast. Could but " reflect ! " o 2IO OTHER PIECES Nor can thy mind do more than g-uess At morrow's hap, or joy, or stress ; The future's infinite egress It reels to scan, And makes even reason acquiesce How blind is Man. So, Saunders, now's thy time and season, With reason to mistrust mere reason, An let hope intuition seize on. As her mainsheet. To waft thee down the life that flees on. Zig-zag", but fleet ! SOME EASTERTIDE PRANKS. I. A Peevish Prologue. At that sair farce ca'd holidaying. Like a' the lave, we boud be playing, Sae in this present scrappy screedie Let the endeavour serve the deedie. An' gin it downa fill a feaster 'Twill me remind at least o' Easter, Whan on a fail dyke quaint an' queerly. Within my beuk I rhymed it merely To fill up a lang drearie hour Waitin' for Tib on Borough-moor. II. A Boglehill P^an.* As far east here I see nae less Than renoun'd Boglehill, Whare a' the " sea airs " folk can wis They may tak' when they will. * Bog-lehill is a lonely hamlet on the southern shore of the Firth of Forth, about twelve miles east from Edinburg-h, and was in my early days a favourite resort of sea-bathers. SOME EASTERTIDE PRANKS 211 "Aunt Peg-g-ie," langsyne, to that place Gaed ance whan she was ill, To try " sea-batheingf " or to face . The " Warst" at Boglehill. " Aunt " was a bang- an' likely dame Afore she had that spill, But a Queen we saw whan she gat hame At last frae Boglehill. The chiel wha drave her^rae that place, Tho' e'en her ain son " Bill," His minnie's features failed to trace In Aunt's at Boglehill. Her bronzed physog the harvest mune, When it rase braid an' " full," Perfectly eemaged up abune Aunt Peg's at Boglehill. Her chafts were blae, an' lean, an' sunk, An' runkled deep — until Her daily douks wi man-like spunk She teuk at Boglehill. Pairch'd hie upo' a rockie bawk. Like solan-guse or gull, Doun i' the brine like the sea hawk She plunged at Boglehill. Sax gloris weeks she doukit there, I wat she had her fill O' baith sea-watter an' sea-air — Sae rowth at Boglehill. Atweel ! the twa did mak' her " stout" — She shaws their virtues still — That waist, whilk is three yairds about, Was won at Boglehill ! 212 OTHER PIECES III. A Distressing Truth — A Mournful Mav-day Memorie. Ae May-day morn, richt braw an' sune, Cab-loads o' folk frae Heddintoun To Traprain's "verdant" slopes withdrew To wash their ghaistly chowks with dew, But whan they reached the distant " Law," The " dew " they got was unco sma' ! — (The nicht afore the bauld Traprain * Had donn'd his wintry cloak again, An stude up in the May morn there Three inches deep in snaw — or mair !) IV. " Maist Unseasonable Mirth." Whan the Lion Hill,+ buskit in white, Owre-lookit Auld Reekie in snaw, The mair did our Auld Wifie flyte. An' let her tongue lowse on us a' ! " Fy ! " quo' she, " ye impident folk. At what are ye lauchin' ava ? Sin' the e'enin' that stoppit our clock I've jaloosed it was gaun to be snaw ! An' noo, tho' 'twad nither a brock, Ye maun lauch as 'twere only a joke At the look an' the cauld o' it a' ! " V. A WoFUL Epilogue : San Francisco. God ! God ! what now assails our glee? — News of a new birth o'er the sea — A birth of monstrous misery, And helplessness and fear ! A fresh tornado, sure, of woe, A glorious city's overthrow ! Blind forces, loosen'd from below, To run their mad career ! * A literal historical fact. t Arthur Seat, Edinburg-h. ROB M'SQUEEL 21 o Earthquake and fire — a wilderness, Unutterable wreck and stress — Disaster, mocking- all redress, Confounding- thought and faith ! Appalling suddenness of doom, ITpheaven straight from Nature's womb ! An Eastertide of pitch-like gloom, Paralysis and death ! Edinburgh, April 19th, 1906. ROB M'SQUEEL. [A Country Satirist.] His village " poitry-man," atweel A born " sad dog" was Rob M'Squeel ! Yet, wow ! his fame spread far a-fiel' Aroun' the pump — E'en bye the Kirk, to whilk this chiel Did seldom stump. Rob cobbled shoon whan he wad "work," Alas ! the ///(', fool Flaiichtcr'd, destroyed ; killed Ftiish, fetched Flee, fly Fiirder, advance ; prosper Fleech, coax ; flatter Fitinmelt, fumbled ; groped Fleggs, attacks ; strokes Funk, to kick lightly Flcl, flat ; plain ; smooth Fiirth, forth ; onward ; f(.)rward Fleycd, startled or outward Flichl, flight ; great numbers Fykes, fidgets ; trifles Flillit, removed Fliide, Fluid, flood GAB, mouth ; prate Flair, Fliire, floor Gabble, g-arrulous Fillister, fluster; to w'ork confus- Gae, ^o edly Gacd, went Flyte, scold ; a wordy quarrel Gail, way, manner ; also goat FocJit, foug-ht Gaiie, gone Focht-an-feiuh, struggled and Gantree, a barrel stand strove Gang, to go ; to walk Fog, moss Gangreh, tramps Foond, foundation Gannet, the solan goose Forbaad, forbade ; disallowed Gapit, opened ; yawned Forhye, besides Gar, make ; compel Forbears, ancestors Garf , Gard, made; compelled Fortely, Ijy physical force Garten, a garter GLOSSARY 287 Gash, vig-orous ; sag-acious Go7vff, golf Gate, road ; way Gozvks, foolish people ; cuckoos Gail It, going- Goivpens, double handfuls Gaiiiit, )'awn Goivsty, Goiisty, large ; gusty ; Gazv, g:all ; to offend stormy Gaivd, g-oad Graff, the grave ; tomb Gawky, idle or romping- fool Graip, a stable fork Garvsy, buxom ; jolly Graip, Grape, to grope Gaylie, lively Graith, harness ; suds Gell, g-ale ; drunken bout Grat, wept Gee, succumb ; to take the i^ee, to Graiie, groan be beat ; to " throw up the Gravat, neck tie sponge" Grec, pre-eminence Geet, to g-et Greens, a kind of cabbage Geiity, g-entle ' Greet, cry ; weep Gett, a child Greeze, grease Geltlins', young-sters Grieii, j^earn ; long for Gey, very ; a g-ood deal Grieve, farm steward Gey-an-far, a pretty long- way Gript, grasped Ghaist, ghost ; ill-favoured person Grippy, greedy ; stingy Gie, g:ive Grit, great ; fibre Gied, g-ave Grund, the ground ; sharpened Gicii, given ; g-ave Grumpiiie, the poor man's sow Gif, if ; should Griip, hold ; grip Giff-gaff, mutual givlng- Guddle, to grope for fish with the Gifna, if not hands in a stream Gilpy, A frolicsome boy or gfirl Guid, Glide, good Gill, if Guid/cens, God knows Gini, grin ; snare ; cry Guidman, husband ; master Giniels, meal bunkers Giiilly, a large knife Gins, hoops ; crinolines Gumption, sense Glailcit, foolish Gurly, cold and rough Glaitr, mud Guse, goose Gled, g-lad Gusty, savoury Gleds, hawks ; eag-les GutcJier, grandfather Gicc, squint Gyseii, to shrink through drying Gleg, sharp ; swift ; easy Gyte, crazy Glefd, deflected ; misshiiped ; asquint HA', a hall Gliffies, frig-hts ; starts Haard, niggardly Glim, a light ; lamp, &c. Ilabble, mess ; trouble Glum, gloomy ; sad ; sulky Hae, to have Glume, Gloom, twilight Haen, had Gliiiuh, grumble Haet, aught ; an^'thing Goaving, sauntering idly Haffet, side of the head ; the Gomerell, a silly person cheek Gorlings, very young birds Haiti, whole Gove, stare Hairiis, Hams, brains Gowans, wild daisies Hairse, hoarse ; thick-winded Gowd, gold Hairst, harvest 288 GLOSSARY Hairsely, hoarsely Ifairt, Her/, heart Haith ! an exclamation of surprise Haldiu, furnishings ; stock in trade ; g-eneral wealth Haldin, held ; holding- Hale, sound; unbroken; heallhy; to heal Halfliii, a youth in his teens Ha/fl/iis, barely half Half-nakit, half-clad ; untlrcssed Haly, holy Haly-riide, the cross ; Holyrood, Edinburg-h Haiiicald, homely ; domestic Haiiic, home Haincly, simple ; unpretentious Hansel, Handsel, a g-ift Hansel Monday, the first Monday of the year, O.S. Haniel, a considerable number or quantity Hantrin, occasional Hap, hop ; cover, a shawl, &c. Hapt, Happi/, covered ; clothed Harl, a road rake ; to drag- forcibly Hash, to spoil ; a slovenly person Hasna, has not Hauchs, Haiighs, meadows Hand, hold Hamlin, holding ; furnishings Haitn, Han , hand Havcrcl, a babbler Havers, idle nonsense_ Havins, sense ; breeding- Hawky, white-faced cow Hawse, Haiise, throat ; windpipe Heeh-hozve ! exclamatory ; equal to "oh, dear ! " Hecht, forebode ; promised Heek, to eat Hecks, racks Hennin, giving in ; as being beat Heeze, unlift Heich, Hie, high Held, head Heidy, clever Hempy, a roguish lad or girl Hert, Hairt, heart Het, hot Hich, proud ; lofty Hicht, height Hielant, Hie Ian', Hi eland, High- land Hillock, a little hill Hingin , hanging Hin-maist, the last one Hinner-en , hinder end Hint, Ahint, behind Hirple, to walk lamely ; cripple Hirsel, herd ; multitude Hizzies, lasses ; housewives ; women generally Hoast, cough Hobhleskezv, noise ; tumult Node, hid Hodden-grey, coarse grey cloth Hog, a sheep before the first shear Hogmanay, New Year's Day eve Hoity-toity, a humorous exclama- tion Hod, husk Hoolet, Howlcf, owl Hoolie, slowly ; fair ; just Hoolins, empty husks Hoosie, little house ; cottage Horse-couper, a dealer in horses Housen, dwellings ; up-put Hout, to flout Hoiit-ay I exclamatory —equal to "Oh, yes!" Hotvdie, midwife Howe, hollow Howff, haunt Howk, dig Howkit, dug up Howp, hope ; wish Hoivtowdy, a fat chicken Htdly, a hollow ; a vale Hunner, Hnnder, hundred Hurdies, posteriors Hurkle, to crouch down Hurly, a hand cart Hutchin, moving excitedly ; jump- ing Hyt, mad ILK, each GLOSSARY 289 Ilka, every Ken, know ; knowledge Ill-cders, slanderers Kenn'd, Kent, knew ; known Ingaii, omon Kenna, know not Ingine, genius Kensna, knows not Ingle, the household fire ; fire- Kent, a shepherd's staff place Kep, catch hold of Ingle-side, the fire-side ; the Kelt, to make of; fondle hearth Kilt, Highland garment ; to Intil, in to throw Fse, I shall Ki/mner, Kuinmer, girl ; gossip Isles, Aisles, cinders ; embers Kin, relatives ; similar kind Ither, other Kintra, country Kixkins, chuixh goings JAINUS, a genius Kirn, churn ; a harvest supper Jake, Jack ; John Kist, chest ; big box Jalouse, Jaloose, suspect Kittle, to tickle ; difficult ; also to Jamp, jumped litter ; to bring forth Jaitd, jade Kittlin, a kitten Jaup, plash, as with mud Knacky, ingenious ; handy Jaw, gush of water ; waterfall Knowcs, knolls Jaw, impertinence Kmirlins, dwarfs ; pigmies Jeed, went astray Kuitlin, whittling ; shaping Jeegs, jigs ; also affairs and on- Kye, cows goings Kyte, belly Jetkaj-t, Jedburgh Kythe, show ; appear Jiggit, jogged Jile, jail LAABOR, to work ; to till Jimp, slender ; barely Laddie, boy ; lad ; lover Jink, to evade by turning quickly Laids, Lades, loads Jip, gipsy Laigh, low Jo, lover ; an equal Laird, proprietor ; landlord Joes, sweethearts Lairge, large Jockteleg, a clasp knife Laith, loth Joiter, ne'er-do-weel Lane, self ; 7ny lane, myself fouk, to duck down Lanesome, lonely Jtite, tea ; sour drink Lang, long ; the Lang To7in, Kirkcaldy KABER, rafter Langidge, language Kail, broth ; soup Lap, leaped Kail-stocks, the hearts of kail or Lat, let cabbage Latichin, laughing Kedgy, Cadgy, happy Lave, the rest ; what remains Kail-yaii-d, kitchen garden Laverock, the lark Kain, rent paid in kind Lawin, tavern bill Kame, comb ; crest Leant, gleam ; flame Kebbuck, a cheese Leal, true ; loyal Keek, to peep Lear, learning Keeking-glass, a mirror Leddie, lady Keel, red chalk Lee, an untruth Kemp, strive Leefti, compassionate 290 GLOSSARY Lee-lang, live long- Lee-some, pleasant ; loveable Leeves, lives Leevin, livingf Leeze, commend Leid, lead Leish, lash Lenth, length Lerrick, larch Leuck, laiig-hed Licht, ligflit Lichtit, kindled ; alig-hted Lift, the sky Lilt, a song ; to lilt, to sing- cheerfully Lingles, shoemakers' threads Links, downs ; sea-beaches Linn, a waterfall Lip, ill-tong-ued ; impertinent talk Lippin, trust Lirk, wrinkle Lith, listen ; joint Loan, a country lane Loch, lake Lock, a quantity Lo'e, to love Loof, hand, palm of Looms, tools Loons, wild young- fellows Loot, stoop ; allowed ; plunder Looten, let ; permitted Losh ! an exclamation expressing- amazement Loiidons, the Lothians Loup, leap Loiipin, jumping- ; violent Loupin-daft, rag-ing- mad Lours, looms ; lowers Lowe, flame ; fire Lowin, blazing- Lown, calm Lowse, loose ; quit work Lticky, g-oodwife ; mistress Lug, ear Liiggie, a child's wooden dish ; having- one handle or ear Ltim, chimney ; vent Ljint, tobacco pipe Ltirdane, a. lazy, shiftless person Lyart, g-rey MAAKAR, poet; song- writer; artist Maiks, equals ; half-pennies Mailen, a farm A/air, more Mairch, march ; to march Maist, most Man, husband ; servant ; em- ployee Mane, moan ; complaint Maud, a plaid Maun, must Mavis, the evening- song--bird — the nightingale of Scotland Maylicht, the lighthouse on the May Island, Firth of Forth Meenits, minutes Meer, a mare ; a lake Mell, associate Mcnnins, minnows Mense, discretion Mercat, market Messin, a mong-rel dog- Micht, mig-ht ; g-reat power Mickle, Muckle, Meikle, big ; g-reat ; much Midden, dunghill Mint, prim ; quiet Mindfu\ thoug-htful ; kind Mindit, remembered Minnie, Mither, mother Mint, aim ; attempt Mirk, dark Misleard, led into error Mistaen, mistaken Mixtie-maxtie, confused ; jumbled tog-ether Mony, many Mony-mae, many more Mools, the g-rave mould Moonging, whining- ; grumbling- Mou, the mouth Morn, to-morrow Morn's 7nornin , to-morrow morn- ing- Mortalis, unconscious ; mortal or dead drunk Mort-claith, pall ; death cloth Muck-bazuk, a farm implement for drawing out straw or dung- GLOSSARY 291 Muck, dung- Muiie, the moon Mtirnfu' , mournful Muslin-kail, thin, weak soup or broth Mutch, a woman's house cap Alutchkin, a measure holding- four g-ills NA, NAE, no ; not so Naig; a horse ; young- saddle horse Nane, none Nappy, happy ; pungent ; drink Ncffies, nepliews Neepg, turnips Neese, nose Necty, nig-g-ardly Neibor, Neebor, neig-hbour Neist, next ; nearest Neive, fist ; hand Neivefu, a handful Neth, Neath, beneath Neuk, nook Nicker, to neig-h softly Nicht, nig-ht Niffer, to barter ; exchange Nips, half-g-lasses of spirits Nither, Nidder, shudder ; starve Nits, nuts No-ae-ane, not a single one Nocht, Naitchf, naught Noo, now Norlan, northern Nowte, cattle PCH! ah \ ah! Och-hon ! alas ! Och-hon-a-ree ! a Gaelic exclama- tion of sorrow or great mis- fortune Oe, grandchild Offish, office Ongauns, mischievous doings Ony, any Ony-wey, any way Oo, wool Oors, hours Or, ere ; before On'a, anything over what is absolutely necessary Ordiiar, ordinary Orp, to sob and weep Out-bye, outside ; in the open air Owk, Old', week Owi-e, over Owre-coup, overthrow Owre-loup, overleap Ozvre-thick, too familiar Owsen, oxen Oxter, armpit ; to go arm in arm PAIDLT, dabbled Paik, beat Painch, paunch Pang, cram ; fill full Papp, to walk slowly or quietly Fappit, went leisurely Parted, paralyzed Parritch, oatmeal porridge Partans, crabs Pat, a pot ; put Patichty, Paughty, haughty; proud Pawky, innocently sly Pech, pant Pe7i7iy-gaffs, small shows Pensy, conceited Pent, paint Pey, pay Phaple, face ; countenance Pheerin-pole, a long staff or pole used for measuring and mark- ing off land into ridges, drills, etc. Pig, an earthenware vessel Pike, to pick Ping, to strike ; beat Pittgin, resounding ; beating Pingle, to strive hard Pinkie, the little finger Pirn, a spool or reel Pittin, putting Plenishin, farm stocking ; furni- ture Pleuch, Ploo, plough Plooin, ploughing- Planter, to puddle Poind, to distrain for debt Poitry-man, poet 292 GLOSSARY Poo, pull Pookin, plucking- ; tugg-hig- Poopii, pulpit Poo'r, power ; pour Poortith, poverty Pow, the head Powm'e, pony Powiher, powder Praisent-hit, present abode or place PreCi taste Preens, pins Prent, print ; literature Prentit, printit ; published Prief. proof Promish, promise ; offer Propiiie, present ; t^ift Propone, propose ; sugfg-est Pruve, prove Ptid, Poo'd, pulled Pttiieji, placed QUAT, quit; quitted Qtiate, quiet Quaich, Qiiegh, a drinking- cup Qiiatend, made quiescent Qtiey, a young- cow Qtw , said RACK, strain: smoke; mist; wreck Rade, rode Raibles, foolish stories Raid, foray; exploration Raijment, regiment Raik, to rove about Rallies, relics Rair, roar Raither, rather Rale, real Ramfeezled, confused a'nd fatigued Raijishackle, unmethodical Ram-staiii, precipitate ; pell-mell Rape, rope Rase, rose ; arose Rat-rhyme, rhyme said by rote Raw, a row Rax, stretch ; reach Redd, unravel ; clear up Rede, counsel, admonition Rede, to advise or warn Red-wild, stark mad Reens, reins Reeslin, stirring ; tangling- Reestit, stuck ; could or would not proceed Reif, rapine Reive, thieve Reveeve, revive Rife, abundant R'ift, belch Rifted, riven, torn, split Rig, Rigg, ridge of a field Riggin , the roof or ridge of a liouse or other building Rill, rim Rippit, ripped ; torn Rokelay, mantle ; scarf Rookit, harried ; bankrupt Rooky, misty Roose, praise ; extol Roostit, rusted Roove, to rivet Rosin, Rosef, shoemakers' wax ; resin Roiitli, plenty Roiitliy, having abundance Roiitin, lowing, like cattle Row, roll ; a quarrel Rozvan-tree, the mountain ash Rowt, roar, like bulls Ruckles, old articles Ruckles, ruins Ruits, roots Rtdtit, rooted Ruinmel, rumble Riimiitilgumption, sense, judg- ment Riiiicli, rive ; tear Rungs, cudgels Riinkled, wrinkled ; creased SAE, so Saevi, Saiiii, lard Saft, soft Saikless, guiltless Saikretar, secretary Sained, sainted ; blessed Saip, soap GLOSSARY 293 Sair, sore Shaws, tops of turnips and pota- Sair-diine, very frail toes ; shows Sair-taigied, sore put to it ; op- Shearin, reaping pressed Sheuch, Sheugh, ditch ; gutter Sait, seat, chair Sheuken, shaken Saittir, Saturn Shiel, a shelter Sail, shall Shielding, a hill cottage or lodge Sands, Saunts, saints Skill, shrill Sa7ig, song ; sung- Shilpit, thin ; delicate looking Sark, shirt Shog, shake Saugh, Saiich, willow Shoal, shovel Saucht, sought Shoon, Shune, shoes ; footwear Saul, soul Shore, threaten ; offer Saunts, saints Skottle, drawer in a chest Saiit, salt ; bitter ; devilish Sib, kin ; blood-related Santit, ^ipreserved with salt Sic, Sick, such Sauiiton, salmon Siccan, such like Sawtan, Satan Siccan-a-ane, such an one Scaith, Skaith, injury Siccar, Sicker, firm ; stubborn ; Scatid, scald great ; certain Scati7-, scare ; precipice ; escarp- Sid, Slid, Skid, should ment Sike, a rill Scart, scratch Siller, silver ; money Scaup, scalp ; head Simmer, summer Sclmle, school Sin , since Scone, a cake Sinder, to part asunder Scrammel, scramble Sindle, seldom Scran, provender Sin-syne, since then Screich, scream ; brisk Sirss, an exclamation equivalent Screkh day, break of day to " goodness-gracious," or Scribe, writer ; author "alas!" Scrimpit, pinched ; deficient Sitten, put ; placed ; sent Scuffed, grazed ; just touched Skaill, spill ; disperse Scunner, disgust Skairsk, scarce Sech, sigh Skaith, Scaith, injury Seedlins, youngsters ; learners Skeel, skill ; wisdom Seepin, saturating Skcclie, a lead pencil ; learned Seep-out, leak ; ooze out Skeichan, drink, generally whisky Ser, self Skeigh, elevated ; lively ; skittish Sett, sent Skelp, slap ; flog ; run quickly Sey, attempt Skelpins, thrashings Shae, shoe Skep, hive for honey bees Shair, sure Skey, to cry like a curlew Shaird, portion Skids, slides Shammy, Shinty, hockey 5/l'z>/?;;, laughing loudly or scream- Shank, leg ; limb ingly Shank' s-naigie, on foot Skitch, a small quantity Shanna, shall not Sklate, slate Shauchle, an ill-formed person Skrced, tear ; a big drink Shaw, a wood Skreigh, Skreich, shriek 294 GLOSSARY Skyte^ fly forcibly Souple, Soople, supple Slade, slided Sontei; a cobbler Slap, a stroke with open hand Souther, solder Slap, a gap ; quick ; instantly Sowff, to con over music or poetry Slap-bang, quickly, and at once Sowps, Soups, sups ; mouthfuls Slazv, slow Sowse, a quick fall of anything Slee, sly ; ingfenious soft and heavy Sleished, slashed Spae, to foretell Slettth, sloth ; dilatoriness Spaned, waned Slewn, slain Spang, jump Slick, easy Sparks, young dandies Slid, smooth ; g-lassy Spate, flood Sliddy, slippery Spaul, shoulder Slogans, war cries Spavie, spavin Slokcn, slake Speel, Spiel, to climb Slot, door-bolt Speir, Speer, enquire Smeddum, vigfour ; ability Spelder, to split and stretch out SfJieek, smoke ; to suffocate Spence, parlour ; inner apartment Sviiddy, a smithy Splairge, splash ; bedaub Smirk, smile Splice, to marry ; to go into part- Sniitlicr, smother ; suffocate nership for anything Sviittle, contagfious Splittie, division ; disagreement Smoor, smother " Spotted," slang for noticed Smytrie, a number ; a g^ood few Spj-ee, spry ; a drunken fit Snabs, shoemakers Spring, a tune Snack, gfruff; supple Spriish, spruce Snaiv-ba's, snow-balls Spuds, potatoes Sned, cut quickly Spline, spoon Sneeshin, snuff Spunk, courage Sneeshifi-mull, snuff-box Spunks, matches Sneevlin, whimpering- ; whining- Spunkie, a young lively fellow Snell, sharp ; chill Squackin, crying like ducks Snod, tidy ; comfortable Stab, a stake Snood, fillet for the hair Stack, a rick ; stuck Snools, soft, slow people Staigs, young horses Snonke, Snoiik, grovel Stainch, staunch Snoove, to proceed leisurely Stank, stagnant water Socht, Sancht, sought Stap, step ; also stop Soddent, soaking Stappin, stepping ; going away Sodger, Sojer, soldier Stapp, push into ; cork up Sonsy, stout and happy Stark, strong ; stalwart ; capable Soo, a sow Starns, the stars Sooks, sucks Statu, stole ; to satiate Soom, swim Stech, cram ; to gourmandise Soom, sum, amount Steek, shut Soop, to sweep Steekit, closed Soopairnal, supernal Steeve, firm ; tight Soor, sulky ; stern Stend, jump quickly Sor7i, to sponge Stent, a portion ; a beat ; contract Sough, blow softly Stey, steep ; stay GLOSSARY 295 Stey-na, stay not Sleys, stays ; props ; corsets Stick-an-tow, the whole ; bag- and bagrgage Stickin-day, last day of life : kill- ing- day of swine, &c. Stirks, one year old cattle Stotter^ stagg-er Stocks, ricks of g-rain Stookies, blockheads ; busts ; monuments ; dummies ; fig-ure- heads, etc. Sioor, rough ; stern Stoor, Stony, dust ; disquiet Stotir, disturbance Stourie, tumult ; quarrel Stoti, bullocks Stots, news ; secrets ; rumours StowHns, on the sly ; clandestinely Stown, stole ; also stolen Stoiutk, stealth Struck, struck Strade, strode Strae, straw Straik, to stroke Straik, a blow ; a length Strainash, catastrophe Strand, street gutter Straucht, straight Stravaigin, idly wandering Streckt, Straucht, straight Strein'd, strained ; pressed Striek, stretch ; expose Stripe, gutter ; open sewer Sti'ipp, a long narrow wood or plantation Strone, to spout ; to pass urine Straw, strew Stuck-tips, fops ; would-be gentry Studdy, an anvil Sttidc, stood Sturdy, giddy-head ; robust Stynie, a small portion ; a glimpse Suddle, sully Suner, sooner Sumphs, blockheads Swankie, a supple fellow Swarf, sw-oon Swat, sweated Swats, small beer Sweir, Sweer, swear ; unwilling Sivipes, small beer Szvith, swift ; quickly Szuitker, hesitate Sybo, a small early undergrown onion Syke, a runlet Syne, then TACKS, leases Tae, too ; also toe Taes, the toes Tazd, Tacd, toad Tairge, targe Tammy-norry, an ignorant, silly person Tangs, Tings, tongs Tappit-hen, large punch bowl Tarroiv, to linger perversely at meals Tass, a cup for — or of — liquor Tate, a very small quantity Tatties, potatoes Tauld, Tellt, told Tatipie, a slow, backward girl Tazvse, Taws, the old school scourge for misdemeanants j playing marbles Ted, to shake up Tee, the mark played for at games Teel, till — ploughing, etc. Teen, provocation ; anger Teers, tears as of cloth, etc. Teets, Paps, nipples ; breasts Tent, heed ; care, Tak tent, take care Tentie, kindly watchful Teiicii, tough Tetik, Tuk, took Tliack, Theak, thatch Tliack-an -rape, thatch and straw rope ; safety ; preservation Time, these : those Tliairms, catgut ; entrails Than, then Tliangs, thongs ; laces ; whips ThaucJit, Thocht, thought Thir, these Thole, endure ; suffer 296 GLOSSARY Thott, yon Tkonder, yonder Tkootn, thumb Thow, to thaw Tkrang, busy : crowd Thrappk, the throat ; to throttle Thrawn, ill-lempered ; distorted ; perverse Thrawart, cross, per^-erse Threep, to arg-ue pertinaciously Threid, thread Thretty, thirty Thrissle, thistle Throo, througfh Th-ooitker, confused togfether ; mixed up Thud, a blow ; quiet stroke Ticht, tight ; hard pressed Tikes, clowns ; hinds Tikes, bed cases ; ticks Tiirt, to it Tiffmier, timber Tine, lose Tiiinies, tankards Tint, lost Tipny, two-penny Tippeny, cheap ale Tirl, to tumble about Tirling, turning: over ; unroofing, etc. Tirrivees, domestic quarrels Tither, the other Tittie, sister Tocher, dowry Tod, a fox Toddle, to walk quietly and slowly Toddlin, sauntering leisurely Toddy, whisky punch Toff, slang for fop Toober, thrash; chastise Toom, empty ; to unload Toorie, a small heap ; a turret^ Toothfji , the least drop Toun, Toon, town Tout, a slight illness bother Tousie, disordered Touzle, tang-le ; ruffle Tow, rope ; to haul Towrtiond, twelvemonth angfer ; Tracei-s, boys employed by the Edinburgh tram-car company Transe, passage ; corridor Trantles, old articles Tredd, trade Trew, trow Tng, trim ; tidy Trockin, hawking ; bartering- Tron, weighing- place Trows, knows Triif, turf T?yst, appoint ; a fair or market Tuihies, quarrels ; battles Ttmvnlin, falling Twa, Twae, two Twal, twelve Tyesday, Tuesday Tykes, big dogs ; big rough men UGSOME, repulsive, hateful Unco, very ; strange ; extra ; un- common ; anything outre Uncos, news ; wonders ; famous things Unsonsy, unfortunate VERA, very Virrle, ferrule ; broad ring Vizzy, a quiet view ; to watch ; overlook Vogie, vain ; proud Voo, vow Vratch, wretch Vrite, write WAB, web Wabster, a weaver Wad, would ; wager Waddin, wedding ; cotton wool Wadna, would not Wae, woe ; sad ; sorry Waefn, sorrowful Waesome-est, most woeful Waesucks ! alas ! Wae-worth-him, woe befal him Waff, of low character Waiklin, weakling- Wairp, warp Wair't, spend it Waitter, Waiter, water GLOSSARY 297 Wale, to choose : T/ie wale, the Whid, to scamper or run quickly pick ; the very best Whiles, Whyles, sometimes ; at Walloping, thrashing- the same time Waly, Wall}', strugfg-le ; also Whilie, a little while pithy ; large ; strong ; beautiful Whilk, which Wavie, the belly IVhillywha, cheat Wan, pale ; faded ; also one Whindgin, whining Wance, once Whins, furze Wark, work Whitter, a social glass War/' Warld, the world Whoviviel, waggle Warlock, a wizard Whuffy, a busy minute Waistled, struggled Whtip, whip Wasna, was not Whnppin, grand ; great ; vast Wat, wet ; wot ; know Whupt, whipped Water-brash, heartburn Wice-like, good looking Watfia, wot not Wicht, Wight, strong ; heroic Wafichty, weighty ; able Willint, willing Waiifish, barely respectable JVilyart, sly ; bewildered Waups, rows; ongoings; ill-deeds JVinna, will not Waur, worse Winnock, window Wanken, waken Winnel-straes, Windle-straes, stalks Wayart, wayward ; erratic of long wild grass Wean, a child Wirricozv, a phantom ; a bugbear Wecht, Waticht, weight Won, dwell Weedins, uprooted plants Wonnd, resided Weeds, diseases which attack the Wonner, wonder legs of horses ; large swellings Woody, the gallows Weeshin, washed Wordy, worthy Weet, wet ; rain ; drizzle Wozv ! exclamatory : ah ! oh ! &c. Weetin, a wetting Wraiths, wreaths Weir, war ; a mill-dam Waith, the ghost of a person seen Weir, Weer, to wear; obstruct; stop before death Weys, ways Wrate, wrote Whalps, whelps ; offspring- Wrack, wreck ; couch grass Whalpins, beatings Wild, mad ; insane Whalpit, pupped Wuds, Wiidds, woods Wham, whom IVuddy, Wt/ddy-tree, the gfallows Whamvier d, canted ; tilted over Wu/mnatt, woman somewhat ; not straight up Wut, wit ; mind ; mental power Whan, when Wyliecoat, an under vest or coat Whang, thong ; a large slice Wynd, an alley Whaten, which one ; whatever Wyse, coax ; entice ; guide Whanp, a curlew Wyte, blame Wha2(r, Whare, where Wheen, some ; a moderate number YAHOOS, savages or quantity Yaird, kitchen garden ; a court Wersh, insipid Yannner, to grumble Wheeshtl hush ! Yaniph, to bark Wheich, drink ; whisky Yap, hungry Whid, an untruth Yaud, old horse 298 GLOSSARY Yauff, impertinence Yett, gate Yatiffin, distracting- noise or Yill, ale speech Yip, a cheeky, pert person Yauld, fresh ; lively ; alert Yird, earth Yaup, yelp Yite, a bird's eg-g Yearl, Yerl, earl Yitts, Aits, oats Yed, contend Yont, along Yeld, Yeeld, farrow ; barren Yowes, ewes Yelpin, crying- ; yelling Yozuf, a swinging blow Yerpin, talking offensively Yozvl, to howl like a dog ; yell Ye'se, you shall Ytike, itch Yestreen, last night Ytile, Christmas Printed by J. & J. Gray & Co., Edinburgh. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-32m-8,'57(,C8680s4)444 "'T ~' Lnmsden - I489U L9672d Doun i' th' Loadons ^^^xttiiakaii P i PR \S9)a L9672d UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY AA 000 367 938