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 3 1822 01200 0121 
 
 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 THE TENDER RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 OF 
 
 IRENE M A C G I L L I C U D D Y. 
 
 [MAGA. Dec. 1S77, and Jan. 1S7S.] 
 
 THERE is Bometliing very appalling to one bo 
 young and inexperienced as nij'self in the 
 effort of sitting down for the first time in my life to 
 address the public. Apart from the horrid doubt 
 which haunts me, and which seems to paralyse my 
 pen, that pci'haps after all my trouble I shall not bo 
 aj^o to find any publisher with a sufficient apprecia- 
 tion of my talent to accept my mauTiscript, there is 
 the conviction that the little story I am al)out to tell 
 will produce a very considerable sensation upon one, 
 if not upon both sides of the Atlantic ; possibly it 
 s.s. — I. A
 
 2 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 may not be altogether favourable to myself. I shall 
 be called unpatriotic, unladylike, calumnious, per- 
 haps even indelicate, for describing a few episodes 
 of my somewhat rapid career, not with any view of 
 forcing my own int;ignificant personality upon tho 
 public, but because it is impossible for mo otherwise 
 to illustrate tho manners and customs of the society 
 in which I was brought up. Ever since I was 
 transplanted from the splendid brown stone man- 
 sion on Fifth Avenue in New York, where I passed 
 the giddy seasons of my girlhood, to the modest 
 luxury of the villa in Kichmond, from which I am 
 now writing, I have felt possessed by an absorbing 
 desire to " show up," so to sj^eak, the life led by tho 
 world of fashion in the American metropolis, from a 
 purely philantliropic point of view. It has seemed 
 to me that the only chance of doing it any good was 
 to expose it, not unkindly, but with the faithfulness 
 and affection of a friend who tells another his faults. 
 I think it will be new to my English readers, who 
 may rely upon its accuracy ; but they need not on 
 that account flatter themselves that the present 
 condition of London society is in any respect su- 
 perior to that of New York. I tell you, mothers of 
 London, that in your powers of setting matrimonial 
 snares, and of successfully disposing of your mar- 
 riageable wares, you are more than a match for tho 
 "smartest" of your American sisters, who leave 
 their daughters to take care of themselves ; and
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 3 
 
 you young man-icd women of liigli degree, do not 
 imagine that the frisky matrons of New York can 
 teach you anything you did not know before. In- 
 deed I think it is fortunate for you that the social 
 convenances of London deny you the freedom whicli 
 they enjoy. It is not to either of these two classes 
 that I have anything very new to reveal, though 
 they may pick up a few hints, or draw comparisons 
 invidious or otherwise. It is you, my dear girls, 
 who are heedlessly flirting and fluttering on the 
 brink of the matrimonial abyss, whose good I have 
 at heart. 
 
 I have tried both Worlds, Old and New ; and bo 
 far as faults and follies go, I don't think there is 
 much to choose between them. My present busi- 
 ness is with the faults and follies of my own coun- 
 try, witli which I feel more especially competent to 
 deal, and which I am most desirous to see corrected 
 and reformed. Having violently reacted from them 
 myself, it is only natural that I should be consumed 
 by the fervour of prosclytism, and should, regardless 
 of consequences, exhibit myself as a warning, if 
 need be, to those I wish to serve. Wlien I first 
 appeared upon the social horizon, I may say witli- 
 out vanity that I was the kind of gii'l who in Lon- 
 don would have been called a " stunner," a " scream- 
 er," and who in New York is sometimes described 
 as a " bouncer." 
 
 My father was the son of a Scotcli gardener of
 
 4 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 tlio name of Macgillicuddy, wlio hat! emigrated to 
 New York, engaged in the grocery business, and 
 by superior shrewdness and Scotch caution had 
 amassed a considerable fortune, which enabled him 
 to give his son a good education — in other words, 
 to make a gentleman of him. Unusually successfid 
 in early life in railway and stock speculations, my 
 father soon became the possessor of a handsome 
 mansion on Fifth Avenue, and a financial man of 
 some prominence. Far too respectable himself to 
 become a politician, he nevertheless enjoyed great 
 influence with his party ; and there was an air of 
 substantial dignity about him, which, taken in con- 
 nection with the invariable success that attended 
 his business operations, secured him a commanding 
 position in society. Originally a Presbyterian, he 
 had become attached to an Episcopalian church with 
 ritualistic tendencies, a theological step almost ren- 
 dered necessary by his fashionable standing; and 
 his box at the opera, which cost him £3000, and 
 expensive pew in St Grace's, for which he paid 
 £2000, though apparently useless luxuries — for ho 
 never practised what he professed in the one, and 
 rarely went himself to the other, as he did not know 
 the difference between the wedding march in * Loh- 
 engrin ' and " Tommy make room for your Uncle " — 
 were, nevertheless, a recognition of the claims of 
 God and of society with whicli he could not afford 
 to dispense. He had one brother who had never
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 5 
 
 risen above tlio level of a stone-mason ; and to liiin, 
 tlioreforo, it is not necessary hero fui-tber to allude. 
 My mother had been quite a "belle" and an heir- 
 ess in her time. Her father had made his fortune 
 in " dry goods," and my maternal uncles were both 
 men enjoying great social consideration on account 
 of their wealth. One was in the hardware business, 
 and the other had struck oil. My mother was a 
 remarkably clever and well-educated woman. She 
 had spent several of the early years of her life in 
 Europe, where she had acquired a taste for art, 
 which my father also affected, Avithout, however, 
 knowing anything about it ; and the result was, as 
 their combined taste was somewhat florid, that our 
 house looked like a badly-arranged museum. She 
 was, moreover, an accomplished musician, with a 
 magnificent contralto voice ; indeed, she was as 
 much superior to the average amateur performer as 
 her cook was to ordinary culinary artists : hence it 
 happened that our dinners and our music were both 
 celebrated. In addition to all this, she had an 
 unrivalled knack of capturing distinguished foreign- 
 ers, and especially British aristocrats, immediately 
 on their arrival in New York. It is needless to say 
 that we had a cottage at Newport, where wo spent 
 three summer months in a perpetual whirl of gaiety ; 
 from all which it must bo manifest that nothing 
 was left undone to secure that social position which 
 became at last an object of envy and admiration to
 
 6 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 every well-coiiBtituted New York mind. It would 
 be a mistake to suppose that this eminence was 
 attained without infinite trouble and contrivance. 
 I was too young to take an active share in my 
 mother's early social struggles ; but even to the 
 end, she never succeeded in thoroughly breaking 
 down an indefinable sort of barrier, behind which a 
 certain ultra-exclusive set chose to intrench them- 
 selves. I used to think the presumption and con- 
 ceit of these people quite intolerable. The idea, 
 in a democratic country like ours, of a select few 
 priding themselves on their ancestry and gentility 
 and hereditary refinement, and all the rest of it, and 
 thinking us not good enough to be admitted into 
 their circle, was quite preposterous. There were 
 the Persimmons, for instance, who assumed the 
 arms of the noble family of Persimmons in England, 
 and claimed relationship with them, and had actu- 
 ally family portraits of knights in wigs and ladies 
 in stomachers, and all that sort of thing (young 
 Dick Persimmon was a clerk in a wholesale tobacco 
 store) ; and there were the Poppinjays, and the 
 Barebones family, that had a fancy portrait of their 
 great historical ancestor, Praise God Barebones, 
 who came over in the Mayflower, and whoso 
 descendant, as is well known, signed the Declara- 
 tion of Independence. They turned up their noses 
 at us because grandpapa had originally been a 
 gardener — as if anybody could have told what the
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDV. 7 
 
 original old Carcbones had been. Then in close 
 alliance with these there was the old Knickerbocker 
 set, the Van Twillers, descended from the original 
 Wouter van Twiller, and the Van Didntoffers, of 
 whom more anon, and several others, who, for 
 some mysterious reason, thought themselves better 
 than wo were. Mamma's principle was to feel 
 thoroughly democratic towards everybody in a 
 democratic country who thought that they were 
 above her, and to feel thoroughly aristocratic to- 
 wards all those whom she thought beneath her, or 
 whom it was inconvenient to treat as equals ; and 
 I suppose that was the principle which the others 
 applied to her. Every now and then our efforts 
 would be crouTied with a new triumph, especially 
 after I became a recognised belle, and wo had 
 formed closer intimacies with this set, and then the 
 airs mamma used to give herself for some time 
 afterwards were quite alarming. Of course, as wc 
 progressed we dropped a good many of our earlier 
 acquaintances. 
 
 As for myself, I never regularly " came out ;" in 
 fact, I may bo said to have been more or less " out " 
 all the time. From the days when, in short frocks, 
 I used to help my mother to receive her guests, I 
 was recognised as the principal personage of the 
 family. My father yielded to me in everything, 
 and my mother soon perceived that I was destined 
 to become a most valuable element of social success.
 
 8 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD. 
 
 First I liad a French bomie, then the best masters 
 that money could procure ; and when I was sixteen 
 I was taken to France and Italy for a year, to ac- 
 quire a knowledge of art and to pick up the habits 
 of polite society in Europe. I was very quick and 
 industrious ; and when I compare my proficiency 
 at this age, in music, languages, and painting, with 
 the accomplishments of English girls, I think I may 
 say, without undue conceit, that I far surpassed 
 them. It was with a fluttering heart that I viewed 
 my native shores from the deck of a Cunard steamer, 
 as, thus armed and equipped for the social fray, I 
 returned to New York. It was no feeling of timid- 
 ity, but a daring and confident longing, that caused 
 this sensitive organ to palpitate so wildly ; perhaps 
 also- there was a suspicion that before very long it 
 might be beating for other reasons. Come what 
 might, I was prepared to meet it. I knew I was 
 beautiful, thanks to my mother, whose good looks 
 I had inherited. I was an only child, and therefore 
 a large heiress, accomplished, clever, and self-re- 
 liant. Nothing was more incomprehensible to me 
 than the shy silence of the bread-and-butter misses 
 Avhose acquaintance I made during my short stay 
 in London. Even their brothers I was often obliged 
 to help on in conversation — they never seemed to 
 know what to say, or how to say it ; while I never 
 knew what it was to be at a loss. 
 
 My mother was a woman exceptionally well quali-
 
 IKENE MACGILLICUDDY. 9 
 
 fied to lavmch a girl in the society of New York ; 
 bIio had made it a study, and I felt I -was in good 
 hands. Before I went to my first ball she gave a 
 series of dinner-parties. To these she especially 
 asked all the young married men who have it in 
 their power to make or mar the debutante in her 
 fii-st season. It is they, not their wives, who are 
 the leaders of fashion ; and it is to them that the 
 would-be belle must pay her court if she wishes to 
 succeed. Of course the unmarried men are import- 
 ant ; but they take their queue from the older hands, 
 who, in spite of having wives, are still the most in- 
 defatigable ball-goers, the recognised leaders of tho 
 " German," and the established authorities on mat- 
 tors of fashionable etiquette. Where society has no 
 regular hierarchy, as it has in England, its leaders 
 are self- constituted or tacitly acloiowledged. Tho 
 men, as a rule, marry so young that they have not 
 had time to become liases ; and the consequence is, 
 that they flirt as actively with unmarried girls, and 
 flutter about as flippantly, as if they were still single. 
 In some cases they keep this up until their o^^■n 
 daughters come out, overwhelming the girls of 
 their choice with bouquets, honhonnieres, and trifling- 
 presents, taking them soKtary drives, gi\'ing them 
 dinners, boxes at the opera, and disting-uishing them 
 by such marks of delicate attention as are always 
 grateful to the female mmd. Occasionally these 
 are pushed to such a point that they give rise to
 
 10 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 unpleasant gossip, but I have never Imown any 
 real harm come of them. The girls are always 
 thoroughly well able to take care of themselves ; 
 and upon the occasions, which sometimes happen, 
 of a man becoming so desperately in love as to 
 forget his conjugal duties and propose an elope- 
 ment, ho invariably meets with a positive and de- 
 cided refusal. In this respect they show a sagacity 
 and sense of propriety which the aristocratic mothers 
 of young families in London, who think nothing of 
 running away with the husbands of their lady 
 friends, would do well to imitate. Of course an 
 exclusive devotion of this sort has a tendency to 
 injure a girl, because it keeps off the young men 
 while it lasts ; but perhaps on the whole she gains 
 a sort o^ prestige by it, which only renders her more 
 attractive to them when it is over. 
 
 Wlien the great occasion of my first ball arrived, 
 the carriage could hardly hold all the bouquets that 
 were sent. Unfortunately mamma was taken sud- 
 denly unwell the very day of the ball ; but she did 
 not wish me to be disappointed, as I had been 
 taking so much trouble with my dress, and look- 
 ing forward to it so eagerly : so I arranged with 
 Harry Hardpan, who had stamped me with his ap- 
 proval, and indeed shown mo a good deal of atten- 
 tion on the strength of having been fond of me in 
 a fatherly way when I was a little girl, to send his 
 wife for me — she was only two years older than I
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 11 
 
 was ; and ho met us at tlio door witli several of my 
 friends to help to carry my bouquets. There were 
 thirteen altogether, of which eight had been sent 
 by married men and five by bachelors. I calculated 
 that their united value was upwards of a hundred 
 and twenty dollars, or about £25. All my bouquets 
 had come with cards on them ; and as I read the 
 senders' names, I felt that my success was assured. 
 This inspired mo with still greater confidence as I 
 entered tho ball-room. That night was a triumph 
 — I was literally besieged ; but I was determined 
 to act with caution, for fear of making the other 
 girls jealous. I felt at once the importance of 
 establishing myself in a feminine coterie — so much 
 can bo done by combination. I am convinced that 
 there is no greater mistake for a girl than to bo 
 misled, by tho admiration of the opposite sex, into 
 losing her popularity with her own. Young men 
 are intimidated and kept in their proper place by 
 a strong phalanx of gii'ls, if these hold together 
 properly. It requires a youth of uncommon nerve 
 boldly to face half-a-dozen girls all tittering together 
 in a comer, who, he knows, ^^all pick him to pieces 
 the moment he leaves them. We New York girls 
 used to keep our little heels on the necks of our 
 beaux, and trample over them ruthlessly. In Lon- 
 don the case is exactly reversed, and the poor girls 
 aro crushed by the aw-quite-too-a'n^idly-aw kind of 
 youth, to a degree which makes my blood boil. It
 
 12 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 ia partly because London girls don't understand how 
 to combine and organise, so to speak, against the 
 men, and partly because they have to compete 
 against the young married women, that they are 
 treated with such indifference. Now in my day, 
 in New York, the young married women were no- 
 where, or, in the vernacular of that city, they " had 
 no show ; " but I hear that they are making a good 
 deal of running of late years, and that the girls are 
 beginning to complain seriously. Another reason 
 why American girls have such a much better time 
 than English girls is, that as they have so much 
 liberty, they can offer more inducements to the 
 young men to pay them attention. A young man 
 will submit to be crushed and bullied and sat upon, 
 if you make it all right at the end of the evening 
 by asking him to take you a sleigh-ride next day, 
 or to give you a dinner at Delmonico's, with only 
 a young lady friend of your own age, and her hus- 
 band, who admires you, to do proper. Wliat fun 
 wo girls used to have, and what plans we used to 
 concoct for robbing our beaux of their affections, 
 of exchanging them when we got tired of them, or 
 of drawing them on to the proposing point ! In 
 my first season I had seven proposals. I had 
 several far better seasons than this later on ; bitt 
 mamma said I could not have expected to have 
 done more the first winter, considering the girls 
 I had to compete with, some of whom possessed
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 13 
 
 all my advantages, combined with far greater ex- 
 perience. 
 
 Here again I am struck with the difference be- 
 tween England and America. I don't suppose 
 Enghsh girls get one proposal for ten that wo 
 get. I know one girl, now twenty-four, who has 
 had 157. This I can vouch for, as slie showed mo 
 the list ; but some of the men must have been very 
 slightly wounded, for one asked to bo introduced to 
 her not long since. He had been in California for 
 four years, and had forgotten that when he last saw 
 her he had proposed to her, and she had forgotten 
 that she had refused him. He had, in the mean- 
 time, made a large fortune in Bonanzas, the absence 
 of which was her objection to him at the time ; and 
 they are now engaged to bo married. She says she 
 does not see why she should put off getting manied 
 any longer, especially as the young married women 
 are beginning to have such a good time. 
 
 On the whole, however, I used to think there was 
 far more fan to be had at Newport than in New York. 
 That is the place to contract intimacies both with 
 the girls and the yoimg men. The picnics and 
 games, the perpetual drives with the temporary- 
 beau of your choice, the garden-parties, and cf>n- 
 stant contact with the same set, tend to establish 
 your position. At tho end of one season in New 
 York, and another at Newport, you may be said to 
 have learnt the whole game thoroughly, and can
 
 14 TALES FKOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 judge for yourself whether you are de la premiere 
 force or not. You now feel perfectly able to take 
 care of yourself, and can allow yourself aU sorts 
 of liberties that you could not have ventured upon 
 at first. You have even got so far as to call one 
 or two young nacn by their Christian names ; in 
 talking of them among ourselves we never think 
 of alluding to them except as Dick, or Tom, or 
 Harry, and so forth. 
 
 My intimate friend, confidante, and rival was my 
 cousin. Flora Temple. In spite of her grand name, 
 she was not so well born as I was, or as her name- 
 sake on the turf — for her father was originally a 
 tailor, who had made his fortune during the war 
 by taking army contracts ; and when he had risen 
 to the social surface, he married my mother's sister, 
 and then, rather fortunately for my cousin, died, for 
 he was a very shoddy sort of person, and left her 
 two millions of dollars. This, together with her 
 own beauty and talent, and my mother's social in- 
 fluence, soon pushed her into the front rank. Sho 
 was more than two years my senior, and had com- 
 menced her career by a tremendous affau' with the 
 celebrated Iky Bullstock, who for the last fifteen 
 years has been devoting himself to ensnaring the 
 affections of girls as soon as they come out. Since 
 his marriage, his name has been connected with no 
 fewer than ten. I was counting them up with Flora 
 not long ago ; but then, I think, in the cases of
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY, 15 
 
 several, it ^yas mere idle gossip. Anyhow, it did 
 not do Flora any harm, for Charlie van Didntofler 
 was simply wild about her. Charlie belonged to 
 one of the oldest Knickerbocker families ; he was 
 very handsome, a banker of the highest standing, 
 and had charming maimers. I am sure many of 
 my English readers must remember him in Paris 
 and Eome. He was almost omnipotent at the 
 fashionable Spuyten Duyvel Club, was prominent 
 in all matters of sport, antl was universally popular. 
 To begin with a flirtation Avith Iky BuUstock, and 
 go on to an engagement with Charlie van Didnt- 
 ofler, was enough to turn any girl's head. In my 
 own secret soul, though, we girls were much more 
 reticent in these matters than English girls are ; 
 and, I can't say for certain, I don't believe Flora 
 cared so much for Charlie as slio pretended, and 
 mentally reserved the right to throw him over if 
 sufficient inducement should offer, but she enjoyed 
 what you in England call the " swagger " of the 
 thing. Whether Charlie suspected this or not, I 
 don't know ; but certain it is that at Newport, where 
 we were all three thrown a good deal together, I 
 began to perceive indications of a wavering in his 
 affections in my direction. Now I am no base, un- 
 generous, or treacherous girl ; but I don't think 
 that it was in flesh and blood to help reciprocating 
 just the least bit, more especially as Iky was still 
 fluttering around : and on several occasions I did
 
 16 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 not think Flora's conduct quite fair towards Charlie, 
 and felt quite sorry for him, poor fellow ; and so by- 
 degrees it came about — I know I was to blame, but 
 I really could not help it— before I Imew where I 
 was, Charlie had proposed to me. He said he felt 
 sure Flora was only trifling with him, and if I would 
 only accept him he would throw her over. I never 
 consulted mamma much on these subjects, as I al- 
 ways felt she took such a mercenary view of them 
 — she seemed to make no allowance for sentiment ; 
 so I had to work it out for myself, and as I was 
 barely eighteen, I was determined to do nothing 
 rash. So I told Charlie that I could not disguise 
 the fact that I cared for him more than for anybody 
 else ; but at the same time as he was engaged to 
 Flora, I could not countenance his jilting her on my 
 account, but I thought we had better all wait as we 
 were for a year. If at the end of that time Flora 
 still cared for him, and he still cared for me, and I 
 did not care for somebody else, then we could dis- 
 cuss the whole matter over again ; and in the mean- 
 time wo could remain upon the nice intimate terms 
 which this little confidence would produce. You 
 see, I thought a year would surely bring about a 
 change in the situation somehow, which would make 
 it all easier. AVliat does the stupid boy do but go 
 straia-ht to Flora and tell her he finds he does not 
 care for her any longer ! Of course Flora was 
 furious, and said I had behaved shamefully ; and
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 17 
 
 for some weeks wo did not speak. Tlio afTair mado 
 finite a stir at the time ; all Newport was talking 
 about it, and it was one of the standard pieces of 
 gossip in New York when everybody returned from 
 their various watering-places and exchanged the 
 several scandals which had occurred at them re- 
 spectively. Although Charlie was very devoted 
 to me, I felt rather uncomfortable, and refused to 
 be definitely engaged to him. In spite of being 
 so fond of gaiety, I was also a devourer of all kinds 
 of literature and general information, and really 
 studied as hard as my other avocations would per- 
 mit. Now, although Charlie was most refined and 
 gentlemanlike in his manners, he lacked what in 
 Boston (pronounced not inappropriately Boreston) 
 is called culture (pronounced culchaw). \^liat be- 
 tween banking, driving his four-in-hand, and attend- 
 ing to Flora or me, he seemed to have no time to 
 inform his mind. In this respect he was not inferior 
 to Ilcy Bullstock, Hany Hardpan, or any of the 
 others ; but I wanted to marry a mind as weU as 
 a man, and I told him so. After that he used to 
 come and read Dickens to me for an hour a-day. 
 I told him when ho had finished all Dickens's novels, 
 I would piit him through a course of " New England 
 thought," and by that time I should be in a position 
 to give a definite answer in regard to our man-iage. 
 
 For the reason I am about to narrate, that timo 
 never arrived. We were in the middle of * Bleak 
 
 s.s. — I. B
 
 18 TALES FKOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 House,' and I was thinking how in the world to 
 make it up again with Flora, when Charlie camo 
 in panting one day with a most important piece of 
 intelligence. Letters had just been received by his 
 firm announcing that the Earl of Chowder, eldest 
 son of the Duke of Gumbo, and Viscount Huckle- 
 berry were to arrive by the next steamer, enclosing 
 letters of credit and requesting the Van DidntofFer 
 Brothers to do all in their power to make their stay 
 in New York agreeable to them. The agitation 
 into which this intelligence threw mamma, at once 
 revealed to me the vast ambitions of which that 
 excellent woman was capable. Magnetically her 
 noble aspirations seemed instantly conveyed to my 
 own bosom ; and though Charlie was reading about 
 Lady Dedlock, a theme which at any other time 
 would have absorbed my attention, " the beating of 
 my own heart was the only sound I heard." Here 
 was a splendid opport,unity for setting matters right 
 with Flora ; besides, I needed her co-operation and 
 advice. There was one for each of us ; and pro- 
 vided we did not interfere with each other and go 
 for the same one, as we had in the case of Charlie, 
 there was no reason why, with the advantage of an 
 early start, we should not have it all our own way. 
 The fact is, we were both considerably put upon our 
 mettle by the triumphant success which had just 
 crowned the efforts of our two most intimate friends, 
 — Ida Straddle, daughter of Billy Straddle, of the
 
 lEENE MACGILLICUDDY. 19 
 
 woll-lcnown firm of PufT and Straddle, brokers — and 
 Lanra Berstnp, whoso father is a railway magnate, 
 and well known amongst English shareholders for 
 the talent with which he has made his fortune out 
 of the dividends they fondly hoped to pocket. Ida, 
 after a rapid campaign extending a little over a fort- 
 night, had captured an impecunious Spanish grandeo 
 who valued liis dukedom at half a million of dollars. 
 Billy, who has always shown himself a most fond 
 and indulgent father, had the cash down on the 
 nail, and Ida became the Duchess of Vudemonio, 
 to the great envy of us all, and has already sent 
 those of us who wish to contract alliances with the 
 Spanish aristocracy, invitations to visit her in her 
 " Chateau en Espague ; " and here I may remark, 
 that whenever one of us makes a successful hit t»f 
 this sort, she always does her utmost to help on her 
 friends. Then Laura was engaged to be married 
 to the Eussian Prince Schamovitch : ho was next 
 door to being a cretin ; but as he was distantly con- 
 nected with the Komanoffs, the splendour of tho 
 alliance reduced every other consideration to insig- 
 nificance. Besides, as Laxira said, they were going 
 to live principally in Paris, where it was rather con- 
 venient than otherwise for a very pretty woman to 
 have a fool for a husband. As the Prince is enor- 
 mously rich, and Laura is not badly off, I have no 
 doubt they will have a good time ; but you may 
 imagine how all this was calculated to stimulate
 
 20 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD. 
 
 onr energies. Any girl with a well-balanced mind 
 would rather be an English countess, or even vis- 
 countess, than a Spanish duchess or a Kussian 
 princess. We classify them somewhat as follows : 
 First, the British aristocracy dowm to baron — wo 
 don't think much of baronets and knights ; next, 
 wo like French and Russians, because that involves 
 living a good deal in Paris ; but titles below dukes 
 and princes are too common to be really much 
 prized, unless attached to a very old historic nam© 
 or great wealth. Italians and Spanish come next, 
 the former preferred on account of the climate and 
 social advantages of Rome and Naples. Germans we 
 don't so much care about ; I think, perhaps, because 
 there are too many Germans in the country already. 
 
 But all this is a digression ; only I was obliged 
 to enter a little into it in order to explain why the 
 arrival of the Earl of Chowder and Lord Huckle- 
 berry was likely to produce so much sensation 
 amongst us. So I posted off to Flora with the 
 news. The fact is, that Flora was as tired of our 
 estrangement as I was. So when I rushed into her 
 room, and said, " My dear, I have come to tell you 
 such a piece of news ! " she said, quite cordially — 
 
 " You can't think, Irene, how I have been long- 
 ing to see you lately. Why have you been keeping 
 away so?" 
 
 As if she didn't know that it was no pleasure to 
 me to come and be snubbed, and that my absence
 
 IKENE MACGILLICUDDY. 21 
 
 had been duo to her own crossness. However, I 
 was not vindictive ; so I said, impetuously — 
 
 " Oh, Flozio ! " (this was my pet name when wo 
 were in our most loving moods,) " who do you think 
 are coming to New York ? and Charlie is to bring 
 them to us the first day. ^Vliy, the Earl of Chowder 
 and Viscount Huckleberry ! Isn't it puffectly splen- 
 did?" Candour compels me to state that, in my 
 excited moments, I am in the habit of describing 
 most things as " puffectly splendid." We all do ; 
 and, on the whole, I think it is better than tho 
 expression used by English girls under the samo 
 circumstances, of " quite too awfully nice." 
 
 " Oh, lovely ! " said Flora. " But poor Charlie ; 
 what are you going to do with him?" she asked, 
 maliciously. 
 
 "Oh, CharHo can stand it," I replied. ''Don't 
 you remember, before he was engaged to you, he 
 was engaged a whole year to Lizzie Puff, and some- 
 thing always happened to put off the marriage, till 
 at last ho told her that ho was sorry to find that ho 
 did not care for her ; but that if, knowing this, she 
 still wanted to marry him, ho would make the neces- 
 sary sacrifice? I don't think we need have any 
 compassion for him." 
 
 "Darling," said Flora, "you are quite rig] it. 
 How stupid we were ever to quarrel about him ! 
 but, my dear, we must take care not to make the 
 same mistake again. How shall wo manage ? After
 
 22 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 what you did about Charlie, I don't sec how. Can 
 I trust you, dear ? " 
 
 This led to a long discussion about Cha-rlie, in 
 which I explained to her that I had previously 
 refused to be engaged to him until they had both 
 got tired of each other, but that he had been unwar- 
 rantably premature ; and Flora became satisfied at 
 last, and we swore eternal friendship and mutual 
 co-operation, and perfectly square and honest con- 
 duct in all future complications ; then we kissed 
 each other a good deal, and sat down to discuss the 
 plan of the campaign in earnest. After mature 
 deliberation, we decided that the first step should 
 be a reconciliation between Flora and Charlie, and 
 that, in celebration thereof, he should be made to 
 give us a little dinner at Delmonico's, to which 
 should be invited Fanny and Harry Hardpan, Prince 
 Schamovitch and Laura, Lord Chowder and Lord 
 Huckleberry, Iky Bullstock, and both of us girls. 
 Under these circumstances, it is not at all a bad plan 
 to have one or two old admirers. The dinner was 
 to bo arranged for the night after the arrival of the 
 Cunard steamer, and we were all to hold ourselves 
 disengaged accordingly. Dear Charlie was so anx- 
 ious to make the amende to Flora, that he entered 
 into the scheme cordially and without the slighest 
 suspicion. Indeed ho was a great deal too much 
 pleased to be the entertainer of the two British 
 noblemen to think of anything else. Moreover,
 
 IRENE MACCilLLlCL'DDY. 23 
 
 there was no man in New York who imtlerstood tho 
 art of giving a littlo dinner of this sort more per- 
 fectly than Charlie, and he was not sorry for tho 
 opportunity it afforded him of distinguishing him- 
 self; so we were happy and satisfied all round. I 
 think my Lords Chowder and Iluekleberry may 
 travel far before again finding themselves at dinner 
 with foiu" such pretty and agreeable women as Laura, 
 Fanny, Flora, and myself. Though not given to 
 manifesting more astonishment than they could 
 help, I was amused to see how completely they 
 were taken by surprise. Chowder was a somewhat 
 heavy blue-eyed blond, with a largo light beard, and 
 rather vacuous smile ; but he had a sort of smart way 
 of sharply dropping his eyeglass with a littlo twitch 
 out of his eye, which, every time he did it, seemed 
 to impart a flash of intelligence to his countenance. 
 As I came to know him better, I accounted for it by 
 tho fact of his having suddenly to change the focus 
 of his eye. He seemed intensely amiable and good- 
 natured. Ho evidently had a sluggish protoplasm, 
 and was very easily amused, btit took his jokes in 
 a heavy sort of way, just as some hunters do their 
 fences — they always manage to get over, but bungle 
 so much that tliey lose their place in the field. Now 
 Huckleberry, on tho other hand, was all "snap." 
 Tall, dark, thin, with a pure classical profile, and a 
 bright sparkling eye, he took in the whole situation 
 before we had finished the preliminary oysters, and
 
 2i TALES FKOxM "BLACKWOOD. 
 
 by tlio time wo had done our soup, had proved him- 
 self a match for Flora, who is recognised amongst 
 us all as having the quickest wit and the sharpest 
 tongue for repartee of any girl in our set. She 
 seemed to be an entirely new specimen to Huckle- 
 berry, and evidently piqued him by a certain bril- 
 liant nonchalarice, which I fancy made, him feel 
 rather smaller than he had ever done in the society 
 of any girl of the same age in his life before. 
 Flora was not the kind of girl to stand the patron- 
 ising air with which the young British Peer of 
 immense landed estates and acknowledged talent 
 is accustomed to address the young ladies of his 
 own class in London. She was wise enough to see 
 that if she wanted to hook her aristocrat, the best 
 plan was to treat him upon thoroughly democratic 
 principles. She rightly judged that the novelty of 
 finding himself patronised, instead of patronising, of 
 being condescended to, instead of condescending, 
 would produce a strange and rather fascinating 
 sensation. In the struggle to assert himself, to 
 conquer and subdue this rebellious and independent 
 belle, the chances were that he would fall in love. 
 By the time the cigarettes were put upon the table, 
 there was a glitter in his eye that convinced me he 
 woiild fight Flora with her own weapons till he had 
 subdued her ; and I knew that if ever Flora met her 
 match, she would fall hopelessly and desperately in 
 love with him. It would not be a skin-deep affair
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 25 
 
 this time, as it was in the case of Charlie, but a real 
 serious business. I should rather have prefen-ed 
 Hucklcbeny to Chowder myself: but, in the first 
 place, I could not again interfere Avith Flora's 
 affairs ; in the second place, I don't think I should 
 have had a chance with Huckleberry. It was Flora's 
 " cussedness," to use an unladylike expression, 
 which proved so irresistible to him, and my temper 
 is calm and equable. And, lastly, the Earl of 
 Chowder would be Duke of Gumbo on the death 
 of his father ; and Lord Huckleberry's father was 
 already dead, so he would never be anything more 
 than a Viscount. \Vlien Flora was Viscountess 
 Huckleberry, I should be Duchess of Gumbo, and 
 go in to dinner in London miles before her ; so I 
 devoted myself to Chowder. He was so soft and 
 gentle and unassuming, I got quite to like him. 
 He was not a bit like my idea of a lord. 
 
 The day following the dinner was race-day, and 
 Charlie invited the whole party to drive out with 
 him on his di-ag. I insisted on Fanny taking the 
 box-seat — poor Fanny ! Charlie had been a passion 
 malheureuse at one time in that quarter, and she had 
 married Harry out of pique. Then after he had lost 
 her, Charlie seemed rather to regret it, until he fell 
 in love with Flora. Now that we were both likely 
 to be otherwise provided for, I thought it would 
 only be kind to both of them to bring them together 
 a little, and I Icnew Harry would not mind, as he
 
 26 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD. 
 
 was otherwise engaged. Now I know all this is 
 very wrong. I don't defend it — on the contrary I 
 regret it. I am deeply penitent for my past follies ; 
 bnt believe me, it was all not half so bad as it looks 
 to the less innocent mind of Europe. This trifling 
 with each other's affections, even if it does not lead 
 to anything worse, is not a custom to be applauded ; 
 but the social convenances of America lend them- 
 selves to such flirtations far more than do those of 
 countries where the external restraints are so great 
 that the very necessity which exists for them sug- 
 gests the frequency of far graver consequences than 
 wo in New York know anything about. Besides, I 
 wanted to sit next Chowder ; and how could I do 
 that if I sat next Charlie ? And so it was arranged, 
 and Schamovitch and Laura sat behind ; and I 
 think it rather encouraged Huckleberry to find that 
 Schamovitch, whom he had known in Petersburg, 
 where he occupied a high social position, was so 
 irretrievably captured, and so desperately in love 
 with Laura Berstup. 
 
 Chowder and Huckleberry had both left cards on 
 mamma ; and the next day being Sunday, mamma 
 gave one of her Sunday dinners, with music, and a 
 general society afterwards, as was her w^ont, and 
 she and I sang duets together, and I felt all the 
 time Chowder's blue eyes fixed upon me, some- 
 times through his glass, and sometimes witliout it. 
 I had to devote myself to the world in general, but
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 
 
 T rather appeared to advantage in entertaining 
 mamma's guests, and was not sorry that he should 
 see how competent I was for the task ; besides, 
 every now and then I fluttered up to him, and I 
 could see by the brightening of his eye that ho 
 liked it. He was too unenterprising to make now 
 acquaintances, and already began to look upon mo 
 as an old friend, so I felt pretty safe, and was 
 amused to see how little success one or two other 
 girls had ^\'ith him to whom I introduced him. They 
 pronounced him utterly stupid, and declared they 
 could get nothing out of him — dear old Chowder ! 
 That was because they didn't know how. English 
 mothers and their daughters may w^onder how it is 
 that, though they have tried to catch Chowder and 
 Huckleberry with untiring energy for the last seven 
 or eight seasons, we American girls found so little 
 difficulty. I can explain it quite easily. It is because 
 in Endand the mothers don't allow their daughters 
 to manage their own affau-s ; and, even if they did, 
 the latter are hampered with all sorts of restrictions 
 of so-called propriety, which seems to us unnecessary. 
 There appears to be a tendency of late to intro- 
 duce European notions in these matters, but it will 
 utterly spoil the market. The more American girls 
 give up their own manners and customs for those of 
 the foreign aristocrats they covet, the less Hkely 
 are they to succeed in attracting them. In the 
 cases of Chowder and Hucldeberry, for instance,
 
 28 TALES FKOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 those young noblemen were overcome with the 
 novelty of tlie thing. Neither Flora nor I let a day 
 l^ass without having a quiet hour or so with them. 
 What with nice solitary drives, pleasant little din- 
 ners, theatres, and balls, we managed this easily 
 enough. The ''German," as danced with us, is 
 most useful as a means of securing your prey for 
 a whole evening ; he has no means of escape. 
 Thus young women with us are not afraid of being 
 talked about in connection with young men, or vice 
 versa, as in England ; while the young men, on the 
 other hand, are not haunted by the dread that a 
 stern parent will ask them their intentions, or a big 
 brother inflict condign punishment on them for not 
 behaving honourably. Such accidents have, it is 
 true, been known, but only in very extreme cases ; 
 but they are not frequent enough to operate as 
 checks upon "the course of true love." In Lon- 
 don the young men devote themselves to the young 
 married women, with whom the poor girls get no 
 chance to compete, because they have so much less 
 liberty, and are so closely guarded by chaperons ; 
 the consequence is, that they lack the necessary 
 experience and practice. We are as much superior 
 to them in flirtation, considered as a fine art, as an 
 expert fly-fisher is to one who has never used any- 
 thing but a worm and a pin. 
 
 As for Flora and Huckleberry, if she had had a 
 twenty-pound salmon on a single gut she could not
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 29 
 
 have had liardc^r work to play him. The way ho 
 (lashed down the rapids and she after him was 
 something frightful to behold. Just as she had 
 reeled him up to the bank, so to speak, and she 
 began to breathe, he would make a dasli, or jump 
 madly in the air, and nothing but the most con- 
 summate coolness, intrepidity, and skill prevented 
 Jiis breaking away altogether. At such a moment 
 interference would have been fatal, and those most 
 interested in her success wisely refrained from 
 offering her either reproval, assistance, or advice. 
 With Chowder it was a very different matter : ho 
 was like a sluggish old cat-fish ; occasionally ho 
 made feeble attempts to break loose, but I never 
 slackened my line for an instant, and soon found I 
 had only to be watchftil and patient to make sure of 
 him. Matters came to a crisis during a trip which 
 we made to Niagara under the following circum- 
 stances : Our party consisted of the Hardpans, 
 Hucldebeny and Flora, Prince Schamovitch and 
 Laru-a Berstup, Edith Persimmon and Charlie, 
 Chowder and myself. And by this time Charlie 
 was becoming devoted to Fanny Hardpan, and 
 Harry had long been rather a favourite of Edith's. 
 Of coxirse we followed our devices in \-isiting in 
 pairs the spots which we considered to possess the 
 greatest amount of natural interest and beauty ; and 
 Chowder and I, who were of an enterprising and 
 exploratory turn of mind, determined to try to push
 
 30 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 our way under the Falls to the point reached by 
 Professor Tyndall. Encased in voluminous suits 
 of tarpaulin waterproof, and led by a guide, we 
 descended the stairs and crept along the slippery 
 path that leads into the blinding spray. Chowder 
 would not let the guide hold me, but took my hand 
 and told him to lead the way ; and at last we came 
 to a point were we had to wade, and where the spray 
 was so dense that though the guide was only a few 
 paces ahead ho was invisible. At this point I 
 slipped, and the noise of the rushing waters was so 
 bewildering, the diiiEiculty of breathing was so great, 
 that I lost my presence of mind and clutched my 
 companion wildly. I don't know whether he mis- 
 took my alarm for a more tender sentiment, but he 
 responded by immediately clasping me in his arms 
 — I should certainly have fallen if he hadn't — - 
 and then in a voice of thunder ho suddenly bel- 
 lowed — 
 
 " Dearest Irene, I love you ! " 
 
 He was obliged to roar, otherwise I should not 
 have heard him on account of the noise of the 
 water, and he could not say more at one time, for 
 it was so extremely difficult to breathe. It was so 
 unexpected, and I was so utterly unprepared, that 
 I could only resi^ond hy a sort of inane scream — 
 
 " You don't tell me ! " 
 
 Apart from being an Americanism, I have often 
 thought since what a perfectly absurd rei)ly this
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 31 
 
 was ; but ho Boemed quito satisfied witli it, and 
 apparently regarded it in tho light of a consent, 
 and I was too confused to know whether it was or 
 not. Luckily I slipped again, and escaped tho 
 dripping caresses which, like some huge Newfound- 
 land dog, he seemed determined to lavish upon me. 
 I could just pant breathlQssly, " Back ! back ! " 
 when fortunately tho guide came, and finding I was 
 completely exhausted, extricated me from Chowder's 
 embrace — ^just a moment before that nobleman, un- 
 able to keep his own footing, fell flat on his back on 
 the rocks — and carried me out of tho rushing waters. 
 I was quite afraid that Chowder had been swept in- 
 to tho river, and sent the guide back for him : poor 
 fellow ! he was so much bruised that he required all 
 my sympathy for some days afterwards ; but as I 
 had become his Jiajicee in this accidental way, this 
 was a duty as well as a pleasure. 
 
 Tho first thing Chowder did after straightening 
 himself up and putting on dry clothes, was to mako 
 me promise not to tell. He said that the Duke and 
 Duchess of Gumbo would be \nolently opposed to 
 his marrying me. Considering that papa had pro- 
 mised to settle a million of dollars upon mo as soon 
 as I was engaged to him, I felt myself to bo quito 
 as good as they were, and could not conceive why 
 they should object. Ho muttered something about 
 my having such an unfortunate name ; but I told 
 him that my father had been at some trouble to
 
 32 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 trace his pedigree to the celebrated " Macgillicuddy 
 of tlie Breeks," a Highland chieftain of a clan which 
 has now become extiiict, but that we in America 
 attach no importance cither to rank or family, and 
 that I loved him for his own sake. Then he wanted 
 to kiss me again, and said, that for reasons which 
 were inexpressible, if my ancestor had been a 
 Highland chieftain, he could not have been Macgilli- 
 cuddy of the Breeks, and that there must be some 
 mistake, and I was probably originally descended 
 from the Irish Macgillicuddies of the Eeeks. This 
 doubt thrown over my pedigree made me feel very 
 uncomfortable ; for although we pretended not to 
 care about such things, papa is very proud of his 
 Highland ancestor, and, as I told Chowder, had even 
 got his coat of arms. Chowder laughed in a ridicu- 
 lous way, and said something about his trousers of 
 arms, which I did not understand ; but he often, like 
 so many of his countrymen, made silly remarks. 
 From the way Chowder spoke, I saw that the whole 
 affair would have to be managed with the greatest 
 care on account of his parents, and I did not even 
 confide it to Flora, who had by no means succeeded 
 with Huckleberry. In spite of the extremely inti- 
 mate relations which svibsisted between them, she 
 could not get him to commit himself — so, privately, 
 I enjoyed my little triumph over her. 
 
 Alas that my own mother should have been the 
 one to ruin everything ! No sooner did I tell her
 
 lEENE MACGILLICUDDY. 33 
 
 of onr engagement than her exultation knew no 
 bounds. Nothing would satisfy her, on our return 
 to New York, but to make it known. In vain I 
 explained to her tho peril of such a course. In 
 vain did Chowder himself remonstrate with her ; it 
 was all to no purpose. In a week all New York 
 was ringing with our engagement, and it had been 
 announced in all the papers. Huckleberry dived 
 off to Utah and San Francisco, without having de- 
 clared himself, in a sort of panic, just at the moment 
 when Flora thought she had brought him to the 
 point ; and I came in for some strong language from 
 my cousin for having secured my own prize and 
 frightened away hers. 
 
 Meantime Chowder had not suflScient decision 
 of character to propose a wedding right off. The 
 parental terrors were heavy upon him ; he talked 
 vaguely about being " cut off," whatever that may 
 mean ; and, in fact, doggedly resisted anything Hke 
 prompt action, while he seemed more hopelessly in 
 love than ever. To be honest, I cannot say that I 
 reciprocated to the same extent ; I had a tendresse 
 for him, but certainly should never have thought of 
 accepting him had he been Mr Smith of London. 
 Meantime Chowder had been obliged, by the pub- 
 licity of our engagement, to write to the Duke. 
 "We concocted the letter between us, and he en- 
 closed a note and my photograph to the Duchess, 
 who usually spoiled him and was more susceptible 
 
 S.S. — I. c
 
 34 TALES FEOM "BLACKWOOD. 
 
 to attack. After that we Lad notMng for it but to 
 await the answer in an agony of suspense. Mean- 
 time, to clinch the matter, my father settled a million 
 upon me — a fact which Chowder telegraphed to the 
 Duke. How long the month seemed before the 
 dreaded reply arrived, and what a terrible blow it was 
 when at last it reached us ! Chowder was literally 
 crushed. His face became so limp under the emo- 
 tion and agitation of his mind, that his eyeglass 
 would no longer stick in his eye. It was useless 
 to urge him to open rebellion ; he was ordered 
 peremptorily to return to his ducal parents, and to 
 his duties in the House of Commons, and seemed 
 incapable of resistance. Such is the tyranny of 
 an effete and bloated aristocracy. How I raged 
 against it ! What chiefly aggravated me, was 
 the idea that they evidently considered themselves 
 superior to me. The Duke had the impertinence 
 to talk about Chowder " marrying beneath him," 
 as if the aristocracy of New York was not equal to 
 any other aristocracy in the world. When I told 
 Chowder this, he said that there could not be any 
 aristocracy in a democracy ; that he himself was 
 rather democratic in his principles (he is a follower 
 of Gladstone's, and there is no saying where he will 
 end) ; but that, while he fully admitted my equality 
 with him, he also accorded the same equality to my 
 maid Biddy. I was going to retort upon him as 
 he deserved, when I remembered that my cousin,
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 35 
 
 Maggie Macgillicuddy was actually a factory girl 
 at fifty cents a-day at Lowell — her father, who was 
 a stone-mason, having taken to drink. This con- 
 fused mo for the moment so much that I scarcely 
 knew what to say, so I asked him whether he 
 thought it would have made any diiference suppos- 
 ing I had been a Van Twiller or a Persimmon? 
 He said that it would not have made the slightest 
 difference, and the objection would have been quite 
 the same. As in England, it was not supposed 
 that distinctions based upon the idea of birth or 
 caste could possibly exist in a democracy which 
 expressly repudiated them. Hence, all Americans 
 who came to England were considered equal ; no 
 one ever thought of inquiring about their families ; 
 and, so far as marrying went, he considered all 
 American girls equally charming, and me the most 
 charming of all. This was not very logically ex- 
 pressed, but I understood what he meant, and it 
 consoled me very much. He further tried to com- 
 fort me by assuring me that he had only to see his 
 parents to make it all right. He attributed all the 
 blame to its having been prematurely announced 
 before he had time to prepare the ducal mind ; and 
 explained that to marry without arranging things 
 first, would put us in a very awkward position if 
 his family refused to receive us. He said I did not 
 understand London society, and that I should never 
 be able to bear the position in which we should be
 
 36 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 placed ; but he had no doubt about smoothing over 
 matters in a few weeks, when he would at once come 
 back and make me " his own." This was highly un- 
 satisfactory, but it was the best that could be done. 
 What annoyed me most was Flora's sympathy, 
 through which I could see a thinly-veiled satisfac- 
 tion. She was in constant correspondence with 
 Huckleberry, who wrote her most interesting letters 
 from Utah, where he was being hospitably enter- 
 tained by the late Brigham Young. 
 
 We had a very tearful parting ; and in spite of 
 Chowder's protestations, I felt my heart sink within 
 me when he turned away from me for the last time 
 — looking, poor fellow, quite crushed and heart- 
 broken. I think he suspected himself how small 
 his chances were of success. It was very disagree- 
 able to feel that all the other girls were canvassing 
 my chances. Of course, as they had all envied me, 
 they all secretly hoped he would be obliged to throw 
 me over ; and this, I may just as well say, without 
 further circumlocution, he did, in exactly six weeks 
 from the day we parted. I will not recapitulate the 
 reasons which made it impossible, the objections 
 urged by his parents, which he was obliged to admit 
 were insuperable, the agony which he described was 
 racking his brain and lacerating his heart. It was 
 far too well written and pathetic to be his own 
 composition, and bore the trace of the delicate hand 
 of his mother all through it. The revulsion of feel-
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 37 
 
 ing to which this disappointment gave rise is too 
 painful for me to attempt any analysis of here. I 
 now know that I have every reason to be deeply 
 grateful to it, for it changed the whole current of 
 my views and aspirations in life ; and to it I owe 
 the happiness I now enjoy ; but it was inexpres- 
 sibly distressing at the time, — wounded self-love, 
 mortified vanity, blighted hope and affection — for I 
 really found, now that I had lost him, that I had 
 more afiection for him than I had imagined — all 
 combined to make me utterly miserable. I railed 
 against mamma as the cause of it all, though 
 I really don't suppose she did so much harm on 
 the whole. I shut myself up, and refused to be 
 comforted. The consolation of my own sex only 
 enraged me less than the amiable attentions of the 
 other. Charlie van Didntoffer, who was carrjdng 
 on quite scandalously with Fanny Hardpan, had the 
 impertinence to offer me "brotherly" sympathy, 
 forsooth, as if I wanted his sympathy, or Fanny's 
 either. It was quite shameful the way that pair 
 drove round Central Park every day with ostenta- 
 tious effrontery in one buggy, while Harry was carry- 
 ing on in another with Edith Persimmon. Then to 
 make matters worse came the marriage of Prince 
 Schamovitch with Laura, and I was one of the 
 bridesmaids, and had to endure the condolences of 
 the other bridesmaids, some of whom were to have 
 acted in the same capacity for me, and make myself
 
 38 TALES FEOM " BLACKWOOD. 
 
 agreeable to the " ushers " — an institution you don't 
 have at your English weddings, and a very good 
 thing too. However, I will not let my ill temper 
 run away with me — though even, after this distance 
 of time, the recollection of what I suffered then 
 seems to envenom my pen. 
 
 I was fortunate in being able to turn to my books 
 and studies ; and I even tried going to a Bible-read- 
 ing, which took place once a-week, and which was 
 largely attended by the ladies of the fashionable 
 world. It was considered quite consistent to go 
 to this and to all the gaieties that were going on 
 besides ; and yet I observed they seemed to make 
 distinctions among themselves. For instance, Fanny 
 Hardpan was a regular attendant ; and when Edith 
 Persimmon came once, there was quite an objection 
 made to her on the score of her being too fast. Now 
 I would have thought that these were just the 
 kind of people who should have been the most 
 . welcome, because of the benefit they might derive 
 from meetings of this sort ; but after a little time I 
 began to doubt whether they exercised any appre- 
 ciable influence on the daily lives of those who 
 attended them, and as I did not see that they did 
 I gave them up. From all which you see that my 
 mind was undergoing a change ; and when Huclde- 
 berry returned from the west four months later, I 
 was able to watch the fortunes of Flora with far 
 more charitable feelings than I supposed possible.
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 39 
 
 Indeed I felt sorry for her, for she was eA-idently 
 really and honestly in love, and beginning to get 
 uncommonly nervous about the result — which was 
 not to be wondered at, considering the frightful 
 warning she had before her eyes in my cv^ti case. 
 So I determined to speak seriously to Huckleberry, 
 and show him the harm he was doing to my cousin, 
 and insist upon his either going back to England at 
 once or proposing to her definitely. Huckleberry 
 was very nice about it. He said he had no idea that 
 Flora was really so "far gone ;" that he was very "far 
 gone " himself ; that he thought Flora a girl calcu- 
 lated to make any man happy, and clever enough to 
 fill any social position in any country, and one that 
 any man might be proud of; and that he had never 
 been in love with a girl in his life before, and had 
 only delayed on account of the novelty of the situa- 
 tion ; and he hinted that it would be a severe blow 
 to Lord Somebody's wife in England — he did not 
 tell me her name — but that perhaps it would be the 
 best way of ending " it " — he did not say what ; but 
 I thought it best to agree with liim, so I said at 
 random that "it" ought never to have been begun, 
 at which he looked rather red and surprised, and 
 took my hand and kissed it. And two houi-s after- 
 wards Flora came bursting into the room, radiant 
 with delight. Huckleberry " had placed his hand 
 and heart at her disposal, and he had no tiresome 
 family to consult, and he was in a great hurry to
 
 40 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 get home, so the marriage would have to be in a 
 fortnight, and would I be bridesmaid ? and Huckle- 
 berry was the most rising young peer of his day, 
 and sure to be Prime Minister some time ; and when 
 she was married I was to come and stay with her at 
 Huckleberry Castle in England, and might marry 
 Chowder after all," — with a great deal more, all in 
 a breathless torrent of bliss and expansiveness, 
 which made me feel thankful that I had forgotten 
 all my envious feelings, and been the means of 
 securing her happiness ; for I really think my con- 
 versation with Huckleberry turned the scale at the 
 'critical moment. 
 
 Flora's wedding was a very grand affair. The 
 entire New York aristocracy honoured it with their 
 presence, including the Van Twillers, Persimmons, 
 Van Didntofifers, the Poppinjays, and the creme de 
 la creme generally. Our old beau Charlie, Dick 
 Persimmon, Tommy Straddle, Billy's son, and three 
 or four more of the most distinguished members of 
 the Spuyten Duyvel Club, were all ushers, and I 
 was surrounded by a galaxy of lovely bridesmaids, 
 whose names, together with an exact description 
 of our dresses, are contained in the columns of 
 the papers which appeared next day. In the same 
 veracious chronicles will be found a list of the 
 unusually costly and magnificent presents which 
 came pouring in upon the happy pair, with their 
 probable values attached ; while the reporters vied
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 41 
 
 w-ith each other in extolling the good looks of 
 both bride and bridegroom, and in convejang to 
 their interested readers a most minute and detailed 
 account of their personal appearance and conduct 
 upon the trying occasion. 
 
 A few days afterwards they started for England 
 in the same steamer with the Schamovitchs, who 
 had been making a tour in Canada, and I relapsed 
 into a resigned condition, conducive to much moral- 
 ising on the vanity of sublunaiy affahs, and felt 
 very much as if the world was stuffed with saw- 
 dust. Little did I then dream of the thi'illing 
 nature of the episode still in store for me. 
 
 II. 
 
 For the next two years after my misfortune with 
 Chowder, I oscillated a good deal. Sometimes I 
 sought distraction in gaiety, and then s'wung back 
 into study. One of my principal excitements Avas 
 fighting papa in the matter of my settlement, 
 which, now that there was to be no Chowder, he 
 wanted me to consent to cancel. This I stubbornly 
 refused to do, and, as will appear later, to good 
 purpose. By degrees, I found myself becoming 
 rather an awe-inspiring creature to the yoimg man 
 of the period, which was all the more aggravating 
 to him, because, pecuniarily, I was so desu'able.
 
 42 TALES FKOM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 Now and then one in a sliy, timid sort of way 
 would muster up courage enough to propose to 
 me on quite inadequate encouragement ; and one 
 pertinacious man would not be content with four 
 refusals. This made me rather cynical ; and when 
 I was not cynical, I was learned, wdth a materiahstic 
 tendency, and a theory of evolution of my own. 
 Decidedly I was rapidly becoming disagreeable, 
 and so, finally, I found myself drifting away from 
 my old associates into a sort of literary coterie, 
 where my talents were more appreciated, and where 
 I could meet men whose conversation was more 
 congenial to me than that usually indulged in by 
 the Spuyten Duyvellers. And here I would wish, 
 par parenthese, to say a few words to those young 
 gentlemen, for whom, I have a cordial and tender 
 feeling. In the words of the old song, " We have 
 lived and loved together ; " so I am sure, if I 
 venture to give them a little wholesome advice, 
 they will take it in the spirit in which it is offered. 
 I am spealring not only for their good, but in be- 
 half of my own sex. I remember one evening half- 
 a-dozen of us girls counting up the young men who 
 could converse intelligently on any of the literary, 
 scientific, or even political, questions of the day. 
 "VVlien we had got up to two, we were obliged to 
 stop. Now this is very hard upon us. We don't 
 want to be driven to resort to old married men or 
 foreigners for intellectual recreation : but what are
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 43 
 
 we to do ? When you are not down in your eternal 
 Wall Streets, you are out at Jerome Park, or look- 
 ing out of the club windows ; but as for informing 
 your minds, and giving your naturally bright 
 intellects some wholesome food to digest, whicli 
 should make you instructive as well as agreeable 
 members of society, you won't do it. No wonder 
 we have to fall back on English dukes, or any 
 distinguished stranger we can find, when our own 
 countrymen will not qualify themselves properly 
 to be the husbands of intelligent and well-educated 
 girls. I am sorry to have to speak so shai-ply, but 
 nobody seems likely to do it if I don't, and I feel 
 that I owe you some explanation for having taken 
 an Englishman when I had the whole Spuyten 
 Duyvel Club to choose from. I have made it, and 
 I hope you will ponder over it, and profit by it. 
 
 Thus it happened that, dining one evening vnith 
 the celebrated Professor Bivalve, whose researches 
 have done so much to throw light upon the early 
 history of the human race in connection vdih the 
 remains of jackasses recently discovered in a tran- 
 sition state in the western part of this continent, I 
 found myself sitting next to a remarkably hand- 
 some man of about thirty ; evidently, from his 
 accent, English, and from his haughty look and 
 polished manners, aristocratic. There was a breadth 
 and power in his massive forehead, a light in his 
 grey eye, and a decision in his strong, fii-m mouth
 
 44 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD. 
 
 and jaw, which captivated me at once ; in a word, 
 he was a magnificent illustration of the survival of 
 the fittest. I was evidently still susceptible, what- 
 ever I might have thought to the contrary. The 
 brilliancy of his conversation was quite in keeping 
 with his intellectual appearance, though it had not 
 as yet been addressed to me, as we had not been 
 introduced. My kind host, however, soon relieved 
 us from all embarrassment on this score, by pre- 
 senting him to me as Mr Tompkins. It took me 
 a minute or two to recover from the blow which this 
 very plebeian name inflicted upon my feelings, and 
 in my confusion I quite lost some very curious facts 
 which the Professor was narrating to us regarding 
 his own special origin as bearing upon natural 
 selection in general. However, I soon recovered, 
 and, as an agreeable preliminary remark, I opened 
 the conversation by asking my companion whether 
 he did or did not consider the existence of Battry- 
 bius put in doubt by the voyage of the Challenger. 
 It is needless for me to attempt to give here, in 
 my imperfect language, the entirely new and start- 
 ling theory in regard to the past history, the present 
 condition, and the future prospects of the human 
 race, which absorbed me by its entrancing interest 
 throughout the whole of dinner. 
 
 Mr Tompkins found me such an intelligent dis- 
 ciple and listener, that he readily agreed to take 
 me with him on the following day to investigate
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 45 
 
 some cnrious geological phenomena which have 
 heretofore been overlooked on the banks of the 
 Hudson, in connection with the Palisades. Indeed, 
 all round New York, if people only knew it, there 
 is an immense field of inquiry for the scientific 
 mind. Mr Tompkins and I, regardless of the risk 
 of chills and fever, examined it thoroughly. There 
 was nobody to interfere with us ; he never went 
 near the gay and fashionable world. I was too 
 happy to abandon it utterly in such delightful com- 
 pany, and thus keep him away from the snares of 
 the other girls, who, although they could not have 
 appreciated his lofty intellect, would certainly have 
 been fully alive to his manly beauty. Mamma had 
 apparently given me up as hopeless ; I was quite 
 out of her depth ; and I did not think it worth 
 while to introduce Mr Tompkins to her during the 
 early stages of our acquaintance, as I felt sure they 
 would not suit each other. The only aggravating 
 thing about him was, that he never would for a 
 moment leave the ground of science for that of 
 sentiment. We chipped rocks and dissected moll- 
 uscs together, but he appeared to be profoundly 
 unconscious of the fact that he was chipping my 
 heart and dissecting my feelings all the time in the 
 most ruthless manner, and it seemed quite impos- 
 sible to make him take a hint. He was apparently 
 absorbed in working out his theory to the exclusion 
 of every other consideration, till I got quite to hate
 
 46 TALES FKOM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 it ; for, after all, whatever our origin may have been, 
 or whatever may be in reserve for us in the future, 
 it is evident that if the " species " is to be kept 
 going at all, it must occupy itself with the present. 
 I often tried in the most delicate way in the world 
 to suggest this view of the question to him. Theory 
 is valueless if we neglect the most favourable 
 opportunities of practical experiment and test. 
 Imagine my horror when, one day, in answer to 
 these hints, he gave me to understand that he had 
 completed his labours in the neighbourhood of New 
 York ; but that there was still a missing link of 
 which he was in search, and that he could only 
 hope to discover it by going out west and living 
 among the Indians, where he could make the 
 acquaintance of a squaw. 
 
 That afternoon I brought Obadiah — I forgot to 
 say that was his dreadful name — to our house, 
 introduced him to papa and mamma, and made 
 him stay to dinner; it was getting too serious. 
 The idea of his continuing his ridiculous investi- 
 gations at the price of the most treasured feelings 
 of my nature was insupportable. Moreover, I felt 
 sure that he was under some extraordinary delu- 
 sion. It was nonsense to tell me he did not care 
 for me. It was impossible for two such congenial 
 souls to be thrown together as we were, having 
 every thought and interest in life in common, and 
 not to care for each other. As for myself, I have
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 47 
 
 been so frank hitherto, that I may continue my 
 confessions recklessly. I never knew what love 
 meant till I met Obadiah. Wlien I compared my 
 weakness for Charlie, my inclination towards Chow- 
 der, with my devouring passion for Mr Tompkins, 
 I felt indeed how little there was in name, in 
 family, in wealth, or in rank. By the way, it had 
 never occurred to me to ask him about either his 
 family or his means ; and when mamma cross- 
 examined me about them, I was obliged to plead 
 total ignorance. This alone shows pretty plainly 
 how genuine my affection was for him. Next day 
 we went by the ferry across to Staten Island, in 
 order to examine a rock imdergoing the process of 
 spontaneous concentric exfoliation. He told me 
 it would probably be our last excursion together. 
 This announcement brought matters to a crisis. 
 We were going up a steep hill, and he had given 
 me his arm, when he told me this. I suppose he 
 felt some kind of pressure on it. I know I did on 
 my heart. I thought I should have dropped. 
 Then he stopped, and looked kindly and gravely 
 into my face. My eyes filled wdth tears, and I 
 made a desperate but unavailing effort to look as if 
 I was absorbed by the magnificent view ; but I 
 could see nothing except through a watery mist ; 
 and all the time I felt so angry wdth myself that 
 I could have boxed his ears. Well, it could not be 
 helped. He felt he had to say something ; and, as
 
 48 TALES FEOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 he was a very cool, composed sort of person, he sug- 
 gested that we should look for a nice comfortable 
 place to sit down. So we found a tree big enough 
 for both our backs to lean against ; and then he 
 said, as he was going away so soon and might 
 never see me again, and as we had become such 
 great friends, he would tell me all about himself and 
 his plans. Then the real cause of his indifference 
 flashed upon me suddenly, and I felt sure that he 
 was married ; so I said, impulsively, " Oh, don't ! " 
 
 "Don't what? "he asked. 
 
 " Don't tell me about her ; where is she ? " I 
 almost sobbed. 
 
 " Either in Utah or New Mexico," he said ; " I 
 don't know exactly which; but it does not much 
 matter. I can easily find the ones I want out 
 West." 
 
 It was too awful. My wildest imagination had 
 never pictm-ed such a fearful catastrophe. It was 
 all explained now ; Mr Tompkins was a Mormon. 
 He had been afraid to break it to me before, be- 
 cause he had not been sure of the extent of my 
 passion ; but now that I had been unable to conceal 
 it, he was evidently going to propose to take me to 
 Salt Lake City ; and from there we should go on 
 and join his other wives, about whom he appar- 
 ently cared so little that he did not know whether 
 the particular ones he wanted were in Utah or New 
 Mexico. The wily and artful way in which he had
 
 lEENE MACGILLICUDDY. 49 
 
 lured me into his toils, his wonderful devotion to 
 science, had all been a snare by which to entrap 
 my young affections. All this passed through my 
 mind like a flash of lightning. All the hearts I had 
 tried to break, all the affections I had deliberately 
 blighted of youths whom I had wantonly encour- 
 aged to propose, rose up in judgment against me. 
 How fearful was this retribution ! In what a cruel 
 form had my Nemesis overtaken me ! sitting on the 
 grassy hillside, just above that well-known village 
 called, with a ghastly sort of appositeness, Tomp- 
 kinsville. Mr Tompkins paused as if he had noth- 
 ing more for the moment to say ; and I felt that he 
 was purposely giving me time to make up my mind. 
 I was too fond of him to decide hastily in the nega- 
 tive. I know this may seem very horrible to some 
 of my readers, but they must really make allowance 
 for the vehemence of my feelings. I knew that if 
 I did not marry him I should never wed. It was 
 impossible for me ever to feel for another what I 
 felt for him, and it became a serious question with 
 me whether I should blight my whole existence in 
 consequence of a mere prejudice against a custom 
 practised by all the patriarchs most eminent for 
 piety, and by the inspired prophets of the Bible. 
 I thought it would all depend upon the share I 
 should be likely to have to myself of Obadiah ; but 
 then how coiild I ask him how many he had got ? 
 He e\-idently did not care about them all, for he 
 
 S.S. — L D
 
 50 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 had spoken only of the " ones he wanted." Now 
 they might possibly be only two, in which case I 
 should have a third of him ; and besides, I could 
 trust to my own wit for establishing myself in the 
 first place, and I had little doubt of forcing them 
 both into the position of " ones he did not want," 
 in time. Still, if instead of being two, there were 
 six or eight whom he wanted, the case would be 
 entirely altered. It was evidently of the first im- 
 portance, before making up my mind, to find this 
 out accurately. I internally decided that I would 
 go if he could offer me one-fourth share of himself, 
 or more ; but that for anything less than that I 
 should refuse positively. As he maintained a per- 
 sistent silence, when I had fully made up my mind 
 to this I had nothing for it but to try and obtain the 
 desired information. 
 
 '' Are you very fond of those you want ? " I asked, 
 timidly. 
 
 " I am fond of every object in nature which helps 
 to produce the desired results," he said, with a 
 smile. 
 
 I was not surprised that he alluded to his wives 
 in this Platonic sort of way, as he was so absorbed 
 in science that I had ceased to expect anything in 
 the shape of sentiment from him ; but I did not like 
 his allusion to the desired results. 
 
 " Have you many ?" I asked, with some hesitation. 
 
 " Many what ? " he inquired.
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 51 
 
 " Many results." 
 
 Obadiah looked for the first time during' our 
 acquaintance thoroughly puzzled, and, I thought, 
 a little confused. 
 
 " Very few," he replied ; " and those are, so far, 
 very imperfect. Ah," he went on, with his eye 
 kindling with enthusiasm, and yet with a certain 
 sadness, " how delightful it would be if you could 
 come with me, to help me to discover the reason of 
 the abnormal formation of their skulls ! " 
 
 I was inexpressibly shocked. So this was all he 
 wanted me to go West with him for ! and this was 
 his way of proposing to me ! 
 
 " Never ! " I exclaimed, with a passionate cry ; 
 " the very idea of such a thing fills me with disgust 
 and indignation." 
 
 He seemed sui-prised and pained at my vehemence. 
 
 " You compel me to explain myself in my owtq 
 justification," he said, in a more agitated tone than 
 he had yet used. " I am aware I was to blame for 
 inadvertently allowing an expression of a desire for 
 your company to escape me, which may have be- 
 trayed a sentiment I have hitherto striven resolutely 
 to conceal. Irene," he went on, " you do not know 
 how much I have sufiered during the past month, 
 and how difficult it has been for me to disguise my 
 feelings. If I have refrained from telling you how 
 dea,r you are to me, it is because I felt I had nothing 
 to ofier you."
 
 52 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 Notliing to offer me, indeed ! I thought, savagely. 
 Does he call his wives and his results nothing ? 
 But it was pleasant even to hear him confess his 
 love, so I was silent. 
 
 " You force me to tell you what I had determined 
 to conceal," he continued, "for I cannot bear to leave 
 you under the impression that I am cold or insen- 
 sible to your attractions ; but, situated as I am, I 
 felt that it would be dishonourable to take advan- 
 tage of our intimacy, and allow it to ripen into any 
 warmer feeling." 
 
 Well, I thought, he seems to have some feelings 
 of decency left in him after all ; and yet I confess 
 to a tinge of anxiety at the notion that he might 
 prove too honourable to take me with him, though 
 I had not quite made up my mind to go. 
 
 "At one time, I confess," he added, "I had al- 
 most determined to make a clean breast of it to Mr 
 Macgillicuddy, and throw myself upon his mercy." 
 
 " Mercy ! " exclaimed I, by way rather of an oath 
 than an echo. " What madness ! Wliy, how could 
 you expect that either he or mamma would even listen 
 to such a proposal? Under no circumstances must 
 you ever breathe to them what you have told me." 
 
 " All," he said, mournfully, " then I was right, 
 and I should only have put myself in a false posi- 
 tion ; so there is no hope." 
 
 " It seems to me," said I, sharply, " that you are 
 in rather a false position already."
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 53 
 
 "Irene," lie replied, pleadingly, "how cruel of 
 you to taunt me with it, when you yourself have 
 forced from me an avowal that I had resolved should 
 be for ever buried in the most secret recesses of my 
 heart ! " 
 
 A bright thought struck me : perhaps he loved 
 me so much that he would abandon all his other 
 wives and their wretched little results, and his 
 peculiar views, conceal the whole story, and agree 
 that we should be married like reasonable people, 
 and go and live decently in Em'ope, instead of in 
 Utah. 
 
 I looked tenderly and tearfully into his face. His 
 large expressive eyes seemed melting with the glow 
 of his ardent love as he returned my gaze. 
 
 " Darling," he murmured. 
 
 It gave me courage ; I would frankly tell him 
 my thought. This was not a moment to stand 
 upon ceremony ; so I said, and I found myself 
 blushing and stammering painfully — 
 
 "Don't you think you could give up your pe — 
 pe — peculiar views ? " 
 
 "My peculiar views!" he replied; "why, what 
 can they have to do with it? I know I have a 
 somewhat different theory from Darwin and Hux- 
 ley, and perhaps it is not altogether orthodox theo- 
 logically, but surely that need not be a barrier." 
 
 " Oh, I don't mean those," I said, pettishly, and 
 perhaps a little incoherently ; but I thought he was
 
 54 TALES FEOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 trifling or trying to deceive me. " I mean them ; " 
 and I placed a stinging emphasis on "them," 
 
 " Them ! " he replied ; " who are ' them ' ? " 
 
 His obtuseness was more than exasperating — it 
 was brutal. Why should he force me to name the 
 creatures I loathed ? But he had goaded me beyond 
 the bounds of delicacy. 
 
 " Your wives," I almost screamed. 
 
 If he had been struck with a bullet through the 
 heart he could not have given a more spasmodic 
 start, and then his eyes expanded and his lips 
 trembled, and his whole face expressed such terri- 
 fied amazement, that I thought he had gone mad. 
 He afterwards explained that he thought I had. 
 
 " I don't understand you," he gasped at last. 
 
 A ray of hope shot into my heart. 
 
 "■ Oh, tell me, you're not a Mormon ! " 
 
 I was literally panting by this time in an agony 
 of suspense, for upon his reply my future happiness 
 depended. 
 
 It came at last in the form of an uncontrollable 
 burst of laughter. I have seen many large men 
 laugh, but I never saw any one laugh as Obadiah 
 did when I made this announcement. Certainly my 
 experiences with Englishmen on the two occasions 
 when they have offered me their hearts have been 
 very peculiar. One chooses the moment when we 
 are so drenched and blinded with the spray of 
 Niagara that we can scarcely speak, precipitately
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 55 
 
 to propose, and try to embrace me ; and the other, 
 at the very crisis when his happiness is secured, 
 and I am djang to be pressed to his heart, is 
 rolling on his back on the grass in convulsions 
 of stentorian laughter. As soon as he could control 
 himself, Obadiah put my hand to his lips, and then 
 clasping it firmly, and with the tears resulting fi-om 
 the \aolence of his risible emotions still streaming 
 from his eyes, began to apologise. He explained 
 to me that the women he wanted to go to the 
 southern part of Utah to find, were the squaws 
 of the Piute Indians ; that it was rumoured that 
 their skulls were differently formed from the skulls 
 of any other family of the human race, and pre- 
 sented very marked peculiarities when compared 
 with the male skulls of their own tribe — a tj'pe 
 quite unkno-oTi not merely among American In- 
 dians, but among people anywhere else. At least 
 I think he said all this, but I may be mistaken, 
 for I was a prey to such mixed emotions that I 
 could not attend to him very closely. Mortifica- 
 tion at the extraordinary and ludicrous mistake 
 into which I had been led almost overpowered 
 my delight at discovering it to be one, while my 
 anger mth Obadiah for laughing at me so im- 
 moderately was more than counterbalanced by the 
 certainty that he loved me quite as immoderately. 
 I never imagined it possible I could have been so 
 humiliated, and at the same time so happy. Still,
 
 5G TALES FKOM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 I felt rather indignant with him for having misled 
 me into such an absurd position, and made me 
 appear so ridiculous. What could this insuperable 
 difficulty have been which had made it impossible 
 for him to tell me that he loved me, and even made 
 him try to prevent me from caring about him, if it 
 was not that he was already married? What was 
 this awful mystery which raised so terrible a barrier 
 between us? Indeed, before he had done telling 
 me about the Piute squaws' skulls, he had gently 
 dropped my hand, a shade of melancholy stole over 
 the countenance so lately convulsed with merriment, 
 and he heaved a deep sigh. 
 
 There was no need of reserve between us now : 
 we knew we loved each other — for he could not be 
 mistaken in regard to my sentiments — so I boldly 
 said — 
 
 " Dear Obadiah, what is this fearful secret that 
 you could not venture even to tell my father, that 
 has made you suffer so much while we have been 
 together, that has been the cause of the terrible 
 misunderstanding to which I have been a victim ? " 
 At this I saw the corners of his mouth t^vitch, but 
 I suppressed my irritation and went on : " Tell me, 
 dear, what it is that you feel must keep us apart ? 
 I can bear anything, only do not leave me in this 
 dreadful doubt and suspense." 
 
 " Dear one," he answered, " it is very simple, and 
 there is very little mystery about it : the fact is, I
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 57 
 
 have not got any money excepting what I can earn 
 by my pen, while you are very rich ; and among 
 gentlemen it is not considered honourable for a 
 poor man to engage the affections of a girl who 
 has a fortune, without first discovering whether it 
 would be agreeable to the parents. Now, from 
 what I had heard of Mr and Mrs Macgillicuddy, I 
 felt quite certain that they destined you either for 
 an American millionaire or a foreign nobleman ; 
 and as I supposed you woidd not marry without 
 your parents' consent, and as I knew that it would 
 be impossible to obtain this — and as, moreover, if 
 it could be obtained, I should shrink from the 
 suspicion, either on their part or yours, that your 
 fortune had influenced me in the matter — I deter- 
 mined, as soon as I felt that oxrr intercourse, which 
 has been so delightful to me, was leading to danger, 
 to start off at once on my search for the missing 
 skull, upon which, I may say, one whole theory in 
 regard to our origin is built." 
 
 I am afraid I very nearly said, "Oh, hang our 
 origin ! " I know I felt it ; for I was so completely 
 puzzled by his novel and ridiculous theory about 
 my being rich and his being poor, that I could not 
 bother with his other theory. I had never heard 
 of such a thing as a man, because he was poor, 
 thinking he ought to keep away from a girl who 
 was rich, or first ask her parents' consent, and 
 absurd rubbish of that sort. Why, with us the
 
 58 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD. 
 
 rich girls are besieged by the poor men, who do 
 all they can to engage their affections ; and the 
 girls, as a rule, take tolerably good care not to 
 marry them, though they don't mind getting en- 
 gaged, just for the excitement of the thing. Edith 
 Persimmon, for instance, has been engaged five 
 times, and has never been jilted herself once ; in 
 every case she threw over the man. The notion 
 struck me as so truly ludicrous that I thought I 
 would pay off Obadiah in his own coin ; and when 
 he had finished his explanation, in tones of great 
 solemnity and propriety, I went off into quite as 
 violent convulsions of laughter as he had. The 
 fact was, the objection was in reality so utterly 
 absurd, that I saw that our union was secured, and 
 I felt so happy that I really had something to laugh 
 about. 
 
 " Oh, you goosey ! " I cried ; " all my money is 
 my own, and nobody can prevent my giving it all 
 to you ; and I don't care about anybody's consent ; " 
 and I felt inclined to scream with delight and en- 
 joyment. What a relief it all was ! What fools we 
 had both of us been ! — he, through not knowing the 
 manners and customs of the country, and I through 
 impetuously rushing to conclusions, and acting upon 
 them, which is also one of its manners and customs. 
 However, all is well that ends well ; and when he 
 found I had actually been prepared to sacrifice 
 everything to my love for him — even to being
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 59 
 
 content with only a share of him — he consented 
 to waive his scruples, and take my money and 
 use it as if it was his own. Why, as I knew I 
 had plenty for both, it had never entered into my 
 head to inquire whether he had money or not till 
 mamma had asked me about it ; and this reminded 
 me that I had not said anything to him about his 
 family ; so I remarked — 
 
 ''Well, now, we may consider all that foolish 
 pecuniary matter settled ; because, although papa 
 and mamma may raise objections, I am master of 
 the situation, thanks to the almighty dollar. I 
 suppose, however, you will have to write home to 
 your family about it ? " 
 
 My experience with Chowder led me to suppose 
 that this was an inevitable part of the performance. 
 
 " Oh dear, no," he said ; "that will not be at all 
 necessary. The fact is, I have, so to speak, no 
 family to write to ; my parents are both dead. My 
 father was a civil engineer, and had just money 
 enough to send me to Eton and Oxford ; but I 
 have had to make my own way since then, as he 
 died a poor man. I have a brother, who is on some 
 Indian railway, and some more distant relations, 
 who do not trouble themselves about my fortunes." 
 
 This was a great comfort. The only thing re- 
 maining to be done was to announce it to my 
 respected parents ; but they were both out when 
 I reached home.
 
 GO TALES FEOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 " Mamma," I said, as soon as she came in jfrom 
 her drive, "I am engaged to be married to Mr 
 Tompkins." 
 
 As I fully expected, she was furious. 
 
 " Irene ! " she broke out, " I thought you were a 
 girl to be trusted. You know I never interfere with 
 your flirtations ; but, in return, I don't expect you 
 to engage yourself in this way to the first obscure 
 Englishman that comes along. You have refused 
 at least six men since Chowder's affair was broken 
 off, the poorest of whom was worth half a million, 
 and some of them worth a great deal more ; and 
 now, with all your experience, you go and throw 
 yourself away on this Tompkins, — what Tompkins 
 is he, anyhow ? and what fortune has he got ? Why, 
 even if he was a Sir, or an Honourable, unless he 
 had a large fortune, or was a distinguished states- 
 man, or something of that sort, I never imagined 
 you could have thought of him." 
 
 Just then the bell rung ; it was Obadiah himself, 
 who, in his blunt, straightforward way, would not 
 wait until I had prepared matters, but must needs 
 come and beard the lioness in her den. 
 
 "Here he is, mamma, to speak for himself," I 
 said, as he entered the room. 
 
 "So, Mr Tompkins," she abruptly commenced, 
 " it seems you and my daughter are engaged to be 
 married ? " 
 
 " Not without your consent," he replied, calmly.
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY, Gl 
 
 Tliis rather took mamma by surprise ; she did 
 not expect so meek a response, and continued in a 
 milder tone — 
 
 " You know, we American mothers have a strong 
 prejudice against our daughters manyingforeigners." 
 
 " I was not aware of it," he said. 
 
 " I mean, of course, foreigners who are not per- 
 sons of distinction in their own country." 
 
 " I am sorry I can lay no claim to any such dis- 
 tinction," he observed. 
 
 Mamma got rather exasperated by these calm, 
 brief answers. 
 
 " You are aware my daughter has a large fortune 
 of her own ? " she went on, with something approach- 
 ing a sneer in her voice. 
 
 "It has been a matter of regret to me for the 
 last month that it is so," he replied, "as I am 
 absolutely penniless." 
 
 This remark struck me not only as illogical, but 
 entirely wanting in common-sense, so I indignantly 
 interposed. " This is a matter between Mr Tomp- 
 kins and myself, mamma, with which neither you 
 nor papa has any concern whatever." 
 
 " Well, my dear, I will leave you to discuss that 
 question with your father. And now, Mr Tomp- 
 kins," continued mamma, " as you have told us so 
 frankly that you have nothing in the way of money, 
 would you kindly inform us what you have in the 
 way of family?"
 
 62 TALES FKOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 I again rushed to the rescue before he had time 
 to say anything. 
 
 " All the Tompkinses belong to the same family, 
 mamma. You know the Virginia Tompkinses spell 
 their name with a '' y," and claim to be descended 
 from the original Tompkyns who came over to 
 "Virginia with Captain Smith. It is now historically 
 proved that he was best man on the occasion of the 
 Captain's marriage with Pocahontas : don't you re- 
 member, dear mamma ? " 
 
 I knew the history of her own country was not 
 her strong point, and that she could not contradict 
 me. " Obadiah is a younger branch of the same 
 family," I continued; "are you not?" And I 
 turned to him with an expression as nearly con- 
 veying a wink, as I thought safe. 
 
 "Very much yoimger indeed," he replied. "I 
 am afraid my branch only goes back one genera- 
 tion." 
 
 " Only one generation ! " exclaimed mamma. 
 "What do you mean? you must have had a grand- 
 father ! " 
 
 " Two, madam," said Obadiah, very stiffly ; " but 
 I only know the name of one, and it was not Tomp- 
 kins, it was Jones, which was my mother's name." 
 
 " Then you don't know who your father's father 
 was?" 
 
 " I do not," said Obadiah, and he drew himself 
 up with an air of haughty dignity which made him
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. G3 
 
 look superb, as if in Lis absence of pedigree he 
 defied the world. It proved to me that the pride of 
 no birth could be more commanding even than the 
 pride of birth. It seemed to cow mamma for an 
 instant, and I took advantage of the pause to ex- 
 claim enthusiastically, "Why, I know my grand- 
 father was only a gardener ; and though you don't 
 know it, perhaps yours was a lord." Then I got 
 very red, and felt somehow I ought not to have 
 said it. 
 
 "Irene, I am ashamed of you," said mamma, 
 sternly. "■ You see, Mr Tompkins," she went on, 
 " while in our own democratic country we are not 
 usually very particular in making inquiries into 
 the origin of the families with which we contract 
 alliances, provided the money is forthcoming, it is 
 not the same where foreigners are concerned. We 
 wish our daughters to move in the very highest 
 circles in the country of their adoption by marriage. 
 With ovu- democratic views it is very disagreeable 
 for a girl to encounter the possibility of having to 
 walk in after anybody because of the accident of 
 her husband's birth. This is why really no Ameri- 
 can girl should by rights ever marry any one less 
 than a duke ; and then," she added, thoughtfully, 
 " supposing he was not the premier duke, she might 
 still be placed in an inferior position to the premier 
 duchess. Now here is Irene's o^\ti cousin Flora 
 married to Lord Huckleberry ; just think if she
 
 64 TALES FEOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 were to meet Irene in society as Mrs Tompkins, 
 what a difference there would be in the position of 
 the two girls ! I am quite sure, Irene, you could 
 not bear it," and she turned to me. 
 
 " Your daughter would never be called upon to 
 bear it," said Obadiah ; " she would never, as my 
 wife, be likely to move in any society where she 
 would meet Lady Huckleberry." 
 
 " Worse and worse," said mamma — and I confess 
 I did not much relish the prospect ; but it was far 
 better than that other fate I had nerved myself to 
 encounter for Obadiah' s sake, so I determined to 
 put a bold face on the matter. 
 
 " If ex-President Grant could stand going in after 
 people, I suppose I could," I said, with a pout ; '' at 
 any rate, I am not going to give up Obadiah for all 
 the Lady Huckleberrys in the world." You see I 
 was becoming desperate. I was rewarded by the 
 grateful look my lover turned upon me. 
 
 "Well, my dear," said mamma, with a bitter 
 sneer, " I have said everything that as a mother it 
 was my duty to say ; you may please yourself — 
 only don't reproach me if you are unhappy in your 
 degradation, and don't expect me to come and pay 
 you a visit, to be looked down upon as the mother 
 of Mrs Obadiah Tompkins. I shall go and stay 
 with Flora at Huckleberry Castle, and we can meet 
 at railway stations or in picture-galleries." 
 
 With this my mother marched solemnly from the
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 65 
 
 room, and left me to console myself with my dar- 
 ling. Obadiali was a good deal surprised at the 
 suddenness with which she collapsed, and said Eng- 
 lish mothers did not give in so easily ; but I ex- 
 plained that as the daughters here never give in at 
 all, and as, after all, it was I, and not she, who was 
 going to be married, she knew very well that sooner 
 or later she would have to beat a retreat, and, like 
 a wise woman, she saved her dignity by not allow- 
 ing herself to be drawn any further into a struggle 
 which could only end in defeat. He was very much 
 reheved at the unexpected turn affairs had taken, 
 and we sat together on the couch and had a lovely 
 time. 
 
 In spite of my mother's threat, my father directly 
 avoided any encounter with me on the subject of 
 finance. "WTiere she had been vanquished, he felt 
 that he had no chance, and he contented himself 
 with behaving as rudely as possible to my intended 
 upon all occasions. 
 
 Obadiah at once agreed to postpone indefinitely 
 his journey to the country of the Piutes, and con- 
 tent himself with the slcull which I offered him as 
 a substitute ; and in order to avoid any protracted 
 gossip in regard to our affairs, we determined that 
 our marriage should take place with the least 
 possible delay, and in the most private manner. 
 Mamma, of course, would have nothing to do with 
 the preparations, though my parents were both to 
 
 s.s. — I. E
 
 6Q TALES FKOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 be present at the ceremony ; and I contented my- 
 self with Eose Poppinjay and Edith Persimmon 
 as bridesmaids ; while Charlie, who, I must say, is 
 always willing to make himself useful, did duty for 
 Obadiah, to whom 1 had introduced him some time 
 before, in the hope that he might take advantage of 
 the opportunity to improve his mind. 
 
 We were married in the little church round the 
 corner, and started immediately afterwards to spend 
 a quiet fortnight at Levox. As my fortune pro- 
 duced an income of about £12,000 sterling a-year, 
 Obadiah agreed with me that there was no spot 
 better adapted than London for spending it. So in 
 due time we took our passage in a Cunarder ; and I 
 once more turned my back upon my native city, to 
 begin life under entirely new conditions. Almost 
 the first person I met upon the deck was, to my 
 amazement, Edith Persimmon. 
 
 '« Why, Edith ! " 
 
 " Why, Irene ! " 
 
 These two words, ejaculated with immense em- 
 phasis, is our invariable mode of expressing surprise 
 and delight at an unexpected meeting of this sort. 
 Then I saw a number of young men hovering 
 around her, and her hands full of bouquets ; and 
 I knew that she was bound for Europe, and that 
 all her beaux, married and single, had come to see 
 her off. Under ordinary circumstances, we should 
 have been similarly attended. I should think, for
 
 IKENE MACGILLICUDDY. 67 
 
 instance, when we went to see the Huckleberrya 
 off", we must have been a party of fifty or sixty. 
 But Obadiah was of a very retiring disposition, and 
 hated what he called " functions " of this kind. 
 Since our marriage, all our thoughts had been in 
 common ; so I, of course, quite agreed with him, 
 and we had slipped on board quite quietly. How- 
 ever, as all Edith's friends were mine, there was 
 no escape now ; so we had a grand kissing, and 
 hand-shaking, and leave-taking. The young men 
 rather like these occasions, as they can take ad- 
 vantage of the pretext of sudden and overwhelm- 
 ing emotion to steal the chaste salute from the 
 departing fair one, for which they have so long 
 been pining in vain. The poor thing being in a 
 kissing, tearful mood, grows confused with so much 
 embracing, and thus gets taken advantage of I 
 saw it happen to Edith in three different cases, 
 and she seemed scarcely to have known what she 
 was doing. Obadiah, who was looking on with a 
 view of discovering " the hidden principle of nature 
 which was at work," said she was perfectly well 
 aware all the time what she was about ; but I 
 think science makes people a little cynical. How- 
 ever, as he said it, of course it must have been true. 
 " Wliy, my dear," said Edith, as soon as all her 
 admirers had hurried do^^'n the gangway, at the 
 imminent risk of jostling one another into the water 
 — for they had clung to the ship to the last — " why,
 
 68 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 my dear, only to think of our going over together in 
 the same steamer ! why, it's perfectly splendid ! " 
 
 " But are you going over alone ? " I asked. " I 
 don't see Mr and Mrs Persimmon." 
 
 " Didn't you hear, dear, that Flora sent to invite 
 me to pay her a visit at Huckleberry Castle. She 
 said there was no room for papa and mamma, but 
 that she would be glad to see me alone, and they 
 were expecting a visit from Lord Chowder. So, as 
 dear Captain Codd is such a friend of ours, — you 
 know, we made our last passage with him,   — he 
 agreed to take me under his charge. Besides, Iky 
 BuUstock, and old Mr and Mrs Barebones, and 
 Mary, are crossing with us ; so I shall not feel 
 a bit alone ; and now I shall have you as well 
 — and I am never sick ; so I expect to have a 
 beautiful time." 
 
 And here I should observe that I had received 
 a letter from Flora, couched in rather cool terms, 
 congratulating me on my marriage ; but regretting 
 that it should have happened just at the moment 
 when she was going to invite me to pay her a visit. 
 Now that I was married, she supposed I was too 
 much absorbed in my husband to care about paying 
 visits, — which was a delicate way of insinuating, 
 that though she would have been glad to see 'me 
 alone, she did not want Obadiah. Thus it came to 
 pass that Edith Persimmon was asked in my stead, 
 and that I now found her on board the same steamer
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 69 
 
 with myself, starting in pursuit of Chowder. I was 
 standing with my arm through Obadiah's, as I made 
 this reflection, and thought how nearly Chowder 
 had been my fate ; and when I compared what it 
 really was witli what it might have been, I felt 
 inclined, then and there, to fall on my knees with 
 gratitude ; for I would not have exchanged my 
 Obadiah for a million of Chowders, or have descend- 
 ed from my lofty position as Mrs Tompkins, to be 
 her Grace the Duchess of Gumbo, for anything the 
 world could offer. Obadiah said that this sentiment 
 arose from a hidden law, which had been prevented 
 by the intellectual forces of nature from develop- 
 ment, in the most civilised portion of the human 
 race, but that in my case it was struggling to find 
 expression ; and he hoped in time I should be 
 morally as much superior to the rest of my sex 
 as the recently discovered male aborigines of the 
 eastern part of New Guinea are to the most ad- 
 vanced men of science in Paris, or London, or New 
 York. This may give the reader a hint as to my 
 husband's evolution theory. I may be able to refer 
 to it more fully on another occasion ; for the present 
 I must return to Edith. She was extremelv anxious 
 to know all about Chowder. In other words, she 
 wanted what in America are called "points," and 
 in England " tips," from the one person who, of all 
 others, could give them from personal experience. 
 She evidently considered it in a manner providcn-
 
 70 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 tial that she, bent upon the capture of that special 
 coronet, should find herself making a passage in 
 the same steamer with one who had already cap- 
 tured the heart to which it was supposed to 
 belong. 
 
 " Edith," I said, " you don't need any instruction 
 of this kind. You have had enough experience, 
 goodness knows, Avithout asking me. You can't 
 catch him under a waterfall, as I did, because there 
 are no waterfalls worth talking about in England ; 
 but if you can't get into difficulties in the hunting- 
 field, for instance, and sprain your ancle, and both 
 lose your way, and then — oh, Edith," I broke off, 
 " how silly you are — or rather, I am ! I will not 
 go on talking such nonsense. There is only one 
 thing I will tell you : it is not Chowder that you 
 will find any difficulty with, but the Duchess. She 
 will be your Plevna. Take the Duchess, my dear, 
 — assault her, sap her, mine her, starve her — any- 
 thing you like — only capture her. She and you 
 together must then lay siege to the Duke, and the 
 walls of Chowder, like those of Jericho, will fall 
 down the moment you blow your trumpet, if your 
 flag is floating triumphantly from the parental 
 battlements." 
 
 Obadiah came up just as I had exploded in this 
 magnificent burst of allegory, and I felt so dread- 
 fully ashamed of myself when I remembered how 
 differently a Papuan woman would have advised
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 71 
 
 any young aboriginal female in regard to matri- 
 mony, that I found my eyes filling with tears at 
 this descent from my high ideal. 
 
 Two years previously, as the Countess of Chow- 
 der, I should have looked forward to a London 
 season with a delight bordering upon frenzy. Now, 
 as Mrs Obadiah Tompkins, deeply interested in the 
 problem of Immanity, I anticipated, with a far 
 keener and more real enjoyment, a quiet life wdth 
 my husband in a suburban villa, surrounded by a 
 congenial society of his literary and scientific friends. 
 I will not describe the intensity of my devotion to 
 him, nor the absolute unity of our feelings and 
 aspirations, for there are none of my married ac- 
 quaintances who could sympathise with or under- 
 stand it. He always insisted upon my sitting near 
 him when he A\Tote, because, he said, I inspired 
 him ; but I dare not flatter myself that it is due to 
 this that the remarkable series of articles which 
 have appeared in the ' Nineteenth Century,' signed 
 " Obadiah Tompkins," on " The Moral Attributes of 
 Physical Forces," should have produced so profound 
 a sensation. Their importance may be gathered 
 from the fact that we are credibly informed that 
 Mr Gladstone is at this moment writing a reply to 
 them in a series of articles entitled " The Physical 
 Attributes of Moral Forces," and that the entire 
 subject is to be discussed at a later period in a 
 " Symposium." The more I think of it, however,
 
 72 TALES FEOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 the more I feel that the true arena for debating 
 topics of this kind is the House of Commons. It is 
 only natural that, being an American, I should be 
 strongly Conservative ; and I need scarcely add 
 that Obadiah entirely shares my views. He feels 
 with me that it is not to be tolerated that all the 
 scientific talent should be on the Liberal side of 
 the House, and that Dr Lyon Playfair and Sir John 
 Lubbock are to be allowed to have it all their own 
 way on a certain class of questions. Wo have 
 therefore made up our minds that he is to stand 
 at the next general election. I confess that it is 
 not without a certain feeling of triumph that I am 
 looking forward to the day when Obadiah will be 
 called upon to join a cabinet, of which Huckleberry 
 will probably be a member. 
 
 Meantime, Flora has fully justified my expecta- 
 tions. Her beauty, her brilliant talent, her great 
 adaptability and powers of imitation, enabled her 
 to assume her new role with eminent success, and 
 she soon secured the admiration, I had almost 
 said devotion, of the leading personages of Lon- 
 don society. Thus she gallantly fought her way 
 into the front rank of that set in which Lady 
 Twickenham and the Hon, Mrs Hurlingham are 
 such distinguished ornaments. Before the first 
 season was over, she had got herself enormously 
 talked about ; and there was a certain reckless dash 
 about her, which captivated all who found them-
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 73 
 
 selves drawn within the influence of her magic 
 circle. Chowder was one of her most assiduous 
 worshippers, and Edith had some difficulty in 
 luring him off". Flora, however, far from being 
 jealous, made use of her friend as a sort of decoy, 
 and the two w'ere inseparable. By these means 
 Edith made a round of country-house visits under 
 most favourable circumstances, for no one thought 
 of inviting the llucklebcrrys without Miss Persim- 
 mon ; and thus it happened that she found herself 
 a guest at " Clam Towers," the seat of the Duke of 
 Gumbo, and in the most advantageous position for 
 laying siege to the Duchess. Curiously enough, I 
 had, in advising Edith, underestimated the lasting- 
 nature of the impression which I had produced 
 upon the susceptibilities of his lordship. When 
 that enterprising young woman, after infinite exer- 
 tion, had vanquished the Duchess, she found her 
 blandishments altogether powerless to captivate 
 Chowder, who has given out that he never intends 
 to marry, and who entertains a sincere and respect- 
 ful friendship for Obadiah and myself, Edith, 
 therefore, has abandoned the pursuit, and, as she 
 has made a sufficient number of aristocratic friends 
 of her own, has parted company with Flora, and 
 has obtained quite an independent position both in 
 London and Paris, at which gay capital she is at 
 present disporting herself with some newly-arrived 
 Americans, to whom she is temporarily attached.
 
 74 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 It remains, therefore, still a matter for conjecture 
 to wliat nationality lier noble husband, when she 
 finally captures him, will belong. Mamma has 
 written to Flora, proposing a visit ; but Flora wrote 
 back that she had not a single room in the house to 
 spare. Wlien the latter heard that all London was 
 talking about the remarkable lecture which Obadiah 
 delivered the other night at the Eoyal Institution, 
 she was foolish enough to give us an opportunity 
 of refusing an invitation to Huckleberry, with 
 which she thought fit to honour us. We finally 
 met at the South Kensington School of Arts. Per- 
 haps I ought to have said, what my modesty shrinks 
 from, that I was as much talked about by this time 
 as Obadiah. In fact, without meaning it, we had 
 suddenly appeared upon the social horizon of a 
 certain class of London society which prides itself 
 upon its intellectual attainments, and had taken it 
 by storm. This led to our being forced upwards, 
 whether we liked it or not ; and upon the evening 
 in question I was conscious of a sort of buzz of 
 admiration going on in my immediate vicinity, 
 when Flora rushed into my arms ; and I was 
 further conscious that it was I, and not she, who 
 caused it. I went and saw her next day, and made 
 the discovery which suggested this record of my 
 tender recollections, for I thus became aware that 
 I had developed a great deal more heart than I ever 
 imagined I possessed, while she seemed entirely to
 
 IRENE MACGILLICUDDY. 75 
 
 have lost any she ever had ; so I went home to 
 Obadiah, a sadder and a vdser woman. 
 
 I thouglit my little history would convey a 
 moral if it were WTitten, which my readers could 
 find out for themselves, the more especially as 
 Obadiah said he did not mind the publicity of so 
 much that is usually considered confidential, if I 
 thought it w^ould do any good. So I have written 
 because I hope it may ; not to the society of London 
 — I almost fear that is past redemption ; but my 
 own old society, to which these tender recollections 
 more especially refer, is still young and fresh 
 enough to improve. I have not meant to expose 
 its faults ungenerously, or to dwell too severely 
 upon its weaknesses. At all events, I will comfort 
 myself with the reflection that those who honestly 
 feel that I have maligned them will be far more 
 likely to forgive me than those whose consciences 
 convict them, and to whose forgiveness, therefore, 
 I am indifferent.
 
 NAN: A SUMMER SCENE. 
 
 By L. B. WALFORD. 
 
 [MAOA. August 1S75.] 
 
 THE London season being at its height, with all 
 its turmoil and its witchery, can any one spare 
 a moment to notice a sad little face peeping out of 
 the window of a railway cab just driving into Pad- 
 dington station? 
 
 The cab draws up at the end of a long line of 
 cabs, and the footman outside jumps down to open 
 the door. 
 
 Out steps Nan, bag and parasol in one hand, 
 purse in the other ; and very grave indeed she 
 looks as she solemnly inquires the fare, and 
 marches into the station, followed by Thomas. 
 
 Can this shabby little creature be the butterfly 
 who but yesterday fluttered and spread her wings 
 among the gay crowds, gayest of all herself, full of 
 busy idleness, bewildered enchantment, ecstasies of 
 bliss and woe ? Ah ! poor child, her day was a 
 short one, and now it is over.
 
 NAN : A SUMMER SCENE. 77 
 
 It is hard to pass tlio pleasure-loving stream and 
 go against it. 
 
 To remember that a few hours before, she had 
 felt herself — she, even she, child, sprite, insignifi- 
 cant drop in the bucket as she really was — to have 
 been for the time transformed into a princess in 
 fairy -land, with all sorts of dreams, and fancies, and 
 possibilities hovering over her ; and then suddenly 
 to wake and find herself shaken up into a little red- 
 haired girl going away in a hack-cab. 
 
 Nan is dowdy, too, in her travelling costume. It is 
 the same in which she came up to town six weeks be- 
 fore, and very neat and becoming she thought it then ; 
 but six weeks of fresh muslins, her new silk, and in- 
 cessant smartness, have made the old grey seem dim. 
 
 And then the heat of this June day ! 
 
 The finest and softest of white dresses abound in 
 the park, and fans flutter, and parasols sway grace- 
 fully backwards and forwards. On her way to the 
 station, Nan has passed carriage after can-iage turn- 
 ing in thither, probably driving through, to return 
 to the great rendezvous an hour later, when she 
 will be many miles away. 
 
 Then when evening comes, she knows that her 
 aunt and cousins NA-ill be preparing for that delight- 
 fid party to which she, too, had been invited, and to 
 which she might have so easily gone if only the 
 Wyatts had fixed Friday instead of Thursday for her 
 coming to them.
 
 78 TALES FEOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 This visit to the Wyatts has been twice postponed 
 abeacly, and Aunt Eliza, smiling, but serious, 
 thinks it will hardly do again. 
 
 Nan submits to her fate. 
 
 She thinks Mr Lefevre will be a little disap- 
 pointed, and Captain Neville a little more still ; 
 but I cannot say that she has anything beyond 
 the smallest and most complacent of regrets for 
 her forlorn partners. 
 
 She does not like leaving Queen's Gate, however. 
 That is quite another thing. 
 
 This visit is the point towards which all her lines 
 have converged for the last eight or ten months. 
 
 It was projected in the autumn ; and given up, 
 taken back into favour, thrown out and reconsidered 
 at least half-a-dozen times before the great decision 
 was arrived at. 
 
 For it is a long way from the stony hills of West- 
 moreland to the metropolis ; and country maids 
 like Nan Church, whose life goes round and round 
 as if it were turned by one of those long-suffering 
 horses in the old farmyards, think a great deal more 
 of a single day's journey, than some of our more 
 delicate and fashionable young madams do of a voy- 
 age round the world. 
 
 What preparation it takes ! What forebodings 
 on the part of Granny does it occasion ! Wliat 
 timid exultant dreams on the part of Nan does it 
 give rise to !
 
 NAN : A SUMMER SCENE. 79 
 
 Hours and liours have the two spent together 
 ^\^th only old Tnieman as coadjutor, contriving 
 that wonderful wardrobe. The fashion -book has 
 worn itself to death in their service. The maids 
 sit at their seams in the workroom unceasingly. 
 And when the climax is at length attained, is it 
 not seemly in their eyes, cunning in its devices, 
 heroic in its concealments ? What though it might 
 — it probably would — have made Worth shudder 
 and sicken ? 
 
 Does Nan forget these days ? No, and she never 
 will. 
 
 Many and many a time in the midst of her vortex 
 they rise before her, and her heart gives a little 
 tender ache for the foolish things, feeling as if some- 
 how she does them a wrong in that they have grown 
 to look odd and plain, and all but unwearable. 
 
 They are not needed, either. 
 
 Aunt Eliza gives her dresses and bonnets ; and 
 the silk that Granny had fondly hoped might be 
 made up by her cousin's maid, is returned gorgeous 
 from a West End dressmaker ; but for all that, the 
 child's heart has never grown hard and cruel to the 
 old things, and when the last day comes she bravely 
 dons the sober grey with its plaintive tints, and be- 
 takes herself off in the cab, much the same little 
 Nan Church to all intents, as when she hugged and 
 kissed dear Granny before all the carriages at Tebay 
 Junction.
 
 80 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 Ah, well ! her great visit is over. 
 
 There only remains her fortnight at the Wyatts, 
 and with this she would fain dispense. 
 
 It is years since she saw her cousins, and who 
 can tell what sort of young maidens Edie and Detty 
 may have blossomed into, in the interval? 
 
 The Honourable Edith and Henrietta Wyatt are 
 not in town this season. 
 
 When their mourning for the old uncle who left 
 Dick all his money was over, it was too late in the 
 year, and Lady Wyatt has not been well. Lord 
 Wyatt goes up and down ; Dick has been away 
 since Christmas ; Walter at Cln-ist Church is glad 
 to have his " Long " at home, and Dolly at Eton 
 has no voice in the matter. 
 
 Accordingly they are all at Wyatt Hall, and Nan 
 wishes they were anywhere else. 
 
 To begin with, she is afraid of going. Aunt Eliza 
 demands why? 
 
 She is afraid of Lady Wyatt. 
 
 A more groundless fear never existed in the 
 bosom of a Caffi-e, 
 
 She is afraid of Lord Wyatt. 
 
 More groundless still, and more idiotic. 
 
 She is afraid of the girls, of Dick, of Walter, of 
 Dolly, who is up to her shoulder ; afraid of the 
 house, afraid of the servants. This is what she 
 would like to say, but dares not, to Aunt Eliza. 
 
 So she stops abruptly at her fear of Lord Wyatt.
 
 NAN : A SUMMEli SCENE. 81 
 
 Of her own. uncle 1 
 
 (Aunt Eliza is Nan's aunt on the other side, and 
 is rather proud if having a niece who can call a 
 peer of the realm her o\vn uncle.) 
 
 Yes. He may be her uncle or not, but she is 
 afraid of him. 
 
 To this she sticks so fast, that Aunt EHza deigns 
 to expostulate. 
 
 Nan is foolish, unreasonable, unr elation-like, if 
 there is such a term, altogether fanciful and absurd. 
 Come, she must not be silly ; but above all, silly or 
 not, she must not show that she is. 
 
 Accordingly Nan goes off, doing her best to keep 
 her quakings hidden. 
 
 She is dull and sad, and very shy. 
 
 Queen's Gate had grown familiar, and the happi- 
 ness she had felt there siiddenly assumes gigantic 
 proportions in the retrospect. 
 
 She cannot think of anything but the past, and 
 as Thomas hands her her ticket, with his soft assur- 
 ance that all is right, she is conscious of a faint 
 melancholy disinclination to going anywhere but 
 back with him. For is he not even now bound for 
 the enchanted ground again ? Are not balls, fetes, 
 flower-shows stiU abundantly in store for him, and 
 does not he look impatient to be off ? 
 
 The poor outcast will soon be deserted by her 
 last friend. She sees the white stockings go 
 farther and farther, and grow smaller and smaller, 
 
 s.s. — I. F
 
 82 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD. 
 
 then suddenly go out like the distant speck of a 
 lighthouse, and once more the shock of being only 
 a little red-haired girl instead of a fairy princess, 
 comes over ISFan. 
 
 By this time she is seated in the dusky blue 
 oven, indicated to her as a first class. 
 
 She looks daintily round upon the cushions. 
 Dust everywhere, invincible, inevitable. 
 
 The little lady takes out a thick green veil, and 
 proceeds to envelop herself in its folds. Granny 
 had tied it round Nan's head when the parting 
 came, for, " My dear," says the old lady, " it will 
 keep you tidy." 
 
 Not for worlds would she hint, what she never- 
 theless believes to be the case, that there is not a 
 skin like her darling's in Westmoreland. 
 
 Aunt Eliza and Laura Church, however, have not 
 been so reticent, and Nan has learnt to know that 
 the green veil may have other uses than to keep 
 her tidy. 
 
 She is anxious about her first appearance at the 
 Wyatts. 
 
 Not very anxious, chiefly caring because of the 
 impression it will produce at Queen's Gate. 
 
 Will any one meet her at the station ? Hum ! 
 She changes her gloves. 
 
 Is her neck-tie smooth ? Pulls out the bows. 
 
 Gets nervous. Begins to dread the arrival more 
 than ever.
 
 NAN : A SUMMER SCENE. 83 
 
 After an hour's unbroken monotonous travel, with 
 only her own thoughts for company, the London 
 life has grown dimmer, and Wyatt Hall stands out 
 prominently in her mind's eye. 
 
 She has time to conjure up horror upon horror ; 
 to grow restless, excited, miserable ; to exclaim a 
 hundred times, " If it were but over ! " yet to feel 
 almost thankful for the respite, as she is still being 
 hurried along. At length the train slackens speed. 
 Nan wildly tears off the veil, gives her hat a lurch 
 on one side, and a hair-pin falls into her lap. 
 
 She doubles up the veil, stuffs it into her pocket, 
 whence a long green string protrudes, frantically 
 settles the hat, bursts her glove, and has hard work 
 to be sitting quite calm and composed when the 
 train draws up. 
 
 Calmness and composure tln"own away ; no 
 carriage, cart, or wheel-barrow belonging to the 
 Wyatts is at the station. 
 
 Nan gets out unassisted, feeling severely that 
 her days of princess-ship are over ; and she has 
 redeemed her box, and the train is off again ere 
 anyone asks whither she is going. 
 
 Suddenly she is taken hold of, in the midst of a 
 crowd of laughing voices. 
 
 Edie, Detty, Miss Blisset, and one or two 
 children all together explaining, welcoming, apolo- 
 gising, sorry for their fault, and declaring it was 
 not their fault, in a breath.
 
 84 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 The little traveller is bewildered, and very meek. 
 
 A servant seizes her trunk, her shawl is drawn 
 from her arm, and her bag is about to foUow, but to 
 this she clings. 
 
 " Now, you are ready," says her eldest cousin. *'It 
 is so nice that you are really come at last. Nan, 
 .We thought you were going to put us off altogether." 
 
 " People never keep country engagements," cheer- 
 fully suggests the bright-eyed Detty, on her other 
 side. " And you must have hated leaving town just 
 now. But, you know, we did want to see you again 
 so very much." 
 
 Nan tries to murmur some reply, but she is guilt- 
 ily conscious that the desire has not been reciprocal. 
 
 How kind they are, these unknowm relations ! 
 How foolish of her to have minded putting on the 
 old grey dress, when they are in brown hoUand, 
 and wear the most ancient of garden gloves ! 
 
 Yet how nice they look ! Edith, a slim, gracious 
 maiden, not a hair of whose little orderly head is 
 turned the wrong way ; Detty, frizzle - pated, 
 sparkling. Both so kind, gentle, and full of soft 
 lively prattle, that she cannot choose but be at 
 her ease with them. 
 
 They ask if she is fond of riding ? She may be, 
 but it is an undeveloped affection. 
 
 Driving ? Also latent. 
 
 How charming ! Edith will drive her, Detty will 
 teach her to ride.
 
 NAN : A SUMMER SCENE. 85 
 
 They will have matches at croquet and archery. 
 
 They will be on the river from morning till night. 
 Nan begins to laugh and look forward, scarcely 
 crediting her own good fortune. No one could be 
 stiff in such good fellowship. 
 
 " You must try not to find us diill.'' says Edith. 
 " Some people are coming here to-morrow, and 
 Dick comes to-night. Then by-and-by there is 
 going to be a ball at one of our neighbours'. I am 
 so glad you will come in for the ball, Nan." 
 
 This is said as they are alighting, and Nan is 
 doing her best not to show anew her quakings at 
 the notion of a foiTnal entry. 
 
 In a moment they are dispelled ; Detty is at her 
 side, saying, " Come to the school-room first, dear, 
 and have tea. Mother is in her room ; you need 
 not see her till dinner-time. Miss Blisset gives us 
 tea in the school-room just now." 
 
 Miss Blisset, the rosy, jolly soul of good-nature, 
 whose daily excitement it is to preside at this en- 
 tertainment, politely begs Miss Church will take 
 off her things first, if she feels inclined. Is Miss 
 Church tired? 
 
 Dirty is more properly the word, and Nan owns 
 she is dirty, but will have her tea first. 
 
 So she sits down, and drinking the hot liquid 
 after her drive and her journey, gets a red nose, 
 and is conscious that she is looking her worst. 
 
 " I thought Nan had been pretty," begins Edith,
 
 86 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD. 
 
 when the toilet separation had taken place, " but I 
 don't know that she is. She looked so pretty at 
 first." 
 
 " She has a good figure at any rate." 
 
 " I like her." 
 
 '' So do I." 
 
 " Edie, do you think she will have a dress for the 
 ball?" 
 
 " Oh yes, of course, dozens." 
 
 " Not if she has exhausted them all, you know." 
 
 " Well, if she has, there is plenty of time to get 
 another, or an old one could be refreshed. That 
 was why I mentioned it, and I will take care to say 
 more about it to-night. 
 
 "Edie, I suppose we must be in white to- 
 
 night." 
 
 " Why to-night ? The blue batistes will do very 
 well." 
 
 "You know Dick likes white, and he does not 
 care for bhie." 
 
 " Oh, Dick ! Yes, I suppose we must. I wonder 
 if Dick will be good to Nan." 
 
 "He will never notice her." 
 
 Nan comes down to the drawing-room a different 
 creature. The red nose has disappeared, and a pair 
 of shell-pink cheeks have come in its stead. 
 
 Edith looks at her cousin in wonder. Lady 
 Wyatt makes the kindest and most mimeaning 
 of speeches. Lord Wyatt follows suit, and then to
 
 NAN : A SUMMER SCENE. 87 
 
 Nan's amazement she discovers that the room is 
 full of people. 
 
 The girls had let her infer that they were alone. 
 They had spoken of people who were coming the 
 next day, but had never mentioned any being with 
 them at the time. Then who is tliis old gentle- 
 man in the comer, and his counterpart on the rug ? 
 Who is that on the sofa? Who followed her into 
 the room ? 
 
 Detty laughs at Nan, for these sort of people are 
 always there. '* We did not think of telling you," 
 she says. " We forgot them. We call ourselves 
 alone to-night." 
 
 From which Nan uifers that there are two ideas 
 of solitude. 
 
 After dinner the cousins go out of doors, and 
 grow confidential walking up and do%\Ti the gravel 
 paths. 
 
 Nan knows she has on her embroidered slijipers, 
 and would fain keep on the grass, but feels rather 
 ashamed of tliinking of such a thing, for there is 
 something about the Wyatts, simply attired as they 
 are, that shows they have never in their lives 
 thought about economy. 
 
 Edith, in her thin kid shoes, is at this moment 
 walking sedately along a pebbly path, discoursing 
 upon coming guests. 
 
 " First, Nan, there is Dick's friend. Lord Hefton. 
 He is younger than Dick, but they were at Christ
 
 88 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 Church together. He is the most good-natured 
 man, and never in time for anything. Everybody 
 likes him. Then there are the Bushes. Sir John is 
 just Sir John ; there is nothing about him the least 
 different from every other Sir John in England. 
 Lady Bushe is rather nice. She is very tall and 
 thin, and you think at first that she is going to be 
 a dreadfully precise person, and of all people in the 
 world, she is the very least. She does just what 
 Augusta tells her. Oh! I wonder how you will 
 like Augusta ! " 
 
 " Who is Augusta ? Their daughter ? " 
 " No ; niece. She is a very fine lady now. She 
 does not often condescend to come and see us ; but 
 she has overdone herself in London, and they are 
 coming for ten days to recruit. We used to know 
 them intimately, and always called her ' Gus ; ' but 
 now she does not like that. She says Augusta is 
 a heavenly name." 
 Nan laughs. 
 
 "But, you know, in many ways she is very 
 nice, and she is really very pretty, and she dresses 
 beautifully." 
 
 " But you don't care for her, Edie ? " 
 " Yes, I do — in a way. She is always very kind 
 to us, and gives us such lovely presents. Look, 
 this locket I have on she gave me on my last birth- 
 day. She is always sending Detty and me things 
 she has worked, or little sketches of places here-
 
 NAN : A SUMMER SCENE. 89 
 
 abouts — and she does draw so beautifully — and she 
 sings too. I daresay you will like her immensely." 
 
 " And who are the others ? " 
 
 " Mr Dallie is one, and Dick's friend, Mr Bumand." 
 
 The faintest possible change in Edith's voice 
 makes Nan wait for more. 
 
 " Mr Dallie is delightful." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 " He will do whatever you tell him, and you can 
 order him about just as you like. And he makes 
 bouquets, and gets up charades, and games, and 
 anything you want done. And he helps you so 
 with dull people, if it is a wet day. He is always 
 in request wherever he goes, for he can do every- 
 thing." 
 
 "And Mr Bumand?" 
 
 " Oh, he ! He can't do anything. He is a great 
 friend of Dick's." 
 
 " Is Dick coming with him ? " 
 
 " No ; Mr Bumand comes to-morrow — Dick will 
 be here to-night." 
 
 " Oho ! it's Mr Burnand, is it ? " swiftly concludes 
 the slirewd little cousin. " I wonder if I shordd be 
 asked to be a bridesmaid ! " 
 
 Unconscious Edith steps serenely on, and Detty 
 comes to call them indoors. 
 
 Music is wanted, and accordingly music, such as 
 it is, is given ; and then the sisters conduct their 
 visitor to a delightful solitude opening out of the
 
 90 TALES FEOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 gallery, where, if inclined, they are at liberty to 
 take refuge from the drawing-room society. 
 
 "And so we come here whenever they get too 
 humdrum," whispers naughty Detty ; " and when- 
 ever we have our own friends, they like it too. Mr 
 Burnand always comes, doesn't he, Edith ? " 
 
 Edie and Detty are getting charmed with their 
 cousin ; it seems as if they had really knowm her 
 for years, and only needed bringing together to 
 reveal all that past knowledge. 
 
 Time passes. ''I wonder when Dick will be 
 here," observes Edith, for the twentieth time. 
 
 " Perhaps he has gone off somewhere else, as he 
 did last time," suggests her sister. 
 
 " Of course he will come, Detty, when he has 
 asked Mr Burnand." 
 
 Detty smiles, Nan laughs outright. 
 
 " Oh," cried the poor thing, in dire confusion, 
 " how nice this recess is ! " 
 
 Very nice, but not in the least laughable ; and 
 Edith's cheeks burn. 
 
 ''How long is it since Dick was here last, Edith?" 
 
 This from Detty, in a good-natured attempt to 
 turn off the awkwardness. 
 
 "Why, does he not live here?" demands their 
 cousin. 
 
 Oh, dear, no. It appears that Dick is very seldom 
 there. He is in France, Italy, Germany, India, 
 Hongkong, anywhere and everywhere but at home.
 
 NAN : A SUMMER SCENE. 91 
 
 However, he is older now, and papa thinks he is 
 settling down. 
 
 Oh, he is a great deal older than they are — he is 
 over thirty. Isn't it a dreadful age? He hardly 
 seems like their brother at all. 
 
 It is clear to Nan that they are gi-eatly in awe of 
 Dick. She has suggested, do they ever go about 
 the world with him ? They are quite amused. How 
 could they? He does not want them; he would 
 not know what to do with them. Oh yes, he is as 
 kind as he can be, only he seems so much older. 
 
 Nan wall not like Dick, she feels sure. Why is 
 he coming home just when she is here? She 
 wishes he would keep away. He must be some- 
 thing quite different from soft spooney William 
 Church, who was always so polite, escorting them 
 all from place to place, and taking as much interest 
 in his mother's parties as she did herself. 
 
 She did not very much care for William, but his 
 kindness had won her gratitiide. 
 
 As for this Dick, she is afraid of him, and knows 
 he will despise her. 
 
 The sisters, too, defer to his opinion quite ab- 
 surdly. 
 
 Dick's likings, Dick's aversions, Dick's friends, 
 and Dick's fancies, are the main topic of their 
 conversation. 
 
 They are glad that her dress is white. Dick likes 
 white.
 
 92 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 How pretty her locket is ! Dick likes pearls. 
 
 Bother Dick ! 
 
 It is getting late now, and the carriage has been 
 gone to the station over an hour. 
 
 Out comes Lord Wyatt, and looks from the 
 window. 
 
 *' Dick ought to be here." 
 
 Five minutes pass. Out toddles Lady Wyatt. 
 
 " Dick ought to be here." 
 
 Up comes the butler. 
 
 " Mr Wyatt should be here, my lord." 
 
 '' Here he is ! " cries my lord, and rushes to the 
 hall door. 
 
 Nan rises involuntarily. 
 
 " Oh, he will come to us," observes Edith, draw- 
 ing up her long neck, and looking quite shy. 
 
 Detty glances at herself in the mirror, and tucks 
 in a stray lock of hair. 
 
 Voices are heard in the anteroom, and steps 
 drawing nearer. 
 
 Lady Wyatt rustles forward and clasps to her 
 bosom a breadth of smoked shooting-cloth, exclaim- 
 ing, " My dearest Dick ! " 
 
 " I'm wet, mother ; take care." 
 
 Dick is cool, but kind. 
 
 " Wet, my dear boy ? So you are. How did you 
 get wet in the can-iage ?" 
 
 '' I came outside. There has been a shower." 
 
 Then Dick comes up to the girls, who are de-
 
 NAN : A SUMMER SCENE. 93 
 
 miirely kissed by him, and finally he says to his 
 cousin, " How do you do ? " in a polite, quiet voice. 
 
 Nan is sui-prised, pleased, and disappointed all 
 at once. 
 
 This is no hero, to be sure ; no elegant, accom- 
 plished, travelled, soul-charming youth, such as she 
 had been led to expect ; but, on the other hand, 
 there is nothing of the sneering, despising, haw-haw 
 deity about her cousin. 
 
 " So this is Dick," she reflects. '* Wlaat an ugly 
 fellow ! " 
 
 Dick's hair is a coarse rusty black, cut close to 
 his head. He has a red rough skin, a burnt neck, 
 no particular eyes, and a nose that has run off the 
 rails altogether. 
 
 But, on the other hand, he has a good, set, de- 
 termined mouth, and the sweetest smile ever seen. 
 
 Wlien Mr Burnand comes. Nan sees a really 
 handsome man, but they have not been two days 
 in the house before she discovers that she likes 
 ugly faces best. 
 
 Wliat is there about Dick that makes people like 
 him? 
 
 He seldom comes near his sisters, who are stiff 
 and stupid in his presence, and adore him from 
 afar. 
 
 Yet when he does come — ah, well, it is the old 
 thing over again with our poor little Nan. 
 
 Edith drives her in the pony-carriage ; but the
 
 94 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 thoughts of both are elsewhere. She and Detty 
 play croquet, and Detty wins every game. 
 Then there is this Augusta. 
 
 Miss Bushe is, as Edith said, a very fine lady, 
 but Nan declines to be put down by her, for all 
 that; and what is more, Augusta in her secret 
 heart is jealous of the bright, popular, merry- 
 hearted girl. 
 
 All Nan's regrets, and remembrances of Queen's 
 Gate, are blotted out now. 
 
 The present week, day, hour, is everything. 
 Laura Church's letter, with the long accounts of 
 gaieties for which Nan had begged, and which it 
 had really cost an effort of good-nature to write 
 — that very letter lies half read in her drawer. 
 Some day she will wade through it, — not now. 
 
 Dick was talking to her when the post came in, 
 and the letter drove him away, you see. She has 
 a spite against it. 
 
 Not a word, look, nor outward sign of mischief 
 done, does the tough little creature give. Dis- 
 graced she may be in her own eyes, but it is 
 something to know that she is unsuspected. Her 
 secret is her own. Hide it, cover it up, bury it 
 well, little girl ; other hearts than yours have done 
 the like in their day. 
 
 Dick is not behaving well, however. It is not 
 for nothing that those grey wistful eyes watch the 
 empty chairs at the breakfast or the luncheon table.
 
 NAN : A SUMMER SCENE. 95 
 
 Several times he has gone over to sit beside her, 
 whether intentionally or not she cannot guess ; but 
 they talk together, all the time, and she is quite at 
 her ease with him. 
 
 This says nothing, of course ; but Dick has no 
 need to follow them out afterwards, and walk up 
 and down with his cousin, till he makes her late 
 for their drive, and di'aws forth a remark on it 
 from Augusta Bushe. 
 
 And then that delightful long Sunday evening, 
 when he sat with them all in the recess talking 
 over old times, and retailing childish stories, which 
 Edith and Detty had forgotten. He is by Nan's 
 side, so perhaps that is why he speaks principally 
 to her. Next morning he goes away to the other 
 end of the breakfast-table, and never utters a word. 
 
 To his own friends he is devoted. They go 
 about together all day long, four neutral - tinted 
 figures. 
 
 Now and then little Lord Hefton condescends to 
 lie on the croquet-ground in the heat of the day, 
 and Pax Burnand contrives to slip in to the school- 
 room tea afterwards ; but Dick, if he comes at all, 
 takes his cup standing, and then goes off, perchance 
 to romp with his little sisters. 
 
 He does this one day at least, and it is on tlie 
 only day that Nan had been let off. She is very 
 good to the little ones, who torment her sadly, and 
 all unconsciously. For who so good as Nan at all
 
 96 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 their games, and who can tell them wild and wonder- 
 ful tales like hers? That very morning, she had 
 spent an hour in blowing paper ladies across the 
 table for Flo. Dick had come in, and for a few 
 seconds she fondly hoped he meant to stay ; but 
 he only looked, laughed, and lounged out again. 
 
 Then what follows this very evening? 
 
 He comes out to Nan, who is sitting lonely and 
 forlorn in the recess, brings his photograph book, 
 and shows her the whole collection. 
 
 Nan finds them charming, and Dick is pleased to 
 explain to such an enthusiastic listener. He has 
 some more up-stairs, and goes in search of them. 
 
 While he is away, Augusta comes out. 
 
 Of course. Miss Bushe would like to see the 
 Ijeautifal photographs. Mr Wyatt accordingly 
 hands her the book they have just gone through, 
 and proceeds to show Nan the new ones. 
 
 This is too much, and not at all what the intruder 
 bargained for. 
 
 She looks at two, and flounces back into the 
 drawing-room. 
 
 It gets too dark to see, so Dick promises to keep 
 the rest for to-morrow. He and Nan are talking- 
 together, with one lying on her lap. 
 
 By-and-by the drawing-room door opens, and a 
 shower of people emerge. They are going out of 
 doors to get cool. " But we shan't interrupt you," 
 observes a voice, whose sweet accents cover a sting.
 
 NAN : A SUMMER SCENE. 07 
 
 Miss Bu.sho always speaks most mellifluously when 
 she lias something disagreeable to say. 
 
 She passes on with the rest in search of shawls, 
 and Nan rises to follow. 
 
 "You don't need one," says Dick, "come out 
 this way ; " and he opens the side door, and Nan 
 finds herself walking off alone with him. 
 
 They only went along the river path, you 
 know, and came back by the cedars ; they had no 
 idea where the others had gone, how should they 
 have ? 
 
 It is too bad of Dick. 
 
 All that night the child thinks or dreams of 
 liim. She cannot forget the look he gave her for 
 *' Good-night," nor help wondering if it meant any- 
 thing like Edith's audible murmur, "How pretty 
 Nan looks to-night." 
 
 Tossing up and do^^Tl, over and over, in the short, 
 light, midsummer night that follows, these words 
 ding-dong in her ears. 
 
 . She does not wonder at the sisters now, for what 
 Dick thinks is still more to her than to them. 
 
 Recklessly she puts on her best dresses, anxioiasly 
 she stares in the glass. 
 
 Nothing much to boast of, the morning after that 
 dusky ramble. Large bright eyes, and cheeks burn- 
 ing with a feverish flush, — these are what she sees, 
 but what of that? They cannot betray her; and 
 very, very quietly the slight graceful figure glides 
 
 S.?. — I. G
 
 98 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 ill, and very, very circumspect is Nan in lier ques- 
 tions and answers tliat morning. 
 
 It is one of the hottest days in the year, and 
 she is in white, with a rose in her bosom. 
 
 Dick looks at it, walks over, and sits down be- 
 side her. 
 
 It is so hot that the expedition to the ruins has 
 been nearly given up, and would have been so, 
 without doubt, if the Dents had not agreed to be 
 there. 
 
 • The Dents will drive, the Wyatts will row up the 
 river. 
 
 Nan held her breath while the discussion was 
 being held, she was so fearful lest Lady Wyatt 
 should carry her point. 
 
 Lady Wyatt thinks the girls will tire themselves 
 out, and that the picnic is a foolish affair. 
 
 But Nan thinks otherwise ; and accordingly the 
 extravagant little creature goes in her white frock, 
 and gets it all dirty and trodden upon, and does not 
 care in the least — or rather rejoices in her ruins — 
 since Dick takes out his own breast-pin and fastens 
 up the folds himself. 
 
 A fine hole that pin will make, but she is reckless. 
 
 It is a happy day. 
 
 Dick is lazy and refuses to row ; so little Lord 
 Hefton and the amphibiously accomplished Dallie, 
 assisted by one of the nondescripts, and a gardener's 
 lad, do the work.
 
 NAN : A SUMMEU SCENE. 99 
 
 Dick steers and lies baclc, asking Nan to hold lier 
 parasol over his sunburned face. " The sun," ho 
 says, " is in his eyes." 
 
 Nan allows him all she can, but is a little anxious 
 about freckles herself. Miss Buslie volunteers the 
 shelter of her largo sunshade. 
 
 " No, thanks," says Dick ; " this will do." 
 
 Pax Burnand has gone off in the small boat with 
 the eldest Miss Wyatt ; and from the schoolroom 
 window Miss Blisset watched their departure, com- 
 muning with herself as to all it would lead to. 
 Edith fills her thoughts ; she has no eyes for Nan ; 
 and well for Nan that she has not. 
 
 In the big boat they are very merry. 
 
 Augusta favours them with her celebrated river 
 song, to which Mr Dallie throws in a neat second. 
 
 It sounds charming on the water, as music always 
 does, and Miss Bushe is much applauded. At 
 the close she addresses her neighbour, politely, 
 " Don't you sing at all, Miss Church ? " 
 
 Nan starts, and blushes furiously. "VNlicre have 
 her thoughts been wandering ? Dick looks at her, 
 and smiles. He has got into a way of looking at 
 Nan and smiling, lately. Perhaps he is beginning 
 to like her. 
 
 "Pray, Miss Bushe, give us another," implores 
 little Hefton ; " that last one was so awfully jolly ! " 
 N.B. — He takes the opportunity of letting his oar dip 
 impotentl.y in the water in exact time with the rest.
 
 100 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 Dallie continues to sing and row lustily. 
 
 He is determined not to seem as if, wlien singing, 
 lie is unable to row, or wlien rowing, he cannot 
 sing. Little Hefton, behind his back, is grinning 
 from ear to ear ; while Dick pulls the strings, and 
 keeps the boat even, conniving at his iniquity with- 
 out a twinge of conscience. 
 
 When they land, Dallie is rather puffed ; but, 
 true to himself, he is the fii'st to jump ashore, and 
 has a hand for every lady and a caution for every 
 pretty one. 
 
 " Don't get out yet. Nan," says Dick. " I'll take 
 you over for those forget-me-nots wliile they are 
 getting luncheon." 
 
 So he takes her over among the little creeks and 
 islets which crowd the opposite bank ; and the 
 Dents, who have been on the spot for some time, 
 and are busily making preparations, are a little 
 disgusted at the coolness of Mr Wyatt 
 
 It had been alleged that Dick had come down for 
 their ball on the morrow, — that ball of which Edith 
 liad told her cousin. 
 
 Dick is not a ball-going man, and the Dents had 
 taken it as a compliment. 
 
 Who is that with him in the boat? And is slio 
 coming to the ball ? 
 
 Yes, Edith assures them of that. Their coiisin 
 has the offer of an escort back to Westmoreland 
 on Friday, but she is to be at the ball.
 
 NAN: A SUMMER SCENE. 10 1 
 
 Miss Dent woulJ as soon that the escort luul 
 been for Thursday. The two voices on the river 
 Bound pleasantly together. 
 
 Are they never coming back ? 
 
 Luncheon is waiting, and Dallie volunteers to 
 roar a summons, putting his hands together as a 
 trumpet. 
 
 He does it once, twice, thrice, thinking he never 
 had such difficulty in maldng people hear in his life. 
 They are at no distance to speak of, yet ho has to 
 use the whole power of his lungs before they givo 
 any sign of attention whatever. 
 
 A happy thought strikes little Hefton. 
 
 Just as Nan is stepping off the ledge into the 
 boat, a large stone splashes into the water a couple 
 of yards from her. 
 
 " Oh, I say ! " ejaculates Hefton, catching his 
 breath, " that was rather a close shave ! " 
 
 Nan is easily startled. She loses her balance, 
 and would infillibly fall into the water if Dick had 
 not hold of her hand. 
 
 He hauls her ungracefully into the boat, and then 
 turns upon his friend, black with wrath. 
 
 Nan says not a word, but looks pale, and as Dick 
 catches sight of her face, he stops short in his scold- 
 ing, and bends over her. " You were not frightened. 
 Nan?" 
 
 " Oh, no." 
 
 " It was one of that Hefton s baby tricks. He is
 
 102 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 the greatest fool ! " explains Dick, who in his heart 
 loves Hefton a thousand times more than Pax 
 Burnancl, Dallie, or any one of his other mates, 
 whatever his sisters may say. 
 
 " Awfally sorry ! " in a violent halloo fi:om the 
 other side. 
 
 " Ought to be." Low growl in the boat. 
 
 Hefton is at the landing-place to help Nan out. 
 He had no need to be there, considers the oars- 
 man, and accordingly Dick turns the boat up the 
 stream, and keeps him marching by the side for a 
 couple of hundred yards. Nan's blue forget-me-nots 
 drip on her white frock, and she knows it is bunched 
 up behind with Dick's breast-pin in a most inelegant 
 fashion, but she is quite happy. 
 
 At luncheon she sits a little in the background. 
 
 Dick is obliged to take the host's part, and un- 
 willingly exerts himself, so far as to order Dallie 
 hither and thither, to wonder at Burnand, and scoff 
 at Hefton. Dallie flies round the circle, proud and 
 glad to be the universal slave. Not a single thing 
 will he touch, till all have fared sumptuously, and 
 no one thinks of offering him a seat. 
 
 Little Hefton sits down upon a tray of glasses, 
 and Dick's grave face explodes in a huge laugh. 
 
 There is a great drawing of corks, and changing 
 of plates, and clatter and fuss, and no one notices 
 that two or three of the party are very quiet. 
 
 "Wo hardly expected to see you at our ball,
 
 NAN : A SUMMER SCENi:. 103 
 
 Kicliard," says old Mrs Dent, sliiuing willi good- 
 nature and champagne. " We feel honoured." 
 
 Dick hands her cake. 
 
 " You never were a dancer, we know," says she. 
 
 Nan's face falls. Not dance with Dick ! Then 
 she might just as well be back in Westmoreland, — 
 at any rate, be as well away from the ball. 
 
 Dick tacitly acquiesces. 
 
 " You don't want dancers, Mrs Dent." 
 
 " We shall be glad to see you, at all events." 
 
 " Thanks." 
 
 " We have been in such trouble about the tent," 
 Miss Dent privately informs the girls. " It gave 
 way twice, and we did not dare to let mamma 
 know. If any of you are nervous people, you had 
 better not go into it." 
 
 None of them are nervous, but nevertheless there 
 is an inquiry as to where the dancing is to be ? 
 
 " In the saloon. We thought it best, you laiow, 
 in case of accidents. Supper will be in the tent, 
 now ; and we have got mamma to let it be open at 
 eleven, as it will be such a charming place for 
 people to go out and in, and get cool in between 
 the dances. Papa has had lights hung in the 
 shrubbery, so you can meander there as much as 
 you like, my dear." This aside to Edith. 
 
 " Mr Wyatt," says Augusta, softly, " would you 
 mind giving me out my shawl ? I think the grass 
 may be a little damp."
 
 101 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 Tho ground is as hard as a flint ; but wliat tlien ? 
 One must have some excuse. 
 
 Dick spreads the shawl. 
 
 " And now sit down for a minute yourself, and 
 tell me about your mother," suggests Mrs Dent, 
 good-naturedly, fanning herself. " Here, between 
 Miss Bushe and me. We will take care of you." 
 
 Dick sits down. 
 
 Wliat is to be done next ? He hates this sort of 
 thing. He has no idea what is expected of him. 
 So follows a quarter of an hour's dreary conversa- 
 tion, questions and answers. 
 
 Little Hefton has lit his cigar and moved off. 
 Dick looks, longs, and bolts after him. 
 
 Burnand, Dallie, and young Dent entertain the 
 girls, and Nan's blue forget-me-nots fade and droop 
 in her lap. 
 
 Young Dent attaches himself to the second 
 Miss Wyatt — for he is still at Oxford, and must 
 have somebody. He has a great deal to say 
 about Walter, and is very full of cricket and 
 Scotland, whither he is going to read and fish in 
 the autumn. 
 
 He assures them all repeatedly that Walter will 
 bo down for the ball — an interesting fact, no doubt, 
 but easily apprehended. Walter loves balls as 
 much as his brother hates them. 
 
 There are fellows coming with him, too, Edwin 
 says, and he describes the fellows at some length.
 
 NAN : A SUMJMEU SCENE. 105 
 
 ovit-lently feeling tliat the ball has been got up 
 Bl)ecially for their editicatiou. 
 
 Edith is very gushing, and is sure that every- 
 body will enjoy themselves immensely. Dotty 
 thinks Edwin Dent improved, and responds men-ily 
 to his rattle ; but poor Augusta and Georgio Dent, 
 both rather forlorn and cross, have only each other 
 to fall back upon, when the brisk Dallie has de- 
 parted to overlook arrangements. 
 
 Augusta admires the other young lady's costume ; 
 and what is Georgie going to wear at the ball ? 
 
 " Pink." 
 
 " Oh, pink ! An3i;hing else ? " 
 
 " Well, half-a-dozen shades, but still all pink." 
 
 "And you look so well in pink!" cries Miss 
 Euslie. 
 
 " You do, at all events, dear. What do you wear ?" 
 
 " Eeally, I hardly know. I have several pretty 
 things. Elise sent me a lovely combination last 
 week ; but it is almost too fine for me, with my 
 simple tastes. I can't bear to be over-dressed." 
 
 " Oh, do wear it — there's a good girl. I don't 
 believe it is a bit too fine. Make yourself as charm- 
 ing as you can ; I like to see people look nice." 
 
 Then Miss Dent draws closer. "Wlio is that 
 girl with the Wyatts?" 
 
 " Hush ! Take care ! A cousin." 
 
 "On which side?" 
 
 " Mother— Lord Wyatt's sister."
 
 lOG TALES FiiOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 " Oh ! " 
 
 A pause. 
 
 "Does she often come here? I never met her 
 before." 
 
 " No. This is her first appearance," (Lower.) 
 " A nasty little thing ! " 
 
 Uproarious mirth from Edwin and Detty. 
 
 They have got foxgloves, and are cracking them 
 for each other, telling their fortunes. 
 
 Pax Burnand goes over to Edith with a stalk, 
 but nobody thinks of telling Nan's, though she is 
 sitting silent, with her heart aching to know it. 
 
 At length the day grows cooler, and the recreants 
 return. 
 
 Georgie Dent and Augusta are not quite such 
 friends as before. 
 
 There are anxious thoughts in the breasts of 
 several about the manner of their return home ; for 
 the Dents have brought their barouche, and as their 
 homeward road passes Wyatt Hall, it is agreed that 
 the two parties shall intermingle, and some who 
 drove before will return in the boat. 
 
 Who, then, are to fill their places ? 
 
 The elders are already seating themselves within 
 the ample comfortable front seat, Mrs Dent taking 
 more than her share. Lady Bushe less. 
 
 Sir John offers the opposite side all round, and 
 finally gets in himself 
 
 A small Dent is sadly forced in beside him. The
 
 NAN : A SUMMER SCENE. 1C7 
 
 poor child had come in the dickey behind with 
 Edwin, but no such luck is in store for her going 
 back. 
 
 Edwin is oflf to the river, and two of the Wyatt 
 satellites have filled the dickey. 
 
 No, one has dismounted again, preferring the 
 seat beside the coachman ; for there is more room 
 there, and he is fat. 
 
 There is still a seat to dispose of. 
 
 " Any of you like to drive ? " It is Dick who is 
 speaking. 
 
 A A\Tetched silence. 
 
 " Perhaps Miss Clmrcli " It is Augusta Busho 
 
 who looks round with the proposal. 
 
 Nan's grey eyes flash. 
 
 Yes, she will go. She steps hurriedly forward. 
 
 Oh, dear ! How she had been looking forward to 
 that homeward row all through the long afternoon ! 
 
 '* You don't like it," says Dick. 
 
 " Oh, I don't mind. I can go very well." 
 
 " There is no need. All right, Parker. There's 
 lots of room in the boat." 
 
 "Oh, we are not all going in that one boat!" 
 screams Miss Georgie. 
 
 " Dear mo ! / should have gone if I had thougiit 
 no one else wished it," announces Augusta. 
 
 "You don't mean to say that you are going to 
 pack us all into that one boat ! " from one of the 
 old gentlemen.
 
 108 TALES FKOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 " What a lark ! " from Edwin. 
 
 Nan forms a swift resolution. 
 
 "I am going to walk," she says. "It is only 
 four miles by the lanes, and I have often walked 
 farther than that at home." 
 
 Everybody stares. 
 
 " A good idea," says Dick. " Some of us can 
 walk, at anyrate. Come along, Eddy." 
 
 But Eddy positively declines to come along. Ho 
 is not out on a holiday for that. His flirtation witli 
 Detty is in full tide, and he has no idea of having it 
 cut short in this way. 
 
 Besides, the fuller the boat, the better the fun. 
 They will be hours getting home. 
 
 Dick argues with him, and sneers at him; but 
 has to give it up, and try Hefton. 
 
 Hefton would come, but has hurt his foot. 
 Would really like the walk, &c. &g., but clearly 
 does not intend to take it. 
 
 Every one knows that Hefton is the laziest little 
 creature under the sun, so no one thinks of being 
 angry with him. 
 
 Nan desperately appeals to the old gentleman 
 who had expressed disapproval of their all being 
 packed into one boat. 
 
 She feels as if, somehow or other, all this commo- 
 tion is owing to some fault of hers. Augusta looks 
 as if she thought so, certainly. 
 
 The old gentleman is quite a friend of Nan's.
 
 NAN : A SUMMER SCENE. 109 
 
 TTo was one of those in tlio lioiise when she camo, 
 and she has often preferred talking -with him to 
 strangers ; sometimes she has even, innocently 
 enough, made a cat's paw of him. Surely he will 
 stand her friend now. lie is a retired Colonel of the 
 Line, and she thinks ought to be able to march if 
 lie can do anything. Nan, you see, is not learned. 
 
 Will ho walk with her ? 
 
 The Colonel brightens up, and thinks he would 
 rather like it. 
 
 Every one brightens, and Augusta looks almost 
 gracious. 
 
 Dick puts the strings into Miss Dent's hands, who 
 cheerfully accepts them. She presumes he will row. 
 
 But what is this ? They are off, and he is not in ? 
 
 "Are you not coming?" cries Hefton, with a 
 rueful visage. Ho is in front of Dallie now, and 
 has no chance of a holiday, unless Dick is there to 
 take his oar. 
 
 " I am going to walk," says Dick. 
 
 The boat is off, and he walks after Nan and the 
 Colonel. 
 
 Nan and the Colonel are out of sight of the river 
 before they know that they have a follower. 
 
 Nan is too proud to look back. Slio pictures tlio 
 party gaily floating ofT, Augusta, perchance, in hrr 
 old place, Dick comfortable, indifferent, and thinking 
 no more of her? Why should she think of him? 
 
 Accordingly she is laughing and talking merrily
 
 110 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD," 
 
 to the Colonel, as long as the boat is in sight, and 
 to all appearance they are making game of the 
 weary trudge before them. There is no sign 
 of flagging conrage in either. Suddenly comes 
 " Halloo ! " from behind, the river party being 
 well out of sight. 
 
 There is Dick, walking rather fast, but cool as 
 ever. 
 
 The dear old Colonel ! He instantly proposes 
 waiting for him, while his little companion says 
 not a word ; but her eyes are shining, and the walk 
 has changed its whole aspect. 
 
 Dick comes up on her other side, while the Col- 
 onel apologises for their hasty departure. " We 
 had no idea you were coming, my dear fellow." 
 
 Dick takes the forget-me-nots out of his cousin's 
 hand, and expresses approval of her conduct. 
 
 " It was a brave idea, Nan. After all, the walk 
 will be far pleasanter. They are a noisy set." 
 
 " I like to see a young lady step out like that ! " 
 observes the Colonel, energetically. '' What is to 
 become of our girls I, for one, cannot imagine. 
 They never do anything but drive, drive, drive, or 
 dance, dance, dance ; then when the ice comes they 
 wonder how a single day's skating knocks them up. 
 There's nothing like walking for health, happiness, 
 and — beauty," says the old gentleman, with old- 
 fashioned straightforwardness, and a glance at the 
 colour in the fair maid's cheeks beside him.
 
 NAN: A SUMMER SCENE. Ill 
 
 Dick looks round too, and smiles, trying to catch 
 licr eye ; but Nan gazes fixedly along the lane, and 
 80 ho has to speak to her, ere she will turn her 
 head. 
 
 " AVhat do you think about it, Nan ? " 
 
 "Oh, nothing. I — I don't know many girls," 
 replies she. "■ Look, there they are ! There thoy 
 are, in the boat. How pretty it looks at that 
 distance ! " 
 
 " A great deal prettier in the distance than near 
 at hand," observes the old gentleman, with cheerful 
 malice ; and perhaps the others agree in their hearts. 
 
 What a delightful old gentleman ho is, to be 
 sure ! He always does the very thing ho is 
 wanted to do, and never makes an ill-timed 
 BUjc^restion. 
 
 Dick sees honeysuckle in the hedges, and they 
 wait whilst he tears it do-oTi. 
 
 Ho finds a robin's nest. Finally ho remembers 
 that there are strawberries on a bank close by, 
 and Nan must come and get some. 
 
 The Colonel thinks he will sit quietly on the stile 
 tiU they return. There is no hurry. Oh, dear no ! 
 It is quite early. 
 
 In consequence the pair are away fully half-au- 
 hour, and all the largest berries have been saved 
 for him. 
 
 They will be late for dinner, of course. 
 
 One does not post along the roads in pleasant
 
 112 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 company ; nor can people be expected to be homo 
 to a minute who go poking about banks for straw- 
 berries, and have to sit down and rest by the way- 
 side every now and then. 
 
 Dick insists upon these rests. He is in high 
 feather, and talks so much and so well that Nan 
 wonders how she ever thought him silent. 
 
 The old gentleman listens and laughs good- 
 humouredly. Very likely, innocent as he looks, 
 he has a suspicion that he is playing gooseberry ; 
 there is no trusting these mild, absent people, they 
 arc often very wide awake indeed, and if you happen 
 to notice one of them plunged in the deepest ab- 
 straction, and happen at the same time to be desirous 
 of saying or doing some of your own business 
 unobserved, let me give you this hint — Dorit. 
 
 But Dick and Nan are not thinking of this. 
 
 Dick sits at his cousin's feet and examines the 
 hole he has made in her dress ; for the folds have 
 given way, and altogether it has come to a sad end. 
 
 Shall he fasten it up again? She thinks not. 
 Ho informs her that it will need to go to the 
 wash, with other general hints. Nan tells him 
 pleasantly that he knows nothing about it. 
 
 Wliither are all her fears of Dick flown ? She 
 finds herself talking to him as if she had known 
 him all her life. 
 
 And he is listening to her, too, earnestly, and 
 with a strange gravity upon his face, for she is
 
 NAN: A SUMMEU SCENE. 113 
 
 tolling tliom all about her life, — her curious sinvplo 
 life in the old manor-house among the hills. 
 
 Only her old grandmother with her ! And Granny 
 is eighty-five ! What then ? Yet Nan prattles on 
 as sweetly and fearlessly as a child. 
 
 Dick does not care to move — is careless about 
 dinner. 
 
 Thinks they have done eating enough for ono 
 day. 
 
 Is it not only now beginning to get bearable out- 
 of-doors ? 
 
 This picnic was the maddest escapade that ever 
 was, and they really can't be expected to cut short 
 the only pleasant part of it. 
 
 Pai-t of this is for his two acquiescmg partners ; 
 part, with more in the same strain, is issued at the 
 head of the unoffending Detty, who, arrayed for 
 the evening, crosses the hall as the trio trudge 
 in. 
 
 Detty has said nothing to call forth such a tirade. 
 She is gentle and smiling as ever, and only pauses 
 to assure them that they may yet be in moderate 
 time, as dinner has been postponed. 
 
 " We were so late ourselves, and then we could 
 not get the Dents off. Are you not very tired, 
 Nan dear ? It was so good of you to think of it ; 
 and as for that Augusta, the way she went on 
 
 coming home " Drawing-room door opens. 
 
 " Be quick '.—there's a good girl" Exit Detty. 
 
 S.S. — I. II
 
 114 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 Nan comes down towards the middle of dinner, 
 and finds herself far away from Dick. 
 
 The kind hostess calls down the table to reproach 
 her for foolhardiness, while a special glass of wine 
 is despatched immediately. 
 
 Every one asks if she is tired. 
 
 She docs not look tired, but sits very still ; talk- 
 ing to any one but Dick is an effort. 
 
 Her limbs ache, too, and the soft dining-room 
 chair yields a delicious sense of repose. 
 
 She cannot go out with the others after dinner, 
 yet dares not inhabit the recess by herself. So 
 she takes a stool inside the bow-window, which is 
 open down to the ground, and by-and-by four black 
 figures jump out of a far-off casement, and come 
 along the terrace. 
 
 They are all lighting cigars. 
 
 Hefton proposes the shrubbery, but Dick has had 
 enough walking, or says so, and seats himself out- 
 side Nan's window-sill. 
 
 Happy, hoped-for moment ! 
 
 He is not now in a tallying vein, and neither is she. 
 
 Assured of her not disliking it, he pufis away, 
 leaning his head against the stone mullion, and 
 looking down on the little figure inside. 
 
 She rests her cheek on her hand, doing nothing, 
 and Dick thinks her a perfect picture of repose. 
 
 Presently comes his mother's voice, making his 
 picture start, and turn her head.
 
 NAX : A SUMMER SCENE. 115 
 
 "Nan, my tlear, are you iuclinecl to give ns a 
 little music ? " 
 
 " Don't go," says Dick. 
 
 " I cannot refuse." 
 
 " Get some of the others to-niglit, mother. Nan 
 lias had a tremendous walk." 
 
 " My dear child, I had quite forgotten. Of course 
 you must not tliinJc of moving. Poor dear ! Can 
 you not find a more comfortable chair ? Come, lie 
 do\Mi on this sofa. No one will notice. Poor 
 thing ! " 
 
 Nan moves irresolutely. 
 
 It is hard on her, but she must, unless she would 
 have it thought — have it suspected — what she would 
 not for worlds and worlds. 
 
 Dick saves her again. 
 
 " How can you sit stufiSng in that hot room, 
 mother? It ought to make you faint. Nan had 
 much better stay where she is. Don't you go, Nan. 
 You'll hear the nightingales directly." 
 
 Nan never hears nightingales in the north. Pei-- 
 haps her pleasure in them is a little enhanced by 
 circumstances in the present instance, but it must 
 be genuine, for immediately the others come up, 
 Detty accosts her with '' Oh, Nan, I am so glad you 
 are here ! I was afraid you were missing the night- 
 ingales. If yoii can come down to the wood you 
 will see glow-worms too. They are just beginning 
 to peep out. Don't come if you would rather not."
 
 ]IQ TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 " Oh yes, come," says Dick. Apparently lie docs 
 not object to her moving now. 
 
 The others are all standing round upon the ter- 
 race, and Miss Buslie looks sarcastic. 
 
 " I suppose Miss Church is not tired now,^^ says 
 she. Softly as the words are spoken, Miss Clmrch 
 understands. Her conscience is not clear. She 
 falters. "Perhaps to-morrow night." 
 
 *' To-morrow night we shall all be dancing, my 
 dear ; but never mind, you look far too comfortable 
 to stir." 
 
 This from Detty. Nan says no more, afraid alike 
 of friend and foe. 
 
 The girls sit down, and the two new-comers who 
 have spared one day from town for the country 
 gaiety are very lively. 
 
 They arrived a few hours ago, and find the 
 country superlatively charming — for the day. 
 Xevertheless they work hard in their endeavours 
 to induce Edie and Detty Wyatt to quit it. There 
 are still a few weeks of the season remaining, why 
 should they not run up for that time ? 
 
 Miss Bushe combats the idea. Why should they ? 
 For her part she is tired of the racket and flurry of 
 London life, and finds a rational existence much 
 more to her mind. 
 
 The Ladies Ann and Harriot stare. Such senti- 
 ments from Augusta Bushe are something new. Of 
 Edith they quite approve. Mr Burnand is undoubt-
 
 NAN: A SUMMEK SCENE. 117 
 
 oilly a good pa/-//. Miss Church is an elegant girl, 
 and tliey rather admire lier yellow-red hair. 
 
 Altogether, it is refreshing to bo among a new 
 net of people, and a good night's rest is what they 
 have not liad since Easter. 
 
 Will Nan have a good night's rest ? 
 
 Dick took her to sec tlio glow-worms after all ; 
 and this was how he did it. 
 
 Augusta goes to sing, and the other young ladies 
 are delicate ; so Edith escorts them indoors, and sud- 
 denly Dick slips off his seat. 
 
 " Come, Detty, I'll take you and Nan down to tlio 
 bridge now." 
 
 Detty is charmed to bo asked by her brother. 
 Nan deliberates. Dick looks at her, and smiles 
 in that way of his. She rises, and he draws her 
 tlirough the window. "Wlien Augusta has finished 
 her song, she finds that her audience is sadly 
 diminished. 
 
 Nan comes in with a flushed face and shining 
 eyes. Glow-worms ? Oh yes, plenty. There is no 
 dew fallen and their feet are quite dry. 
 
 Lady Wyatt orders them all off to bed. Every- 
 body is to sleep as long as they can, and be as fresh 
 as possible for the ball. 
 
 The Ladies Ann and Harriet are faintly amused. 
 Ball after ball they go to, as regularly as the nights 
 come round, and such precautions are strange in 
 their eyes.
 
 118 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 Dick is talking of billiards ; Dallio has flown 
 to light everybody's candle ; and Pax Burnand is 
 making himself agreeable to Edith's papa. 
 
 Soon the house is quiet, and Nan could wish that 
 the nightingales were silent too. 
 
 She must sleep with open windows ; and through 
 them the loud, melodious, juggling trill comes almost 
 too continuously. Her blue forget-me-nots are in 
 water on the wash-hand-stand, a piece of honey- 
 suckle crammed in beside them. It was this Dick 
 gave her, Avhen he said that about his afternoon's 
 amusement which is not worth repeating. 
 
 The night grows hotter instead of cooler. A low 
 growl is heard in the distance. A swift flash sweeps 
 into the room. 
 
 Nan, in an agony of terror, rushes along the pas- 
 sage to be beside her cousins ; and the three huddle 
 together in one bed, hiding their faces, and scarce 
 uttering a syllable, while the thunderstorm rages 
 overhead. 
 
 Presently comes their father's voice at the door, 
 a ghostly sound. " Are you all right, girls ? " 
 
 " Yes, papa." 
 
 " Go in and see what your cousin is about, then : 
 I cannot make her hear." 
 
 Laughter from within. "■ She is here, papa. We 
 are all here. Is it going off?" 
 
 "Going off? Oh dear, yes ! The last was fully ten 
 miles distant. Good-night. Your mother wanted to
 
 NAN : A SUMMER SCENE, 1 1 
 
 bo sure tliat you were all safe and sound. I liavo 
 been round the rooms." 
 
 Tlieir fears abated, grumbles begin. The grass 
 will be wet for the next evening, wet for the ball. 
 Potty was wakened from her first good sleep. Nan 
 is sure she will not sleep all night. 
 
 A gentle patter succeeds the rush of rain on the 
 window-panes, and Nan at length departs, shuts her 
 own window, and congratulates herself that at all 
 events those dreadful birds are silent at last. Tlio 
 room is cool, bed is comfortable, she says a little 
 prayer, and slumbers off, waking to wonder how 
 it had been possible for her to sleep so soundly and 
 so long. 
 
 This day is Nan's last at Wyatt Hall. Queen's 
 Gate has faded into the dimmest and most insipid 
 of backgrounds, and the old life in Westmoreland 
 is gone for ever. One way or other, all will be 
 changed for her when she returns thither. 
 
 The cousins cease not to lament her going. 
 Miss Bushe is very cold and disdainful, and sweeps 
 past in her dainty millinery with the slightest pos- 
 sible " Good morning." 
 
 Augusta is looking very well in a fresh mauve 
 muslin, while poor extravagant Nan has exhatistcd 
 her last respectable dress, and is reduced to a shabby 
 makeshift. 
 
 She heeds it not, but has her eyes on the floor, 
 her ears in the doorway.
 
 120 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 Dick is very late, and Burnand is absent too. It 
 turns out that they went off to fish at six o'clock, and 
 two hearts sink a little at this announcement. Girls 
 don't understand this going to fish when things aro 
 coming to a crisis between them and their lovers. 
 Edith sits by her cousin, and both are thinking the 
 same thoughts. 
 
 They go out together on the terrace afterwards, 
 and sit facing the river. 
 
 Detty and Lady Ann, Augusta and Lady Har- 
 riet, come out in pairs. Horses and pony-carts are 
 ordered, and the morning is got through somehow. 
 
 At luncheon the delinquents appear. Dick comes 
 at once to his cousin, shows her his trojDhies, and 
 leans on the back of her chair talking about them ; 
 he is going to sit down beside her when his mother 
 despatches him to carve, and Nan thinks evil of 
 Lady Wyatt in her heart. 
 
 So on throughout the unsatisfactory day. 
 
 It is wasted — absolutely, irrevocably wasted. 
 Days of this sort are every one's experience. They 
 aro days of mistakes, blunders, stupidity. 
 
 Wliat but a blunder was it on the part of good 
 Lady Wyatt to order the men out of the way, in 
 order that her girls might be brisk and sprightly 
 for the ball ? and what but stupidity was it on the 
 l)art of the men to obey ? 
 
 Nan begins to look forward almost wildly to the 
 everiing.
 
 NAN: A SUMMEi: SCENE. 121 
 
 Carefully, anxiously, docs she an-ay herself before 
 tlio mirror. Her dress is all that it should be this 
 time, — bc-pufied, be-flounced, be-flowered in tho 
 most approved style, yet pure, simple, and fresh 
 as tho fair wearer herself. 
 
 Detty pronounces her perfect ; hair, ornaments, 
 everything. 
 
 Detty meanwhile is gaping at herself, as she is 
 reflected by the great glass into a hand-glass, which 
 she holds aloft with one arm. 
 
 " Detty, I've not got a single pair of clean gloves." 
 
 " There is the box, take a dozen if you like. I 
 always take care to have a clean pair in my pocket.'' 
 
 "Wliat size are they?" 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " These will do, thanks," says Nan. " Does 
 Dick " 
 
 " A hair-pin, dear, don't you see ? A big, fat one. 
 There ! That ! Thanks ! " 
 
 " Do Dick and Walter " 
 
 " Oh, look here, Nan ! can you put this right ? I 
 felt sure there was something WTong ; that woman 
 never does do my hair as I like it. Shall I have 
 to take down the whole side ? Ah ! that's better. 
 Thank you — yes, that will do. You see, Nan, I 
 have to seize the moment when she goes out of tho 
 
 room " Maid re-enters, and Nan never finds 
 
 out what it was she came to discover about Dick 
 and Walter.
 
 122 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 Dick is reading in the drawing-room -wlicn tlio 
 bevy of maidens riistlo in. He looks np kindly, 
 and Editli is emboldened to ask lier brother if ho 
 likes their dresses ; Burnand's eyes having already 
 told his opinion. 
 
 "Much about the usual thing, aren't they, 
 Edio?" 
 
 " Don't you think Nan's pretty ? " 
 
 " Much about the same, isn't it. Nan ? " says cruel 
 Dick. 
 
 On this a goddess in clouds of azure gives Mr 
 Wyatt an encouraging smile. " Balls and ball- 
 dresses are so stupid ! " says Miss Bushe, sympa- 
 thi singly. 
 
 Nan's ball begins well. 
 
 Her cousins are pleased with her, and proud of 
 her. If she had been blind, halt, or maimed, Edio 
 and Detty would still have done their duty conscien- 
 tiously ; but nevertheless they are fully able to 
 distinguish and appreciate the difference between 
 distribiiting the glances of a bright-eyed favourite 
 among eager applicants, and inflicting the hand of 
 a soured and sorrowful dummy upon men who can 
 hardly be persuaded to take it. 
 
 So, first, Edith leads up a fair man, and tlicn 
 Detty a dark one ; and a little of the old Queen's 
 Gate feeling comes over Nan as she whirls away 
 among the dancers. 
 
 There is no crowd. The long lofty rooms would
 
 NAN: A SUMMEU SCENE. \'2'3 
 
 ]i()l(l nearly double the number assembled. Tlio 
 spring in the floor is delicious. 
 
 Nan's feet fly, and for the first half-liour slxe can 
 think of nothing but the delight of dancing. 
 
 It is clear that Dick is not going to dance. 
 
 Ho is lounging in the doorway, in the midst of a 
 bundle of black coats, little Hcfton with him. 
 
 Pax Burnand is dancing again and again with 
 Edith, and Mr Dallie is engaged to every girl in 
 the room. 
 
 Nan's eyes begin to turn wistfully towards that 
 doorway, but she has not much breathing-space, for 
 she is in great request. 
 
 Must she accept every proposal? So she supposes, 
 Aunt Eliza's teaching being that under no circxuu- 
 stances can a young lady refuse to dance, unless 
 she intends sitting down all the evening. 
 
 This being the Queen's Gate creed, Nan acts up 
 
 to it. 
 
 She remembers her cousin William's wrathful in- 
 vectives, when he had been once, as he termed it, 
 "thrown over," and would be loath to tempt any 
 one to speak so of her. 
 
 Walter has danced twice with his cousin, lie 
 did not see Nan till she was in ball-atire, when he 
 decided at once that she was pretty, but not equal 
 by any means to Miss Bushe. 
 
 Walter is a neat youth, infinitely more of a lady's 
 man than his brother. Ho thinks Dick is too much
 
 124 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 of a swell, but consoles himself with the bad make 
 of his brother's boots. 
 
 True to Edwin's prognostications, the fellows 
 liave also arrived, and some of them ask to be in- 
 troduced to Miss Church. The red-haired girl with 
 her ivory-lil&e skin is one of the belles of the room. 
 
 She is a good dancer, too, and indefatigable ; but 
 paler and paler grow Nan's cheeks. 
 
 At last she really cannot go on. 
 
 Dick has just passed into the supper-room with 
 Georgie Dent on his arm ; and as they went by, 
 Eddy and she were in their way. Eddy, who has 
 been forsaken of late by Miss Henrietta, has in con- 
 sequence transferred his affections ; and just as Dick 
 was behind, he was passionately imploring his part- 
 ner to go out of doors with him. 
 
 Seeing the impression she makes on the fel- 
 lows increases, perhaj)s originally suggested Edwin's 
 ardour. 
 
 He sticks to her. He declares, vows, and protests 
 with unflagging earnestness that she is engaged to 
 him. 
 
 He inveigles her into confidential seats, and de- 
 tains her nearly half-an-hour at supper. 
 
 Bewildered Nan is no match for him. She is only 
 conscious of her secret, and will work herself to 
 death to hide it. 
 
 So she talks, and simpers, and would give any- 
 tinng to be rid of lier tormentor. But it was too
 
 NAN: A SUMMER SCENE. 125 
 
 miicli to have Dick overhear Eclwin'n folly. There 
 ho was, pressed against them in the doorway, qnietly 
 guiding his lady's steps, while that stupid, tiresome 
 boy — oh, liow could he do it ? 
 
 Nan o\Mi8 at last that she is tired. 
 
 She seats herself resolutely within the dancing- 
 room, and as close as she can to the doorway; Dick 
 coming in or out must not only see her, but be close 
 beside her. Slie will know at least how much of 
 this is of his seeking, how much is accidental. 
 
 Presently Edith comes floating along, and stops, 
 panting gently, but still with not a dishevelled hair 
 on that small, smooth head. 
 
 " Is it not delightful. Nan?" 
 
 ''Very." 
 
 "Why are you not dancing?" 
 
 " I am tired, thank you." 
 
 " Tired already ! I could go on all night." 
 
 " I suppose I must not expect one, then ? " says 
 Burnand, courteously. He has asked Nan before, 
 but she Avas engaged. By his look she knows slie 
 may refuse him again without offending ; so she 
 does, and he is quite satisfied. 
 
 Dick is standing by the mantel-piece, spinning a 
 top. Bound him the men flock, as usual. Every- 
 body wants to try. Loud latighter. The top falls 
 off the shelf, rolls away among the dancers, and 
 down come a couple. It is Miss Busho and Captain 
 TIackston, the biggest man in the room.
 
 126 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 Augusta is greatly vexed : biit Dick makes such 
 abject apologies, and looks so vexed liimself, as lie 
 really is, that she must perforce forgive him. Bo- 
 sides, she has taken note of Mr Wyatt's behaviour 
 during the evening, and is quite relieved by it ; she 
 had really almost begun to think, absurd as the idea 
 was, that ho was taken with that forward, flirting 
 little creature. 
 
 So, on the ball goes. Tum-tum-tum, the ceaseless 
 tunes succeed each oiher ; and with unwearied alac- 
 rity respond the swish, rustle, and whirl of flowing 
 robes. Going on her rounds of civility, the kind 
 hostess lights on Nan. 
 
 She recollects that this is a stranger, and thinks 
 that she has exhausted her partners. She is alone 
 at this time ; for Eddy, bemoaning his fate, has 
 been compelled to leave her, to take part in what 
 he terms a di-eadful abominable duty-dance. 
 
 His going is an unutterable relief ; but still Nan 
 is conscious that she looks rather forlorn. 
 
 However, now is her only hope. She is free at 
 last, and Dick may come, for he is close at hand, 
 speaking to no one. 
 
 She has hardly patience to answer the old lady 
 civilly, so feverishly eager is she for that mass of 
 black satin and lace to move out of the way. 
 
 The music has stopped, and the dancers are 
 parading. Mrs Dent is forced aside. Now, Dick 
 
 NOW !
 
 NAN : A SUMxMEIi SCENE. 127 
 
 ITo is looking at licr. lie lias moved. 
 
 "Miss Clmrcli," in Georgina Dent's sweetest 
 tones, "Captain Ilackstone wishes to Lo intro- 
 cluced." 
 
 Miss Church mechanically rises, forgets to plead 
 fatigue, forgets that she has just refused Mr Bur- 
 nand and persistently put down Eddy Dent, is con- 
 scious only of a pair of stern grave ej-es fixed upon 
 her, and mil not have Dick think she declines on 
 his account. The moment has passed, and her hand 
 is within Captain Hackstonc's arm. 
 
 Oh, unkind Georgina 1 And unldndor, unkindcst 
 Dick! 
 
 So sho waltzes with Captain Hackstono, and trails 
 tlu-ough a weary lancers with old Sir John Bushe, 
 who is under the impression all the time that it is a 
 quadrille w^hich has miscan'ied ; and it is getting 
 far into the morning, and the ball is nearly over. 
 
 The flowers in her bosom are not more wan and 
 woe-begone than she. 
 
 " Why, Nan, I thought all your London dissipa- 
 tion would have carried you through one countiy 
 ball ! " cries Detty, looking as bright as a lark. 
 
 " Is the carriage come, Detty ? " 
 
 "Papa and mamma went, you know, ages ago. 
 The Bushes arc just going now, and Edith witli 
 them. I rather think (laughing) that Mr Burnand 
 is on the box. I asked particularly for you to stay, 
 for I know yoii could not be spared. We shall go
 
 1 28 TALES FKOM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 as soon as the carriage comes back. We have only 
 one out to go home in, yon know. Wliat is it to bo, 
 Edwin?" 
 
 " Sir Roger. I say, Miss Detty, you have quite 
 forsaken me ; let us have this together." 
 
 One more chance for Nan. 
 
 Dick can go through Sir Roger, and perhaps he 
 will, with her ; at all events there will be one other 
 quarter of an hour in which, hope against hope, 
 something may turn up. 
 
 She looks all around. No Dick. 
 
 " Oh, there will be enough without me," to 
 Walter. 
 
 "See if you cannot get some one else," to a 
 member of the fraternity of fellows. 
 
 Where is Dick? The dance has begun. The 
 first person who comes forward is her cousin, and 
 tlien Nan sees that he is heading the dance with 
 old Mrs Dent. She has gained nothing, and is the 
 only person sitting down in the room. 
 
 The carriage is at the door ere they have done 
 dancing, and Detty, radiant as ever, hurries her off 
 to the cloak-room. 
 
 " Such fun, Nan ! Why, it is broad daylight ! I 
 don't want to go home at all. Walter, go and find 
 Augusta. Oh, here she is with Dick ! Mind you 
 give us another ball soon, Eddy." 
 
 " Do come back to-morrow night, and let us have 
 it over again," pleads Eddy, his head in at the
 
 NAN: A SUMMER SCENE. 129 
 
 carriage-window. '' I say, I wish you would. I'll 
 come over and ask you." 
 
 " Are they both going outside ? " inquires Detty, 
 indicating her brothers. 
 
 "Here, Walter, you get in," suggests young 
 Dent. 
 
 " Then where is Dallie ? " inquires Walter. 
 
 " He sleeps here to-night, you know. Hefton 
 went with the last lot, and so did that other one. 
 I say, Walter, do stay and sleep on my sofa. Do, 
 there's a good fellow." 
 
 Walter, however, is not tempted, and the carriage 
 rolls off among the poppy-fields in the cool morning 
 light. 
 
 Augusta and Detty prate without ceasing, while 
 Walter keeps up a hum of bygone waltzes. 
 
 Augusta is much concerned that Miss Church did 
 not seem to enjoy herself, she looked so overdone 
 that every one noticed it. It was a pity she stayed 
 so late ; she supposed she was not accustomed to 
 balls. 
 
 Miss Blisset woke out of her sleep by the third 
 roll of wheels under her window, thinks how happy 
 they all are, and almost wishes they would not talk 
 about it, as she knows they will, the whole of that 
 day and the next. 
 
 Hot soup follows the girls to their rooms. Nan 
 and Augusta find Edith and Lady Ann still up, but 
 Lady Ann is yawning, and takes her departure 
 
 s.s. 1. I
 
 130 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD.'' 
 
 almost immediately. She and her sister have had 
 their own friends at the ball, and have been brought 
 home by some of these. They protest that they have 
 greatly enjoyed themselves, and are a thousand 
 times more fatigued than they have been at any 
 ball in town this season. One does dance so in the 
 country, it is quite delightful. 
 
 Edith has had her soup, and there is no possible 
 reason why she should not plait up her hair, and 
 get into bed, but she prefers to sit dallying with 
 her brushes, and looks as smiling and wide awake 
 as possible. 
 
 " Well, madam," says her sister, lovingly, " I pre- 
 sume you have enjoyed yourself? " 
 
 So it appears. Edith has enjoyed herself im- 
 mensely, hopes that Augusta has, and Nan likewise. 
 
 Of course they have, both of them. Nan takes 
 down her hair, drawing off the little gossamer web 
 of a net, and making a pile of frizettes, flowers, and 
 hair-pins on the table. 
 
 They take their soup, and Augusta moves off 
 smiling and serene. 
 
 Nan waits a few minutes longer, to see if the 
 sisters have anything to say, any sort of indirect 
 consolation to administer. 
 
 They have not ; no thought of her and Dick has 
 ever entered their minds. 
 
 " Good night, Edie." 
 
 " Good morning^ Nan."
 
 nan: a summer scene. 131 
 
 "Do get into Led now," says Dctty, with autlinr- 
 ity. " Nun has to think of that horrid journey to- 
 morrow. Nan, do go, there's a dear. She won't 
 be quiet till you do, and you ought to think of 
 yourself too," says Miss Detty, with unprecedented 
 prudence. 
 
 Yes, Nan has her journey, and she knows that 
 her trxmk has to bo packed besides. 
 
 Little would she have cared for that, if — ah, well I 
 it is the last drop in her cup, now. 
 
 She gathers up her fan, gloves, and flowers, and 
 departs. Softly going along the gallery her step 
 makes no sound, and her fingers are on the door- 
 handle of her o-VNTi room. 
 
 Suddenly the opposite door opens — she looks 
 round — there is Dick. 
 
 Not a sound in the great house save the tick- 
 tick of the tall clock in the passage, loudly telling 
 how the time wears on. 
 
 Dick is going to have a pipe. Ho has put on 
 a rough smoking-coat, which contrasts oddly with 
 his shining nether garments, and is hurrying off to 
 join liis friends, when he thus comes face to face 
 with his cousin. 
 
 He stands still. 
 
 She stands stiU. 
 
 Must she, must she open the door, and when she 
 shuts it after her, close also her last glimpse of 
 hope? Yes, if Dick makes no sign.
 
 132 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 She opens the door, Dick steps up hurriedly. 
 "May I keep you for a minute?" 
 
 Her arm falls by her side. 
 
 " Come into the schoolroom." 
 
 " Yes, wait a moment." 
 
 Into her chamber she steps, flings down the 
 rubbish on the bed, passes a comb through her 
 tails of twisted hair, and goes after him. 
 
 Dick is standing by the window, with his knee 
 on the ledge, his hands in his pockets, and his fore- 
 head pressed against the panes. 
 
 The clock says half-past four, and the birds are 
 in full chorus outside. 
 
 Ghostly looks the schoolroom at this hour. There 
 is Miss Blisset's work-basket gaping open on the 
 table, and the book with which she solaced her 
 lonely evening. There is the piano, whose voice 
 never ceases by day, closed, silent. There is the 
 backboard on which some little figure reclines 
 perpetually, empty, and tilted up against the 
 wall. The very maps and globes have an air of 
 undisturbed repose. 
 
 The books nestle tranquilly together on the 
 shelves. 
 
 All sense of weai-iness has loft Nan now. 
 
 She comes up to Dick in her crumpled ball- 
 dress, with her flowing fleece of hair, and shining 
 ornaments, a strange vision in this grim early 
 light.
 
 NAN: A SUMMER SCENE, 133 
 
 She is all in a tumult, but still slio lias an oyo 
 to see Low nice he looks. One glance suffices to 
 take him in from head to foot ; no collar, the red 
 burnt neck showing against the white shirt, the 
 rough coat and the sleek black trousers ; Dick 
 never looked to greater advantage, while she — but 
 no matter, ho turns round and draws his knee off 
 the ledge. 
 
 Then he offers her a seat, which she mutely dis- 
 regards, and there is a pause, during which they 
 eye each other awkwardly. 
 
 How on earth is he to begin ? Nan has the best 
 of it at the outset, and that is something. He has 
 sought the interview, and speak he must. She is 
 only there in compliance with his request. At last 
 ho makes the plunge. 
 
 " Nan, I want to ask you a question ! " 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 " What made you go on so, to-night ? " 
 
 Go on so ! Go on how ? What does he mean ? 
 \Vliat has she done? After all, is there to be 
 nothing but this? Has she been dreaming of 
 a love -tale, and is she to have nothing but a 
 lecture ? 
 
 Mortifying, miserable thought ! Wretched Nan ! 
 She strings herself up, and answers slowly and 
 proudly, "I don't know what you mean." 
 
 " You don't know. Oh ! perhaps I should not 
 have spoken. I thouf;ht you might, that was all,"
 
 13 i TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 Bays Mr Wyatt, with freezing politeness. " I see 
 I was mistaken." 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " I need not detain you then. Pray excuse mc," 
 Bays Dick, with his best bow. 
 
 An answering bow, a quiver of the lip, she sweeps 
 away. 
 
 The room is blocked somehow, or Nan does not 
 see clearly, and her dress is caught in a garden 
 chair. It rends — she tears it off; it rends further 
 but still holds on — she stoops her head, and Dick 
 Bees the tears running down her face. 
 
 In a moment he is by her side. 
 
 " I can't help it," sobs the poor child, struggling 
 for breath and crimson with shame. " I am so — so 
 tired. Let me go." 
 
 "You must not go yet," says Dick, in her ear. 
 " Nan, don't you know that this is everything to 
 me? I am no boy to be able to fall in and out 
 of love every second day. Come here. Sit 
 down. Dear," very softly, '' you are not afraid of 
 me?" 
 
 Afraid? No. But she is so ashamed, she is so 
 weak, so helpless. Will she ever dare to look him 
 in the face again ? 
 
 Yet his arm is round her waist, and one of her 
 little shoulders is pressed against his rough coat. 
 She must master herself and explain if she can, or 
 get away if she can't. Yet she can do nothing but
 
 NAN: A SUMMER SCENE. ] 35 
 
 cry. The anxieties, heart-sinkings, turning-points 
 of that most miserable night have been too much 
 for her at last. 
 
 Dick attacks, questions, pets and coaxes, but she 
 is dumb. 
 
 " You shan't get away now, I will not let you," 
 says he, quietly. " You must say something, or I 
 shall have to say it for you. Speak, Nan." 
 
 She lifts her face to speak, and Dick clasps the 
 little lovely face to his bosom. 
 
 And what has it all been about then? Absolutely 
 nothing. 
 
 He had spoken to her, and she had not heard, 
 and she had danced though he had not asked her, 
 or some such finely-dra^\^l nonsense. 
 
 The right is on her side, and Nan knows it is, 
 but she cannot claim it. There is a lump in her 
 throat, so that she cannot utter a syllable. 
 
 And he looks at her, and a great sense of his 
 love, and his triumph, and his happiness comes over 
 him. \Yliy, Dick, what a heart you have ! What 
 hidden wells lie there, unknown and undi'eamcd ol ; 
 simply because they have never been probed before ! 
 
 Let them spring up fearlessly now, and un- 
 checked ; the little north - country girl with the 
 magic of her bright, loving, contented spirit has 
 broken the spell. And she will be a happy woman, 
 and you have won a treasure. God bless you both !
 
 136 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 Six hours later, and breakfast is going slowly on. 
 One by one the stragglers have di'opped in : Miss 
 Blisset has begun her daily round two hours ago ; 
 and at last comes down Miss Nan Church, latest of 
 all, and looking as demure as if she had been teach- 
 ing a Sunday class the night before, and had had a 
 bowl of bread-and-milk for supper after it. 
 
 She takes the vacant seat, and finds it is directly 
 opposite Dick. 
 
 He says " Good-morning " in ceremonious accents, 
 and then gives her a look over his coffee-cup that 
 settles her for the time being. 
 
 Some one is asking about her train. Lady Wyatt 
 remembers to offer her maid, and the Ladies Ann 
 and Harriet will be charmed if Miss Church will 
 accept their escort as far as they can travel to- 
 gether. 
 
 It is very perplexing. 
 
 Dick has laughed to scorn the idea of her going, 
 and has assured her he will make it all straight ; 
 and now he goes unconcernedly on with his cold 
 salmon, and she even sees a smile in his eyes, when 
 she has to make her vague unsatisfactory answers. 
 
 No sooner, however, does the old Colonel, still 
 her constant friend, quit Nan's side, than Dick rises, 
 walks round the table, and seats himself in the 
 vacant chair. 
 
 Can he have sent up that red rose she wears 
 in her bosom? Can he now, as he turns towards
 
 NAN: A SUMMER SCENE. 137 
 
 her, prctuiuling to admire it, bu speaking of boiiie- 
 tliing quite cliiTercnt, BometLiug known only to 
 tlieir two selves? 
 
 So it is ; he is telling Nan not to mind, it will ho 
 all over in half-an-hour ; and then he asks her to 
 go and wait in the drawing-room, while ho tells tho 
 governor. 
 
 He is going now ; and accordingly, ho quits tho 
 room ; and Miss Bushe again experiences a sen- 
 sation of relief. Mr Wyatt is nothing to her, of 
 course ; but she would be sorry to see him en- 
 tangled in any absurd way. As ]\Iiss Church goes 
 away in the afternoon, she has no objection to tako 
 her own departure also, especially as they will meet 
 the Wyatts next week at Preddingtram, and then 
 who can tell what may happen ? 
 
 Edith and Detty have so many departing guests 
 to attend to, that Nan is able to escape from them 
 better than she could have hoped, and the drawing- 
 room is empty at this hour. 
 
 She seizes her opportunity and steals in thither, 
 taking refuge among the music-books. 
 
 Of course her music is mislaid ; but what a 
 wretchedly uncomfortable half-hour it is ! Every- 
 body going in and out troubles her ; and what if 
 any one should stay ! Oh ! w^hy did Dick put her 
 there ? And why is he so long in coming ? 
 
 Every minute is precious. She is shaking all 
 over. And then the party of girls come along the
 
 13S TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 terrace, and stroll off towards the garden, and at 
 last he comes. 
 
 A whisper, a pause, something else, and she goes 
 off with him like a tamo dove. 
 
 Well, of course it is all right. No one who knows 
 Lord and Lady Wyatt would doubt that. Nan 
 escapes at last, with half the life kissed and pressed 
 out of her, and finds the maid raging up and down 
 in her bedroom, and stuffing all her best garments 
 maliciously into the bottom of the trunk, in revenge 
 for having been kept waiting. 
 
 Miss Church must excuse her, my lady sent her 
 there an hour ago, and she could not possibly tell 
 what Miss Church would wish to have left out. 
 She begs pardon, but there is so little time. 
 
 The woman is gently dismissed. Miss Church 
 does not travel that day. 
 
 Nan takes her hat, and goes do^\Ti just as she 
 is, for Dick is waiting. 
 
 Passing out at the garden door, they meet the 
 whole troop of men and maidens point-blank, and 
 for once in his life Dick does blush. 
 
 Edith steps forward. " Nan, dear, you have been 
 looking for us ? We went down the long path to 
 get some strawberries. Are you going ? Mind you 
 keep to the right, they are only ripe under the 
 netting." 
 
 "All right — I'll take her," says Dick, in unmis- 
 takable accents, and no one dares to say a word.
 
 NAN: A SUMMEU SCENE. 139 
 
 Tliey "^o off, away from the etrawlxrry-ljcd, in 
 view of the whole party, and then a Bmothered 
 "•uffaw from little Hefton shows that the secret is 
 
 to 
 
 out. Ho knows, of course. 
 
 Dick told him, the first thing in the morning, and 
 it was he who took them all off to the garden, to 
 leave the field clear for his friend. 
 
 "Well, Miss Wyatt?" 
 
 Edith looks as if she had seen a ghost. 
 
 "I really had no idea of that," whispers Lady 
 Ann, charmingly interested. " You sly things, how 
 well you have kept it to yourselves ! " 
 
 Edith is not s\ire whether she has kept it or not, 
 is unable to answer Lord Hefton, feels as if the 
 ground were rising under her feet. 
 
 When she lifts her eyes at last, it is to find two 
 other eyes fastened upon them. 
 
 For Pax Bumand has caught fire ; and so, wlien 
 Dick and Nan come back, — do not ask to know how 
 soon that was, — they find that another pair have 
 mated likewise ; and poor Lord Wyatt never thinks 
 of the day after a ball all the rest of his life, with- 
 out a shudder. 
 
 Nobody responds to Eddy Dent's invitation, 
 though the poor lad has ridden over in the heat 
 of the day to give it. 
 
 They are far happier at home. Wlien the last 
 carriage with the Bushes in it rolls away from tho 
 door, every one feels relieved. Augusta is so odd
 
 UO TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 and tired. And does she always liave a headache 
 after a ball? 
 
 At "any rate they are all now of one heart and one 
 mind. 
 
 After dinner they have strawberries-and-cream on 
 the lawn. Nan has had her sleep out in the after- 
 noon, and has written her letter, and the whole 
 house knows about it. Dick lies at her feet, and 
 the nightingales are singing in the wood below.
 
 THE BELLS OF BOTPvEAUX. 
 
 A LEGEND. 
 [MAGA. January 1858.] 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 rrinERE are spots and nooks in the worlJ so 
 J- wild and isolated, so set in contrast by 
 oddness of position with the general order and 
 economy, that they seem accidents, freaks, or after- 
 thoughts of nature. Such is the little harbour of 
 Boscastle, on the north coast of Cornwall. It was 
 an afterthought. There the sea has made for itself 
 an inlet betwixt the bold headlands of the rocky 
 shore, where it tides, boils, and surges in a littlo 
 cove, surrounded by dark walls of cliff and jutting 
 points, expending its force against the small pier, 
 which forms a confined and partial shelter for the 
 few ships trading thither. A deep narrow valley, 
 through which a tiny streamlet runs over a stony 
 shelving bed, betwixt the sloping sides of grassy 
 furze-clad steeps, leads inland to a few straggling
 
 112 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 houses, scattered along the foot of the hills, and 
 connected hy a rude bridge. Here were the few 
 stores, shops, and yards which the trade and traffic 
 of the place required ; here were the houses of the 
 wild seamen and fishers, who battled through life 
 with the storms and surfs, the perils and difficulties 
 of that rock-bound coast ; and here the rude quarry- 
 men from a neighbouring district laid their heads, 
 took their chance meals, their chance rests and 
 recreations. Amid this hard-bred, hard -living, 
 rough-tutored commonalty, moved a small and well- 
 graduated aristocracy of craftsmen, shipwrights, 
 clerks, and merchants. The houses were simple 
 and commonplace enough, but the shadows of the 
 overhanging hills, now dark with cloud-gloom, now 
 rich and mellow with the bloom of furze and heath, 
 and the distant roar of the surf and the glimpses of 
 spray and foam, gave to the place a wild pic- 
 turesqueness which toned well with the life of the 
 people. At times, too, when the storms arose, 
 when the waves surged loudly and heavily against 
 the shore, and the winds swept up the valley with 
 a drear and sullen boom, and the storm-shades fell 
 darkly and wildly, the vale-head, with its cluster of 
 homesteads, was raised into sublimity. How often 
 does nature thus clothe the homeliness of man with 
 its own beauty and grandeur ! how often, again, 
 does man invest its commonplaces with a saered- 
 ness and a glory ! This spot was, however, but tho
 
 THE BELLS OF BOTREAUX. 143 
 
 outskirt, the offset of the towni, which lay strewn on 
 the face of the hill in clumps and heaps of houses, 
 massed like boulders or tors along the side of a 
 steep and tortuous road, which led down towards 
 the harbour. 
 
 On a Christmas Eve, some time in the beginning 
 of this century — when men still wore their singu- 
 larities and their individualism, and ere civilisation 
 had reduced society to one Procrustean standard — a 
 group of men were assembled in the skittle-alley of 
 the village inn. It was a long thatched shed, open 
 at the end and one side, and having benches all 
 around for the spectators. It was a wild, strange 
 group. There were the hard-lined, weather-beaten 
 faces, and strong, stalwart, toil-hardened forms of 
 pilots and fishermen, clad in the thick heavy boots, 
 the large woollen frocks liangmg in folds round 
 their waists, and the fur cap or oilskin hat, which 
 seems as peculiar to the class as his skin is to the 
 bear ; of quarrymen, heavy, dull, and clay-stained ; 
 and of sturdy, homely-looking yeomen. In the midst, 
 with a sort of half-acknowledged authority and pre- 
 cedence, sat a large, stout, muscular man of hercu- 
 lean build, but whoso giant proportions were con- 
 fused and lost by his loose mode of sitting : the 
 face was broad and ruddy, the brow wide and open. 
 This was old John Truscott, a famous "WTCstler, who 
 had not only carried off the hats, purses, and other 
 prizes at the noighboiiring games, but had actually
 
 Ut TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 " gone foreign " to show his prowess — that is, had 
 passed into the next county to meet the challenge of 
 a man who claimed the championship of the king- 
 dom ; had there and then thrown him in a fair ring, 
 wiiming the supremacy for his own county ; and had 
 come back to live and move among his own people, 
 surrounded with a little halo of hero-worship. 
 
 Seldom were surnames heard in this assemblage. 
 Men were known chiefly by patronymics, synonyms, 
 and nicknames. ''Smuggler Tom," "Pilot Joe," 
 " Champion John," and " Fancy Sam," were the 
 terms and titles bandied about from mouth to 
 mouth. At the time we enter, the interest is 
 all centred on two players. The one was a tall, 
 lithe, sinewy man, quick, rapid, and impulsive in 
 his action and gestures. The face was handsome, 
 but its beauty was of the kind which bordered on 
 the fearful. The features and expression were fine 
 and strongly marked, but stern and unsoftened as 
 though they had been impressed in lava, or burnt 
 in by the heat of sun and passion. The eye was 
 fierce and restless, and flashed ever and anon with 
 furtive and vengeful glances. Around his brown 
 brawny neck a coloured kerchief was wound loosely, 
 and fastened in front by a gold ring ; his jacket was 
 full, and trimmed with braid ; little filigree buttons 
 held his waistcoat together ; a cap, with hanging 
 tassel and gold band, sat lightly on his short dark 
 curls, and round his waist was bound a red sash. .
 
 TlIK BELLS OF BOTUEAUX. 145 
 
 The dress was foreign, and Richard Curgcnvon, tlio 
 wearer — or Brazilian Dick, as ho was familiarly 
 called — had been a wanderer in many lands, had 
 shared (it was said) in some strange exploits on the 
 Spanish Main ; had worked in the mines of Brazil, 
 and acted many another phase of wild and adventur- 
 ous life. lie was now come to his native land, 
 well-to-do, it seemed ; was liberal, even lavish of 
 his means, and had a dash and recklessness in all 
 he said and did, which was taking with the many, 
 but had a strong repulsion for the staid stay-at- 
 home natures of patriarchs and elders. The rival 
 player was Phil Eounsval, a young yeoman, the 
 descendant of yeomen who had lived on the same 
 farm since the time of the Domesday Book without 
 altering their landmarks, and had gone on man 
 after man tilling the same acres, housing their 
 cattle in the same steads, sitting by the same 
 hearth-stone, and being borne to the same church- 
 yard on the cliff, where the burial mounds of the 
 race Avere heaped like molehills. He was young, 
 and comely to look upon. The character of his 
 countenance was one common to the Cornish — 
 massive, yet finely turned — not heavy or inexpres- 
 sive, but rarely lit or excited ; his form was slouch- 
 ing or slovenly, until some gymnastic action tlirew it 
 into an attitude of firm and graceful strength. Tho 
 game was one of skill, and was at a turning-point. 
 The men were "lobbing" — that is, thro\\ang tho 
 s.s. 1. K
 
 liG TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 bowl home to the pins, not bowling or trnndling it. 
 Brazilian Dick had made some brilliant and dashing 
 tlirows, which had somewhat posed the steady play 
 of his antagonist. There were now three pins 
 standing, and Farmer Phil had to bring down these 
 in one throw. Slowly the bowl was poised, swiftly 
 and surely it flew, just touching the bellying point 
 of the outer pin, and bounding to the other two, 
 laying all on the ground. The game was won. A 
 little uproar of shouts, opinions, and acclaim closed 
 around the players, and it was soon evident that 
 the principals themselves were at high words. 
 
 " Let 'em fight it out ! " was the general cry, and 
 seemed the mutual meaning. 
 
 Presently old John Truscott's form was seen, 
 and his voice heard in the midst. " No fighting — 
 no fighting here ! " he said. " If the lads want to 
 know who is best man, let 'em try a turn of wrast- 
 liug. A kindly grip and a faal don't leave the ill 
 blood of a black eye or a bruise. I have knowed 
 many fellows better friends after a good hearty 
 tuzzle." 
 
 "A second Daniel come to judgment," was the 
 thought, though not the speech, of the Cornishmen . 
 The sentence was received with general assent. 
 A ring was speedily formed — the men strip, and 
 are all attired in the WTestling-jackets, always 
 ready on such occasions ; they shake hands, accord- 
 ing to custom, though the wilful look of the eye,
 
 THE BELLS OF EOTREAUX. M7 
 
 dark and flashing with one, calm and steady with 
 the other, behe the friendly grasp. Now they tako 
 their grip. To the uninitiated, the Brazilian has 
 out and out the best of it. He works and turns 
 and twists apparently according to his pleasure ; 
 but the connoisseur sees that his adversary is gradu- 
 ally drawing him closer and closer with the steady 
 force of calm power. They are close now, breast 
 to breast, and Phil's right arm is thrown over tlio 
 shoulder, his right leg twined round that of tlio 
 Brazilian, who perforce seizes him now round the 
 waist. "A hitch, a hitch," is the shout. " He hatli 
 got 'un now," mutters old John Truscott. 
 
 For a minute they stand thus, still and statu- 
 esque, either afraid to lose his balance. Fhil 
 makes play; fails; rescues himself; grows, wary. 
 The Brazilian loses patience ; makes a sudden 
 effort; fails. A sudden touch of Phil's heel, a 
 quick turn of the whole body, and down goes his 
 adversary fairly on his back, not heavily, but with 
 the elastic bound of an india-rubber ball. 
 
 " A faal — a faal ! " is the cry. 
 
 The men rise and glare at each other, and words 
 are muttered such as these — "Next time we will 
 have a sharper tuzzle." — "Ay, ay, and perhaps 
 thee may then have a heavier fall." 
 
 There is a general breaking up and dispersion to 
 the different homes now for the Christmas Eve. 
 
 "There is ill blood atwcen those lads," says
 
 148 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 old Jog Treherne the pilot ; " and 'tis all along of 
 old miller Rosevear's lass." 
 
 " All ! " says old Truscott, " there's a lass in tho 
 case, is there? I misdoubted somewhat, Farmer 
 Phil played so wilful." 
 
 " Yes, sure," rejoined the pilot, " he cremed 'un 
 cruel hard, and looked so vengeful at one time, 
 that I thought he was going to give 'un the Flying 
 Mare." 
 
 " I am glad he didn't — glad ho didn't." 
 
 " Why, John ! you know none but the best men 
 can play that hitch." 
 
 "None but the best men can play it, and the 
 best men never do it except when the blood is up. 
 I never played it but once, and I am sorrow for it 
 now — always have been." 
 
 "Tell us all about it. Champion Jan," was the 
 cry of many voices. 
 
 " Well ; you know, lads, how I went up to Ply- 
 mouth to wrastle the Devonshire champion. Ho 
 were a good man — as good a man as e'er I had a 
 turn with. Well, he kicked and kicked me cruel, 
 till my leg was all black and plummed up, from 
 knee to ankle. But I didn't mind this much, for I 
 gave 'un a creme (a grip) for every kick ; and at 
 last he put forth his foot vengefully, and took my 
 toe-nail clean off. I was in cruel pain — very nigh 
 mad, and I closed in on 'un, took the old hitch, 
 gave 'un the hoist, and away ho went flying over
 
 THE BELLS OF BOTIIEAUX. 119 
 
 my Klioukler, aud fell flat on the ground like a sack 
 of wheat." 
 
 " Didst kill 'un, Jan ?— didst break his bones ? " 
 
 "No, no; he wasn't that hurt. The wind was 
 out of 'un for a while ; but he was game, regular 
 game, and got up and stood another turn ; but 1 
 have heard that he was never his own man again. 
 No, no, lads, never play in passion — never give the 
 Flying Mare." 
 
 " Except when your toe-nail's kicked off," insinu- 
 ates pilot Joe. 
 
 Old Truscott answered not, but went his way, 
 shaking his head, thinking and feeling evidently 
 that that angry action was a blot on his manhood, 
 and had placed a withered leaf in his champion's 
 chaplet. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Deep in one of those glens which cveryMdiero 
 in Cornwall vein the land with lines of beauty 
 and sublimity, coursing through and vivifying 
 even bleakness and barrenness with touches of 
 the picturesque and romantic, stood an old mill. 
 Built in a hollow of the rock, it seemed almost a 
 projection of it, save where the fitful lights of a 
 wintry sky struck out dimly aud partially the 
 outline of its thick thatched roof with its heavy 
 overhanging caves, its broad gable with latticed
 
 150 - TALES FKOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 windows, doors, and hatches, and the huge wheel 
 resting like a black jagged shadow in the darkness. 
 In front brawled a tiny brook, which had no right, 
 from its size, to make the noise it did. It was 
 almost the only thing which woke up or enlivened 
 the solitudes and wastes through which it passed. 
 It made the life of the little glen as it tumbled, 
 and foamed, and gurgled in its rocky course, fret- 
 ting in eddies over the loose stones, lying darkly 
 in deep pools, from which it swept over ridges and 
 ledges in tiny cascades — rushing tlu-ough channels 
 it had worn for itself — running in a wavy line 
 through a dark tunnel of cliff — and then, at last, 
 sparkling and dancing in the open space, where it 
 met the breakers of the great sea. It was ever 
 alight, too, even in the dark places, with sun or 
 moon gleams ; and, by day or night, its waters 
 glanced and shone like bright spots in the gloom 
 and shadows of the glen. 
 
 This spot was called the Eocky Valley, and was 
 a short distance only from the town of Boscastle. 
 Here lived old Hugh Eosevear the miller. He and 
 his mill were both at rest now, keeping holiday. 
 He was the picture of holiday rest as he sat in 
 a huge oaken settle before the fire — the very typo 
 of a jolly miller. Why millers should necessarily 
 be jolly, or why their vocation should nurture 
 this characteristic, is not very clear, save that the 
 plenty Avhich passes by them sheds on their nature
 
 THE BELLS OF 150TKEAUX. I'll 
 
 a reflection of goodliness and satisfaction. ^Ve 
 have seen millers certainly, meagre, sombre, and 
 dismal enough to have done honour to a con- 
 venticle ; but these are the failures : as a class, 
 they are generally fat and well -liking, mirtliful 
 and chirping, fond of jest, and feast, and song. 
 
 Old Huirh looked like a man who was about to 
 feast, and who liked the idea. There was feasting 
 in the twinkle of his eyes, in the folds of his double- 
 chin, and in the quiet smile playing about his mouth. 
 He was alone as yet. From a heap of turf and 
 wood on the wide open hearth the fire flashed fit- 
 fully, tlu-owang a broad bright gleam on the stone 
 floor, but only half lightmg the beams and rafters, 
 from which hung pieces of bacon, bags of herbs, 
 and the first handful of last year's harvest bound 
 with a withered garland, and the dark recesses 
 where the wood was stored, and where the clock 
 and the dressers stood, all bedecked now wath little 
 bits of lairrel and holly. On the shelves pewter 
 plates and dishes shone like silver shields. Old 
 Hugh had an aversion to delf, or dome, as he called 
 it, and made very meriy at times with his wife's 
 Cheeny vagaries — the good lady's tastes in that 
 line being humbly developed in a couple of spotted 
 cows with tails turned over their backs, and a shep- 
 herd and shepherdess very mild and pastoral. 
 
 From behind the settle, ever and anon, as the 
 oven was opened, came a goodly savour of newly-
 
 152 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 baked bread, cakes, and pies. Female forms flitted 
 to and fro, sending a pleasant look or a pleasant 
 word to the old man as he sat waiting his guests. 
 Their coming was anticipated in the presence of 
 horn -cups on the table before him, and a large 
 brown Toby Fill-pot jug, the only earthen thing 
 he used, that he had been inveigled into buying 
 by a Cheap-John, who held it before him, and said, 
 " There, Miller, take this, and whenever you pour 
 out your beer, you may see yourself without a 
 looking-glass." The conceit tickled the old fellow, 
 and he always chuckled when, at his evening 
 draughts, he was conh-onted by the figure of the 
 jolly toper. 
 
 Pleasant were the old man's musings as he sat 
 basking in the firelight ; many a low chuckle did 
 he utter, and many a time might be seen — 
 
 " The slow wise smile that round about 
 His dusty forehead drily curl'd, 
 Seem'd half within and half without, 
 And full of dealings with the world." 
 
 Pleasantly were they interrupted after a while 
 by the presence of a young girl, who came softly 
 around the settle, and stood before him on the 
 hearth. 
 
 " Ah ! Grace, lass, art dressed a'ready ? Thee 
 doesn't want much bedizening, and that thee 
 know'st right well." And the old man's eyes 
 laughed softly with pride and satisfaction as they
 
 THE liELLS OF liOTliEAUX. 153 
 
 lighted on tlio pleasant beauty and comely pro- 
 portions of his daughter. Grace Eosevcar was 
 indeed pleasant to look upon. Hers was the half 
 Celtic half Saxon beauty — not rare in Cornwall — 
 of the dark-grey eye, bright and gladsome, the 
 oval face, the clear complexion touched with a 
 healthful ruddiness, the light-brown hair, soft and 
 rich, rippling in wavy folds around the forehead, 
 and falling loosely in two long curls adown the 
 neck. The charm of face and feature, however, 
 were as nought to the brightness and kindliness 
 which played over them like a sunny gleam. Her 
 figure was tall and light, yet well rounded, and 
 swelled fairly beneath the tight-fitting boddicc and 
 the full petticoat. Not refined, perhaps, was Grace, 
 nor did she rejoice in the white hand or arched foot, 
 but she was winsome and winning. Her only 
 ornament to-night was a breast -knot of cherry- 
 coloured ribbons. As his eye glanced on this, old 
 Hugh laughed heartily. 
 
 " Ah ! lass," he said, " I am glad to see thee hast 
 not forgotten thee fairing. On a night like this, a 
 lad hath a right to see thee favour his token. I am 
 right glad, too, that thee doesn't wear the gimcrack 
 that fellow Rich Curgenven gave thee." 
 
 " Come, father, it is no gimcrack that brooch, but 
 the purest gold from the mines ; so Dick told me, 
 and the lad himself is well enough, and hath a 
 good favour and a glib tongue."
 
 154 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 '' Golil or no gold, I care not. I mislike tlie chap, 
 glib as lie is. I never could take kindly to a man 
 who couldn't look me in the face, and is always 
 glowering askew. Besides, I doan't put any faith 
 in a gad -about, who never knaws his own parish, 
 and goes tramping about from place to place, fur- 
 gathering with farreigners, and such like. I hope 
 that I shall never see thee take on with a fellow who 
 goeth trapsing and tinkering about the country." 
 
 At the moment. In the height of his prejudices 
 against wanderers, he fancied he saw his daughter in 
 high-lows and a black velvet bonnet, with a bundle 
 of sticks and umbrellas under her arm, following her 
 spouse from house to house, or with a tambourine in 
 her hand going from window to window, whilst he 
 juggled with balls on an extemporised arena, or 
 exhibited Punch. 
 
 " Well, father, if a rollmg stone gathers no moss, 
 a stay at home is always homely, and I likes to 
 hear all his romancings about the strange people 
 and the strange sights he hath seen ; and he tells 
 it all, brave and spirity, like the player-folk at the 
 show." 
 
 " Romancing ! Yes, half of 'em lies, and what 
 good has ever come of all this gadding and sight- 
 seeing. The father before 'im, old Dick Curgenven, 
 was always a-roving and a-rambling, a-trying this 
 and that, Jack-of-all-trades and master of none ; 
 and what was the end of it ? Wliy, he a'most come
 
 THE BELLS OF BOTKEAUX. 155 
 
 to tlio parish afore ho died. Noa, noa, give mo a 
 Btaid, kindly lad, like Phil Kounsval, who can bo 
 gay enough at feasting-timo and revels, but was 
 never away from tilling, or hoeing, or haymaking, 
 or harvest-home. He's a good man, too, in the 
 ring and at hurling. Old Champion Jan says, ho 
 never saw a likelier one ; and he's a good man, ton, 
 on his own hearthstone." 
 
 Could old Rosevear have seen the light flusli 
 which the name of Phil called up, ho would have 
 dismissed any misgivings he might have of Grace's 
 hankering for the rover, and have seen that her 
 defence of him was a little wilfulness and caprice. 
 
 "I wonder, father, you favour Phil's gallivant- 
 ings to the wrestlings and the feasts, when you are 
 BO hard upon another lad for roving and straying." 
 
 " 'Tis a different thing — a different thing entirely. 
 A man must show hisself a man, and should see 
 what the lads of other parishes be like, and what 
 be their ways and games, and he will settle down 
 better afterwards to his own town-place. 'Tis fur- 
 reigners I object to. There's no good in 'em. Old 
 Pilot Joe will tell ye the same. Ah ! here ho 
 comes." ^ 
 
 He had entered at the moment, bringing with 
 him a smell of sea-weed and tarred rope. With 
 hun was old Jolm Tniscott, burly ever, and bravely 
 attired now in top-boots and breeches, a buS waist- 
 coat, and a blue coat, very scant and short in the
 
 153 TALES FKOM " BLACKWOOr." 
 
 waist. Another of the guests was okl Jack Philp, 
 the auctioneer, whose outer man was ever the same. 
 No mortal, save perhaps the wife of his bosom, ever 
 saw it represented otherwise than by Hessian boots, 
 cords, a cut-away coat, and a hat which was a kind 
 of compromise between a carter's and a dean's, sxich 
 as became one who surveyed land and gathered 
 tithes, and whose vocation was a sort of neutral 
 ground betwixt the plough and the vestry. Wliether 
 ho was ever divested of these externals, or how they 
 were changed or renewed, the partner of his privacy 
 alone could tell. He was a cheery old fellow, with 
 a wrinkled weather-beaten face, ruddy withal, liko 
 an old apple, and was as famous for his prowess 
 and hard-headedness at drinking-bouts, as old Trus- 
 cott was for his wrestling. With these came other 
 worthies ; and the two young men followed shortly 
 after, — Phil greeting the miller with a hearty grip, 
 and making a sort of half-bashful, half-familiar salu- 
 tation to Grace ; Curgenven sliding in almost un- 
 seen and unnoticed, until he had reached her side, 
 and begun to make his advances in his usual dash- 
 ing style, softening, however, his recklessness by an 
 insinuating air of courtesy and gallantry — when his 
 eye caught sight of the simple ribbon lying where 
 his gift should have been, and then shot towards 
 his rival a glance fierce, vengeful, and threatening 
 as a snake's. Dame Rosevoar, fat, hearty, and 
 comely, as she ought in ri-ht to be, had mean-
 
 THE BELLS OF BOTKEAUX. 157 
 
 whilo joined tlio circle, and passed compliments 
 with her husband's cronies. She saw that glance, 
 and interpreted it with a woman's readiness. 
 
 The company were all seated now around the firo, 
 pipes were lighted, horns were filled, and pieces of 
 saffron and currant cake handed about on platters. 
 
 " I was saying when you como in," began old 
 Hugh, "that I never knowed any good come of 
 mixing with furreigners, and that I never heard 
 any good of most of 'em. You can't give 'em any 
 great character, I think, Joe Treheme." 
 
 " God forbid that I should WTong 'em," answered 
 the old pilot, "for I've met as tnie men among 
 'em, especially the fishermen in the French waters, 
 as ever cast a net or worked a ship ; but I never 
 do feel quite comfortable or social with 'em some- 
 how, for they'ern mostly cruel, oncertain, and wil- 
 ful ; not hearty and straightfor'ard as we be, but 
 will carry their grudges in their hearts for years, 
 and gie a man a stab or a shot, without word 
 or warning." 
 
 "Wliat of that?" cried Brazilian Dick. "Give 
 me the wild bravo life in the countries where men's 
 hearts are warmed by the sunshine, and women's 
 eyes flash brightly. Wliat if there be sometimes 
 a flashing knife or a death-grip — and if a man be 
 found lying stabbed under a window, or falls dead 
 and bloody under a gambling - table ? There is 
 some spirit in the dashing, rollicking life they
 
 158 T.\.LES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 lead there ; and 'tis better living, after all, than 
 slouching about the same fields all one's days, with 
 the clay clogging one's feet, and with scarce heart 
 enough to look over the next fence." 
 
 " God keep us from such a life," murmured dame 
 Rosevear ; and Grace's cheek grew pale as she heard 
 the rover speak so lightly of blood and murder. 
 
 "A man may be bold enough," rejoined Phil, 
 " who never went abroad from his own town-place, 
 and ha'e speret, enough to hold his own, if his blood 
 ben't heated with a blazing sun. The old stono 
 down in the four -acre field by the 'Keeve' has 
 never been moved for hundreds of years, and the 
 Rounsvals for as long have stood on the same 
 harthstone, aad crossed the same threshold ; though 
 the roof and walls may have been changed. But 
 there never was one of the breed yet that turned 
 from a fair challenge. We ben't good at the knife 
 or the back-stroke, but face to face with the fist or 
 the hug, we never feared a man yet." 
 
 "Never mind about stay-at-homes, or stray- 
 abroads," stmck in champion Truscott. " If a 
 man hath got the heart in 'im, he'll show it, 
 whether he be working slate in Delabole quarry, 
 or digging gold in a Portuguese mine." Then 
 changing the drift of the conversation, he turned 
 to old pilot Treherne. " So Joe, thee thinkest that 
 the seafaring men are the best in all countries j 
 nothing like sticking up for one's own trade."
 
 THE BELLS OF BOTREAUX. 159 
 
 " Good rig-lit too with mo ; fi)r as long as tlio 
 Hounsvals have been ploughing the farm at the 
 * Kecve,' have wo Trehernos, faythers and sons, been 
 going down to the sea in ships. Men and boys, 
 for generations, have wo been occupying our busi- 
 ness in the great waters, and lived from the time 
 wo were bom, a'most to our graves, amid the won- 
 ders of the deep. Most on us, too, have meet our 
 graves there. Three growni men only of us all have 
 been carr'd to the old Botreaux chmxhyard, or had 
 the prayers read o'er 'em." 
 
 "That's the worst of thee calling," chimed in 
 Jack Philp. *'It must be oncommon cold lying 
 dowTi at the bottom of the sea, upon the sand and 
 shells, with the waves washing over one, and the 
 weeds twining around, and the great fish a-swim- 
 minc: about and looking at one. I must own that I 
 shud like to bo tucked in comfortable in a coffin, and 
 have made my old dummun promise that I shud 
 be laid in a foiu'-wall grave, snug and cosy-like." 
 
 " Sure thee doesn't think that it matters where 
 our poor bones bo put to, maister Philp," says 
 dame Rosevear. "Thee doesn't believe that the 
 speret ever comes back to 'em. I never troubles 
 my head much with sich doctrines. I thinks very 
 much like old saxton Will. "WHien Irish Kitty 
 threatened to haunt 'im if he didn't bury her under 
 the ould yew-tree, he tould the parson o' it. ' Well,' 
 said the parson, * I ain't afraid ; are you ? ' ' No,'
 
 IGO TALES FKOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 says Will, ' I bcn't afeard ; for if hor gooth to a 
 good place, hor won't want to come back ; and if 
 her goetli to the bad one, they won't let her.' " 
 
 " ISTatheless," answered the pilot, " it would be a 
 comfort to know that I should ha'e to lie at last in 
 the ould ground at Botreaux, with the winds from 
 the furzy down blowing over it, and the sun light- 
 ing upon the turf, and the waves rippling agin the 
 rocks nigh at hand. God knows, though, whether 
 my cheeld will ever be able to tell where his fayther 
 lieth. It is curious, though, that one of the few 
 on us who did die in his bed, was my great-great- 
 granfa'r, who was drove ashore on a piece of timber 
 when the ship was wrecked, that was bringing the 
 holy bells for the ould church of Botreaux." 
 
 " Tell us the tale, man ! " cried miller Hugh ; 
 " I've heard 'un many a time from thee and thy 
 fayther, but I'd like to hear 'un again. It's as 
 good as a sarment any day — better than Parson 
 Lanxon's, anyhow." 
 
 There was a general murmur of assent. 
 
 " Well," commenced the pilot, thus appealed to, 
 " you know the townfolk at Boscastle many years 
 agone were mad almost because there were no bells 
 in Botreaux church, and it went to their hearts 
 like, to hear them at Tintagel a-ringing and stram- 
 ming at all times, while they had none to chime 
 'em to church or toll 'em to their graves, or send 
 out a hearty peal at their weddings or feasting
 
 THE BELLS OF BOTREAUX. IGl 
 
 days ; so they sent to some place far away, anfl 
 had a fine set cast, and they were blessed by the 
 pope or bishop, or some holy man. Xow it so 
 happened one Sunday, when tlie folks was all 
 sauntering about on the cliffs arter church, that 
 'twas said how the ship with the bells was in 
 eight, and that Pilot Treheme had gone aboard 
 her. So the people thronged out like a fair, and 
 sat about the rocks to watch the vessel ; and the 
 young 'uns whispered to their sweethearts that 
 there would be a merry peal now at their wedding, 
 and the old 'uns thought how there would be a 
 decent toll now at their buryings. Well, the ship 
 came fairly along the coast ; the wind was free, and 
 the sea smooth as glass. They had made Willapark 
 Point, and the bells of Tintagel was ringing out 
 loud and strong. This made the pilot so glad that 
 he said, ' Thank God for our good voyage.' * Thank 
 the ship and the canvass,' said the captain ; ' thank 
 God ashore.' ' Wo must thank Him at sea as well 
 as on land,' said the pilot. 'No, thank the good 
 timbers and a fair wind,' roared the captain, and 
 he cussed and swore and blasphemed quite a^^'ful. 
 Scarce had he spoke the words when great black 
 clouds lowered in the sky, and the wind rose into a 
 squall, and the waves tossed and timibled towards 
 the shore. The ship was took aback, and would 
 not answer the helm, and kept drifting in and in 
 on the rocks ; then a sea struck her, and (h'ove her 
 s.s. — I. i^
 
 162 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 right on tlae cliff of the Black Pit. She went to 
 pieces instantly almost ; and afore the people could 
 look around, the spars was floating on the waters ; 
 and they thought that, with the beat of the surf 
 and the roar of the winds, they heard the bells 
 chiming out quite loud and solemn-like. Some of 
 'em climbed round the point to see if any one was 
 saved, and there they see'd a man houlding on by 
 a plank — 'twas my great-great-granfa'r the pilot. 
 He was nigh gone ; and when he came to hisself, 
 the first words he spoke was, ' How sweet the bells 
 be ringing ! ' and 'twas tould that on his deathbed 
 he said that he heard the holy bells ringing him 
 home." 
 
 There was a short pause after this legend. Old 
 Truscott breaks it. " They do say now that of 
 rough days, and in the heavy storms, the bells be 
 heard clanging and booming whisht and mournful, 
 and that if a man goeth on one of the holy nights 
 to Willapark Point, the bells will tell 'un his fortune 
 for the year." 
 
 " I have heard," chirped Jack Philp, " that a 
 miller who don't live a hundi-ed miles from the 
 Kocky Valley, when he axed his lass if they were 
 to be married that year, was tould to go and ax the 
 bells. Dost thee know anything about that, Hugh 
 Rosevear ? " 
 
 " Maybe it was so, maybe it was so ; but he 
 never went, for he see'd a summat in her eye which
 
 THE BELLS OF BOTREAUX. 1G3 
 
 tould her mind truer than the bells, so he went to 
 his bed instead." 
 
 " Tom Sloggett watched on the cliff one Christ- 
 mas night," said Truscott, " and they do say heard 
 a bell tolling for a burying. He was never his own 
 agin, and died afore Easter." 
 
 " There is certainly some cursed spell about 
 bells," burst forth Brazilian Dick, who had been 
 moving uneasily and impatiently in his chair dur- 
 ing the recital of the legend, and had ever and anon 
 cast furtive glances from face to face, and from 
 one part of the room to another. " I was haunted 
 by a bell once myself. It never left me for years, 
 and always came dinging and tolling some ill-luck 
 upon me." 
 
 Grace shuddered as the word " haunted " fell on 
 her ear, with the woman's instinct which ever asso- 
 ciates supernatural visitation with crime and con- 
 science. No one asked for the story, and yet 
 Curgenven went on with it impulsively and deter- 
 minedly, as if it were a relief, though an effort, to 
 tell it. " This is how it happened : We were work- 
 ing — a queer crew of us — together in one of the 
 far-away mines. There were Spaniards, and half- 
 castes, and Yankees, and among the rest was a 
 Portugee. He was a gaunt sallow fellow, who 
 never laughed, and seldom spoke, but worked, and 
 gambled, and drank with the viciousness of a devil. 
 Well, before long we lit upon a lode — a real rich
 
 164 TALES FROM '-'BLACKWOOD. 
 
 lode — and tliat made us madder than ever. Great 
 lumps of gold ore fell down at every stroke of the 
 jiick, and we dug, and dug, till the sweat dropped 
 through our shirts, and we could hardly stagger, 
 and struck out quite wildly with our tools. Then 
 we used to go all together to the mouth of the mine, 
 and eat and drink, dice and sleep, for a few hours, 
 till we were fit for work again. 'Twas a sort of 
 devil's life ; but it had its joys too, wild as they 
 were — and we rushed and reeled through it like 
 madmen. It was not long afore we had got enough 
 to make us all rich men ; but still we went on, 
 until we looked more like ghosts doing some doom 
 than men. We always worked, you must know, 
 with knives and pistols in our belts, for we were 
 mortal afraid of one another, and had hid all our 
 treasure together in an old pit, swearing across 
 our daggers, after the Spanish fashion, that we 
 would be true to oiir comradeship, and revenge 
 to the death any breach of faith or trust. One 
 •evening as we came up from our work, and looked 
 about, as we always did, to see that all were 
 together, the Portugee was missing. Suspicion 
 gleamed in every eye at once. All hurried to the 
 hole ; the best and most disposable part of our 
 winnings was gone. A yell of vengeance was 
 raised ; the work was dropped, and we were soon 
 hot in pursuit. On horseback and fully armed, 
 we started off; the Yankees ran on the track like
 
 THE BELLS OF BOTREAUX. 1G5 
 
 bloodhounds, and we followed, tracing the fugitive 
 every night by his fires and the little bare spots 
 where his horse had been tethered. At last the 
 tracks ceased close by a deep thicket, with masses 
 of rock rising here and there amid the brushwood 
 and creepers. There were no paths through it, 
 and the place seemed almost impenetrable. Here, 
 however, we felt that our game w'as at bay, and 
 we resolved to watch it closely. A camp was 
 formed around, and each had his station. Mine 
 was opposite a largo rock, 'neatli which was a 
 dark hollow, covered by masses of overhanging 
 foliage and tall grass. Night after night I kept 
 my watch, fixing my eye on the opening ; and ever 
 there seemed to be an eye meeting and answering 
 mine. At last there came on one of those storms 
 — common in those countries — the rain fell in 
 sheets, the thunder rolled, the lightning flashed 
 fierce and lurid, and the wind swept in gusts over 
 the thicket as though it would uproot it altogether. 
 Yet my watch relaxed not. Still my eye was fijxed 
 on the same spot, and still seemed to see the 
 same gleam. Towards mom, the foliage shook 
 and moved, and a man, haggard, worn, and spectre- 
 like, came forth and stood before me. It was the 
 Portugee. I prepared for a fight ; but there was 
 no spirit of combat in him now. The eternal watch 
 had subdued him, and he confessed that his soul 
 had been cowed within him bv the terror of the
 
 166 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 eye bent unceasingly and vengefully upon him, 
 and that he chose death rather than endure it 
 longer. Some were for hanging him by Lynch 
 law, but the majority were against it ; and we 
 resolved to give him up to the authorities of the 
 nearest city. As our decision was made kno^\Ti, 
 his cheek blanched, his eye quailed, and his whole 
 frame shuddered. We were in hopes then that he 
 would try to buy life by revealing where the stolen 
 treasure was ; but tlie thought of some day recover- 
 ing the gold was dearer to him than the chances of 
 life, and he would not speak. So we bound and 
 pinioned him, and carried him to the town, where, 
 strangely enough, he was recognised as one who 
 had done a foul murder, and been sought every- 
 where. There we left him in prison, and went 
 back to the mine, sullen and desperate with our 
 loss. Soon after, I went back to the town for 
 supplies. There was a crowd gathered in the 
 great square — a murderer was to be garotted that 
 day. Curiosity kept me there. It was a great 
 space lined by soldiers, and in the midst was a 
 large pillar with a seat in front, and the iron band, 
 which was to close round the neck of the culprit, 
 hanging fi'om it. Presently a low chanting was 
 heard, and a procession appeared, moving slowly 
 and solemnly. The priests were singing the service 
 for the dead, and behind came the prisoner clad in 
 a black serge gown, pale, and worn, and deathly
 
 THE BELLS OF BOTREAUX. 1C7 
 
 A confessor was beside him, praying and exhorting. 
 It was the Portugee. On the procession moved 
 towards the fatal chair. He was fixed in it ; the 
 priest had uttered his last benediction ; the exe- 
 cutioner behind was about to give the fatal turn, 
 when the eye of the man turned, and fixed itself 
 on me with a deadly glare. At the same moment 
 a bell tolled, and the glance of the eye seemed to 
 cany the boom right into my heart. In a moment 
 it was all over ; there was a contortion of the face, 
 a quiver of the frame, and then all was still, and 
 the eye glazed in death. For years after, that eye 
 and the toll of that bell haunted me. When I was 
 throwing the dice, or lifting the wine-cup, or stand- 
 ing in the dance, they would flash and boom upon 
 me with a terrible spell ; but this soon wore ofi", 
 for we men of the world cannot afford to give in 
 long to weak superstitions. I had almost forgot- 
 ten it till your foolish story of the Botreaux bells 
 brought back the memory." 
 
 This narrative, delivered as it was in fierce rapid 
 tones, threw a chill over the party. Grace grew 
 pale, and trembled at intervals ; her mother sighed 
 and groaned deeply ; the rest were silent. The 
 thing was too real, too dramatic for them. 
 
 There was little more conversation until supper 
 came. That was the old story of huge joints, pies, 
 puddings, cheeses, heaps of cake, jugs of cider and 
 beer, and large hearty appetites. After it the elders
 
 1G8 TALES FKOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 again grouped around, and gradually fell into the 
 old grooves. Champion Truscott wrestled his 
 matches o'er again ; Dame Eosevear told anecdotes 
 of a favourite cow ; the pilot spoke of gales marvel- 
 lous in their fierceness and intensity ; old Hugh 
 maundered over old traditions ; and Jack Philp 
 gave his only experience of ghosts — telling how 
 he was coming back one night by the churchyard ; 
 how he had there seen tliree parsons attired in 
 surplices, and with books in their hands, walking 
 round the grave of a man who had committed 
 suicide ; how he had been warned back ; and how 
 shortly afterwards he had seen a ball of fire pass 
 three times round the church-tower and then dis- 
 appear. This he supposed was the ceremony of 
 laying the ghost. Old Truscott told, as a counter- 
 story to this, that Jack was returning on the occa- 
 sion from a tithe-meeting, was found next morning 
 under a haystack, and had been observed during 
 the evening to run against the landlord's pig, and 
 there and then take off his hat, with a polite bow, 
 and say, " I beg pardon, your reverence." So that 
 the ghost-laying was not received as authentic. 
 
 Meanwhile Grace had slipped away, so had Phil, 
 and the absence of the Brazilian was considered 
 such a relief that none inquired about it. 
 
 Thus the night wore on, and the hand was on 
 the stroke of the hour which should usher in the 
 Christmas morn.
 
 THE BELLS OF BOTREAUX. 1G9 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 At the mill-dam head, leaning over a railincr. 
 were two figures looking down into the little pool 
 beneath. The valley was all alight with moon- 
 beams, the cascades flashed with silvery brightness, 
 and the stars above had each a fellow in the pools 
 below. The rocks cast a dark shadow on them, 
 and ever and anon behind them flitted a stealthy 
 shade ; before them all was bright and clear. 
 
 " Come, Grace," says Phil, " it is time now that 
 thee shouldst speak out to me plain and free. I've 
 been a true sweetheart to thee for two years — have 
 loved and followed thee like a man ; and sure thee 
 wouldst not turn me oflf after so long a 'prentice- 
 ship." 
 
 " Art tired then, Phil, of thy wooing, that thou 
 art so pressing now, or hast thou grown jealous 
 and mistrustful? Sure I have not favoured any 
 lad so much as I have thee. Canst not wait a 
 while ? " 
 
 " God forbid, Grace, that I should hurry thee ; but 
 there's a pleasant home for thee, and my mother's 
 place empty, so why should I live the lonesome life 
 any longer? Besides, there's that Brazilian chap 
 sneaking around thee, and he means mischief, and 
 I should like to have a right to stand up for thee 
 like a man."
 
 170 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 " That means, Phil, that thou hast a grudge agin 
 'im, and would like to make a quarrel." 
 
 " No, no, I don't want to quarrel with any man, 
 most of all about thee ; but he is cruel aggravating, 
 and I can't bear to see 'im always looking at thee 
 with that keen false eye of his." 
 
 The shade was drawing nearer now, hung close 
 o'er them, and was reflected in the pool beneath, 
 though they saw it not. 
 
 " Come then, Grace, dear," again insinuated Phil, 
 passing his arms lightly round the girl's waist ; 
 " say the word, when shall the wedding be ? Thy 
 fayther favours me, thy mother loves me well, and 
 'tis but a step from the farm to the mill." 
 
 " Go ask the bells, Phil ; 'tis Christmas night. 
 They perhaps may tell thee." 
 
 " I would sooner hear it from thy lips, or see it 
 in thy face ; but if it meet thy fancy, I wull go to 
 the cliff — 'tis but a walk this fine night — and I 
 shall be thinking of thee as the Christmas morn 
 breaks." 
 
 " Well, then, go along, Phil ; and that thou 
 mayest not play the same trick as fayther did, thou 
 shalt bring me a bunch of sea-pink, gathered off the 
 brink." 
 
 " I won't deceive thee, lass, and thou wilt meet 
 me to-morrow at the chapel by the ' Keeve ' ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes ; good-night, Phil." As she spoke, he 
 saw in the young girl's face that which made his
 
 THE BELLS OF BOTREAUX. 171 
 
 heart leap with a joy that needed no token from the 
 bells. Gently he drew her towards him, gave one 
 fervent honest kiss, and then bounded across the 
 little stream on his way to the Willapark Head. 
 
 The dark shade writhed and turned around them 
 now, and then glided away like a serpent from an 
 Eden. 
 
 Gaily did Phil then breast the steep, going for- 
 ward on his mission wdth a heart as bold and true 
 as knight ever went forth with to a deed of " derring 
 do." Grace watched the figure of her lover from her 
 casement, and ever as it moved saw another shadow 
 following, and tracking his, creeping stealthily be- 
 hind, yet never nearing it. A strange dread crept 
 over her, and long long she strained her eyes into 
 the darkness, her heart beating with a new fear. 
 
 Phil has passed by the grey old church now, 
 with its loose stone wall and its mossy gravestones, 
 and has looked to the bell -less tower, and half 
 wished there was a chime there to ring forth a joy- 
 peal on his wedding-day. He is standing at the 
 edge of the black pit ; the deep chasm yawns be- 
 neath, the dark black walls descend in steep veined 
 precipices to the depth below, and their shadows cast 
 a sullen heavy gloom on the waters. It is the only 
 dark spot arotmd. The waves beyond are sparkling 
 brightly, and dimpling in the light wind. He looks 
 on them for a while, half hoping to hear a ghostly 
 peal borne over them ; but there is no sound save
 
 172 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 that of the surf amid the rocks and caverns. He 
 turns again to the pit, and a slight chill passes over 
 him as his eye falls on its grave-like darkness. He 
 is stooping now to gather the sea-pink in a little 
 nook in the cliff. The shadow has followed him 
 steadily, and is now winding and creeping behind 
 him. As he rises, it rises, leaps upon him, and a 
 bright blade flashes in the air. A slight stoop has 
 saved him ; it passes over. He turns, clutches at 
 the dagger, and has the Brazilian by the throat. 
 Their eyes meet, and the men feel that the struggle 
 is one of life and death. They are on the edge of 
 the cliff now ; the grass is dry and slippery ; each 
 feels that a move is destruction. Sternly and 
 silently they hold their grip, their eyes fixed and 
 their feet firm. Phil's skill avails him little ; the 
 Brazilian is more at home in such strife. The 
 moments are hours. They scarce drew breath. 
 Suddenly the Brazilian, desperate and wild, puts 
 forth his strength in one fierce effort to draw his 
 foe towards the cliff. The men totter — they over- 
 hang the dark chasm. Phil is foremost, and he 
 sees the dark waters glooming beneath. Suddenly 
 a wild gust is borne over the waters, and on it 
 there comes the toll of a bell. The Tintagel clock 
 is chiming the midnight hour. The eye of the 
 Brazilian turns for a moment — the powerful arm of 
 his opponent seizes the vantage, and the next he is 
 hurled with a resistless heave over the precipice.
 
 THE BELLS OF BOTREAUX. 17 3 
 
 Fiercely ho clings to his foe ; both men full, but Phil 
 has grasped the grass and earth by the edge ; the 
 Brazilian falls down, down into the blackness of the 
 pit. There is no crash, no splash, but the silence of 
 death. Long and desperately Phil stniggles ; it is 
 for life. Again and again his knee is on the cliif; 
 again it slips ; his hold is foiling — the darkness of 
 the rock seems closing on him — a death-knell clangs 
 at his heart. One more brave effort — one more stout 
 grasp at the sod, and he has won the bank ; he has 
 struggled back into life. Sweat bursts from every 
 pore, a dizziness floats around him, and a sickness 
 as that of death. The Tintagel bells burst out with 
 a merry chime, and strike on him as a mockery as 
 he looks on the dark hell beneath. The Christ- 
 mas mom has begun ; he grasps a handful of the 
 flowers, and thus sadly and heavily does he greet 
 the tokens he had sought and won, whilst the Black 
 Pit looms as a dark doom before him. 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 The little stream of the rocky valley did not act 
 its tiny turbulence throughout its whole course. It 
 had a gentler existence and softer intercourse with 
 meadows and orchards and copses. It was not 
 always a brawler, but had its earlier babbling, pur- 
 ling, and murmm'ing stages, running gently over
 
 17 t TALES FROM "^ BLACmVOOD." 
 
 sand and gravel, and meeting seldom with greater 
 obstructions than a chance stone or jutting bank, 
 such as could be overcome by a light rippling 
 effort. Once, however, in the quiet retired stage 
 of its career, it had met with a great obstacle to 
 its progress, and, like many quiet natures in such 
 emergencies, had then put forth an unwonted vig- 
 our and will. The obstacle was a large rock, which 
 rose directly in its path, and slightly above its bed. 
 Through this upper part it had forced its way by a 
 large hole, like the mouth of a pitcher, and from it 
 fell on a projecting shelf into a self- wrought basin, 
 shallow and shell-shaped as a baptismal font, over- 
 flowing which its waters gushed in a full straight 
 fall into a gravelled reservoir beneath, and then 
 purled on again with their wonted calmness as 
 though they had never met a resistance, or put 
 forth an effort. True to its similitude with quiet 
 natures, however, it had made this effort unobtru- 
 sively and in seclusion. The scene of the waterfall 
 was a little deep dell, overhung by trees and thick 
 foliage, which crept and twined and clustered 
 over every part of the bank and rock where the 
 stream was not, and fi-amed it with masses of ver- 
 dure. It was a great haunt of birds, where they 
 had their glees and oratorios, and was much fav- 
 oured by wildflowers and creepers. The spot was 
 called St Kneighton's Keeve. The word keeve 
 means font, it is supposed, but who this Kneigh-
 
 THE BELLS OF BOTREAUX. 175 
 
 ton the Baptist was, even tradition knows not ; or 
 whether it was on the front of infidels, or on the 
 brows of the knights of the round table, that he 
 dashed the pure flood, and made the holy cross. 
 The ruins of a small chapel or oratory on a platform 
 overhanging and overlooking the cascade, testify to 
 the some-time existence of such religious eremite. 
 And we could almost forgive him for his asceticism, 
 his water-and-cress meals, his isolate piety, and his 
 imcommuned prayers, when we looked on the still 
 verdant beauty of the spot where he had placed his 
 soul in solitude with God. Winter had stripped 
 the trees and creepers of their leaves now, but amid 
 the tumbling walls of the chapel, and on the plateau 
 beside, was the evergreen verdure of many an ar- 
 butus and holly-bush, and here and there a dwarf 
 oak. The scene had still its drapery ; and almost 
 hidden by a screen of berries, bright-green leaves, 
 and suchlike Christmas foliage, there sat on a stone 
 directly above the waterfall one whom hermits even 
 might have looked upon with admiration, so simple 
 and bright was her beauty, freshened now by the 
 clear crisp air, and toned, perhaps, by the solemnity 
 of the services she had just joined in. This was 
 the trysting-place, and Grace was waiting her lover. 
 The tryst was to her a pleasant one, and she 
 scarcely felt, under the influences around her, impa- 
 tience or displeasure at being the first comer. In 
 the sonorous fall and cheerful dash of the waters, she
 
 17G TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 seemed again to hear the swell and joyful chomses 
 of the jubilee anthems, and in the rustling of the 
 bare branches and the shrubs, listened again to the 
 echoed voice of uttered prayer. 
 
 The dread of the night before had passed away, 
 or been forgotten. Her soul was calm and happy 
 in its trysting. A step breaks the silence ; so slow, 
 so broken — can that be Phil Eounsval ? Again her 
 heart asks the question as she looks on a face so 
 woe-stricken — on a form so bent and shrunken in 
 its strength — on an expression so wanting in its 
 old manliness and honesty, so shrouded with gloom 
 and agony, that she almost thinks it must be the 
 apparition of her old lover, and fears to break the 
 spell of his presence. 
 
 At last her voice and her fears find utterance. 
 
 "Phil — Phil, what ails thee? what has happened? 
 what hast seen ? what has come upon thee ? " 
 
 With a ghastly smile he tendered her a bunch of 
 sea-pinks, crushed and already withered. 
 
 " There, Grace ; there is the token that I did thy 
 behest. Didst thou know at what cost it was done, 
 thou wouldst cast it from thee like a curse." 
 
 " No, Phil ; I never could believe that it came in 
 ill — and it shall be ever dear to me ; " and as she 
 spoke, the crumpled flowers were placed in her 
 bosom. " Some misfortune has befallen thee, but 
 thou hast not done a crime, Phil — no, Phil, that is 
 not in thy nature. My heart misgave me as I looked
 
 THE BELLS OF BOTREAUX. 177 
 
 out from my window last niglit" (lior anxiety over- 
 came her maiJen modesty now), " and saw a black 
 shadow of a man crawling after thee. 'Twas Rich 
 Curgenven, I know. What was there bet^^^xt thee? 
 what hast done ? Tell me — tell me, man. Oh tell 
 me, my love," and this time it was her arm which 
 twined round him, and her hand which closed in 
 his. He writhed, and turned from that gentle 
 pressure. 
 
 " No, no, Grace ; thou must not touch me. There 
 is blood on my hand — murder in my soul." 
 
 " In mercy, Phil, speak out," gasped the young 
 girl, her face ashen with terror, her frame trembling 
 and quivering with fear. 
 
 " I will tell thee, Grace, if it be my last words. 
 Thou shalt know the truth. I went, thou knowest, 
 at thy bidding, to the cliff, and was plucking the 
 sea-pink for thee, and listening for the sound of the 
 bells on the waters, when I saw quite sudden the 
 flash of a blade before me, and felt a man's hand 
 upon me. It was Brazilian Dick. We strove there 
 on the brink of the Black Pit, man to man — hours I 
 think, and at last there was a whirl and a shock as 
 if the earth was upheaving, and I saw him shot 
 do'UTi like a great black bird over the cliff, throwing 
 out his arms and grasping at the darkness, and felt 
 myself hanging by the clench of one hand on the 
 turf. 'Twas done in self-defence — not in malice, 
 God knows ; but oh, Grace, Grace ! my hand has 
 
 s.s. — I. M
 
 178 TALES FKOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 taken life, and I have lost my peace — lost thee, lost 
 everything," 
 
 And the strong man shook in his agony, as if 
 ague - stricken, and the tears dropped slow and 
 heavily through the hands which covered his face. 
 A man's tears, ever such a mournful sight, over- 
 came poor Grace entirely, and she laid her head 
 on her lover's shoulder, sobbing and weeping 
 bitterly. The greatness, the suddenness of the 
 calamity, overpov/ered her at first, but with the 
 elasticity of woman's strength, tender and supple,'' 
 bending and breaking not, she was the first to 
 recover from the dread sorrow. 
 
 " Rise up, Phil ; look up, man," she said. " There 
 may be blood on thy hand, but there is no guilt on 
 thy soul. Thou hast done a man to death, but 'twas 
 in self-defence, in right of thy own life, and God 
 will forgive thee for it. But thou must face the 
 deed before the world. Thee must, Phil — thee 
 must." 
 
 And her hand took his — 'twas her gentle strength 
 which lifted him up ; her strength which bore the 
 bulk of the strong man over the loose stones, up 
 the rocky path, over the stiles, and on to his own 
 threshold. There stood John Truscott, with a 
 gloom resting on his open face like a cloud on a 
 broad field, shading, but not shadowing it, as 
 though it had no right to a being there. She 
 knew what his presence meant ; he was parish
 
 THE BELLS OF BOTItEAUX. 170 
 
 constable ; so she gave her lover's hand one gentle 
 clasp, passed her hand over his brow, muttered a 
 short prayer, " God help thee, Phil," and then sped 
 do\\Ti the valley to weep and pi'ay in her own 
 chamber. 
 
 Confronted with his own sex, Phil's manhood 
 arose again erect and strong ; his brow cleared, 
 and his eye looked out calm and confident. 
 
 " I know thy errand, Champion Jan," he said, 
 "and wilt go with thee — don't handcuflf me. I 
 couldn't bear that — couldn't bear to go like a crim- 
 inal through the streets." 
 
 " Never fear, Phil ; I will do my duty gently by 
 thee, lad. 'Tis a black business, but I never will 
 believe thee dost it wilfully. I have kno^\Ti thee 
 boy and man for years, and never saw thee do a 
 vengeful or wilful thing. Tell us, lad, all about it. 
 I feel like a fayther to thee, and would help thee 
 all I can." 
 
 Confidence begat strength. Phil roiised himself, 
 thought over the incidents of that fearful night, 
 and gave them in a detail more circumstantial than 
 they had yet occurred to himself, and his heart was 
 lightened thereby. Thus he went on to meet the 
 charge of murder, uphold by his own uprightness, 
 comforted by the memory of Grace's tenderness 
 and love.
 
 180 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Early on that Cliristmas morn, old Joe Treherne 
 had gone out in his boat, had sailed round the Willa- 
 park Point, and stood in towards the Black Pit. 
 With his wonted habit, he was scanning the shore, 
 and running his eye over the cliff and the precipice, 
 when it lit on something strange lying on a shelving 
 slit in the wall of the rock. He thought at first it 
 was a calf or goat fallen over ; but then it seemed 
 to have a sort of motion ; the wind was raising the 
 clothes, and he thought it must be a man. He put 
 the boat close in, jumped on the ledge, and saw 
 indeed the body of a man. A glance at the dress 
 sufficed to recognise Richard Curgenven. The legs 
 hung dangling, and seemingly lifeless, the body lay 
 still and deathlike, the arms stiff and motionless by 
 its side ; the pallor of death was on the face, but 
 the eyes still rolled and glared, and the breath of 
 life came from the lips and nostrils in quick and 
 fitful respii-ations. The hands were cut and bleed- 
 ing, and one still clutched a silk neckerchief with a 
 firm numbed grip. 
 
 '' Here has been some wild work," muttered the 
 pilot. " 'Twas no false or tipsy step that brought 
 this man over the cliff. Dick hath met with a fall 
 from some hand or other." 
 
 As he lifted up the body, he saw no trace of wound
 
 THE BELLS OF BOTRE.VUX. 181 
 
 or blow ; the limbs and trunk were paralysed and 
 powerless — the only vitality was in the mouth and 
 eye. The collar and shirt about the throat were 
 torn and displaced ; and as Joe and his mate carried 
 their burden to the boat, the empty sheath of a knife 
 dropped from the sash around the waist. 
 
 "Hot blood, cold steel, and a death-grip have 
 been the story here, I expect. I hope young 
 Faarmer Phil had nought to do with this business," 
 said old Joe, as he made a bed of coats and sails in 
 the boat for the dying man. 
 
 " I hope not — I hope not, pilot ; but there was 
 ever a grudge atwixt 'em ; and both of 'em had a 
 liking for Miller Eosevear's lass ; and one never 
 knows what a man will do when his heart is 
 jealous, like." 
 
 Sadly and- silently they pulled back into the 
 harbour. Not a moan or a groan came from Cur- 
 genven ; but the eye flashed and wandered as 
 though in search of some unseen thing. A door 
 was soon unhung, and a mattress placed on it to 
 make a litter, on which he was conveyed to a cot- 
 tage where he had lodged. A crowd soon gathered 
 round, and made a kind of procession. The story, 
 with all kinds of exaggeration, went from house to 
 house, and lip to lip ; Phil's name was gradually 
 connected with the event, and the bruit went abroad 
 that Brazilian Dick had been thrown over the cliflf 
 and murdered by young Rounsval. Meanwhile he
 
 182 TALES FEOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 had been placed on a bed, and the doctor had been 
 sent for. Fracture of the yertebrge and laceration of 
 the spinal cord was his verdict, caused, he said, by 
 the fall. There was no hope of life ; but death 
 might not ensue for hours, perhaps for days, and 
 there might be intervals of consciousness, and 
 partial restoration of the mental powers. On ex- 
 amination no mark was found which indicated 
 violence ; but the kerchief clutched in the hand 
 was soon identified as liaving belonged to Eminsval, 
 and a pin stuck in it was recognised as an old and 
 treasured heirloom of his family. This and many 
 corroborative circumstances made a body of circum- 
 stantial evidence which was considered sufficient to 
 lead to the apprehension of Phil. Gossipry was 
 soon rife, and produced the story with every kind 
 of variation. One version was, that Dick had been 
 pixy-led, and had thus lost his way and tumbled 
 down into the Black Pit. Another told how he had 
 been haunted and bewitched by the sound of a bell, 
 and had gone on and on following its sound, until 
 he was enticed over the cliff. Another detailed 
 more circumstantially how he and Grace had met 
 up by the Point, how Phil had followed them, how 
 they were just breaking the ring in sign of troth, 
 when he had sprung forward and pushed the happy 
 lover down the precipice ; how Grace had tried to 
 spring after him, and how she had swounded away, 
 and been found in this state by the old sexton on
 
 THE BELLS OF BOTKEAUX. 183 
 
 the steps of the church, when he had gone to open 
 the door. 
 
 For a long time the dying man lay in a kind of 
 stupor, without sign or motion. Very strange 
 and awful was this life in death — this struggle of 
 strong vitality with fate. After some hours, a 
 feverish strength seemed to seize upon the brain, 
 and set eye and tongue in \dvid motion. This 
 spasmodic action of thought, and look, and speech 
 — the ten-ible memories which flashed forth in 
 ghastly glances, and were shouted out in wild 
 utterances, were in fearful contrast with the dead- 
 ness which ha,d spread over the poor body from 
 the neck downwards. The limbs could no longer 
 respond to the impulses of the will, or sympathise 
 with the workings of the spirit. 
 
 At times the ravings were of past things, and 
 horrible enough were these revelations. At times 
 he would be on the pirate's deck rejoicing in fiend- 
 ish laugh at the tortures of his victims as they 
 went over into their watery grave — at times would 
 be launching out imprecations and curses in tlie 
 slaver's hold — at times woiild live through the 
 scenes of the past night, mixing up its memories 
 with those of other days, tangling all the dark 
 threads of life together. 
 
 "All! that accursed bell!" thus he raved — 
 " that cursed eye ! I had him fast and sure — 'twas 
 my turn, then. How pale he looked as he was
 
 184 TALES FKOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 tottering on the brink ! How lie clutched my 
 throat ! I feel his fingers now, hot and throttling. 
 Then that bell, — boom — boom — it came on my ear, 
 and that eye flashed like lightning from the clouds. 
 Then my feet slipped. How it donged into my 
 ear and shot into my brain as I hung on by that 
 rock. Wliat are those priests chanting the burial- 
 service for ? There is no one in that chair ! there 
 is only an eye. How it pierces ; I can't look at it ! 
 My hold is giving ! How sharp the rock is ! I 
 can't look up for that eye, and I can't go down to 
 that dark hell down there. That pale lady and her 
 husband and her child are down there, looking as 
 they did when we made them walk the plank. 
 What are those black fellows crawling up the rock 
 for ? Chain them ! — lash them ! Thrust them 
 down — down into the black pit ! " 
 
 Exhaustion soon followed, and he fell into a fit- 
 ful broken sleep. When he awoke again, his mind 
 had recovered its consciousness, and was yielding 
 to the influences of the physical prostration. The 
 spirit had sunk into a sort of calm ; its fierceness 
 was succeeded by a half-sullen, half-penitent mood. 
 There was apathy rather than dread of death ; in- 
 difference rather than remorse ; and it was then 
 that, in the presence of many witnesses, he avowed 
 that he had sought Phil Eounsval's life, and that 
 the struggle in which he had met his death was of 
 his own seeking. Investigation soon brought cor-
 
 THE BELLS OF BOTREAUX. 185 
 
 roborations of this confession. Grace testified to 
 having seen him follow Eounvsal up the hill ; old 
 Truscott had gone to the spot, and there, shining 
 in the grass, found a knife which had been worn by 
 Curgenven. General conviction set with the proof 
 of facts, and there could no longer be cause or 
 reason for Phil's detention. Never did Truscott 
 perform a duty more gladly and heartily than when 
 he announced Phil's liberation. The tear stood in 
 his eye, and his strong voice faltered as he con- 
 gratulated him. "And now then, lad," said he, 
 " when thou hast thanked God for thy deliverance, 
 home to thy sweetheart, and thou mayest yet have 
 a happy Christmas." 
 
 " No, no ! I must see 'un once more. Though 
 I'm innocent in intent, I took his life, and must 
 have his forgiveness." They were alone now in 
 that chamber of death — the once rivals, the two 
 strong men — the one bowed by sorrow, the other 
 lying broken and prostrate on the threshold of 
 eternity. Slowly Phil advanced towards the bed, 
 and looked down on that pale face ; the death sweat 
 was on the brow now, and the eyes were half 
 closed. As they opened on him, there shot a ray 
 of their wonted glare, but this passed away as Phil 
 knelt down by the bedside, and said softly and 
 calmly, " Dick, Dick, I bore thee no malice — I 
 meant thee no harm. Let us forgive one another 
 ere thou goest hence. Let us part in peace."
 
 186 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD. 
 
 There came no voice in answer ; the power of 
 speech had gone, but the eye looked out peace and 
 reconcihation ; and as Philip Konnsval prayed there 
 by that bedside, the stain of blood passed away from 
 liis soul. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 'Twas Cliristmas night, and the fire was blazing 
 on Hugh Kosevear's hearth, but it lighted up no 
 merriment or gladness there. Sad and melancholy 
 was the group by that fireside. A few short hours 
 had brought a change as though years had passed 
 and gone, and had brought age and blight and woe. 
 The old miller sat in his old place, silent and 
 mournful, with his head bowed on his chest, his 
 eyes bent on the ground. Before him was a large 
 old Bible, and on the open page lay his horn spec- 
 tacles. His wife was on a stool at his feet, rocking 
 to and fro, and sobbing, bursting forth into exclama- 
 tions, half sorrowful, half-prayerful. Opposite sat 
 Grace, pale, and still as a statue, but tearless and 
 resigned, her sorrow touched with the strength of 
 trust, and the hopefulness which cometh from 
 prayer. Thus the night was speeding when the 
 latch was lifted, a footstep was heard on the floor, 
 and Phil stood among them. 'Twas like an appari- 
 tion, but the presence brought at once a sense of
 
 THE BELLS OF BOTREAUX. 187 
 
 relief and instinct of joy. Tlio old miller sat up 
 
 erect once more. The dame uttered a ferv'ent 
 
 " Thank God ! " and Grace glided silently to her 
 
 lover's side. 
 
 " Phil," said the old man, " I know'st thou art 
 
 free, and hast proved thy innocence, or thou 
 
 wouldst not have come to my hearthstone. Thank 
 
 God for it. My heart will keep Christmas-time yet." 
 
 " Yes, yes, miller, thou shouldst never have see'd 
 me again unless I could look in thy face, and stand 
 before thee a clear man. He confessed all, tould 
 how he had tried to stab me as I stooped down, 
 and how 'twas in self defence I threw 'im from the 
 cliff. We have parted in peace." 
 
 There was not much demonstration or utterance 
 in the joy which followed. It was calm and solemn, 
 such as falls on hearts which have passed from trial 
 and suffering into peace and gladness. 
 
 Shortly after midnight old Truscott brought the 
 last tidings from the death-bed. " He has passed 
 away," he said — " 'tis all over. He was calm and 
 peaceful-like at the last. Old Goody says she 
 heard him say some prayer, though 'twas in a 
 foreign tongue. As the bells chimed the. hour from 
 Tintagel, too, a sort of faint smile came over his 
 face, and his lips was moving, and then 'twas all 
 still, still." 
 
 And so closed the Christmas day which had 
 dawned so darkly.
 
 188 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 The summer was at its full, the sun fell brightly 
 on the downs and on the old church-tower of 
 Botreaux. The sea was smooth, and lay basking 
 in the brightness ; the furze and the heath were in 
 full bloom, and the scent of thyme and clover 
 mingled freshly with the sweet air, when a 
 marriage-train passed on to the old church. Old 
 Hugh was there, old Truscott, gay and hearty, and 
 all our old friends. And as Phil and Grace passed 
 out again, linked arm-in-arm, they looked up sig- 
 nificantly at the silent tower, and then back loving- 
 ly into each other's face, as though they felt there 
 needed no bells to peal the gladness of their hearts. 
 
 The events of that terrible night left their 
 impress on Phil in a certain seriousness which 
 shaded, though it did not cloud, his cheerfulness. 
 He was never known to lay his hand on a man 
 again. The ring knew him no more. But his 
 hearthstone knew him well. On it he stood ever a 
 glad and happy man, and he was often known to 
 say that the voices of his wife and children, as he 
 crossed his threshold, rang a merrier peal on his 
 heart than could ever have come from the holy 
 bells of Botreaux.
 
 A RECENT CONFESSION OF AN 
 OPIUM-EATEE. 
 
 BY MAJOR-GENERAL E. B. HAMLEY. 
 
 [MAQA. December 1856.] 
 
 [This paper 'was \mtten and puhlisied, as a piece of good- 
 humoured banter, during Mr De Quincey's lifetime. It is 
 probable that if he read it, he would not be displeased with 
 it, containing as it does, evidence of a study of his style so 
 careful as to be in itself a compliment; and, in fact, it was 
 accepted at the time, by at least one eminent critic, as the 
 genuine production of the Opium-Eater himself.] 
 
 There is no necessity for telling the reader how 
 I came into the company with which he Viill find 
 me associated in the ensuing narrative ; and there 
 are several reasons why he need not be informed on 
 that point. In the first place, he has no right to in- 
 quire ; for I hold, and always have held, and main- 
 tained, both in argument and practice, that a man 
 is responsible only to himself for the company he 
 chooses to keep. 2dly, Supposing he had the right 
 to ask (which, as already stated, I deny), still it
 
 190 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 would be inconvenient for me to tell him. 3dlv, 
 Supposing he had the right, and I were willing to 
 acknowledge it, it would nevertheless be useless to 
 the purpose of the story I am about to narrate, and 
 therefore a crime against art. 4thly, Because any 
 consistency and completeness which the narrative 
 might gain by the relation of the circumstances 
 antecedent to the position, at once intensely horrible 
 and highly amusing, whither they conducted me, 
 are sufficiently attained by the mention of the fact 
 that, while enjoying with the full appreciation of a 
 refined and extremely sensitive nature the appli- 
 ances of luxury and wealth, I have never sln-unk 
 from studying the aspect of humanity in the Kem- 
 brandt-like chiaroscuro of vice and crime. In search 
 of the harmonies which slumber in the soul of man, 
 I have sounded the base string of society. Leaving 
 the splendours and decencies of the upper regions 
 of our social atmosphere, I have voluntarily de- 
 scended into depths filled with fetid and noxious 
 exhalations, and I have ever returned to the light' 
 of common day with an intensified sense of the un- 
 fathomable mysteries and the unutterable melodies 
 hidden in the profoundest abysses of our nature. 
 
 Some of my readers will probably remember 
 that particular epoch in the history of crime when 
 murder became the handmaid of medical and surgi- 
 cal science, whose requirements, at that time greatly 
 extended by the ardour of discovery, were by no
 
 CONFESSION OF AN OI'IUM-EATER. 191 
 
 means satisfied either by the legal offerings of 
 the bodies of criminals, or the more adventurous, 
 though less legitimate, contributions of surrepti- 
 tious exliumation. The impulse communicated to 
 that branch of study which deals with the mysteries 
 of our physical nature, by the great anatomists and 
 physicians who stand in conspicuous array on the 
 line which separates dusky empiricism from lumin- 
 ous science, had awakened cra\angs in the minds of 
 oiu: students which could no longer be stilled by 
 such eleemosynary and desultory aid. To satisfy 
 these cravings, a race of miscreants arose, whose 
 peculiar province in the field of assassination may 
 be denominated enlightened Thuggism. But their 
 atrocities, though serving a more practical purpose 
 than those of the Thug, had their origin in a far 
 less elevated motive. There is too much reason to 
 believe that a mercenary desire to obtain the price 
 of the body predominated, in most instances, over 
 the wish to advance the interests of science ; while 
 even the better of these influences is still far inferior 
 to the religious fervour which prompted the tighten- 
 ing of the oriental noose. Be that as it may, it was 
 at a time when the horrible trade had gained the 
 utmost extent and organisation it was destined to 
 attain, before the revelation of its iniquities had 
 caused that outbm-st of popular execration which 
 extinguished it utterly, instantaneously, and for 
 ever, as with the blast of a hurricane, that the
 
 192 TALES FKOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 incidents occurred to which I am about to draw the 
 reader's attention. 
 
 The scene, then, is a squalid and dingy chamber 
 in the topmost flat of one of the many-storeyed and 
 ancient dweUings which still give individuality to 
 the Old Town of Edinburgh. The sole furniture of 
 the apartment was a battered and time-defaced table, 
 stained with grease and liquor, having a bench of 
 similar character on each side. In a bottle on the 
 table was stuck a long candle of the commonest 
 description, whose flaring and drooping wick shed 
 a dull light on the faces of the company. How 
 I came to be in such a scene, and among such 
 persons as I am about to describe, is, as I have 
 already intimated, no business of the reader's. Suf- 
 fice it that I- was there, the occupant of one of the 
 benches, while opposite me sat three individuals, 
 two men and a woman. Long-nosed Bill, the 
 central person of the tlu'ee, possessed a remarkably 
 villanous j)hysiognomy, which, the index as it was 
 to mental features equally singular and truculent, 
 rendered him a highly interesting subject of philo- 
 sophical contemplation. His nose was, as his name 
 indicated, very long, and overhung so as almost to 
 conceal a mouth so small, thin, and compressed, as 
 to appear to have been made with a knife after the 
 rest of his countenance was designed ; while on 
 each side of the main feature, sparkled an eye, 
 deep-set, small, grey, and inexorable. His head, 
 plirenologically speaking, was not bad, being of
 
 CONFESSION OF AN OPIUM-EATER. 193 
 
 Bufficiont height, though tho forehead was concealed 
 by straight black locks ; the countenance, widest 
 at the forehead and naiTOwing almost to a point at 
 the chin, was of a pale clay-colour ; and the solo 
 expression was one of truculent vigilance and reso- 
 lution. On William's right was seated a more 
 commonplace miscreant, whose coarseness of ap- 
 pearance and conversation betokened atrocity unre- 
 deemed by refinement, and whose name of Squabby 
 (by which his companions addressed him) was not 
 without a certain philological fitness. One of those 
 external indications of character which garments 
 often convey, appeared in the contrast afforded by 
 the dress of these men ; for while Bill's shabby, 
 scantv, and close-buttoned black coat rather exag- 
 gerated the unfavourable impression made by his 
 thin angular form and cadaverous countenance, and 
 seemed to show that he despised those little ameli- 
 orations in costume which are within reach of the 
 humblest, Squabby's gaudy waistcoat, and gorgeous 
 jewellery of glass and copper, showed all the in- 
 clination without the power to be what in these 
 latter days is denominated "a swell." The word 
 dandy, which, at the time I speak of, was the 
 generic term for all who cultivated ostentatiously, 
 with whatever degree of success, the art of costume, 
 fails to convey the idea of exuberance and floridity 
 expressed in the newer appellation. Squabby, 
 therefore, was a \nilgar swell. 
 
 s.s. — I. N
 
 194 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 Their female companion — faded, though still 
 young — possessed, nevertheless, a face whose ex- 
 pression frequently drew my gaze. This was owing 
 not so much to her beauty, which could never have 
 been of a striking character, as to the likeness she 
 bore to a young girl with whom I had some years 
 before been curiously, intimately, and most romanti- 
 cally connected. Ah Catherine ! even now, when 
 I summon from the dim past thy angel face, with 
 the mild imploring look I last beheld there — im- 
 ploring a speedy return, where fate was even then 
 waiting, with iron pen, the stern decree that for me 
 to thee there should be no return — even now, as 
 those eyes so beseechingly beam on me through 
 the distance of many lustres, my heart owns that 
 there are sympathies over which time has no con- 
 trol. That likeness, faint as it was, perhaps alto- 
 gether fanciful, awoke feelings which, as they arose, 
 brought with them a crowd of memories — and hence 
 the charm which a face, to others, perhaps, common- 
 place, had for me, though there was nothing in the 
 manner, appearance, or conversation of this young 
 woman which distinguished her as in any way very 
 superior to the scene and the society in which the 
 reader finds her. 
 
 It must not be imagined that we had no other 
 occupation in this dreary and ill-lighted apartment 
 than that of looking at each other. Another bottle, 
 besides that which officiated as candlestick, stood
 
 CONFESSION OF AN OPIUM-EATER. 195 
 
 on the table ; or, I should rather say, paced round 
 it, fur it seldom halted much longer than was 
 necessary for the filling of the cracked glass which 
 stood before each of us. Our liquor was port, a 
 choice made at my suggestion, and Long-nosed Bill 
 had coincided with a hearty cordiality which his 
 appearance did not certainly promise, but the 
 motive of which I afterwards divined. He had sent 
 the girl out for a dozen bottles ; and though almost 
 abstaining himself, and restraining also the mani- 
 fest inclination of Squabby for the generous liquor, 
 he pressed it on me with a hospitality that seemed 
 incapable of being repressed or chilled. 
 
 Meanwhile the conversation did not flag. Squabby, 
 finding in me an interested and attentive auditor, 
 talked much and loudly, but with a certain coarse- 
 ness which would have disgusted me had not his 
 loquacity perpetually started subjects which the 
 sagacious William treated with a masterly terseness, 
 such as I have seldom heard equalled. But the 
 great charm of his conversation was its mystery. 
 The numerous adventures in which he appeared 
 to have been engaged had neither beginning nor 
 end. Of secret expeditions, of hairbreadth escapes, 
 of rapid flights, there were sufficient to set up a 
 modern novelist for several seasons — but the spring 
 and motive of all these were wanting, ^^^ly these 
 expeditions were planned, what pursuers he had 
 escaped from, and why flight was necessary, were
 
 196 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 questions which I had to call in my imagination 
 and invention to respond to, and thus to string on 
 theories of my own the broken links of his narrative. 
 Equally mysterious, though more boisterous, was 
 the conduct of Squabby, who frequently made 
 jesting allusions to their peculiar vocation, which, 
 though to me utterly devoid of meaning, caused a 
 cynical smile to flit across the astute physiognomy 
 of his friend, while the woman responded with a 
 low and musical laugh generally smothered in the 
 corner of her shawl. This mystery veiling the 
 subject of their conversation, without concealing its 
 main outlines, lent to it the interest which awak- 
 ened and baffled curiosity has always excited in my 
 mind from my earliest days. My part was not, 
 however, merely that of a listener or a guesser. I 
 hesitated not to exchange sentiments and experi- 
 ences with these humble friends, who granted me 
 the same attention which I in my turn gave to 
 them ; and I remember regarding it as a striking- 
 proof that no eloquence, if genuine, is beyond the 
 appreciation of the rudest minds, when on one 
 occasion I having delivered a magnificent quotation 
 in a manner (as I flatter myself) to do full justice to 
 its sonorous flow, and having told them the words 
 were those of the great Burke, they heard his name 
 with startled interest, and were silent for some 
 moments after. However, I now conjecture there 
 might be other reasons for the agitation caused by 
 that glorious name.
 
 CONFESSION OF AX OPIUM-EATER. 197 
 
 I had probably dnink about two bottles of wine 
 to my own share, Squabby nearly as much, and the 
 abstemious Bill perhaps about a bottle, when I 
 thought I perceived a diminution in the cordiality 
 of this latter entertainer. I am naturally extremely 
 sensitive in such matters — indeed so morbidly alive 
 to the faintest indications of failing hos})itality, as 
 sometimes to conceive suspicions regarding the 
 sincerity of my welcome, which I am subsequently 
 satisfied are groundless. However, in the present 
 instance, there could be no doiibt that Long-nosed 
 Bill not only ceased to talk himself, but listened to 
 me with manifest impatience, and sometimes ex- 
 changed glances with his two companions, while 
 those he cast on me bore rather the character of 
 animosity than cordiality. Under these circum- 
 stances I considered it due to myself, as well as to 
 my hosts, to rise and bid them good-night. Tliis 
 sudden move of mine produced an instantaneous 
 change in the manner of Long-nosed Bill, who 
 pressed me to stay with more than his former hos- 
 pitality, while, at a wink from him. Squabby placed 
 himself between me and the door, and, with bois- 
 terous but good-humoured reproaches on my breach 
 of good-fellowship, refused to let me pass. All this, 
 however, would have had small effect in inducing 
 me to remain after the change in Bill's manner 
 towards me ; but just then the woman also joined 
 her entreaties to his. In so doing she used a tone
 
 198 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 and gesture which at once arrested me. They were 
 such as recalled vividly the tone and gesture which 
 a young girl had unconsciously assumed some years 
 before when I was parting from her in anger. All. 
 Emily ! potent indeed was the charm of thy plead- 
 ing over my offended and recusant spirit. Hard 
 indeed would it have been to turn from those eyes 
 — to repel that offered embrace. Years had passed, 
 Emily, since I had seen thee — many feelings and 
 many memories had crowded in between — but the 
 voice and look of a stranger recalling thine, showed 
 that even the faint and distant echo of thy powerful 
 spell could still enchain me. I need scarcely say I 
 resumed my seat. 
 
 Long-nosed Bill now became more agreeable and 
 hospitable even than at first, relating passages in 
 his career still more marvellous, and passing the 
 wine with increased rapidity, insisting at each 
 round of the bottle on filling my glass himself, and 
 calling out pleasantly, " Xo heeltaps," before doing 
 so. For a time this amused me ; and I was also 
 interested in watching a little by-play can-ied on 
 by Bill's companions. The woman was no doubt 
 united to him in bonds more or less hallowed, and 
 Bill, with the watchful prudence which his counte- 
 nance betokened, seemed perpetually on his guard to 
 prevent the slightest familiarity between her and 
 Squabby. Notwithstanding all his vigilance, I ob- 
 served, however, that, whenever his attention was
 
 CONFESSION OF AN OPIUM-EATER. 199 
 
 distracted by the friendly office of filling my glass, 
 or whenever he grew so interested in any of his 
 narratives as to relax his watchfulness for a moment, 
 the woman, stealthily passing her hand behind him, 
 clasped that of Squabby extended to meet it. To a 
 philosopher and student of human nature this slight 
 incident was amply sufficient to reveal a tale of 
 passion — a tale which it saddened me to read. I 
 saw in Long-nosed Bill an instance of the insuffi- 
 ciency of the most astute and powerful intellect to 
 restrain the erratic propensities of the female heart. 
 Here was this great man, who had lavished per- 
 chance his whole heart, staked his whole faith, on 
 the woman beside him, while she, like the base 
 Juda^an tlirowing this pearl away richer than all her 
 tribe, bestowed in secret her love upon one conspic- 
 uously Bill's inferior in every respect, except that 
 his personal appearance was rather less revolting. 
 Miserable mistake ! accursed error ! yet one to 
 which the feminine nature is peculiarly liable. The 
 remembrance of such an error, of which I was my- 
 self the victim, is still as a dagger to my heart. 
 For thee, Augusta ! for thee my nights were nights 
 of sleeplessness — my days, days of reverie ; to thee 
 I gave the thoughts of my philosophic soul. And 
 how didst thou requite me? "With undoubting 
 faith and untiring constancy ? — No ! On the night 
 of that ever -memorable ball — a ball which still 
 haunts my remembrance as if peopled with spectres
 
 200 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 and demons — there flitted before thine inconstant 
 eye that gaudy figure rich indeed in scarlet and 
 embroidery and clanking spurs, but poor, beyond 
 all measure of poverty, in that philosophic refine- 
 ment which constitutes true wealth. From that 
 moment I was forgotten, and since then a perma- 
 nent shadow has settled on my soul. 
 
 This train of thought naturally made me melan- 
 choly ; and my spirits were farther depressed by a 
 cause which I will now state. At this period I had 
 resolved gradually to wean myself from opium, and, 
 after terrible struggles and enormous sufferings, 
 had succeeded in limiting myself to a pint and a 
 half of laudanum per diem. Now on this particu- 
 lar day I had taken only a pint, for the following 
 reason : the di'uggist with whom I generally dealt 
 had sent me a batch of 144 dozen, in which my 
 experienced palate at once detected adulteration. 
 I had therefore returned it, retaining only a bottle 
 for the day's consumption. With this bottle in my 
 hand I had gone down to the kitchen to speak to 
 my cook-maid, when a family of beggars made their 
 appearance at the door, consisting of a father, 
 mother, and two children. The plaintive tones in 
 which they entreated charity went to my heart. 
 Ye gods ! I said, here are people hungry, cold, 
 miserable, craving a morsel of food, while I hold in 
 my hand this bottle, the key of the seventh heaven. 
 Am I justified in withholding the celestial panacea?
 
 CONFESSION OF AN OnUM-EATER. 201 
 
 Shall I not say, Drink and be happy ? In compli- 
 ance with tliis natural impulse, I at once gave each 
 of them a glass of laudanum, which they drank in 
 solemn silence and went away. What became of 
 them I cannot say ; but as I never heard of any 
 family being poisoned about that time, I conclude 
 they were all confirmed opium-eaters. However, 
 this liberality on my part reduced my dose for that 
 day to about a pint, and I was now beginning to 
 feel the e£Fects of this unusual abstinence : the chief 
 of which effects was of course depression of spirits 
 — gradually my head sank on my bosom. I ceased 
 to respond to Bill's call of "No heeltaps;" the 
 liquor I craved was not the growth of Oporto. It 
 was then that Bill, seeing my condition, but ascrib- 
 ing it to a wrong cause, used this remarkable ex- 
 pression : " He's pretty near done — let's finisli 
 him ;" and the woman going to a cupboard returned 
 Avith a bottle, which Bill uncorked, and filling my 
 glass from it, pressed me to drink. Half-absently, 
 I complied : but the moment I put my lips to it I 
 started with joy. Could BiU, then, read my heart ? 
 — could he pry into my soul ? Why, here was the 
 very potion for which I had been thirsting as never 
 Arab thirsted in the desert, and now (here I sipped 
 again) — it was no mirage, but the divine nectar 
 itself. Tossing off my glass, I at once resumed my 
 wonted cheerfulness. 
 
 I noticed that, instead of talking as before, Bill
 
 202 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 and the woman now intently watched me (Squabby 
 was by this time very nearly blind-drunk) ; and my 
 intellect regaining its usual vigorous clearness, I at 
 once perceived that Bill, with what design I knew 
 not, intended to "hocuss" me. The absurdity of 
 an attempt to render me insensible with laudanum 
 presented itself so vividly to my mind, that I had 
 much difficulty in preventing myself from exploding 
 in laughter. However, I managed to preserve my 
 gravity, and, entering into the humour of the thing, 
 at once resolved to drink against my entertainer — 
 Laudanum versus Port — and thus astonish his debile 
 faculties as Jack did the Giant's in the matter of the 
 hasty-pudding, only that, instead of merely pretend- 
 ing by a mean subterfuge to consiime my share, as 
 Jack did, I would drink glass for glass. What a 
 triumph of opium-eating ! How would the great 
 Coleridge scowl in envious bitterness of spirit, 
 when he learned that I had achieved a feat which 
 he well knew he never could hope to surpass ! 
 
 Now then for it ! Bill drinks, and offers to fill 
 my glass. I fill it myself, quaff it off, and continue 
 to converse cheerfully. Bill drinks again — I imitate 
 him — Bill stares and looks astounded, but neverthe- 
 less continues to drink : so do I. We each stick to 
 our own bottles, the liquor in which grows rapidly 
 lower. Bill gets confused, and is no longer master 
 of his utterance — I become calmer and calmer, and 
 flow on in a rapt strain of eloquence which immea-
 
 CONFESSION OF AN OPIUM-EATER. 203 
 
 surably delights myself. Presently, however, my 
 attention is arrested by a change in Bill's aspect ; 
 he has fixed on me a gaze of unutterable malignity. 
 He mutters to the woman, in a thick husky whisper, 
 that " he ain't a-goin' to stand this nmch longer." 
 In a moment I became alive to the situation I was 
 in. I was in the presence of an exasperated ruffian, 
 who saw in me one who had put him to a consider- 
 able expense in wine (to say nothing of the laud- 
 anum), and who not only obstinately refused to part 
 with his faculties, but was rapidly reducing his 
 host to a state of intoxication. Affairs became pre- 
 sently more serious, when Squabby, utterly unable 
 to sit upright any longer, suddenly disappeared 
 under the table — when Bill impatiently started up 
 glaring fiercely on me. I instantly summoned my 
 energies to meet the difficulty, and, falling forward 
 with my head on the table, affected to snore heavily. 
 I heard Bill remark that "'twas all right at last, 
 but he believed that 'ere cove was the de\al ; " 
 when the woman, taking up the candle, opened the 
 door of an inner apartment, and entered, followed 
 by Bill with uncertain steps. 
 
 It may easily be imagined that I now lifted up 
 my head, and watched them with intense interest. 
 The room they entered was small, and its only 
 furniture were a bed and a sack. The bed was 
 peculiar, consisting of two thick mattresses, with- 
 out bed-clothes, and a complication of ropes, pulleys.
 
 204 TALES FROM " ELACKWOOD." 
 
 and weights. Presently Bill and the woman, each 
 seizing a rope, began pnlling, and the upper mat- 
 tress slowly rose. Heaven and earth! what a 
 thought flashed across my mind! I had heard of 
 such things before— the unhappy being, stupefied 
 by opium, was placed between two mattresses, and 
 smothered so as to produce the appearance of natu- 
 ral death, when his body would be sold to the sur- 
 geons ! The sack was irresistible e-\adence — it must 
 be so ! I was in the company of body-snatchers, 
 and was about to be burked ! ! ! 
 
 The thrill of horror which now naturally passed 
 through my heart, did not prevent me from see- 
 ing the case in all its philosophic bearings. My 
 natural impulse was, of course, self-preservation ; 
 but still, as a philosopher, I was bound to consider 
 also the interests of the public. I had every reason 
 to believe that my organs and functions had be- 
 come so vitiated by the use of opium, as to insure, 
 to him who should lay bare, with scientific knife 
 and anxious inquiry, this earthly tabernacle, the 
 disclosure of the most remarkable phenomena. Had 
 I then, as a citizen, the right to withhold this per- 
 ishable frame, which would inevitably be dissolved 
 in a few years, and perhaps under far less important 
 conditions (for I might leave off opium, and, thus 
 restoring my body to a healthy condition, render it 
 comparatively valueless), when I might, by sub- 
 mitting to the fate designed for me, remain for
 
 CONFESSION OF AN OPIUM-EATER. 205 
 
 ages, in spirits of wine, a monument of opium-eat- 
 ing ? This was one view of the case ; but pres- 
 ently, with that clear \'iew of things which the 
 practised metaphysician inevitably acquires, I per- 
 ceived an objection. I remembered that my body 
 would probably, nay certainly, be sold to some 
 surgeon totally unacquainted "with my person and 
 habits, and who would therefoi'e be wholly incom- 
 petent to explain the remarkable appearances which 
 dissection would reveal ; and the theories broached 
 to account for them, being thus based on mere sup- 
 position, might probably perplex science instead of 
 advancing it. This view of the case, coupled with 
 a desire to live my appointed time, decided me, and 
 I took my measures accordingly. 
 
 All this time I have left Bill and the woman 
 standing by the fatal bed, where Death so often 
 took his repose, wnth the ropes in their hands. 
 Fastening them so as to allow the uj^per mattress 
 to remain uplifted, they turned towards me ; but 
 before they did so, and while I was still left in 
 almost complete obscurity, I filled from my bottle 
 of laudanum both their glasses. The perplexity of 
 the woman, and the drunken astonishment of Bill, 
 when, on returning for the supposed insensible vic- 
 tim, they found me seated upright and cheerfully 
 surveying them, have probably never been equalled 
 except in that remarkable passage of the literature 
 of my childliood when Mother Hubbard, having
 
 206 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD," 
 
 gone to the undertaker's to buy a coffin for her dog 
 (whom she had every reason to suppose dead), re- 
 turns, and finds the presumed corpse in a state of 
 cacchination or laughter. They were so astonished 
 that, when I desired them to be seated, they me- 
 chanically complied, and, addressing them in a 
 little speech, I proposed the health of the lady as a 
 convivial toast, and tossing off my glass, invited 
 them to pledge me. Totally bewildered they did 
 so, and sat for a time staring at me, while I watched 
 them with calm certainty. Well did I know the 
 train of symptoms by which they who dare to tres- 
 pass, without due initiation and neophytism, on the 
 imperial domains of opium, approach insensibility. 
 Gradually their muscles relaxed — their heads sank 
 — their inspirations lengthened and deepened — till 
 they sank side by side on the floor, not in the divine 
 dream of the qualified practitioner, but in the dull 
 stagnation of the presumptuous quack. 
 
 Having now the field to myself, and my mind 
 being relieved from the sudden strain, I allowed 
 myself to lapse into one of those j)eculiar and re- 
 freshing trances which opium commands. The 
 vision I beheld was no doubt suggested by the 
 events of the evening. Methought that I actually 
 beheld my body laid upon the hateful bed which, 
 uplifted by countless myriads of Squabbies and 
 Long-nosed Bills, was borne tlirough the air, while 
 I, seeming to have a separate existence from the
 
 CONFESSION OF AN OnUM-EATER. 207 
 
 body (a species of duality I have often obsen-ed in 
 these trances), was compelled to follow and observe. 
 After floating apparently for centuries through im- 
 measurable regions of space, the bier was laid in 
 a vast hall surrounded by skeletons, who shouted 
 from their fleshless jaws, in full chorus, as my body 
 was borne in, " Room for the Opium-eater ! " and all 
 the echoes answered, " Room for the Opium-eater ! " 
 — like the people answering the priest in the ser- 
 vice of a cathedral. Then flocked in, in endless 
 procession, all the mighty surgeons and physicians 
 whom the world ever saw, headed by the divine 
 Esculapius in classic robes, and whose ample brows 
 were crowned by a chaplet. Galen followed, and 
 Hippocrates, — and Celsus and the wizard-physician 
 Cornelius Agrippa, and Garth and Harvey and 
 Hunter, with all their contemporaries, till Astley 
 Cooper headed the College of Surgeons of our days. 
 Then the doors were closed with a mighty sound — 
 silence was proclaimed by a herald — and the whole 
 procession, filing past the bier, bowed to it as an 
 army to its warrior-chief. Again the herald pro- 
 claimed silence, and the venerable Esculapius. 
 standing forth before all, said, in purest Attic 
 Greek, in solemn tones, " Let us dissect the Opium- 
 eater ! " and all answered, " Let us dissect him." 
 
 Then the shadow of the great father of physic, 
 approaching with reverence the bier, laid open the 
 temple of the brain, when lo ! there straightway
 
 208 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 issued forth such a swarm of ideas that the vast 
 hall could not contain them. Upward they floated, 
 bright conceptions, melodious utterances, imperish- 
 able images, unutterable thoughts, and thronged 
 the atmosphere from pavement to roof; while still 
 from that small slaiU flowed the unending stream, 
 like the mighty and fertilising Nile from its foun- 
 tain-source. Upward still they pressed, tiU their 
 accumulation grew irresistible — joist and rafter gave 
 way with a crashing sound (it was the triumph of 
 mind over matter), and forth floated the joyous 
 liberated thoughts to their kindred sky. And all 
 the multitude bowed down and acknowledged the 
 might and majesty of genius. 
 
 I know not how long the vision occupied, but 
 when I ceased to dream, the candle was low in the 
 socket, or rather the bottle. My companions were 
 still prostrate, and showed no sign of existence ex- 
 cept their heavy stertorous breathing. They might, 
 however, shortly recover, and I therefore resolved 
 to go at once, while they were still insensible to my 
 movements. Hastily finishing the laudanum which 
 remained in the bottle, I took up the candle and 
 proceeded down-stairs. 
 
 I think I had got down about ten storeys, when, 
 taking the wrong turn at the foot of the stairs, I 
 opened the door of a room which I found full of 
 lumber and straw. As I turned to leave it, the 
 candle fell from the bottle among the straw, which
 
 CONFESSION OF AN OPIUM-EATER. 209 
 
 was instantly in a flame. If I had raised an alarm, 
 the question of how I happened to be there ? mi^^lit 
 have arisen, which I have already said it did not 
 suit me to answer ; and if I stayed to attempt to ex- 
 tinguish the flames, I might fail to escape, for the 
 fire spread rapidly. Hastily quitting the scene, I 
 ran down to the level of the street, and slipt silently 
 away in the darkness. 
 
 As the wind, rising by degrees, first sports with 
 the dead leaves, then rattles at the casements, till 
 tile and roof-tree go down before the hurricane, so 
 arose the alarm of Fire. First a watchman shouted 
 — a chance passenger joined him ; those Avho lived 
 on the basements and ground -floors next issued 
 forth, and the chorus surged and swelled into a 
 mighty diapason. Clattering through the streets 
 come the fire-engines on their errand of salvation ; 
 beside them run the firemen. Gallant Phoenix, 
 brave Sun ! — well done both brigades ! But this 
 night your efforts shall be in vain ! For see, the 
 flames leap forth at every window ! Higher they 
 climb, storey after storey, with rapid step. They 
 lick the walls — they swallow the rafters — and ever 
 still their progress is upward, like bright thoughts 
 pointing heavenward ; while the base mortar and 
 stones and clay, falling inward like low material 
 natures trying to smother the light of genius, raise 
 for a moment a dust, which vanishes, leaving the 
 flames brighter than before. Still upward ! till now 
 
 S.S. — I. o
 
 210 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 they have reached the chamber where I passed the 
 night. Bill, my purposed destroyer, where art 
 thou? — where too is thy partner, she who sleeps 
 in thy bosom ? — shall she ever again repose there ? 
 Ha, Squabby, not all thy gibes and jewellery can 
 avail thee now ! See, the fire has encompassed 
 them — see, the shadows, hurrying frantically on the 
 ceiling, show that the floor is in a blaze ! And now 
 they rush to the window. Even at this distance I 
 recognise Bill by the length of his nose : he tears 
 the woman from the window and looks down. Shall 
 he leap ? No ! sixteen storeys is a height to appal 
 the bravest. Destruction in front, destruction in 
 rear ! to be roasted or smashed ! — dreadful the alter- 
 native, William — vain the hope of escape ! And 
 now the problem, which he dare not solve for him- 
 self, is solved for him. The woman from behind 
 casts her arms about his neck with frantic gesture, 
 and both fall back into the room. Higher rush the 
 rejoicing and victorious flames, arching their crests 
 and crackling joyously, till the walls crumble and 
 sink, burying in their ruins the ashes of the Body- 
 snatchers. 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS.
 
 TALES FEOM "BLACKWOOD.' 
 
 SHAKESPEAEE'S FUNERAL 
 
 BY MAJOR-GENERAL E. B. HAMLEV 
 
 [MAGA. April 1873.] 
 
 Place. — Stratford-on-Avon. 
 Tivie. — The 25th of April 1616. 
 
 Scene I. — Tlie Taproom of the Falcon Tavern in the 
 Hiyh Street, he])t by Eleanor Comijmj. 
 
 Hostess and Sly. 
 
 Hostess. Kit Sly, Kit Sly, dost thou hear? 
 There be guests alighting in the yard ; run thou 
 and help Kobin ostler hold their stirrups, and so do 
 somewhat for the ale thou ne'er pay'st for. 
 
 Sly. If I do, wilt thou let this one day slip with- 
 out rating and prating of thy score that I owe 
 thee ? 
 
 Hostess. Yea, good Kit, if tliou run quickly, 
 s.s. — I. v
 
 2 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 Sly. But wilt tliou bid Francis draw me what 
 ale I may chance call for? 
 
 Hostess. Nay, that will I not, or thou wouldst 
 empty my great tun. Thou wouldst serve me as 
 thou didst the ale-wife of Wincot,^ who says, poor 
 soul, that she ne'er had cask in cellar these twelve 
 years but thou wert more fatal to it than a leaking 
 tap. By these ears, I heard her say so when the 
 deputy's men were seizing her goods. Thou shalt 
 not cozen me as thou didst Marian. 
 
 Sly. Hold stirrup thyself then. I'll not budge. 
 I'll to sleep again by the chimney till it please God 
 send me drink. 
 
 E7iter Drayton - {the poet) and Young Raleigh ^ 
 [son of Sir Walter). 
 
 Drayton. Sly, said she ! Didst thou not hear, 
 Walter, yon varlet's name ? but 'twas scarce need- 
 ful. The sodden face, the shaking nether lip, the 
 
 1 " Ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if she know 
 me not," says Kit Sly in the " Taming of the Shrew." Wincot is a 
 village about three miles from Stratford. 
 
 2 Michael Drayton, a Warwickshire poet of great repute in his 
 day, was about a year older than Shakespeare, and had known him 
 long and familiarly. 
 
 3 Young Walter Raleigh was Sir Walter's eldest son, and was 
 now twenty-two years old. He accompanied his father, soon after, 
 to South America, as commander of one of the companies that 
 formed the military part of the expedition, to prepare for which 
 was the express condition on which Sir Walter was released from 
 the Tower in January 1616.
 
 SHAKESPEARE S FUNERAL. 3 
 
 eye watery and impudent, the paunch ale-swelled, 
 the doublet liquor-stained, the hat crushed from 
 being much slept in, the apparel ruinous, because 
 the tapster intercepts the fee that should bo the 
 tailor's and the cobbler's — hath not the master, 
 Avathout cataloguing one of these things, implied 
 all, in half-a-score of pregnant words, for all the 
 future ? "\Miat a skill is that can make a poor sot 
 immortal ! 
 
 Sli/. Sot, saidst thou ! — but I care not. Will ye 
 stand me, gentles, in a pot of ale ? 
 
 Raleigh. Wilt thon answer, then, a few questions 
 I would put to thee ? 
 
 Sli/. Ay — but the ale first ; and be brief ; I love 
 not much question. Say on, and let the world 
 slide. 
 
 Raleigh. A pot of ale, drawer, for this worthy- 
 man. And now tell me, Sly, is't not thy custom to 
 use that phrase ' let the world slide ' ? ^ 
 
 Sly. It may well be ; 'tis a maxim I love ; 'tis a 
 cure for much. I am cold — let the world slide, for 
 anon I shall bo warmer. I am dry — let the world 
 slide, for time will bring ale. I sit, pottle-pot in 
 hand, i' the chimney-nook — let the world slide 
 while I taste it. 
 
 Drayton. 'Tis a pretty philosophy, and might 
 serve for greater uses. But, for a further question 
 
 1 A phrase much affected by Sly the Tinker in the prelude to the 
 " Taming of the Shrew."
 
 4 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 — Wert thou acquainted with old John Naps of 
 Greece ? ^ 
 
 Sly. John Naps, quotha ! what old John ! by 
 Jeronimy, I knew him many a year, mended his 
 pots and helped him empty them. 'A had been a 
 sailor, or to say pirate would be to shoot nearer the 
 clout ; when sober his fashion was to say nought, but 
 when drunk his talk was of the things 'a had seen in 
 Greece — whereby they called him Naps of Greece. 
 
 Drayton. And didst thou know, too, Peter Turf 
 and Henry Pimpernell ? 
 
 Sly. Yea, as this pot-handle knows these fingers. 
 For Turf, he was deputy-sexton of Wincot, and 
 indeed digged Naps's grave, and was found lying 
 drunk therein, with his spade beside him, at the 
 hour of burial. For Pimpernell, 'twas a half-witted 
 companion, but his grandam kept money in 's 
 purse, and 'a served to pay scores, and 'a could 
 join in a catch on occasion, thof 'a had but a small, 
 cracked voice, and mostly sung his part to psalm- 
 tunes. And now, masters, a question to ye — an 
 ye answer not, faith, I care not — but how should 
 such as ye know Naps and the others ? 
 
 Drayton. They have been recorded, and thou too, 
 
 1 One of Sly's acquaintances at Wincot. 
 
 "Stephen Sly, and Old John Naps of Greece, 
 And Peter Turf and Henry Pimpernell." 
 
 — " Taming of the Shrew." 
 
 A manuscript memorandum, in which Stephen Sly is mentioned, 
 written at Stratford in 1614, is still extant.
 
 SHAKESPEARE'S FUNERAL. 5 
 
 in what will outlast your cpitaplis. Douljtless 
 thou hast heard of Master William Shakespeare of 
 New Place.^ 
 
 Shj. Heard of him, said he ! Ay, and seen him 
 and talked with him both here and at Wincot when 
 he came thither to his kinsfolk.^ By this malt- 
 juice, a meny gentleman, and a free — 'a should 
 have been a lord, for, look you, to bestow liquor on 
 the thirsty is a lordly fashion, and I have owed him 
 many a skinful. Marry, that tap's dry now. 
 
 Drayton. Wliat, knave, hath he found at last that 
 it is more virtuous to forget thee than to counten- 
 ance thee ? 
 
 Sljj. Nay, I will say nought in his dispraise ; 'a 
 was good to me, and hath oft spoke with me, and 
 I'll ne'er deny it now's dead and gone. Mayhap 
 ye have come to the burial ? 
 
 Drayton. Dead ! 
 
 Raleigh. Master Shakespeare dead ! 
 
 Hostess. Oh, masters, he hath spoke the trath, 
 tho' he be no true man ; by these tears, he hatli. 
 Master Shakespeare parted o' Tuesday, and he will 
 be buried this dientical day ; the coffin will be 
 brought forth of New Place upon the stroke of two. 
 I have talked with the bearers, and all. 
 
 >■ New Place was a large house, with garden attached, in the 
 town of Stratford— built by Sir Hugh Clopton in Henry VII. 's 
 time, and purchased by Shakespeare in 1597. 
 
 - The Ardens, Shakespeare's relations by the mother's side, 
 lived in the parish of Wincot.
 
 6 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD. 
 
 Raleigh. Thus perish the hopes which di-ew me 
 to Stratford. I thought to look on the foremost 
 poet of the world — to hear his voice — perchance to 
 be honoured with some discourse of him — and now 
 I shall look but on his coffin. Oh, Master Drayton ! 
 
 Drayton. We looked not, indeed, for this. 'Tis 
 as if the sun were drawn from the firmament, and 
 had left us to perpetual twilight. The radiant 
 intellect is gone, and hath left but its pale reflection 
 in his works — tho' these shall be immortal. Me- 
 thinks, in future, the sky will be less blue, the air 
 less warm, the flowers less gay ; for I honoured 
 this man more than any, and whate'er I essayed to 
 do 'twas with a secret thought of his judgment 
 over me, as if he had been the conscience of mine 
 intellect. 
 
 Hostess. Ye look pale — a cup of sack, sweet sirs ; 
 for, ye know, a cheerful cup the heart bears up. 
 
 Drayton. Nay, woman, nay. 
 
 Hostess. 'Tis of the best, I warrant you ; 'tis from 
 the stores of Master Quiney — him that hath married 
 Master Shakespeare's daughter Judith, and he deals 
 in none but the best. 
 
 Drayton. 'Tis not sack that will help us. But 
 canst thou tell us, good hostess, aught concerning 
 his end? 
 
 Hostess. Yea, well-a-day, that can I, for 'twas 
 Gossip Joan Tisick who goeth out nursing, the 
 same, your worships, that brought young Elizabeth
 
 SHAKESPEARE S FUNERAL. 7 
 
 Hall, his grandcliild, into the world, that was sent 
 for to him when 'twas seen which way 'a was likely 
 to go ; whereby, she told nij thereof yesternight 
 over a cup of ale and sugar with a toasted crab in 't 
 — for, said she, there's none in Stratford, Mistress 
 Comyng, that Master Shakespeare thought more on 
 than you. The doctor. Master Hall, says to her, 
 " Have a care, Joan, of my father-in-law Shake- 
 speare, says he ; for 'tis a parlous case, says he ; 
 we be all mortal, says he — and the breath goeth 
 when it listeth — therefore keep thou the better 
 watch, for 'tis a man we could ill spare." " Fear 
 not. Master Hall," quoth Joan, ''I'll tend him an 
 'twere his mother." So, o' Tuesday night he said he 
 felt easier, and he bid Mistress Hall and the Doctor 
 that they should leave him and take good rest. 
 And 'a says to Joan, "Art drowsy, good Joan?" 
 WTiereupon she made answer, " A little ; for I have 
 been up," saith she, "all last night at a labour with 
 Mistress Coney her thirteenth child." " Ay," quoth 
 he, "in thy calling thou seest both ends of life ; 
 well, thou shalt sleep to-night, and all night if thou 
 wilt." " Nay, sir," saith Joan, " not so ; but your 
 worship being of so good cheer to-night, mayhap if 
 I take a short nap 'twill do no harm." " If thou 
 take a long one, good Joan," said Master Shake- 
 speare, ^ it matters not, for, I warrant you, I shall 
 take a longer." " It doth me good to hear your 
 * worship speak so," says Joan, "for sleep well is
 
 8 TALES FEOM " BLxVCKWOOD." 
 
 keep well, and a night's rest physics' best " — and 
 so tucks up the bedclothes, and di'aws the hangings, 
 and leaves him as 'a was closing his eyes. Well, 
 sweet sirs, all the night he lay quiet, and with the 
 dawn Joan peeps me in through the curtains, and 
 there he lay, quiet and smiling — and as the sun 
 rose she peeps me in again and he was still quiet 
 and smiling — and she touched his forehead ; — and 
 he had been lying for hours (so the Doctor said 
 when Joan called him) as dead as his grandam. 
 
 Drayton. 'Twas, then, with good heart that this 
 great soul passed to what himself hath called the un- 
 discovered country : of whose inhabitants he must 
 sure take his place among the most illustrious. 
 Thou art sad, Walter — this grief touches thee, and, 
 sooth, it becomes thee well. It bespeaks thy youth 
 generous ; 'tis an assurance that thou hast thy 
 father's spirit, who, great himself, owns near kin- 
 ship with greatness, and will sorrow for Shake- 
 speare as for a brother. 
 
 Raleigh. 'Twas my father's wish, when he knew 
 I was to be thy guest in Warwickshire, that I 
 should pay my duty to Master Shakespeare, for, 
 said he, there is no worthier thing in life than to 
 take note of the greatest of thy companions in 
 earth's pilgrimage ; in them thou seest the quintes- 
 sence of man's spirit, cleared of the muddy vapours 
 which make common humanity so base and foolish : 
 and this man is of the greatest, a companion indeed^
 
 SHAKESPEARE'S FUNERAL. 9 
 
 for pi'inces, nay, himself a king, whose kingdom is 
 of the imagination, and therefore boundless. Tell 
 him, Walter, said my father, that in my long cap- 
 tivity ^ I have oft remembered our pleasant encoun- 
 ters at the Mermaid ; ^ tell him, too, that I have 
 solaced mine enforced solitude in the Tower with 
 studying all of his works that have been given to 
 us ; and entreat him, in my name, not to leave 
 those plays of his to the chances of the world, as 
 fathers leave their misbegotten children, but to 
 make them truly the heirs of his invention, and to 
 spend on them that paternal care which shall prove 
 them worthy of their source. 
 
 Hostess. Please you come in here to the Dolphin 
 chamber, where Master Shakespeare loved to sit. 
 
 Raleigh. Well — now we are in it, I find it con- 
 venient and well lighted ; and yet methinks 'tis but 
 a small one. 
 
 Drayton. Ay, but see'st thou that, through the 
 door, one that sits here can mark the whole com- 
 pany of ale-drinkers in the tap-room wdthout, and 
 therefore Shakespeare loved it ; here would he sit 
 and note the humours of such guests as yonder Sly. 
 For in such, he would say, you see humanity with 
 its vizard off ; and he held that nurture, though it 
 
 1 The twelve years' imprisonment in the Tower to which James I. 
 had consigned him. 
 
 - The Mermaid was a tavern in London where Sir Walter had 
 established, before his imprisonment, a club, of which Shakespeare, 
 i^ Ben Jonson, Beaumont, Fletcher, and others were members.
 
 10 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 oft cherishes a good apprehension, yet as oft doth 
 overlay and smother it. He hath said to me, 
 pointing to the company without, " If you find wit 
 here 'tis the bird's own feather, and no borrowed 
 plume ; if you see courtesy 'tis inborn, and will 
 bear the rub ; if you note a quaint humour 'tis 
 in the man by the grace of God or the force of 
 circumstance : your weaver or your tinker, what- 
 soever other gift he hath, hath not the skill to 
 counterfeit, for that comes by art, and leisure, and 
 commerce with men of condition, and desire of 
 their good opinion ; wherefore methinks I oft see 
 deeper through your leathern jerkin than your satin 
 doublet." 
 
 Hostess. Yea, here would 'a come many a time 
 and oft, with Master Ben, that was full of quips as an 
 egg of meat. " Mistress Quickly ! " Ben would say 
 (for so 'a called me, I know not wherefore), " set us 
 in the Dolphin chamber ; ^ and let us have a sea- 
 coal fire," 'a would say — "and I will drink none if 
 thou give me not a parcel-gilt goblet," whereby 
 Master Shakespeare would cast at him out of 's eye 
 a merry glint. " Hast thou thy plate yet ? " Master 
 Ben would ask me, " and the tapestry of thy dining 
 chambers? Come, let us have Doll Tearsheet 
 meet us at supper." '' Lord, sir," would I say, 
 "I know no Dolls nor Tearsheets neither;" but 
 
 1 For the allusions here made by Master Ben, see the "Second 
 Part of King Henry, IV.," act ii. sc. 1.
 
 SHAKESPEARE'S FUNEKAL. H 
 
 'twas a merry man, I wan-ant you, tlio' I did never 
 know what his meaning was. 
 
 Drayton. These memories of thine breed but sad 
 mirth in me now. 
 
 Hostess. ^Vell-a-day, if there be not Sir Thomas 
 and Master Thynne, rid from Charlecote,^ and 
 alighting. By your leave, kind sirs, I will go 
 receive them. [She goes out. 
 
 Drayton. Dear Walter, this stroke is so sudden 
 that it bewilders me ; methinks I am dreaming ; I 
 discourse, remember, reason, and so forth, and yet 
 my brain all the while -UTapt as in a cerement. 
 Coming here with my thoughts full of him, sitting 
 in this room where he and I have sat so oft, what 
 could seem less strange than that he should enter 
 and greet me ; and yet a little word hath made me 
 know that to be impossible for all time. 
 
 Raleigh. Ay, sir, amidst my ovm pain I remember 
 how you have been familiar with that divinest man, 
 and must feel a far deeper sorrow than myself, that 
 know him but in the picture my imagination hath 
 formed ; and I perceive by the blank made in mine 
 o^^^l present, what a void must be left in yours, 
 "Would you have us quit Stratford forthwith ? 
 
 Drayton. Nay, by no means ; let us rather give 
 our sorrow somewhat to feed on ; let us fill it with 
 the sad memories that abound here. For, to me, 
 
 1 Cliarlecote, still the famQy seat of the Lucys, is some four 
 miles from Stratford.
 
 12 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 everything in Stratford speaks of Shakespeare ; 
 'twas here he lived, while that unmatched appre- 
 hension was most waxlike to receive impressions, 
 when wonder and observation were quickest in 
 him ; and 'twas here he began to fill a storehouse 
 from whence to draw at will. For his manner was 
 always to build on a ground of fact, or, rather, to 
 sow fact like a seed, and let it strike in that rich 
 soil till ofttimes none but himself could tell (even if 
 himself could) what the ripened fruit had sprung 
 from. Sometimes he would limn a man in brief as 
 he saw him, and, again, he would so play with his 
 first notion, dressing it and transforming it, yet 
 ever working even as nature works, that the citizen 
 of Stratford or Warwick would grow into a Eoman 
 or ancient Briton, a lover or a king, a conspirator or 
 a jester, compounded part of fact, part of fancy, 
 yet would the morsel of fact leaven the whole with 
 truth. 
 
 Raleigh. Was this Sir Thomas Lucy he whom 
 the world calls Justice Shallow ? 
 
 Drayton. Nay, he hath been dead these many 
 years — this is his son ; but the companion that's 
 with him thou mayest have chanced to hear of. 
 
 Enter Sir Thomas Lucy ayid Master Thynne, 
 in mourning habits. 
 
 Hostess. Wilt please you walk this way, Sir 
 Thomas? This chamber is warmer, and the day
 
 SHAKESPEARE'S FUNEHAL. 13 
 
 is fresli. There be here, sirs, none but these two 
 gentlemen. 
 
 Sir Thomas. Master Draji;on, as I remember me. 
 You are of our county of Warwickshire, I think, sir? 
 
 Drayton. I am so. Sir Thomas, at your service. 
 Give me leave to bring you acquainted with my 
 friend and comrade in travel. Master Walter Ealeigh. 
 
 Sir Thomas. I salute you, sir. Of the Raleighs 
 of Devonshire, mayhap ? 
 
 Raleigh. The same. Sir Thomas. 
 
 Sir Thomas. An honourable family, sir, and one 
 that hath borne itself among the best these many 
 reigns past. You quarter the arms of Tlu-ockmor- 
 ton, as I think, sir — you bear gules, five fusils, in 
 bend argent, and your cognisance a stag ; or is't a 
 martlet ? 
 
 Raleigh. I knew not we, being but simple gentle- 
 men, and out of favom-, were of that mark that our 
 quarterings should be thus well known. 
 
 Sir Thomas. I am something of a herald, I would 
 have you know, sir. Methinks 'twere well that 
 men of quality were familiar each Avith the preten- 
 sions of all the rest, making as 'twere one family in 
 condition : thus should we at once know who are of 
 the better, who of the baser sort. And so, sir, of 
 the leisure I spare from mine office as justice of the 
 peace, and from mine owti concerns, I give some- 
 what to heraldry. 
 
 Drayton. I perceive by the sad hue of your gar-
 
 14 TALES FEOM "BLACKWOOD," 
 
 ments that you design to be present at Master 
 Shakespeare's funerah 
 
 Sir Thomas. Ay, sir. His son-in-law, Doctor Hall, 
 is onr physician at Charlecote, and I have had deal- 
 ings with himself, and held him in esteem. 
 
 Raleigh. 'Tis as it should be — the whole world 
 should honour such worth as his. 
 
 Sir Thomas. Nay, good sir, I go not so far with 
 you : though he were indeed so honourable that his 
 neighbours, even of condition, may well accord him 
 a last show of respect. 
 
 Drayton. I am glad that the old grudge between 
 Master Shakespeare and Sir Thomas your father 
 holds not in this generation. 
 
 Sir Thomas. ^^Iiy, for that, Master Drayton, in 
 respect of the deer stealing, 'twas not such a matter 
 as is ne'er to be forgiven nor forgotten ; he was but 
 a youth then, and he suffered for't ; and, for the 
 scurril ballad concerning which the rumour went 
 'twas writ by Shakespeare, why, 'twas none of his. 
 
 Drayton. I'll be sworn 'twas not. Know we not 
 the hand of the master better than to take such 
 'prentice-stuff for his ? As well aflSrm that a daw's 
 feather may drop from an eagle. 
 
 Sir Thomas. Nay, sir, I have better assurance ; 
 he himself, of his own motion, told my father (and 
 hath repeated it to myself) that he ne'er wrote it. 
 
 Drayton. He hath told me the same — and for the 
 plays
 
 siiakespeai;e's funeral. 15 
 
 Sir Thomas. For the plays wherein 'twas said ho 
 drew my father, 'twas idle gossip. How should a 
 Gloucestershire justice, one Shallow (for such I am 
 told is what passes for the portrait), represent Sir 
 Thomas Lucy of Charlecote in Warwickshire ? 
 
 Thi/nne. 'Twas said, too, that he liad set me down 
 along with mine uncle. By the mass ! I should not 
 care though it had been so ; for I saw the play ^ 
 once in London, and Master Slender was a gentle- 
 man, and an esquire, and of good means, though the 
 people did laugh, I know not why, at some of his 
 discourse. But he and tlie rest lived in Harry 
 Foiu-th's time, 'twas said ; and how could I live in 
 Harry Fourth's time that go not back beyond Eliza- 
 beth? though the Thynnes were well thought on 
 afore that, look you. 
 
 Sir Thomas. Well, sir, I have ne'er seen the play, 
 and love not players. I ever noted that when they 
 came to Stratford there was new business for the 
 justices. The idle sort grew idler — they drew 
 others on to join them that would else have been 
 better conducted — there was less work, more drink, 
 and more disorder. I could never away with the 
 players, sir ; and I was heartily with those who 
 were for inhibiting their theatre in Stratford. 
 
 Thynne. And I too, Cousin Lucy, I care not for 
 the play, though, good sooth, I liked it well enough. 
 But give me for sport a stage with two good back- 
 
 1 " Merry Wives of Windsor."
 
 IG TALES FEOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 sword or quarter-staff men ; or a greased pole with 
 a Gloucester cheese atoi? ; or a bull-running : but of 
 all sport, by the mass ! I love the bear-garden — 
 man and boy, I ever loved it ; 'tis the rarest sport, 
 in good sooth, now. 
 
 Drayton. Methought, Sir Thomas, when you talked 
 of honouring my dear friend, 'twas for his works. 
 
 Sir Thomas. Nay, sir, I make no account of his 
 works, and, indeed, know nought of them. He had 
 won a good station, and maintained it, and therefore 
 he should have his due. 
 
 Drayton. For his descent, that, as all men know, 
 was not above humble citizen's degree. 
 
 Sir Thomas. His mother was an Arden ; and the 
 College granted to his father a coat of arms, a spear 
 or, upon a bend sable, in a field of gold — the crest, 
 a falcon with his wings displayed, standing on a 
 wreath of his colours, supporting a spear ; and he 
 might impale with Arden. And the gentleman 
 himself hath for years been of good havings, with 
 lands and houses, and of good repute in all his 
 dealings ; therefore, say I, that we who be neigh- 
 bours and gentlemen, should have him in respect. 
 
 Thynne. Yea, forsooth ! gentlemen should give to 
 other gentlemen (thof they be new-made and quarter 
 not) what countenance they may, for their better 
 advantage, and to maintain them in consideration, 
 look you, and to prosper them ; and therefore 'tis 
 we come to make two at the burial.
 
 Shakespeare's funeral. 17 
 
 Raleigh. ye gods ! this of him that conceived 
 Lear and Othello ! Sirs, with your leave we will 
 now bid you farewell. 
 
 Sir Thomas. Nay, I pray you that we part not so. 
 I beseech you, Master Kaleigh, and you. Master 
 Drayton, that you lie this night at Charlecote. I 
 would have you home to supper, and thank you, 
 too, for your good company. 
 
 Thynne. And I, sirs, have a poor house of mine 
 own within these dozen miles, and thof I be not a 
 knight like my cousin Lucy here, yet I can lodge a 
 guest as well as some ; now that my mother be 
 dead, I live as befits a gentleman, good sooth, and 
 I would bid you welcome truly, now, and show you 
 a mastiff that hath lost an eye by a bear. 
 
 Drayton. Sir, I thank you. For your good kind- 
 ness, Sir Thomas, we are beholden to you ; but, 
 pray you, let us stand excused. Master Ealeigh 
 hath business that 
 
 Raleigh. Nay, Master Draj'ton, that business we 
 had is sadly ended, and our whole journey marred. 
 With your good leave, therefore, I would rejoice 
 that we should take Sir Thomas at his word. 
 
 Sir Thomas. By my troth, sirs, I am glad on't, 
 and you shall be heartily welcome. We'll e'en 
 meet here at four o' the clock, and ye shall find 
 wherewithal to bear you and your mails to Charle- 
 cote. 
 
 s.s. — I. 0,
 
 18 TALES FEOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 Raleigh. Till then, farewell. [To Drayton as they 
 go out.) Seest thou not, Master Michael, that to sit 
 in Master Shallow's house, perchance in his very- 
 arbour ^ — to eat a pippin, maybe, of his own grafting 
 — to look on his effigy, clad as he went to the Court 
 with Falstaff — were a chance that would lead me to 
 journey barefoot in the snow to Charlecote? For 
 being here in the bhthplace (alas ! now the death- 
 place) of him I so reverenced, what better tribute 
 can I pay (now that nought but his memory is left 
 for our worship) than, even as thou saidst but now, 
 to trace the begettings of those bright fancies which 
 he hath embalmed for ever ? 
 
 Drayton. You look on these things, Walter, as I 
 would have you look ; a ti'ue disciple art thou of 
 him whom we shall always love and always mourn, 
 and gladly will I go with thee to Charlecote. And 
 now, ere we stand by that greedy grave that is 
 presently to swallow so huge a part of v/hat is 
 precious in England, we will see to that other 
 business of thine, the raising of money for thee. 
 'Tis but a step, as I remember, to Master Sherlock's 
 house. Now I pray thee mark that old man well — 
 and if we deal not with him, as is likely, 'tis no 
 matter, for I can take thee elsewhere ; but I would 
 thou shouldst see old Master Sherlock. 
 
 1 See " Second Part of King Henry IV.," act v. sc. 3.
 
 SHAKESPEARE'S FUNERAL. 10 
 
 Scene II. — Master Sherloclc's counting-house. Sher- 
 lock sitting at his desk in an inner room. 
 
 Enter Draytox and Ealeigii. 
 
 Drayton {aside to Raleigh). Dost thou not spy in 
 him a Hkeness to an old spicier, black, still, and 
 watchful, and in that money-changing den to a cob- 
 web? There be many flies have suffered loss of 
 wings here. 
 
 Raleigh. How old and bent he looks ! and, but 
 that he be a money-lender, I should have deemed 
 him poor. 
 
 Dragton. Nay, 'tis not a spider of the sleek sort 
 — blood- sucking hath not fattened him as it doth 
 some. 
 
 Raleigh. His attire doth not bespeak much wealtli- 
 That old govra. were dear at two shillings, fur trim- 
 mings and all ; nay, 'twere a fair price even were 
 the velvet cap and copper spectacles thrown into 
 the bargain. 
 
 Drayton. Soft you, he comes. 
 
 Sherlock. Sirs, your servant. "V\niat would you ? 
 
 Drayton. Marry this, Master Sherlock — me you 
 remember — Michael Drayton — we have had some 
 small dealings together of yore. 
 
 Sherlock. Ay, sir, I forget none who deal with me. 
 
 Drayton (aside). Nor they thee, I'll be sworn. 
 [To Sherlock.) But thus it is — my friend here,
 
 20 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD. 
 
 Master Raleigh, hath had a manor in Surrey as- 
 signed ^ him by his father, Sir Walter, and having 
 pressing need of moneys, inasmuch as he hath been 
 appointed captain in a force which will shortly 
 embark for Guiana, whereof Sir Walter is chief 
 commander, he would raise a sum thereon to fur- 
 nish him forth. 
 
 Sherlock. Be there none in London that would 
 lend him the moneys ? 
 
 Drayton. Certes ; but he goeth now into Devon- 
 shire, and his need is pressing. 
 
 Sherlock. His need is pressing — well, sir ? 
 
 Drayton. To which end he would be beholden to 
 you for a present loan. 
 
 Sherlock. For a present loan — well, sir ? 
 
 Drayton [aside to Raleigh). Mark you his manner 
 of speech? 'twas ever thus with him. (To Sher- 
 lock.) And for security he hath brought the writ- 
 ings pertaining to the estate ; till thou canst prove 
 which to be sufficient, myself will be his surety. 
 
 Raleigh. These be they. 
 
 Sherlock. These parchments, these parchments 
 — ay, ay — Manor of West Horsley^ — all these 
 messuages and tenements — ay, ay. Well, sir, time 
 is needed to examine these ; what moneys dost thou 
 require ? 
 
 1 An estate in Devonshire, thns assigned to him several years 
 before, had been confiscated by James I. 
 
 ^ Sir Walter's second son afterwards lived here, and his arms 
 long i-emained (perhaps still remain) on the walls.
 
 SIIAKESrEAItE S FUNERAL. 21 
 
 Ralcifjh. Ill brief, four hundred pounds. 
 
 Sherlock. Four hundred pounds — well ? 
 
 Raleigh. If upon inquiry and advice the security 
 satisfy thee, at what rate of usance wilt thou lend 
 me? 
 
 Sherlock. Eate of usance? — why, sir, money is 
 hard to come by at this time ; we have suffered 
 great fires in our town,^ and money hath been 
 needed for the rebuilding ; the rate hath risen of 
 late — and there is talk of war with Spain, which 
 will raise it further. I must myself borrow ere 
 I lend, and must needs pay roundly. I cannot 
 supply you at a less yearly rate than fifteen in the 
 hundred. 
 
 Drayton. Nay, sir, my friend's need is not so 
 great that he should pay so dearly. He laid his 
 account for ten, and by my counsel he will give 
 no more — for, look you, this is no venture, but a 
 surety. 
 
 Sherlock. Then, I fear me, we deal not ; but I 
 will look into these A\Titings — 'tis possible I may 
 be able to lend at fourteen and a half. 
 
 Drayton. Put up your papers, Walter, wo. \\\\\ 
 make other shift. This was but part of our busi- 
 ness in Stratford, Master Sherlock ; our intent was 
 to visit your most illustrious townsman, and now, 
 woe the day ! we hear he is dead. 
 
 1 There had been a conflagration in Stratford in 1614, which had 
 destroyed a great part of the town.
 
 22 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 Sherlock. Ay, who may he be ? 
 
 Raleigh. Who but Master Shakespeare, for whose 
 burial you will straightway hear the bell toll. 
 
 Sherlocl: I heard say he was dead. 
 
 Raleigh. Didst not Imow him ? 
 
 Sherlock. We had dealings together years agone 
 — ay, he hath had money of me more than once or 
 twice ; but he consorted with mine enemy, John- 
 a-Combe,i and we would none of each other after, 
 
 Drayton. I knew not John - a - Combe was the 
 enemy of any man. 
 
 Sherlock, He was mine enemy in the sense that 
 he hindered my dealings. This Shakespeare, too, 
 outbid me for the tithes ^ when they were sold. I 
 had been a richer man had he died a dozen years 
 agone. I spend not, therefore, much sorrow on 
 him. 
 
 Raleigh. Why, this comes nigh to blasphemy — 
 let us be gone. 
 
 Drayton. Well, God be with you. Master Sher- 
 lock, — (aside) though I fear that may hardly be. 
 Come, Walter. But, Master Sherlock, a moment, 
 I pray you ; I saw your daughter, Mistress Visor, 
 of late. 
 
 Sherlock. My daughter. Mistress Visor, ay ! 
 
 Drayton. A woman, sir, that is held in much 
 
 1 Jolin-a-Combe was a rich banker in Stratford, and a friend of 
 Shakespeare, to whom he left a small legacy. 
 
 2 Shakespeare invested a considerable sum in a lease of these 
 tithes.
 
 SHAKESPEARE'S FUNERAL. 23 
 
 respect, thoiigli not for lior worldly means. In 
 truth, she hath but a sorry life of it. 
 
 Sherlock. She made her o\\ti bed ^vhen she fled 
 from this house twenty years agone with young 
 Visor. Let her lie on it, and if she find it hard, 
 let her see that she complain not. The curse of 
 disobedience hath been on her. 
 
 Drayton. Well, sir, she hath paid fiir that long 
 ago, if misery may pay it. She looks like one that 
 the world hath done its worst on, and is ready to 
 quit it. 
 
 Sherlock. Sir, sir, I had thought you came here 
 on a business matter. I have somewhat pressing 
 to see to. 
 
 Drayton. One word, Master Sherlock. Her eldest 
 son, your grandson, is a lad of promise, and for 
 education she hath done what she may for him ; 
 but I heard of late that he was driven to hold 
 horses in the market-place, and such chance shifts, 
 for a bare living. 
 
 Sherlock. Let his father look to it ; he took my 
 daughter — let him look to his son — let him look to 
 his son. [To Raleigh.) Will it please you leave 
 the writings ? 
 
 Drayton. Her daughter, near womanliood, is fair 
 to look on, but 
 
 Sherlock. Hast thou been set on to this ? Your 
 pardon if I quit you, 
 
 [Retires into the inner room.
 
 24 TALES FEOM "BLACKWOOD. 
 
 >> 
 
 Raleigh. Come, let us away. So, I breathe again, 
 now we are quit of that den. I have heard of such 
 flints, but ne'er saw one till now. 
 
 Drayton. So thou carest not for his money at 
 fifteen in the hundred? 
 
 Raleigh. Were't five I would not deal with him. 
 'Tis a stone, sure, that hath been cut in human 
 shape and possessed by some vile spirit from the 
 nether world. I almost marvel. Master Michael, 
 that thou broughtst me to him. 
 
 Drayton. Why, was it not of our compact that I 
 should show thee some of the models whence our 
 master drew? 
 
 Raleigh. Models ? how, Sherlock ? Yet that 
 name. Soft you, now, soft you ! And money- 
 lender, too. And then his daughter — why, Master 
 Michael, 'tis clear as the sun — it runs on all-fours 
 with the devil in the play ; and yet, but that thou 
 gav'st me the clue, I might have borrowed money 
 from him twenty years without guessing. Well, 
 this passes ! 
 
 Scene III. — The Churchyard of Stratford. 
 A crowd waiting about the gate. 
 
 First Woman. Didst not hear say there would be 
 a dole ? I see no signs of it. 
 
 Second Woman. 'Twas too good to be true ; com- 
 fort is chary of coming to poor folk.
 
 SHAKESPEAKES FUNERAL. 25 
 
 First Man. I have been here since one o' the 
 clock, and with a toothache, for wliich thou seest 
 my face is tied up, and the wind is keen. I had 
 stayed within four walls but for the word that went 
 about of a dole. 
 
 First ]yoman. Thou look'st none the comelier, 
 Peter Quince, for the clout about thy yellow chaps, 
 like a blue dish full of butter-milk. 
 
 Second Man. Thou shouldst have covered the 
 rest of thy face with it, Peter, then wouldst thou 
 have been fairer to look on than o'er thou wert 
 yet. 
 
 Second Woman. I'll warrant thou eatest thy share 
 when thou getst it, crust and all, in despite of thy 
 toothache. 
 
 Peter Quince. Look if here be not lame Da^y, 
 coming for the sharing ; how his crutch thumps 
 in 's haste ! — do but mark how he outspeeds blind 
 Harry that feeleth his way by the wall. 
 
 Second Man. Ay, and look, Madge, my buxom 
 lass, at what will please thee better, for here come 
 gentlemen of worship. 
 
 Madge. The younger is as gallant a youth as 
 e'er I set eyes on. 
 
 \The hell tolls Jor the funeral.
 
 23 TALES FEOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 Enter Drayton and Raleigh. 
 
 Raleigh. 
 
 " No longer mourn for me when I am dead 
 Than ye shall hear the surly sullen bell 
 Give warning to the world that I am fled." i 
 
 How strange sound tliese words of his, with that 
 bell for commentary ! How his own phrases rise 
 to the lips ! 
 
 Drayton. A}', Walter, you shall find but few 
 occasions in life, solemn or merry, regarding which 
 something apt, something that goeth deeper than 
 common to the heart of the matter, hath not been 
 said by him that is now silent. 
 
 Raleigh. One that reads him as a student, and lov- 
 ingly, as my father from my first youth hath taught 
 me to do, and hath moreover a good memory, shall 
 find in him (my father is wont to say) a rich vo- 
 cabulary. But mark you the crowd here ! 'tis the 
 spontaneous respect of the people for so famous a 
 townsman. Now look I to. see (what we have not 
 yet seen) the sorrow of Stratford for the loss of her 
 great son. As the sun lights the hovel no less 
 than the palace, so should his fame reach to, and 
 warm, the poorest here. 
 
 Drayton. Be not too assured that his fame is 
 of a kind to be felt by such as these, though were 
 he a commander who had brought home a Spanish 
 
 ^ The opening lines of Shakespeare's 71st Sonnet.
 
 Shakespeare's funeral. 27 
 
 galleon, or a courtier who had set the fashions at 
 Whitehall, or a foolish lord with fifty retainers at 
 his back, no cap so greasy but it would cover an 
 idolater. But let us mark what passes 'twixt the 
 townsfolk and this old beadle who cometh hither 
 with his older satellite. 
 
 Enter a Beadle and Assistant-Beadle with Servants 
 hearing baskets. 
 
 Assist.-Beadle. Neighbours, make way, I pray 
 you ; stand aside from the gates. 
 
 Crowd. The dole, the dole ! Good Master Beadle, 
 a word \\Tlth you — me, sirs, me — look hither, 'tis 
 
 I, &c. 
 
 First Beadle. What a consternation is here ! 
 Make not such a clamour. We are charged, I 
 and my partner, with the contribution of this dole, 
 and we will contribute it without respect of persons, 
 save that we will give most to those we think most 
 worthy. Stand you back. Quince and Flute. 
 
 Quince. Yet do not overlook me, good Master 
 
 Beadle. 
 
 Flute. Eemember me, an't please you, Master 
 
 Derrick. 
 
 Assist.-Beadle. Heard you not what Master 
 Derrick said ? Would you set yourselves to teach 
 him in this business ? 
 
 Beadle. Ay, would they, such is their vanity and 
 their greediness. It might be thought they had
 
 2S TALES FKOM " BLACKWOOD," 
 
 ne'er seen a funeral before. When did any of you 
 know me overlook one that should be remembered ? 
 Have I been beadle here forty years for nought ? 
 
 Assist. -Beadle. Ye dare not say he hath for your 
 lives. 
 
 Crowd. The bread ! the bread ! 
 
 Beadle. 'Ods my life, they would tear it out of 
 the baskets, like wolves. Neighbours, though it 
 be customary to give loaves only, yet Master Shake- 
 speare, out of his love for you, and because ye 
 should mourn him fittingly, hath desired that beef 
 should be bestowed along with the bread. 
 
 Several. Worthy gentleman ! 
 
 First Woman. Oh, good soul, this shall profit him, 
 sure, where he's gone. 
 
 Second Woman. Nay, I ever said there were none 
 in Stratford more rememberful of the poor than 
 Master Shakespeare. 
 
 Assist.-Beadle. Ay, and more than that, there be 
 four firkins of ale to be broached after the burial, 
 behind the church. 
 
 Beadle. Neighbour Turgis, wilt thou still go 
 about to forestall me ? I was coming to the ale 
 presently, vs^hen time fitted. Do thou stand by the 
 baskets and give out the dole as I shall tell thee. 
 Hast thou the bag of groats ready, too ? 
 
 Assist.-Beadle. Yea, Master Derrick. 
 
 {They distribute the provisions and money. 
 
 Flute. Shall I not have a loaf and a groat for my
 
 Shakespeare's funeral. 29 
 
 wife ? She liath had twins this morning, therefore 
 could not come. 
 
 Old Woman. Thy wife, forsooth ! — my son liath 
 worked at New Place, and helped to mend the fence 
 i' th' garden last winter, and now is he rheumaticky 
 and bed-rid. A dole for him, I pray you, sweet 
 Master Derrick. 
 
 Beadle. Be not too forward, woman ; thou art not 
 too well thought on, I wan-ant thee. 
 
 Old Woman. Is acquaintance and service to count 
 for nought ? — 'tis a shame, then. 
 
 Beadle. Quiet thy tongue, mistress ; it may be I 
 shall be called on to deal with thee in other fashion 
 than doles. Thou art deputed by many for a witch, 
 let me tell thee ; thou art suspect of keeping a toad, 
 and, moreover, 'tis thought thou hast a familiar, one 
 Hopdance.^ [To another.) But wherefore hangst 
 thou back. Cicely Hacket," thou that wast once a 
 maid-servant at New Place ? Press nearer, and 
 hold out thine apron. 
 
 Cicely. Oh, sir, I came not here for the dole, but 
 indeed to see the last of him who hath been ever 
 kind to me and mine. 
 
 Beadle. The more reason thou shouldst have thy 
 part. Let her do so, Goodman Turgis, for thou 
 knowst that she that humbleth herself should be 
 
 * " Hopdance cries in Tom's belly for two white herrings. Croak 
 not, black angel ! " Edgar {feigning madness) in " King Lear." 
 
 - Cicely Hacket, described by Sly as " the woman's maid of the 
 house," in the " Taming of the Shrew."
 
 30 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 exhorted ; and 'twere not ill, methinks, if thou 
 gav'st her, moreover, a share for her sick mother. 
 [Calling through the gate to hoys in the churchyard.) 
 Young fry, wilt thou leave leaping over the grave- 
 stones ? else shall my staff and thy backs be better 
 acquainted. I see thee, young Pickbone, drumming 
 with thine heels on Mistress Keech's epithet ; come 
 off the stone, or 'twill be worse for thee, thou 
 naughty varlet — and thy tall slip of a sister, too, 
 I saw her but now up with her coats and over the 
 railing of yonder tomb like any stag. 
 
 Drayton {to Raleigh). The oldest of these servants 
 that came with the beadles is Shakespeare's own 
 man Adam. I will speak to him. This is a sharp 
 sundering for thee, Adam. Leave thy basket. Step 
 aside, and speak with me of thy good master. 
 
 Adam. Master Drayton, I looked that he should 
 bury me : would I were with him ! Were I young, 
 I could ne'er hope to see such another master ; and 
 being old, I have no desire but to follow him. 
 
 Drayton. Was his sickness sudden? 
 
 Adam. Nay, sir, — I have foreboded, this many 
 a day, how 'twas with him. He hath pined and 
 dwindled, and then again he hath mended for a 
 while and would walk abroad ; and ever with a 
 kind word and a jest, as was his wont. But I 
 found, from day to day, his step slowei", his hand 
 heavier on my shoulder, his breath shorter. 
 
 Drayton. Did himself look for his end?
 
 SHAKESPEARE'S FUNERAL. 31 
 
 Adam. Ay, sir ; but made as though he had a 
 long to-come before him. Four days since ('twas 
 o' Sunday) he said to me, " Adam, I have a fancy 
 about my burial ; but say nouglit of it as yet to my 
 daughter. I have here set down the names of those 
 I desire to bear me to tlie grave ; " which he there- 
 upon read to me, and they are even now in the 
 house, making ready. 
 
 Drayton. Some of note and condition, mayhap ? 
 
 Adam. Not so, not so, not so. Master Drayton ; 
 there art thou wide indeed of the mark. Never 
 trod man among men who looked on gentle and 
 simple with a more equal brotherly eye than Master 
 Shakespeare. A fine coat or a ragged jerkin made 
 no more difference in a man, in his eyes, than 
 whether his hair were black or brown. Nay, 
 strange to tell of a man of his gifts, he seemed 
 oft to find as much matter in a fool as in a wise 
 man ; he would take pleasure in discoursing with 
 many a one of this town that simple I would have 
 fubbed off as a lackwit. So he saith to me, " First 
 have I set down, to carry the head of my coffin, 
 Hugh Bardolph and Coi-poral .Nym," ^ poor men, 
 both. Master Drayton. Bardolph, one of many of 
 the name here, was a tapster ; Nym, a pensioner 
 of the Earl of Leicester, in whose army he served 
 in the Low Countries, though I did never hear with 
 much credit 
 
 1 See " King Henry V."
 
 32 TALIS FEOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 Raleigh. Bardolph and Xvm! brave Shake- 
 speare! 
 
 Adam. " Xext,^ he saith, " I have set down John 
 Btigby and James Gumey," ancient serving-men, 
 Tonr worships, and now ahnsmen. 
 
 Drayton. Wl - -^ his plays he hath allotted, 
 Engby to Dr C_^. 
 
 Raleigh. Gnmey to the Le-i" Falconbridge.* 
 
 Adam. "After :_ . , ^ Wartj" an old 
 
 fletcher of this town, sir 
 
 RaleL : r - : f s ragged recnnts he 
 
 Adam. ■--. --.: Sly. And- to end the company, 
 
 Snng the j : ' Xick Bc'ttom ~ — and, the list 
 
 being tL~ - . .   dear master laughed so long 
 
 and so I- I   '-- "'^-z-e one that can 
 
 langh 8-: -- his bearers." 
 
 Raleigh. 
 
 Adam. " And be sure, A 1; ; _r -:.: 1. " that thou 
 
 hare old Derrick, and his ancient comrade Tttrso?, 
 to give ont : — and see it be of good kind and 
 
 plentLftiL" A:-_ . ..e charged me again I shonld not 
 tell his daughter, Mistress Hall, of these disposi- 
 tions — ^for vrh r : r - ' ' -houli I add a few 
 days, or hou... " --- -----: 
 
 as.-- . ••
 
 SHAKESPEARE'S FUNERAL. 33 
 
 Drayton. Derrick is now in the sixth age, he is 
 the slippered pantaloon ; and Turgis toucheth on 
 the seventh, that of second childishness and mere 
 oblivion, — yet are they still the shadows of that 
 pair whom men shall long smile at. 
 
 Beadle. Hath every one his portion ? 
 
 Assist.-Beadle. Tea, Master Derrick. 
 
 Beadle. Then give what's over how you will, and 
 make an end shortly, for we are needed at New 
 Place. 
 
 Drayton. Do ye walk in the procession, Master 
 Beadle ? 
 
 Beadle. Of a surety, worshipful sir. The funeral 
 miofht as well make shift without the coflSn as with- 
 out me and my partner ; we walk before choir and 
 parson, at the head of the train ; we be its eyebrows. 
 And, neighbour Turgis, if thou shouldst walk half a 
 foot or so to the rearward of me, 'twould be forgiven 
 thee, for so would the people on both sides the way 
 have me in -^-iew ; and thou, neighbour, art old — 
 and moreover small — and feeble, moreover — and 
 thy port doth scarce beseem the van of a ceremonial, 
 the gifts for which are, in truth, not given to alL 
 
 Assist.-Beadle. I will govern myself as thou 
 desirest, good neighboiir. 
 
 Adam. I have here herbs, for those who will bear 
 them at the funeral. "Will ye have cypress or rose- 
 mary, sirs ? 
 
 Drayton. Thanks, good Adam ; we ■u"ill bear each 
 s.s. — I. R
 
 34 TALES FEOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 a branch of cypress, and will long wear it in oiu- 
 
 hearts, too. 
 
 [The Beadles and Servants depart for 
 New Place. Drayton and Kaleigh 
 pass into the Churchyard. 
 
 Drayton. 
 
 " Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs ; 
 Make dust our paper, and witli rainy eyes 
 Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth." ^ 
 
 [They enter the Church. 
 
 Scene IV. — The inside of the Church. 
 
 Raleigh. I have seen many a great cathedral, both 
 in England and abroad, holding the bones of kings 
 and saints and heroes ; but never one that enshi-ines 
 dust so sacred as will this we stand in. 
 
 Drayton. 'Tis a fair church, and our poet might 
 find many a less fitting resting-place than amid 
 these pillars and arches, with the plash of Avon 
 for requiem. Yonder, before the altar, yawns the 
 dark portal through which he wall pass out of our 
 sphere. {They approach the grave.) What a wealth 
 of ripened thought will be summed up here ! what 
 a world of promise is the future robbed of ! This 
 grave divides us not from one man, but from un- 
 numbered men and women that might have taught 
 and delighted us ; it engulfs not one life but a 
 multitude of unacted lives with their passions and 
 1 "King Richard IL," act iii. sc. 2.
 
 SIIAKESPEAKE S FUNERAL. 35 
 
 vicissitudes ; here will pass away not a solitary 
 
 figure but a pageant. It may be that, so long as 
 
 Time hath dominion here, he will never spare such 
 
 another sj^irit to eternity. 
 
 Raleigh. Here doth the poet fulfil the prophecy 
 
 he made through the mouth of Prospero, that other 
 
 enchanter : — 
 
 " I'll break my staff, 
 Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, 
 And deeper than did ever plummet sound, 
 I'll drown my book ! " 
 
 [Chanting heard in the distance. 
 Drayton. Those choristers tell us that he is on his 
 last journey ; let us go meet the funeral train. 
 
 {They pass out into the porch. The Funeral 
 approaches the gate of the Churchyard. The 
 Beadles loalk first, the Choristers, in ivhite 
 robes, and the Minister follow, preceding the 
 Coffin; then the mourners, two and two, each 
 bearing a branch of yew, cypress, or rosemary 
 in one hand, a taper in the other. As the 
 Choristers enter the Churchyard they begin 
 to sing the following: — ] 
 
 Funeral Hymn. 
 
 I. 
 
 Part of our hearts thou bear'st with thee 
 
 To silence and to dust, 
 Fair hopes that now must withered be, 
 Unfading love and tr\;st ;
 
 36 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 So thou wilt lie not all alone 
 Beneath thy monumental stone. 
 
 II. 
 No echoes of this fretful world, 
 
 No glimmer of the day, 
 Can reach thee, in thy shroud enfurled. 
 
 Thou canst not hear us pray, 
 Nor seest our tears, nor heed'st our moan, 
 Beneath thy monumental stone. 
 
 Ill, 
 The good thou didst thy brother here, 
 
 The evil put aside. 
 The victory gained o'er sloth and fear. 
 
 O'er avarice, hate, and pride. 
 These make the wealth thou still canst own 
 Above thy monumental stone. 
 
 IV, 
 
 With these for warrant thou shalt go 
 
 Where sorrows enter not ; 
 Still new thy paths, when here below 
 
 Thy sculptured name's forgot, 
 The roof decayed, the grasses grown 
 Above thy monumental stone, 
 
 Raleigh. Methinks, Master Drayton, these verses 
 might better befit some good husband and father of
 
 siiakespeake's funeral. 37 
 
 the common sort, than Shakespeare, whose glorious 
 intellect, shining through his works, is his indefeas- 
 ible title to remembrance. To sing of him thus, is 
 to speak of a falcon and say nought of her wings ; 
 to commend Behemoth for other qualities than his 
 strength ; to sum up Cfesar and forget his universal 
 empire. 
 
 Drayton. It is apparent, "Walter, that these good 
 citizens believe they have in hand one who differs 
 from them only in that his steps have lain in paths 
 apai-t from theirs, even as an ostrich differs from 
 a swan in strangeness rather than in excellence. 
 Therefore it may seem to them that this hymn, 
 which hath, doubtless, heralded many an honest 
 alderman to his grave, may also serve very well 
 for Shakespeare. 
 
 Raleigh. Tell me of the mourners : wlio is she 
 that stoops her long hood so low between her taper 
 and her branch of rosemary ? 
 
 Drayton. His daughter. Mistress Hall ; beside 
 whom walks her husband. Next, with flushed, 
 tear -bedewed face (yet with a comer of an eye 
 to beholders, methinks) his other and younger 
 daughter, the buxom Judith, married, 'tis two 
 months since, to that comfortable vintner, Master 
 Quiney, who trieth vainly to cover his natural 
 contentment with a decorous mask of woe. 
 
 Raleigh. And who handleth his taper and his 
 branch as 'twere a bottle and a glass. Sir Thomas
 
 38 TALES FEOM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 and Master Thynne I already know, but wlio are 
 the next? 
 
 Drayton. He ^\'ith the shrewd pale face and 
 bushy eyebrows is Julius Shaw, with whom walks 
 jovial William Eeynolds — both friends and neigh- 
 bours of Shakespeare ; and after them come two 
 other of his friends, — Antony Nash, whose face of 
 gloom is the endo\vnient of nature, and lendeth 
 poignancy to his many jests — and Thomas Combe, 
 son of John-a-Combe. The pair that follow are 
 Hamnet and Judith Sadler, the god-parents of 
 Shakespeare's twin-children. And marked you the 
 austere aspect of the minister ? he is one of the 
 Puritan sort,^ much thought of by the Halls, out of 
 "^favour to whom he comes, doubtless, to do this 
 office. The rest be town dignities, as aldermen 
 and burgesses, and other townsfolk, 
 
 [The Procession passes into the Churchy Drayton and 
 Ealeigh joining it, and the service begins. After 
 prayers at the grave, the Minister preaches a short 
 Sermon, ivhich ends in this ivise : — ] 
 
 " So, friends, having essayed to draw from the 
 presence of death in our midst some matter for 
 edification, I will speak a word of this particular 
 brother who hath departed, dwelling, as is at these 
 
 1 Probably the same Preacher who is mentioned in old records 
 of the Stratford Corporation as having been a guest at New Place 
 a year or two before.
 
 SIIAKESPEAKE S FUNERAL. 39 
 
 seasons the custom, chiefly on what may do him 
 grace, and serve to sweeten his memory in the 
 nostrils of those whom he hath left still in the 
 bonds of the flesh. And, first, of the fountain of 
 his charities — it hath been known in Stratford for 
 a perennial spring, abundant in refreshment to the 
 poor, and in counsel and all good ofiSces to those 
 who needed countenance of another kind ; and if 
 (as must be said were a man to speak truly) he 
 ever regarded necessity more than deserving, and 
 inquired not over closely into the way of life of 
 those he relieved — nay, would ofttimes succour and 
 comfort the godless no less than the godly, and 
 bestow his bounty where it was like to be ill-spent 
 — yet is that to be accounted better than the with- 
 holding altogether of alms, as some use. Next, . 
 of his excellent charity of another sort, I mean 
 the brotherly relation he held with all conditions 
 of men ; it hath been noted among you that he, 
 who was used elsewhere to consort with the great, 
 and hath been favoured even of princes, would yet 
 converse with the lowly on a general level of good- 
 will, as if the only apparel he took thought of were 
 the skin we are all bom with ; for which, indeed, 
 he had great ensample. And, again, he hath ever 
 gone among his fellows with a cheerful spirit, so 
 that his presence hath been as wane among friends, 
 and as oil among makebates. And though I dare 
 not say that he inclined of preference to the con-
 
 40 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 versation of tlie godly, nor could be counted of the 
 fellowship of saints, nor even a favourer of them, 
 yet have I ever found him apt at serious converse, 
 courteous in bearing, weighty in reply, and of 
 unshakeable serenity when I have adventured to 
 press the truth on him somewhat instantly ; inso- 
 much, that I, whose vocation 'tis to battle for the 
 truth, have myself, ere now, been sore put to it to 
 hold mine own, and found me in straits to oppose 
 him, so nimble was his wit ; though I doubt not 
 that (the clear right being with me) I should, with 
 time for recollection, have had vouchsafed to me 
 the wherewithal to give him sufficient answer. 
 And it hath, at these times, seemed to me that 
 he was a goodly vessel full of merchandise, yet 
 driven by the wind apart from the port where alone 
 her cargo could be bartered for that which is bread ; 
 and I have travailed over him with a sore travail ; 
 for I have hardly doubted that, with such gifts, he 
 might, had it been so ordered, have justly aspired 
 to be chief magistrate of your town, or even to 
 serve you in Parliament ; or again, with diligent 
 study and prayer, to become a preacher of weight, 
 and have struck in the pulpit a good stroke for 
 God's honour and the devil's discomfiture. But, 
 alas ! it is known to all of you, and I dare not 
 dissemble it, that his calling hath been one that 
 delighteth the carnal - minded, and profiteth the 
 idle, and maketh the godly sad of heart ; while,
 
 SHAKESPEARE'S FUKEPvAL. 41 
 
 as for his talent, it luath been put out to use where 
 the only return is the praise which fleeteth as 
 the bubble on the stream, and the repute which 
 perisheth as the leaves of autumn ; for the making 
 of rhymes and verses which flatter the ear, and the 
 art of representing the vain shows of things, how- 
 e'er skilfully practised (and I profess not to have 
 that acquaintance with the writings called plays, 
 nor poems other than godly hymns, to judge his 
 handiwork), cannot be held profitable for him that 
 writes nor him that hears them. And therefore, 
 whatsoe'er of wit and sense they may contain must 
 be accounted as water poured out on the sand, 
 which, better bestowed, might have solaced the 
 thirsty, and nourished the herbs and the fruits, 
 whereof many would have eaten and been strength- 
 ened. But though I may not altogether hold my 
 peace on these matters, yet am I loth to dwell on 
 them at this time ; rather would I point to the 
 hope that our departed brother had, in the soberer 
 life he of late led among you, put aside such toys 
 as unworthy, and given us warrant to forget in him 
 their author, and, moreover, to believe that, had he 
 been spared unto us, he would have removed him- 
 self further, year by year, from such vanities and 
 lightnesses of his youth, until, haply, by the en- 
 sample of a godly household, and the ministrations 
 of faithful expounders of God's Word, he should 
 have attained even to the perfect day."
 
 42 TALES FBOM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 [The sermon ended, the Coffin is borne to the grave, 
 the Minister and Mourners stand around, the ser- 
 vice is concluded, and all depart from the Church.'\ 
 
 Scene V. — The Street near New Place. 
 
 Raleigh (hastening to rejoin Drayton). Your pardon, 
 sir, for seeming to forsake you. ; I did but stay to 
 throw my branch of cypress into the grave, and have 
 kept only this handful, which I will preserve as a 
 memorial, and make of it an heirloon. But, Master 
 Drayton, I had some ado to refrain from answer- 
 ing that preacher even in the church ; for I have 
 somewhat of my father's bluntness, and cannot 
 abide that folly or conceit, in the guise whether 
 of honesty, or religion, or philosophy, should go 
 unchallenged ; and here was a man who, having 
 the vision of a mole, mistook Parnassus for a mole- 
 hill, and went about to measure it with his ell-wand, 
 and even thought to do men service by persuading 
 them that the golden lights and purple shadows 
 of the mountain, its fountains and dells, the forests 
 that clothe it, the clouds that crown it, and the 
 Muses that make it their haunt, are all vain illu- 
 sions together. 
 
 Drayton. You shall find. Master Walter, as you 
 grow older, that all greatness which is not gross 
 and palpable doth require some keenness of vision 
 to discern it ; therefore doth fame ofttimes grow 
 slowly, and from small beginnings, as when a man
 
 SHAKESPEARE'S FUNERAL. 43 
 
 notes, of a siulden, in the else familiar aspect of the 
 heavens, an eclipse or a comet, and others gather 
 to him, till the crowd swells, and the rumour goes 
 abroad of a portent. And thus will it be ^^^th the 
 fame of Shakespeare, who had so much m common 
 with common men that they accounted him one 
 of themselves, as Mercury passed among herdsmen 
 for a herdsman, and Apollo among shepherds for 
 a shepherd. 
 
 Raleigh. Lo you, where the mourners of his 
 household approach the house. Let us wait here 
 while they enter, and I pray you beguile the 
 minute by telling me of them. Of what fashion 
 is Mistress Hall? 
 
 Drmjton. Susannah is, from a child, of an earnest 
 nature and a serious wit. Learning little from 
 books, she hath learned much from converse and 
 observation, and so in her hath her father found 
 a companion ; somewhat retiring at first, but upon 
 occasion speaking warmly with spirit ; devout 
 withal, capable of strict argument for conscience' 
 sake, yet of a becoming humility ; so that I have 
 oft thought her father drew the Isabella of " Mea- 
 sure for Measure " from her, she being about 
 twenty years old when 'twas writ ; even her who 
 
 says 
 
 " Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good 
 But graciously to know I am no better." 
 
 Raleigh. Is her helpmate worthy of her ?
 
 44 TALES FEOM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 Drryton. A worthy man is Doctor Hall — who 
 consorts with Susannah in piety as in love : one 
 who, next his God and his wife, loveth his most 
 honourable calling, and hath grown to a physician 
 of repute here in Warwickshire, much sought after 
 by great ones of the shire. 
 
 Raleigh. Taketh the fair Judith in aught after 
 her father? 
 
 Drayton. Hardly, sir ; though her twin-brother, 
 Hamnet, who died young, was a child of rare 
 promise. The girl is sprightly, but of small depth 
 or substance, favouring the mother. She might 
 have sat for Anne Page, being about sixteen when 
 her father drew Anne ; and she is well-matched 
 with Master Quiney, whose wit o'ertops not hers, 
 who is gay and jovial as becometh a vintner, taking 
 pleasure in what pleases her. Marry, he hath the 
 merit of being the son of her father's old friend 
 Richard Quiney. 
 
 Raleigh. Sir, a nobleman might have fittingly 
 found in her a mate, she being Shakespeare's child. 
 But what of the wife who helped him to these 
 daughters ? 
 
 Drayton. 'Twas Shakespeare's mishap, sir (and 
 I say it for your warning), to wed at an age when 
 the fancy and heat of youth o'ercrow the judgment. 
 He had seen few women, and none of the finest. 
 Anne Hathaway, Shakespeare's elder by eight 
 years, was buxom as Judith is now ; his fancy
 
 SHAKESPEARE S FUNERAL. 45 
 
 dressed her in qualities not hers ; the secrecy of 
 their meetings lent a flavour of adventure ; and 
 so he became bound to one who matched with him 
 as finch with falcon, in youth a country lass, in ago 
 a mere housewife, something fretful, but, in the 
 sum, contented ; and Shakespeare, who was of a 
 temper to fit himself to what is, dwelt with her 
 here in much kindness. But see — Doctor Hall 
 doth await us on the steps of the entrance. 
 
 Doctor Hall. Master Drayton, I pray you that 
 you pass not by the house of your departed friend 
 without entering ; I beseech you, sir, you and your 
 friend ; — 'twill be a kindness to come in. You shall 
 not be excused, sirs. 
 
 Scene VI. — A Room in Shakespeare^ s House. 
 
 Doctor Hall, Drayton, and Raleigh. 
 
 Doctor Hall. Here, sirs, is my father-in-law's 
 parlour, where he hath mostly abided in this last 
 illness. Be pleased to sit while I fetch my wife, 
 who will part with a few moments of her sorrow in 
 seeing so old a friend. [He goes out. 
 
 Raleigh. By Saint George, sir, the poet was 
 bravely lodged ! How rich the staining of this 
 window, where, through the lower panes, we look 
 on the garden ! and above, there stands emblazoned 
 the falcon with his golden spear, steel-pointed, that 
 Sir Thomas told us of. This wainscot, too, is
 
 46 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 quaintly carved, and the chimney -front of a rich 
 design. But, soft you now — whose graven portrait 
 is this that hangs in the midst of it ? By my troth, 
 'tis my father's ! 
 
 Drayton. Ay, Master Kaleigh ; think not but 
 that the poet, with his wide embrace for his fellow- 
 men, took such merit as Sir Walter's near his soul. 
 The daring that went forth on the unknown deep, 
 the search for El Dorado, the finding of strange 
 lands and stranger peoples, all these fired his 
 fancy. 'Tis to our great mariners we owe the 
 sweet magic of Prospero's isle, the innocence of 
 Miranda, the savageness of Caliban, the witcheries 
 of Ariel. 
 
 Raleigh. And above my father's hangs Bacon's ; 
 these Shakespeare looked on as he sat by the fii'e, 
 and thus was homage done both to adventure and 
 to thought. And on this side, engraven like the 
 others, from a painting I have seen, hangs the 
 Earl of Southampton's. 
 
 Drayton. Whereby is homage done to friendship ; 
 greatly and constantly did the Earl love Shake- 
 speare. And here, when he sat by this window 
 that looks on the garden, he saw on the wall 
 opposite, the presentments of his more level as- 
 sociates — Ben Jonson, Marlow, Beaumont and 
 Fletcher (twinned in one carven oak frame), Spen- 
 ser, Sidney, and, lo you, mine unworthy self. 
 
 Raleigh. But what strange company for such
 
 siiakespeaee's funeral. 47 
 
 progeny of tlie Muse are these others on the oppos- 
 ing wall ! Calvin and Knox, Ridley and Jewel, 
 and here, portrayed in chalk by a cunning hand, 
 the divine who preached to us even now. What 
 do these godly men here ? Did Shakespeare love 
 them? 
 
 Drayton. Shakespeare, Master Walter, looked on 
 Puritan and Prelatist as the wearers of certain 
 garbs hiding men underneath ; 'twas concerning 
 the men he chiefly cared to inquire. 'Tis the 
 Doctor and Mistress Hall who have solaced them- 
 selves by hanging these here ; the Doctor hath 
 long been a chief of that party in Stratford which, 
 though it forsakes not quite the Church, yet holds 
 by that comer of it which is nearest Geneva ; and 
 his wife, from her natural bent, leans to the 
 austerer (perchance I should say, the more earnest) 
 side of religion. But Shakespeare, in such matters, 
 w'ould, as Polonius advises, give his ear to all, his 
 voice to few, and tolerated the eflSgies of these grave 
 di\nnes without any special love for themselves. 
 
 Enter Doctor Hall, his Wife, their young daughter 
 Elizabeth, aged eight, and Shakespeare's Widow. 
 
 Mistress Hall. Master Drayton, your pardon yet 
 awhile if I cannot greet you — the seeing of you 
 stirs up thoughts that rob me of all words. 
 
 \_She turns aside. 
 
 Mistress Shakespeare. Master Drayton ! — Son
 
 48 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 Hall, lead me to my great chair. Oh, what a loss 
 is mine ! 
 
 Drayton. Your loss is the world's loss, too, good 
 madam. 
 
 Mistress Shakespeare. Oh, sir, who will uphold me 
 now, a poor, weak woman? Mr Shakespeare in 
 his merry mood would say, "Come, thou'lt make 
 a brave widow, Anne — who shall be thy next ? " 
 But Lord, sir, I'll ne'er marry again. 
 
 Raleigh. Kings, madam, might be proud of such 
 a predecessor. 
 
 Mistress Shakespeare. Kings, sir ! What should 
 kings have to do with me ! You are pleased to jest, 
 young sir ; though kings and queens, too, have 
 looked with favour on Mr Shakespeare. But the fu- 
 neral, Susannah — was all becoming? Did the sermon 
 make good mention of my husband ? And the dole — 
 was all the dole given away? But oh, my poor brain ! 
 Master Drayton and his friend must eat somewhat. 
 There is a stuffed chine. Oh, how he that's gone 
 loved a stuffed chine ! Here be the keys, Elizabeth ; 
 see the chine set forth in the dining chamber. 
 Drayton. Nay, nay, good madam, think not of us. 
 Mistress Shakespeare. But ye must eat somewhat, 
 sirs, indeed, now. Daughter, dost know that my 
 new black hood is sewn awry, and I can go not 
 forth till it be straight? And for drink, sirs, will 
 ye a posset, or sack with sugar ? The wine is from 
 my son Quiney's cellars, and of his choicest.
 
 SHAKESPEARE S FUNERAL. 49 
 
 Drayton. Nay, Mistress Shakespeare, we will 
 rather talk than eat or drink. 
 
 Mistress Shakespeare. Master Michael ! seeing 
 thee minds me of my youth, and of Shottery where 
 my husband courted me — the bridge of the stream 
 where ho would await me ; but I can talk no more — 
 I can but weep. Lead me forth, son Hall. Go not 
 till you have eaten, Master Drayton ; do but taste 
 the chine. sweet husband ! 
 
 [The Doctor leads her forth. 
 
 Mistress Hall. Master Drayton, your pardon once 
 again. I feel some shame at being thus o'er- 
 mastered — 'tis not meet to let our spirits be held 
 in dominion by a private sorrow — but when I 
 think on him, my heart turns to water. But, 
 Master Drayton, I have marvelled you came not 
 to my father in his sickness. 
 
 Drayton. I knew not of it — think you I could 
 have stayed from him ? I was far beyond rumour 
 of his condition, and had come now, heavens ! 
 hoping to behold him and listen to him, as of yore. 
 
 Mistress Hall. Much and oft hath he talked of 
 you ; for it was growing to be his chief pleasure 
 to sit with old friends, or, they absent, to talk of 
 them. His sickness, though it subdued not his 
 spirit, sobered it; his mirth fell to the level of 
 cheerfulness ; he was oftener silent and rapt ; and 
 oh, sir, though I dare not aver it, I will yet hope 
 that his thoughts were above. 
 
 s.s. — I. s
 
 50 TALES FKOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 Drayton. Trust me, Mistress Hall, 'twould be a 
 narrower heaven than we should all hope for, where 
 room and gracious welcome were not proclaimed 
 for him. Think you his place can be elsewhere than 
 with the greatest and best that have gone before ? 
 
 Mistress Hall. Oh, sir, 'tis that troubles me. 
 Hath he not trusted overmuch to that bright 
 intellect? Hath he not been as one that looketh 
 forth from his watch-tower, and beholdeth a fertile 
 land, and a great dominion, and heedeth not that 
 the foundations of the building are of sand ? Hath 
 
 he not but I will not speak of the thorn that, 
 
 since he is gone, pricketh me sorer than before. 
 He charged me, Master Michael, that you should 
 see what writings he hath left behind. Would, oh 
 would they had dealt with such things as only are 
 of great price ! 
 
 Drayton. Wrote he much in these latter days ? 
 
 Mistress Hall. Yea, often, and would call his pen 
 the sluice without which his thoughts would o'er- 
 flow his brain, and perchance drown his wits. But 
 now, sir, I will take you to his own chamber, where 
 I will show you the coffer wherein he kept his 
 writings. 
 
 [Drayton /oZZozt's her out — Kaleigh takes 
 up a book. 
 
 Doctor Hall {returning). Your pardon, sir, for 
 leaving you without company. 
 
 Raleijh. Nay, I had the best of company — even
 
 siiakespeaue's funeral. 51 
 
 fancies about the great one that so lately dwelt 
 here. Was this book his ? 
 
 Doctor Hall. Yea, and one of the last he read in. 
 
 Raleigh. Kight glad am I to hear it — and right 
 proud will my father be to know that tho book ho 
 w-rote in his captivity was of the last studied by 
 the man he hath ever esteemed the most illustrious 
 of this age. 
 
 Doctor llall. Thy father ! the History of the 
 World ! you are then the son of Sir Walter 
 Ealeigh ? 
 
 Raleigh. Ay, sir, I am but too forward to own 
 that kinship. 
 
 Doctor Hall. Sir Walter's health must needs 
 have suffered much wrong from his long impris- 
 onment. I have heard that he hath been mightily 
 shaken of an ague. 
 
 Raleigh. Ay, su-, one contracted years agone in 
 the service of our king's famous predecessor. 
 
 Doctor Hall. Well is it said, put not your trust 
 in prmces. I may tell you, sir, that I do strongly 
 desire to see that time when none shall be so great 
 as to o'ertop the law, and do think it better that the 
 claws of kings should be pared, than that in their 
 breath should lie the liberties of men. But I pray 
 you, sir, hath Sir Walter made trial of the decoction 
 of dittany, or of fumitorie, to correct the malice of 
 this ague ? I have made essay of the root satyrion, 
 in like cases, and found his effects to be good.
 
 52 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 Raleigh. I doubt uot, sir, that all approved 
 remedies have been used by his physicians. — Did 
 Master Shakespeare suffer much pain ? 
 
 Doctor Hall. His malady was wasting rather than 
 painful, save that toward the last he was oft seized 
 with a panting and passion of the heart which left 
 him very nigh to death, for the which I found the 
 syrup of gilliflower, and flour of marigold, in wine, 
 of much avail ; the juice of roses also doth greatly 
 comfort the heart. But of your father. I have 
 ever heard Sir Walter reputed for a gentleman of 
 qualities the most diverse, as skill in war by sea 
 and land, courtiership, and statesmanship, the poet's 
 and the clu'onicler's art, and in all a master — some 
 of which concern not greatly an obscure physician ; 
 but I have also heard that he hath a pretty kno^^-- 
 ledge of pharmacy. 
 
 Raleigh. He hath some skill in simples. But I 
 pray you, tell me somewhat of Master Shakespeare, 
 the hope of seeing whom fetched me hither, and, 
 next to that lost contentment, will be the hearing 
 of him from those he loved. Was not a play called 
 the ' Tempest ' (which I have not yet seen imprint- 
 ed) one of the latest of his works for the theatre ? 
 
 Doctor Hall. I believe it was. It hath been told 
 me that the famous cordial which bears Sir Walter's 
 name ^ was administered both to the Queen and 
 
 1 A specific, or panacea, well known in that age as Sir Walter's 
 Cordial, the ingredients of which are given in the text.
 
 Shakespeare's funeral. 53 
 
 Prince Henry. I have the recipe writ down, but I 
 doubt me whether I have the ingredients in just 
 quantities. Can you advise me of this ? 
 
 Baleigh. I think my memory may serve me so far. 
 But, sir, 'tis Master Drayton's opinion, as he said 
 but now, that such expeditions by sea as my father 
 hath adventured may have caused conception, in the 
 poet's fancy, of the story of that play. 
 
 Doctor Hall. It may be so : 'tis of a shipwreck 
 and an enchanted isle, as I remember me to have 
 heard ; good sooth, Master Ealeigh, there be so 
 many evils in this world crying for redress, that 
 I bestow not much thought on enchantments, and 
 love -tales, and bygone histories. [Takes out a 
 memorandum-book.) First there be, in the cordial, 
 of zedoary and saffron each half a pound. 
 
 Raleigh. True, sir. But talked Master Shake- 
 speare greatly of his plays while he was busied in 
 inditing them. 
 
 Doctor Hall. Perchance, to others who were 
 poets ; but, indeed, my business in life hath so 
 little relation with what he writ that I did not 
 greatly seek his confidence at such times. Now, 
 regarding this recipe — as to the powder of crab's 
 claws, I have set it do^vn at fourteen ounces. 
 
 Raleigh. It should be sixteen, sir. 
 
 Doctor Hall. Why, there now, see, good youth, 
 what a service you have done me ; for just pro- 
 portion is of the essence of a prescript, and I have
 
 54 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD. 
 
 liitlierto compounded this rare remedy but im- 
 perfectly. Of cinnamon and nutmegs, two ounces, 
 — cloves, one, — cardamoms, half an ounce, — sugar, 
 two ounces. 
 
 Raleigh. All these be right. 
 
 Doctor Hall. I thank you heartily for your cor- 
 rection in the matter of the crab's claws. I will 
 note it. [Goes to write at a table.) 
 
 Raleigh [to Elizabeth). Come hither, pretty one, 
 and tell me thy nauie. 
 
 Elizabeth {lohispering). My grandfather called me 
 his Queen Bess ; and said he would liefer be ruled 
 by me than the older one. (Aloud.) Didst thou 
 not say, sir, thou wouldst like to hear of him from 
 those he loved? 
 
 Raleigh. Ay, little maid. 
 
 Elizabeth. Then thou must talk of him to me, 
 for he hath oft said 'twas me he loved best, 
 and {weeping), I shall ne'er be tired talking of 
 him. 
 
 Raleigh. Didst often bear him company, Bess ? 
 
 Elizabeth. Ay, for my father goeth much from 
 home, and when my mother was in her store-closet, 
 or visiting the sick, my grandfather and I kept 
 together, we and our two friends. 
 
 Raleigh. Who be they ? 
 
 Elizabeth. Mopsa is one — this, look you, is Mopsa 
 [fetching a cat from the hearth). When I would do 
 her pleasure, I scratch her behind the ear, but my
 
 SHAiiESPEARE'S FUNERAL. 55 
 
 grandfather would always tickle her under the chin. 
 Her father and mother were fairies. 
 
 Raleigh. How cam'st thou to know that, Bessie ? 
 
 Elizabeth. She was left by them one night in 
 the snow, whore my grandfather found her, and 
 brought her hither wrapped in his cloak ; and ho 
 told me all the tale of how she left fairyland — when 
 there is time I'll tell it thee. And our other friend 
 is Bobadil. 
 
 Raleigh. Is Bobadil a man ? 
 
 Elizabeth. Nay, surely you know he is a dog: 
 kind and civil to us, but with other dogs he 
 quarrelleth and growleth, and then flieth from them 
 in fear, loving not to fight. And I have a little 
 horse which grandfather did buy for me, and a 
 riding-coat like the Queen's maids, and, so long as 
 he could, wo did ride together. 
 
 Raleigh. Well, Elizabeth, I am going presently 
 to the wars, and when I come again thou and I 
 shall be married, shaU we not ? 
 
 Elizabeth. Ay, if my mother will let me, for thou 
 art handsome and kind. 
 
 Raleigh. Seest thou this chain round my hat, 
 with the pearl clasp ? well, I have kept it for my 
 lady-love, when I should have one — so 'tis yours — 
 look, I clasp it on your neck for a token, and when 
 we are wedded you shall tell me the story of 
 Mopsa. 
 
 Elizabeth. Sure, 'tis the prettiest chain. I give
 
 5G TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 thee for't these four kisses. I will go show it my 
 grandmother.^ [She goes out. 
 
 Raleigh. Methinks, Master Hall, that Elizabeth 
 might serve at a pinch for her grandfather's very 
 faithful chronicler. 
 
 Doctor Hall. Ay, sir, better than most ; she bore 
 him company ever when he was inditing, and oft 
 at other seasons. For me, I did greatly love and 
 esteem my good father-in-law, and we lived together 
 in pleasant communion ; but for the works which, 
 as I have heard, those that make a play-place of 
 this world find such content in, he ever knew that 
 ceaseless warring with the diseases of the bodies, 
 and (what is more) of the souls, of my neighbours, 
 and care for those public matters in which I dis- 
 cern a way to a better condition of the world's 
 affairs, have left me small * leisure for fancies to 
 which I am, good sooth, noways affected ; therefore 
 he spake not to me of them. But there is one sweet 
 piece of work, of which (not to speak profanely) he 
 was author, that I daily study with reverence and 
 love — and hither it comes. 
 
 Re-enter Mistress Hall and Drayton. 
 
 Drayton. I am like the man in the fable who was 
 privileged to look in the cave where a wizard had 
 
 1 Elizabeth married, at eighteen, Mr Thomas Nash, and 
 secondly, Sir John Barnard, leaving no children by either.
 
 shakespeake's funeral. 57 
 
 collected tlie treasures of the earth, and was so 
 dazed that he coxild neither pouch any, nor even 
 take account of what he saw. Only I know there 
 be there, beside plays ah-eady acted though never 
 imprinted, and others of which only false copies 
 have gone abroad, a multitude of uncoined ingots 
 and uncut jewels of thouglit, which that matchless 
 mind hath thrown off as if in mere exercise and 
 at breathing-time. ^Yha.t measureless delight will 
 these bestow on the world ! ^ 
 
 Mistress Hall But I know not, sir, if the world 
 shall ever see them. My father gave me no com- 
 mand in that matter, and it may be that I shall 
 serve his memory better with pious men by 
 keeping them private. 
 
 Drat/ton. Trust me. Mistress Hall, the holder of 
 these shall owe a heavy debt to thy father's fame. 
 
 Mistress Hall. Nay, sir, what is fame that it must 
 needs be satisfied at all hazards ? the bandying of a 
 name from one idle mouth to another ! — praise as 
 hollow and unavailing as the night wind sighing 
 o'er an epitaph ! — what profit or comfort is in such 
 for the departed ? 
 
 Raleigh. By heaven, madam, not so ! — rather is 
 
 1 Halliwell says, " According to Roberts, two large chests full 
 of Shakespeare's loose papers and manuscripts " (belonging to a 
 baker who had married one of his descendants) "were destroyed 
 in the great fire at Warwick." Falstaffs speech, " I have given 
 them away to bakers' wives, and they have made boulters of 
 them," seems almost prophetic of this.
 
 58 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 fame the linking of far-off generations by the common 
 bond of one great name : for the dead, it is a second 
 life among men, in which earthiness is pm-ged 
 away, and what is imperishable tarries — and, for 
 the living, their just inheritance ; so, to defeat 
 Fame is to commit a double, nay, a tenfold wrong. 
 Her trumpet sounds no empty strain ; 'tis the 
 appeal against our baser promptings, the summons 
 to action, the meed of achievement, the celebration 
 on earth of the spirit's triumph over the grave : 
 thus it maketh the music to which mankind do 
 march, and which, silent, would leave them slaves. 
 Mistress Hall Your words, young sir, are manly, 
 but I know not if they be godly. Of what avail 
 that men should march, if not heavenward ? How 
 poor be centuries of this fame of yours to one hour 
 of that other life we look for ! Think not, Master 
 Drayton, that I am dull to the spell of my father's 
 verse ; as a maiden it enthralled my fancy and 
 charmed mine ear ; even now could I taste the 
 delights of it ; but I have come to know that in 
 such enchantments lies deadly peril, and I must 
 pass on vnth my fingers in mine ears. Feeling 
 thus, I know not if, in conscience, I may give a 
 voice to what he hath left, by utterance in books. 
 
 Drayton. I will not do battle with these scruples 
 in the hour of your grief, but will trust to the future 
 for overcoming them. Even if no new matter go 
 fort]), it were grievous to witHiold the true versions
 
 SHAKESPEARE'S FUNERAL. 59 
 
 of his plays.1 Metliinks I espy, in the depths of time, 
 his iuiago veiled, and mark the generations of men 
 toiling to unravel his meanings, and piecing out his 
 maimed verses, and clipt fancies, ^vith guess-work ; 
 collecting the while, in pain and doubt, what un- 
 threaded memories tradition may preserve of him. 
 And I do fear me, that if some disciple be not found 
 elsewhere, more devoted than any his birthplace 
 affords, to tell posterity what manner of man he 
 was, there may, in a brief space, and ere his fame 
 hath reached its zenith, remain of this chief of 
 English poets nothing but a wondrous name. 
 
 [Drayton and Ealeigh take their leave, and 
 quit New Place. 
 
 Scene \ll.—The Dolphin Chamber in the Falcon 
 Tavern. Drayton and Ralkigii. Through the 
 open door, those who were Bearers at the Funeral 
 are seen drinking in the Taproom. 
 
 Enter Hostess icith a bottle of sack, glasses, small 
 loaves in a basket, and a plate of anchovies. 
 
 Drayton. This small refection will bring us hand- 
 somely to supper with Sir Thomas. So, hostess, 
 now fall to Master Raleigh— and to each a crust. 
 "VMiat do these roysterers without? 
 
 Hostess. Sir, Master Shakespeare, who was ever 
 
 1 Tlie corrected plays were first pul>lished seven years after, in 
 the well-known Folio of 1G23.
 
 GO TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 full of kind tliouglits and maleficence, left it in '9 
 testament that tlie bearers should be entertained at 
 the " Falcon " with cakes and ale after the burial ; 
 and in truth, sirs, they have borne themselves like 
 men this hour past ; they drink rarely. 
 
 Drayton. Wlaat a coil the varlets keep ! Let us 
 listen to them. 
 
 Sly. Well, a health, boys, to Master Shakespeare, 
 wheresome'er he be. 
 
 ^(Sings) And ive'll trowl the brown bowl 
 To the health of his 
 
 Bardolph. Nay, no singing, except any man know- 
 etli a virtuous psalm-tune. 
 
 Nym. The fitting humour is — melancholy, and pass 
 the ale. 
 
 Sly. Are we to be mute, then, in our drink, like 
 fish? 
 
 Bottom. Let us discourse, but no revelry. Let us 
 suit our matter to the occasion, and enjoy the good 
 liquor sadly. Yet, methinks, I could sing something 
 to the purpose. 
 
 • — [Sings) Out fiieth breath, 
 
 In Cometh Death 
 With his candle, bell, and book — a, 
 With his prayer so loud 
 And his woollen shroud, 
 And his cell in the churchyard-nook — a.
 
 SHAKESPEARE'S FUNERAL. 61 
 
 Sly. A less comfortable song I ne'er listened iv. 
 I am of the party of silence rather than this. 
 
 Bottom. I can be silent too, an it comes to that, as 
 well as e'er a man of you. 
 
 Bardolph. More ale, hostess. Wliat, must I take 
 to my old trade again, and turn tapster ? 
 
 Wart. Canst thou mind, Rugby, when the play 
 was held in Johu-a-Combe's great barn at the end 
 of Chapel-lano, many years agone ? 
 
 Rurjhy. Ay. 
 
 Wart. There was somewhat played then, writ, 
 'twas said, by ]\Iaster Shakespeare, that would have 
 served our turn now ; something of ghosts and a 
 burial. 
 
 Rugby. Was't not the play of Kiny Hamlet f 
 
 Bottom. Ay, that or else the goodly tragedy of 
 Makehate. 
 
 Bardolph. To see Master Shakespeare sitting there 
 on the bench nighest the stage, with his daughter, 
 Mistress Quiney that now is, beside him, and to think 
 the play he looked-on at was writ by himself — by 
 heaven ! 'twas as a man should say — wonderful. 
 
 Wart. I ne'er saw Malcehate, but I saw another. 
 I was lingering by the play-house door, with 
 ^Margery my wife one night, thinking to peep at 
 the stage through a cliiuk in the boards, when 
 Master Shakespeare comes me down the lane. 
 " Art for the play. Wart ? " quo' he. " Xay, sir," 
 quo' I ; "no pay no play, and my pockets are e'en
 
 62 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD 
 
 » 
 
 like Skinflint's pot." "Never stay for that," quo' 
 he ; " thou shalt pass, and Margery too, as freely as 
 coined silver — and I hope, Margery, thou'lt lay the 
 play to heart, for they tell me thou lead'st Wart a 
 terrible life of it." Now, the play, sirs, was of a 
 masterful woman whose goodman got the better of 
 her. Marry, 'twas named — let me see — by the 
 mass, 'twas 
 
 Rugly. Was't not named the Turning of the Screw, 
 or some such? 
 
 Several. Ay, 'twas so indeed. 
 
 Bottom. Nay, if you are for remembering names, 
 my masters, I am he that can serve your turn. 
 'Twas named tlie Quelling of the Scold — 'twas, as 
 Wart truly said, the history of a crowing hen that 
 had her comb cut, as all such should. 
 
 Sli/. When wilt cut Goodwife Bottom's, Nick? 
 Folk say she playeth Chanticleer to thy Partlet. 
 
 Bottom. Folk say much, neighbour, that it be- 
 seemeth not a man of sense to hearken to. But 
 touching these plays — I am all for the love pas- 
 sages ; it giveth one, as 'twere, a yearning ; it 
 maketh one feel young again — the billing, now — 
 and the sighing. I have played the lover, neigh- 
 bours, both on the stage and off it, when my sweet- 
 heart hath borne her most tenderly. 
 
 Wart. I also was loved in my youth. 
 
 Sly. Thou loved ! was there ne'er a scarecrow in 
 the parish, then, to set heart on ?
 
 Shakespeare's funeral. 63 
 
 Hostess [entering icith fresh ale). Nay, fub not the 
 goodman so, Christopher — thou art ever girding. I 
 warrant me, neighbour Wart hath had his cooings 
 and his wooings like the rest, and could tickle a 
 maiden's ear as well as another. Wliat ! have we 
 not all been young ! 
 
 Nym. Well, for me, I care not for the love-humours 
 — there is a mawkishness and a queasiness in over- 
 much ogling and lipping. I am for your deadlier 
 humours ; give me a murder, now, — or the witches. 
 
 Wart. I love the watches, too. 
 
 Bardolph. Since ye talk of witches, saw ye Goody 
 Broom at the burial to-day, hanging on the skirts of 
 the crowd, and lurking behind a gravestone, wiping, 
 the while, her old red eyes with the corner of her 
 ragged cloak ? I am well persuaded that Master 
 Shakespeare had no truer mourner than that same 
 ancient leman of Lucifer. 
 
 Hostess. And well she may, poor soul ! Between 
 water and fii-e there was like to have been soon an 
 end of her, but for Master Shakespeare. 
 
 Wart. Well, I w^as one of those that ducked her 
 i' the pond ; and I ran a needle, too, into a mole 
 she had, and she winced not — a sure sign of a 
 witch ; but when Master Shakespeare stept forth 
 and bespoke us, I felt I know not how at his words, 
 and made home an 'twere a dog that hath been 
 caught in the larder. 
 
 Snug. And w^hen they haled her before the jus-
 
 64 TALES FKOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 tices, Sir Tliomas was for burning her, had not 
 Master Shakespeare o'erpersuaded him. 
 
 Sly. Well, he saved her then, but she may chance 
 have her whiskers singed yet. I am not one that 
 favours witches, any more than our good King, and 
 I shall keep eye on her. 
 
 Hostess [entering the Dolphin chamber). Sirs, here 
 be Sir Thomas's men, and the horses, awaiting you 
 in the yard. 
 
 Drayton. Thanks, hostess — our score. Now, 
 Walter, set on. 
 
 Raleigh [passing into the taproom). Good friends 
 
 Bottom. Hear him ! hear him ! 
 
 Raleigh. Good friends, all simple as ye sit here, 
 ye have this day done an office that the foremost 
 nobles of England might envy you, and that might 
 make their children's children proud to say — our 
 forefather was one of those who bore Shakespeare 
 to the graA'e. 
 
 Bottom. Sir, we did it passing well, and becom- 
 ingly, but we boast not of it. 
 
 Bardolph. 'Sblood, sir, to be a bearer is no such 
 great matter — and for nobles, why, we have been 
 paid with one each, and are content. 
 
 Raleigh. Ay, ye have had greatness so near ye, 
 that ye saw it not — ye are as daws that build in a 
 cathedral and take it for an old wall. But I blame 
 ye not — your betters have seen no clearer. And, 
 now, to show my good\A'ill for ye, as those whom
 
 shakespeaue's funeral. 65 
 
 Shakespeare hath sometime honoured with a word 
 or look, I will entreat Master Drayton to lodge for 
 me a sum with his friend Master Quiney, wliich 
 shall sufiBce to let ye all meet and carouse here 
 once a-month, for a year to come — and each year 
 that I live^ will I do likewise — and ye shall call it 
 Shakespeare's Holiday. 
 
 Bardolph. By heaven ! a most noble gentleman, 
 and of a choice conception. 
 
 Nym. This humoiir likes me passing well. 
 
 Sly. I would there were more of your kidney in 
 Stratford. 
 
 Bottom. I will invent a new speech every year in 
 your lordship's honour, and every year it shall be 
 more excellent than the last. My masters, let us, 
 all that can stand, attend these gentles to the door. 
 
 All. Farewell, gallant sirs 
 
 Raleigh and Drayton. Good friends, farewell. 
 
 1 At the close of the following year he was slain, sword in hand, 
 gallantly fighting the Spaniards, on the banks of the Oririoco. 
 
 S.S. — I.
 
 A NIGHT AVITH THE VOLUNTEERS DE 
 STRATHKINAHAN. 
 
 BY LIEUT. -COL. LAURENCE W. M. LOCKHART. 
 
 [3IAGA. Sept. ISCO.l 
 
 I HAVE the highest respect for the Volunteer 
 movement, and the highest admiration for 
 Vohmteers. I think the country owes them an 
 immense debt of gratitude. Perhaps a professional 
 soldier can estimate better than a civilian what the 
 magnitude of the debt really is. He knows how 
 irksome a business it is to reduce one's self to the 
 condition of an automaton, to abandon one's per- 
 sonal identity, to become Number One, Two, or 
 Three in a squad, and to concentrate for hours 
 one's whole intellectual faculties upon the task of 
 instantly adjusting the anguished frame to certain 
 angles, in obedience to the unmelodious shriek of 
 the drill-sergeant. 
 
 I can recall no instances of nervous tension so 
 protracted and intense as those under which I suf-
 
 THE VOLUNTEERS OF STRATHKINAIIAN. C-7 
 
 fered as a recruit officer of her Majesty's Line ; and 
 remembering that ordeal of terror and suffering, I 
 regard the vohmteer — the self-immolator — witli 
 feelings of profound admiration, sympathy, and 
 astonishment. I look upon his existence as a 
 death-blow to the cynical idea that patriotism has 
 ceased to be ; and if you tell me that the age of 
 chivalry is gone, I point triumphantly to the per- 
 spiring legions who offer themselves as willing 
 victims in the dog-days — from mora to noonday 
 bright, from noon to dewy eve, dreeing their self- 
 imposed weird in the grand field-days of Wimble- 
 don Common or the Brighton Downs. The profes- 
 sional soldier, of course, has tangible advantages to 
 gain by submitting himself, soul and body, to the 
 thraldom of military discipline. But the Volun- 
 teers ? for what purpose eat they thus the bread of 
 toil? Cui bono this deliberate expense of tissue? 
 
 The only solution I can find is, that these men 
 are patriots. 
 
 Of course we are all accustomed to admit this in 
 a general honorary sort of way — indeed it has be- 
 come one of those standing, after-dinner axioms, 
 like the bravery of the army, or the merits of the 
 Eoyal Family, which no true Briton would dream of 
 attempting to controvert. 
 
 But I regard their patriotism ae genuine and re- 
 markable, and therefore worthy of something more 
 than a mere assenting and commonplace admiration ;
 
 68 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 auci I record my o^Yn. admiration here specially, and 
 I make these few remarks on this occasion, lest in 
 the following pages I should be suspected of a wish 
 to throw ridicule on an institution so honourable to 
 its members, and so beneficial to the country, which 
 is justly proud of it. It is not to be supposed that 
 such an institution can flourish with equal vigour 
 in every district where it has taken root ; and as 
 in certain localities the superior energy and intelli- 
 gence of the inhabitants will be displayed in this, 
 as in everything else which they take in hand to 
 do, so in others where there is no energy and no in- 
 telligence, the Volunteer movement will be stamped 
 with the same backwardness and inefSciency which 
 characterise all the other undertakings of the place. 
 
 And if a district happens to be steeped in whisk;^', 
 as Strathkinahan was (I say was, for let us hope 
 the Strath has long ago abjured the deleterious 
 "creature"), why, naturally, its Volunteers, in the 
 infancy of the movement, would be aj)t to regard 
 the movement as they regarded everything else — 
 from a purely alcoholic point of view. 
 
 So much by way of apology or disclaimer. And 
 now to my story. 
 
 One autinnn day, a good many years ago, I was 
 taking mine ease in mine inn in Edinburgh, when 
 it was announced to me that a visitor, by the name 
 of Captain Gumming, was waiting below. I occu- 
 pied the interval between the announcement and
 
 THE VOLUNTEERS OF STRATHKINAHAN. G9 
 
 his appearance in the room in mentally calling the 
 roll of my acquaintances, but I failed to discover 
 any one answering to this description ; nor could I 
 tax myself with kno-unng any member of the clan. 
 From the Red Comyn who was made "siccar" end 
 of in the olden time, to the Black Gumming who 
 threatens us with the immediate end of Time itself, 
 all the clan Gumming " wore to me like shadows." 
 The diflSculty was (not immediately) solved by the 
 entrance of Tom Finlayson, not a few years ago my 
 friend and a ci-devant subaltern in the — th Hussars. 
 
 " Holloa, Peter ! " I exclaimed, using his regi- 
 mental misnomer — which, written in full, was 
 " Blue Peter " — " I'm delighted to see you ; and 
 how are yoxa? and what are you? and where are 
 you ? and what will you drink ? Take a weed, and 
 bring yourself to an anchor ; and, by the quality of 
 mercy, let my hand alone, and spare at least my 
 trigger finger ; " for Peter was strong in his friendly 
 feelings, and expressed them strongly upon such 
 occasions by collecting one's fingers into a sort of 
 fascine, and then squeezing them with the full 
 power of his vice-like grasp. " But Avhere is your 
 friend ? " I went on. 
 
 ""WTiat friend?" replied Peter. 
 
 " ^Miy, Captain Gumming, of course ; I suppose 
 he came with you." 
 
 " Gaptain Gumming ! " said Peter ; " why, hang 
 it ! — I'm — you don't mean to say you don't — eh ? "
 
 70 TALES rilOM " BLACK^\ OOD. 
 
 Peter had never been a lucid expositor of his 
 ideas, but there was a haziness about this which 
 led my gaze to his nose, the tints on which had 
 given rise to his sobriquet, and had undoubtedly 
 derived their own origin from habits not uncon- 
 nected w^ith a rather hurried close of his military 
 career. 
 
 Peter, still sensitive about his tints, read my 
 eye like a book, and laid his fingers nervously on 
 the many-coloured feature. " Hang it ! " he cried, 
 '' don't stare so, and listen to the end of a fellow's 
 sentence. I was going to say that you don't posi- 
 tively assert that you don't know who Captain 
 Gumming is?" 
 
 " Yes, I do assert that I know nothing about him." 
 
 " Well, he is in this room." 
 
 '' Oh ! is he ? " said I, banteringly, now con- 
 vinced of Peter's melancholy state, but determined 
 to humour him for the sake of the furniture. " Of 
 course — not so bad — ha ! ha ! — pray introduce me." 
 
 "Now then, look here," burst out Peter, *' Fm 
 Captain Gumming ! " 
 
 " Oh ! I understand now. All right, Peter ; the 
 rose by any other name, &c., and of course I'm 
 safe ; but you're not half disguised. Let me re- 
 commend a beard, a dark wig, and a lick of flesh- 
 coloured paint on the — you know ; and what have 
 you broken for? and where are you off to? in 
 short, let me hear all about it ; " and I drew two
 
 THE VOLUNTEEUS OF STRATIIKIKAilAN. 71 
 
 chairs tu the fire, aud prepared to receive in com- 
 fort a recital of my friend's pecuniary emban'ass- 
 ments, and his scheme of flight fi-om the Philistine. 
 
 " Tut, tut ! there's no deception, no mystery •, 
 cant you understand? I've changed my name 
 for good and all — got a property by my wife, and 
 taken her name." 
 
 I congratulated him heartily on his good fortune, 
 and added, " I suppose the ' Captain ' is a little 
 honorary prefix of your own invention, built on the 
 ruins of that cornetcy which " 
 
 " No, it isn't." 
 
 *' What ! did you acquire that by your wife too ? " 
 
 " Xo ; I'll tell you. You see, though in right 
 of my wife I'm a landed proprietor, the property in 
 question does not yield a very large revenue, and, 
 moreover, what there is of it is a good deal bur- 
 dened ; and so when we went down to take up our 
 abode there, we found it rather difficult to make the 
 ends meet, and therefore, to supplement our income, 
 and give me some occupation at tlie same time, I 
 accepted the appointment of Adjutant of the 2d 
 Administrative Battalion of Keltshire Volunteers. 
 My property lies in that county, so it suits very 
 well ; and that's how I stand before you, trans- 
 formed from ex-Cornet Tom Fiulayson into Captain 
 Gumming." 
 
 " And how do you like the work ? " I inquired. 
 
 " Oh, very well ; the colonel does very little, so
 
 72 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD," 
 
 I have the corps pretty much in my own hands, and 
 can work out my own system." 
 
 This was said with some dignity, and I had much 
 difficulty in repressing a grim smile as I thought of 
 Tom's military antecedents and the system likely to 
 spring from them. 
 
 " Nothing like system," he went on. " I carry 
 out old Chalk's — th Hussar system as much as 
 possible. I hated Chalk and he hated me ; but I 
 recognise his military talent, and I have made use 
 of him I can tell you ; and, though I say it that 
 shouldn't, you'll find few corps that can walk round 
 the 2d Ad. Batt. of the Keltshire Volunteers. I 
 took 'em over, sir, like a lump of clay, and my 
 what-d'ye-call-it hand has moulded them into a — 
 a — moulded them, sir ! The worst of the business 
 is that the fellows won't stick to it. You drill them 
 up to the highest pitch of perfection and then they 
 leave you. You never saw such a fickle, captious set 
 of devils as I have to deal with. They're always 
 taking offence — sometimes with their officers, some- 
 times with me, and very often with my system — 
 and then they resign ; so that though the corps is a 
 crack corps, it is a very small one. Three companies 
 have already been broken up, and if another goes, 
 tlie 2d Ad. Batt. of the Keltshire Volunteers will 
 collapse — the adjutancy will collapse — and Captain 
 Cumming will also collapse financially. Now an- 
 other company is in a very shaky state, which
 
 THE VOLUNTEERS OF STKATIIKINAIIAN. 73 
 
 makes me hoiTibly anxious and imeasy. It (the 
 shaky company, the Stratlilcinahan company) has 
 lately been transferred from the Kippershire county 
 corps to ours. Strathkinahan is in our county, but 
 in a part of it which dovetails itself far into Kipper- 
 shire, so that the men are in feeling rather Kipper- 
 shire than Keltshire men, more especially that they 
 are all on the property of Lord Worrycow, the great 
 Strathkinahan proprietor. Well, these fellows don't 
 like the transfer, and won't co-operate at all. They 
 lost their captain some time before they joined us, 
 and being ordered to select his successor from our 
 county, they keep shilly-shallying and doing noth- 
 ing, much provoked thereto (I understand) by their 
 lieutenant and ensign — the one a fellow who distils 
 whisky on a large scale, and the other a sheep far- 
 mer who largely consumes it — both, I believe, so 
 thoroughly inefficient, that either the corps will not 
 select them for promotion or they themselves de- 
 cline to be promoted. I'll be hanged if I loiow 
 what they want ! but the result of it will certainly 
 be, that if they don't get a good captain to keep 
 them together they will fade away like the other 
 three companies, and then good-bye to my appoint- 
 ment. 
 
 " Well, I've done what I could by wTiting threats 
 and remonstrances — all to no purpose ; so now I am 
 going do'wn to beat up their quarters in person. I 
 have a man in my eye who would make a first-rate
 
 74 TALES FEOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 captain for them ; and if I can only get them to 
 elect him, the company will be saved, and so will 
 be my adjutancy ; so I am determined that they 
 shall elect him, by fair means or foul. Couldn't 
 you make a run down with me, and then come on 
 for a few days to my place and try your hand at 
 grouse-driving? It's a glorious district — splendid 
 scenery, and all that — and I'm sure the natives will 
 amuse you ; and then your diplomatic talents might 
 be of immense assistance in helping an old friend 
 out of a difficulty." 
 
 I had some ten days at my disposal at the time, 
 so I readily agreed to Tom's request, and the next 
 day saw us en route for Strathkinahan. 
 
 It will not do, for obvious reasons, to describe 
 too accurately the geographical position of Strath- 
 kinahan. Suffice it to say that it lies far away out 
 of the beaten tracks of men, and that he who would 
 behold it must undergo a varied yet tedious jour- 
 ney, with perils by land and perils by water, and 
 the equally important Highland element of whisky. 
 Our journey was performed by almost every pos- 
 sible form of conveyance — railway, steamboat, stage- 
 coach, row-boat, dog-cart, and post-chaise ; we em- 
 ployed tliem all, and I had thus an opportunity of 
 studying, not without interest, the habits of the 
 Celt in a state of locomotion, and of observing how, 
 under his quaint handling, the most modem inven- 
 tions put on an irresistible air of travesty. On a
 
 THE VOLUNTEERS OF STUATIIKINAIIAX. 75 
 
 Highland railway I saw a solution of the long-vexed 
 question, "How should the guard communicate 
 with the engine-driver ? " It was very simple, and 
 consisted in the former functionary pelting the latter 
 with large stones until he was fortunate enough to 
 hit him in some telling place, and work upon his 
 mind through the suflerings of his body. I saw 
 the deficiencies of pressure on the valves of a 
 steamboat - engine supplied by the nether-men of 
 the steerage passengers, who kindly volunteered 
 to perform in turns this interesting duty. And it 
 was not without a tremor that I observed our 
 driver quietly take off his left boot and improvise 
 therefrom a supplement to the drag by wedging 
 it in between the wheel and the worn-out buffer, 
 prior to plunging, at sixteen miles an hour, down 
 a long and dreadfully steep mountain road into the 
 darksome abysses of the " Devil's Glen." 
 
 Everything, however — even a Highland journey 
 — must have an end, and at last, amid pelting rain 
 and howling wind, our jaded horses were pulled 
 up in the dark opposite the " Bodach-beg Inn and 
 Hotel." 
 
 "Here we are," said Tom; "we are to sleep 
 here, and have our meeting with the corps in the 
 barn behind the house. I wonder if the officers 
 have come ; I asked them to dine with us. How 
 infernally dark and quiet it all is ! Kick the door, 
 driver, and rouse them up."
 
 76 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 A long onslaught by the driver's hoofs on the 
 door produced no effect. 
 
 " Break a window," shouted Tom ; and the driver, 
 finding no other missile handy, again had recourse 
 to his left boot, which he hurled tln-ough a lower 
 pane. This destruction of property at once had 
 the desired effect. 
 
 Lights shone in the windows, dogs barked, and 
 at last the door was half opened and a head showed 
 itself warily in the aperture. It was the head of 
 an angry man, and from it proceeded winged words 
 of wrath. 
 
 " Gang on ! gang on ! this meenut ; I've tell't 
 ye a'ready there's nae mair whusky in the inns, 
 and if there was, there's nane for a drucken auld 
 carle like you. A Collector ! a bonny Collector ! 
 I'll collect ye ! and it'll be fewer and saxpence for 
 the peen o' glass, and if you dinna pay it this mee- 
 niTt ye shall march hame on your hose, for deil a 
 sicht o' yer damned auld brogue shall ye get this 
 nicht without the siller." 
 
 " The man's a maniac," cried Torn, springing 
 past me and pouncing on the orator like a tiger, 
 whom throttling, he thrust back into the house. 
 "What in the name of all the whiskies do you 
 mean, you jabbering idiot ? Whisky ! I don't 
 want any of the abomination. We want the dinner 
 and the rooms and the beds we ordered. Don't 
 you know me — Captain Gumming? I M'as here
 
 THE VOLUNTEERS OF STRATIIKINAIIAN. 77 
 
 fishing last summer ; and didn't you get my letter, 
 you numskull ? " 
 
 "Captain Gumming! is it you, sir? ^^^la wad 
 have expeeldt yer honour at sicean a time o' year ? 
 I made sure it was the Collector; he's on the 
 ramble this eight days past, drinking three days 
 here till I pit him oot, and five up i' the bothy, and 
 noo he's hunting for drink heigh and laigh— ragin' 
 like a bear ; for he would toom the Spey in spate if 
 it ran wi' Talusker or Glenleevat." 
 
 "But my letter, man, my letter? Did you not 
 
 get it ? " 
 
 " I got nae letter, sir. Ye see, the postman gaed 
 aff a week sin' to see his freens up Appin way, and 
 there's been nae chance tae get a letter without 
 sending ance errand the fifteen mile. But come in, 
 gentlemen ; beds ye shall ha'e and rooms, but for 
 the denner I dinna ken what to say ; but I'll speak 
 to the wife." With which he ushered us into a room, 
 fireless and cold, yet stuffy withal, and pregnant 
 wath the odours of departed peat and whisky long 
 ago consumed. Leaving his candle, he retired hastily 
 to consult the guidwife upon the serious crisis. 
 
 " Well, this is a nice state of things," said Tom ; 
 "but I wrote to the Volunteers a fortnight ago, 
 so they must have had time to get their warning 
 before the confounded postman went oS for his 
 holiday — fancy a single-handed postman daring 
 to have a hohday !— so we're sure to have them
 
 78 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 here ; and even if we have a bad dinner and un- 
 aired rooms, it's only for one night, for we'll get 
 the business over this evening and be off home to- 
 morrow morning." 
 
 The landlord shortly after returned and told ns, 
 with many apologies, that ham and eggs, a fowl, 
 and perhaps "a bit braxy " would be our dinner, 
 assuring us at the same time that his statement 
 as to the whisky, outside, was only a humane 
 fiction devised for the Collector's own good, and 
 that there was an abundance of the best Glenlivat 
 down below. He added niefully that "the bodach" 
 (meaning the Collector) had been lurking about the 
 premises, and had taken advantage of the tempor- 
 ary confusion consequent on our arrival to effect 
 a lodgment in the kitchen, where he was again 
 "makin' himself most ootrageous," and resisting 
 all attempts at eviction — physically with his fists, 
 and morally with the argument that he was there 
 on military duty. 
 
 " Ye see," explained the landlord, " he's in thae 
 Strathkinahan Volunteers, and bein' ' on the beer,' as 
 ye may say, he's gotten it into his head that he has 
 a tryst here this nicht wi' his commandin' oflSsher 
 — the Earl, I'm thinkin' — which shows that the 
 Collector is far tlu-ough ; for when he's in his 
 ordinary he cares for nane, and wad break tryst 
 wi' the archangel Gabbriel himsel' if he had the 
 chance."
 
 THE VOLUNTEERS OF STKATHKINAIIAX. 79 
 
 A light seemed to break on Tom (who, by the 
 by, had never visited the corps since its incorpora- 
 tion with liis battalion), "^\^lo is this Collector?" 
 he inquired. 
 
 "Weel, sir, he's no exacklee a Collector himsel', 
 but he aye gets it as a kin' o' title ; his faythor aye 
 got it, but Tm thinking it wad be his grandfayther 
 was the Collector." 
 
 " And what is his name ? " 
 
 " Shooliter." 
 
 "Shoeleather?" 
 
 " Shooliter." 
 
 " That's a queer name ; I never heard it before." 
 
 " It's no exacklee his name jist, but a byname 
 from the bit farm. ' Hamish Shooliter, the Col- 
 lector,' that's him in full," said the landlord, as if 
 summing up and closing the discussion. 
 
 '' But ho must have a name — a surname I mean," 
 said Tom. 
 
 " Weel, I sfippose he wnill ; it'll be Cawmill maist 
 likely." 
 
 Tom hurriedly consulted his note-book. "By 
 Jove! just as I expected," he exclaimed; "'Ensign 
 James Campbell, Shooliter Farm, Glencroaky ; ' 
 why, this beastly Collector is the ensign, and his 
 tryst is to dine with us here to-night ! " 
 
 " Aweel," said the landlord, "nensign's the word; 
 for he's been aye croonin' to himsel' as if he was 
 discoorsin' with some ither body. He's been aye
 
 80 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 say in' in a fierce voice, 'Nensign! Nensign Hamish! 
 Nensign Shooliter, you're di-unk, sir ! You're not 
 fit for t' nensign ! Shoulder arms and faal oot, 
 Nensign Cawmil ! ' and then he answers himsel' in 
 a quate Seeching way, ' Jist anither glass o' tuddy 
 afore I fall, my lord ; the tuddy's goot ; it's easy 
 to tak'. I'm a Collector and a nensign, and anither 
 glass can hairm naither the tane nor the tither.' 
 And aye the fierce voice again, ' Shooliter ! atten- 
 tion ! to the right half face ! to the devil with you, 
 Shooliter ! quick march ! ' And syne he greets." 
 
 Tom now shortly explained to the landlord the 
 new position which he occupied to the Volunteers 
 of Strathkinahan — told him of the meeting arranged 
 for that evening, and that the officers were expected 
 to join us at dinner. " The lieutenant," he con- 
 tinued, '' is a Mr M'Tavish of Glensnork ; do you 
 know him?" 
 
 " I ken him weel," replied the landlord ; "he was 
 here wi' Shooliter for his first three days, preparing, 
 he aye said, for his ' prospection ; ' but he wearied 
 o' the Collector, and misca'd the whusky for ha\'ing 
 nae bite wi' it ; sae he gaed aff m' the doctor to 
 the new inns at Mairdroukit, for a chainge o' scene 
 and speerits ; but he'll be here, the corby, when he 
 smells drink for naething." 
 
 *'And the doctor, he was invited too — do you 
 know anything of him?" 
 
 '' Fine that — a dacent nice man ; he'll be wi'
 
 THE VOLUNTEEi;S OF SinATIIKINAIIAN'. 81 
 
 Glensnorruk, nae doot, and they'll be coniiu' the- 
 gither. If the doctor was to come it'll be a' richt, 
 for he'll baith come himsel' and bring the tither." 
 
 I was this day a travelled and a hungry man ; 
 it was now past seven o'clock, and I by no means 
 saw the advantage of hanging my dinner-hour on 
 such a vague contingency as the arrival of these 
 worthies, so with some decision I asked Tom, " in 
 how many minutes we should order dinner to be 
 serA-ed ? " 
 
 "Well," said Tom, '•'! asked these fellows for 
 seven o'clock sharp, but we must give them a little 
 law. The roads are bad, and an engagement in 
 Strathkinahan is different from an engagement in 
 Belgravia ; besides, the cooking will take time : 
 we'll give them three-quarters of an hour and then 
 sit down. Dinner at a quarter to eight, landlord 
 — places for five ; you must have another fowl and 
 more ham and eggs ; and look here, if your friend 
 the Collector has not collected his senses by dinner- 
 time, don't let him come up — d'ye hear ? " 
 
 " m see to him, sir, nae fear ; and now I'll show 
 you your rooms, gentlemen." 
 
 'MMien I was finishing my toilette Tom appearccL 
 His air was mysterious, and he shut the door care- 
 fully. 
 
 " You see," he said, " what a queer lot of people 
 I have got to do with here ; the chances are we 
 shall have no meeting at all, or if we do, that the
 
 82 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 meeting will be, like the ' United Brick Lane Tem- 
 perance Association/ drunk ; but if they do come, 
 confound them ! drunk or sober, I'll carry my point, 
 and make them elect my man, Sir William M'Vittie 
 — I swear I will. I have had another talk with the 
 landlord, and he now admits that he knows more of 
 the politics of the matter than he pretended at first. 
 They're all dead against the transfer — which, how- 
 ever, is a fait accompli — and I suppose they have 
 got it into their woolly brains, that by refusing to 
 elect a Keltshire man as captain, they will prevent 
 the practical working out of the matter. The land- 
 lord thinks they'll come, however, for the sake of 
 the liquor — which it appears their late captain used 
 to stand freely — but, being come, will give fair 
 words, and try to evade any decision. But we'll 
 take the fowler in his own gin ; and I've been 
 thinking of a dodge, if you'll help me — will you ? " 
 
 " Of com-se I will," I replied ; " I'll assassinate 
 the Collector, if necessary, or anything." 
 
 ''Well, then, I'll introduce you to the meeting 
 as a tremendous swell of some sort — something 
 between a Field - Marshal and a Prime Minister, 
 but, above all things, as a special friend and con- 
 fidant of the Queen's — stay, why shouldn't you be 
 the Inspector-General of the Volunteers ? The very 
 thing ; so you shall be. When the right moment 
 comes you'll address them ; and if, with this hint, 
 you don't carry my point for me, all I can say is,
 
 THE VOLUNTEERS OF STKATIIKINAIIAN. 83 
 
 you've degenerated since the old Newbridge days, 
 when you canvassed two Roman Catholic parishes 
 successfully in the Orange interest as The O'Clancy 
 More. What did it then ? why, blarney and poteen. 
 With the Irish Celt those are specifics. Try his 
 Caledonian brother with the same. Of course you'll 
 feel your way and bo cautious, and take your time 
 from me. I'm a little nervous about the doctor ; 
 we must feel his pulse at dinner, and either make 
 him a conspii'ator or not, according to his symptoms. 
 Now, let us go down ; I'm as hungry as a hunter. 
 Stay, wo must christen you first — what are you to 
 be? Not more than a general and a Icnight, I think, 
 to begin with. We can easily promote you as pub- 
 lic enthusiasm warms up. So come along, General 
 Sir Hercules O'Halloran, K.C.B. — that ought to 
 fetch them. You're a trifle young for a colonel 
 even, but you're big and burly, and the doctor's 
 the only one who's the least likely to suspect, and 
 I can tell him, if necessary, that the Queen insisted 
 on your promotion for services at Court. Come on." 
 We had not been long in the sitting-room when 
 a sound of approaching wheels was heard, and a 
 confused murmur of many voices, and on looking 
 out of the window, we beheld, by the dusky light of 
 a torch, a gig which had drawTi up at the door. It 
 contained two human figures, and was surrounded 
 by a crowd of indistinct forms, who had apparently 
 arrived with it.
 
 84 TALES FEOM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 " The doctor and the lieutenant, of course," said 
 Tom, " thank goodness ; and these weird shapes 
 must be the corps : well, they shall have a captain 
 to-night ; and now for dinner." He rang the bell, 
 which the landlord answered. "Is that the lieuten- 
 ant who arrived just now?" inquired Tom. 
 
 " It's Glensnorruk liimsel', sir, and the doctor wi' 
 him safe enough ; and there's a drove o' billies come 
 alang wi' them. Maist likely they'll ha'e been wait- 
 in' up at the bothy till he cam' by ; between oorsel's, 
 I'm thinkin' there's mair gangs on at that bothy 
 than the ganger kens o', but it's no for the like o' 
 me " 
 
 " Oh, hang the bothy ! ask the lieutenant and 
 the doctor to come up." 
 
 In a few moments we heard a peculiar sound on 
 the wooden stairs — a hurtling, griding, bumping 
 sound — suggesting the idea that some heavy body 
 was being propelled upwards by an agency not 
 altogether successful in resisting the tendency of 
 the said body to gravitate to the bottom of the 
 stairs. Occasional crashes took place, when both 
 appeared to be involved in a common downfall. 
 These crashes were succeeded by guttural sounds 
 of the human voice, which I conjectured to be pro- 
 fane swearing in Gaelic. The ascent was, however, 
 achieved, and there was a repetition of the sounds 
 along the passage leading to our room, alternated 
 with quick whispers of entreaty, expostulation, and
 
 THE VOLUNTEERS OF STKATIIKINAIIAN. 85 
 
 A\Tath. A heavy bump against our door anuounced 
 that the expedition, whatever it might be, had 
 arrived. There was a pause. Tom and I looked 
 at each other. 
 
 "What the deuce can it bo?" he said, 
 
 " Somebody very drimk," I replied, " taking 
 care of somebody rather worse ; the Collector, for 
 choice." 
 
 At this moment the door was slowly opened, and 
 an arm, terminating in a very evil and claw-like 
 hand, was extended into the room, and commenced 
 a sawing vortical action in the air, that might 
 mean deprecation, but was probably the result of 
 heavy leverage going on at some other part of its 
 proprietor's unseen body. 
 
 " Come in," cried Tom, " come in ; " but the saw 
 only worked more \'igorously, and the fingers were 
 clinched as if in intense muscular exertion. 
 
 " Stay out, then," shouted Tom, in a rage, where- 
 upon the saw worked for a few strokes with terrific 
 vehemence, and a shoulder and eventually a head 
 made their appearance. The heacT was a bald head, 
 decorated on either side with a high and tapering 
 horn of black hair ; the face was swarthy and 
 dingy, pierced with a pair of Chinese-looking eyes, 
 and corrugated with a wild assortment of smiles, 
 or rather grins, wliich broke out independently all 
 over the face, cancelling and neutralising the ex- 
 pression of each other in a most puzzling manner.
 
 86 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 The arm continued to saw, and the horned head 
 was butted backwards and forwards as if in saluta- 
 tion, 
 
 " Mephistopheles ! " I exclaimed, involuntarily. 
 
 " Her name's M'Taveesh, sir— M'Taveesh of Glen- 
 schnorruk, sir ; Rifled Lifteenant, sir," said the head. 
 
 " Oh ! Mr M'Tavish," said Tom, " how do you 
 do ? I'm glad to see you ; won't you come in, 
 though?" 
 
 " How doo yew doo? and how are yew? and how 
 doo yew doo ? " went the head, as if mechanically 
 repeating some foi-mula. 
 
 " Very well, thanks ; but come in," said Tom. 
 
 '' Can't," replied the head. 
 
 " ^Vliat ? " said Tom. 
 
 " Not able," said the head. 
 
 ^'AVhy not?" said Tom. 
 
 The head tossed one of its horns back indicatively 
 to the door and murmured, " The Collecthur." 
 
 "Wliere?" cried Tom. 
 
 " On her ither airm and leg," replied the head. 
 
 " Why, damme ! he's a regular old man of the 
 sea, this infernal Collector ! " shouted Tom. 
 
 " Run him in, Mr M'Tavish, and let's see him ; 
 give a tug ; pull away — all your strength — there ! " 
 and the head, followed by its body, shot comet-like 
 into the roona and subsided on the floor, leaving 
 behind it, inside the door, and on the perpendicular, 
 an Apparition.
 
 TIIK VOLUNTEERS OF STRATHKIXAIIAN. 87 
 
 "Tlie Collector!" said M'Tavish, picking himself 
 up, and extending another claw, by way of intro- 
 duction, in the direction of the new an-ival. It 
 was satisfactory to see this historical character at 
 last. 
 
 He was a tallish elderly man, with a very red 
 flxco, a fixed and flaming eye, and white hair, ou 
 the top of which was perched, somewhat defiantly, 
 a round drum -shaped boy's cap with a tassel at 
 the side — a head-di-ess evidently filched from the 
 nursery below. 
 
 He wore tartan trousers and a black dress-coat, 
 with what are called " weepers " on the cuffs. On 
 the whole, his appearance was not disappointing. 
 We tried to keep our gravity, and Tom to be 
 courteous. 
 
 " How do you do, Mr a — a — Collector? " he said. 
 The Collector spoke not a word, but elevated his 
 arm \vith the gesture of a minister bespeaking at- 
 tention for grace before meat, and remained in this 
 attitude, like the lion rampant in the Scottish shield. 
 I think he had some hazy notion of performing a 
 military salute, but was deterred by considerations 
 of equilibrium. 
 
 " Won't you sit down ? " said Tom, trjnng to look 
 as if the attitude of the lion rampant was perfectly 
 normal and expected. There was no answer. The 
 fixed eye had shifted its angle, and glued itself to 
 a bottle of sheny which stood on the table ; and
 
 88 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 the mind, such as it was, that shone through that 
 eye, was in that bottle and nowhere else. 
 
 " Hadn't he better sit down, Tom ? " I interposed, 
 treating the Collector as a lay figure. 
 
 " Certainly," said Tom. 
 
 " Well, then, here goes ; " and I poured out a 
 glass of sherry, and advanced towards the Collector. 
 " Take a glass of sherry, ensign ? " I said. He shot 
 out the paw to its full extent, and slid one foot for- 
 ward in my direction. I took a step back, still 
 holding out the shining bait. Out went the paw 
 again, and another shuffling pace was effected ; and 
 so on and so on till we got opposite the sofa, when 
 I turned upon him and decanted him into it, giving 
 him the wine by way of reward. 
 
 This he devoured, and then letting the glass fall 
 and break on the floor, again, as if nothing had 
 happened, fastened his burning orbs on the bottle. 
 It was evidently fruitless to attempt any conversa- 
 tion with the wretch, so we left him to his con- 
 templation, and Tom turned his attention to Mr 
 M'Tavish. 
 
 This gentleman was, no doubt, according to the 
 Strathkinahan standard, very sober. By compari- 
 son he certainly was, but I am inclined to think he 
 was indebted for this happy state of things less to 
 personal abstinence than to the quelling influence 
 of two sober Sassenachs, and a certain feeling of 
 being on a superior moral elevation to the Collector.
 
 THE VOLUNTEERS OF STKATIIKINAIIAN. 89 
 
 He stood up with his thumbs stuck into the arm- 
 holes of his w«T,istcoat, his head cairied low, as if 
 preparing to butt, and every particular square inch 
 of his visage working with a spasmodic action. 
 
 His English was broken and almost unintelligible, 
 and every sentence was preceded, accompanied, and 
 followed by a series of sputterings and hootings 
 which, with the working of his face, I could refer 
 to no mental emotion whatsoever. 
 
 Mephistopheles, the Black Dwarf, the Gorilla, 
 Waterton's Nondescript, the laughing hyena, the 
 horned screech-owl, and the vampire, were a few 
 of the ideas instantly suggested by the contempla- 
 tion of this Highlandman. 
 
 "Well, Mr MTavish," said Tom, "so you got 
 my letter all right ; I suppose you warned the 
 coi-ps, and I hope we shall have a good meeting, 
 and get through our business?" 
 
 " Shess, captain — that's adjutant, shess, sir. 
 Letter? shess. Corps come? shess. Business? 
 tit, tit, tit ! no business." Then after a pause, and 
 vinth an insinuating assortment of puckers playing 
 all over liis face, " Bheil Gaelig a'gad ? " 
 
 "What?" said Tom. 
 
 " Spoke Gaelic ? tit hish ' " 
 
 " No," said Tom. 
 
 " No spokes ? acli tit ! no spoke Gaelic ? " 
 
 " But we have business, Mr M'Tavish, and very 
 important business too."
 
 90 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 " Sliess, sir, sliess, to be certainly, captain, major, 
 adjutant, but no spokes ? none ? not a few ? " 
 
 " Devil a word," said Tom, testily. 
 
 " To be sm-ely, tevil a word, ach tit ! " 
 
 " This is healthy," said Tom, forgetting his man- 
 ners, and looking round at me with a shrug. The 
 lieutenant also looked at me, and, catching his eye, 
 I thought I read in it symptoms that he might 
 speak better, and stick more to the point if he 
 chose. The instant our eyes met he fired off his 
 " bheil Gaelig a'gad ? " at me. 
 
 " No," said Tom ; " this is a general, and a great 
 friend of the Queen's, and he couldn't think of speak- 
 ing it." 
 
 "Ach! she's a Queen's freend? and no spokes? 
 
 Queen spoke a few?" 
 
 " Not a single one," said Tom ; "she'd be ashamed 
 
 to do it." 
 
 " Tit, tit, tit ! to be surely, Sassenach Queen- 
 no spoke." 
 
 "But about business, Mr M'Tavish " A 
 
 diversion in his favour was, however, created by 
 the entrance of the dinner, and a sudden movement 
 on the part of the Collector. He had sat perfectly 
 motionless, and staring at the bottle ; but his line 
 of vision being intersected by the waiter, he uttered 
 a low moan, rose from the sofa, and, with a stride 
 and a plunge, made for the door, and lurched out 
 of the room.
 
 THE VOLUNTEERS OF STRATIIKINAIIAN. 01 
 
 In the depths of his drunken Celtic inner-con- 
 sciousness, the fellow was probably offended- 
 
 " Ensign Ca\\Tiiil — jist a little peety, she's no 
 greatly hcrser the nicht," said the lieutenant. "She's 
 a pretty fellow, ferry pretty, a good oflBsher, a good 
 ensign — in Gaelic ; but the nicht she's no jist her- 
 sel'; no, sir, no jist hersel'. But we'll no be angry 
 or quarrel her, no, no ; tit, tit ! hish ! " The last 
 was semi-interrogative, semi-deprecatory. 
 
 " "Well," said Tom, " I can't say I think it credit- 
 able. Being drunk and speechless may make a 
 very excellent officer in Gaelic, but in any other 
 language he would be considered a disgrace to his 
 commission ; and when I was only to be here for 
 one niglit, he might, I think, have contrived to be 
 sober." 
 
 " To be surely," replied the lieutenant ; " and 
 she'd be trying for four days to do it." 
 
 "To do what?" 
 
 " To lay the whisky, to be sure." 
 
 " To lay it in, I suppose you mean — and he seems 
 to have succeeded to a marvel." 
 
 " Ach ! no, tit, tit ! to lay it, ^vith bitters and 
 morer 
 
 " Well, hang me if I ever heard such a recipe ! 
 more whisky, do you mean ? " 
 
 " Most certaintlee, bitters and more," in the in- 
 dignant tone of one who hears an infallible specific 
 for the first time called in a^estion.
 
 92 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 The landlord here announced Dr M'Kinlay, and 
 a little, meek, elderly, and, apparently, somewhat 
 sober, man walked into the room. 
 
 "How do you do, doctor?" said Tom. "As I 
 had invited the other officers to dine, I took the 
 liberty of asking you to join us as the honorary 
 assistant-surgeon, and I'm delighted to see you." 
 
 " Much obliged, sir, and very proud I am to 
 come ; it's an honour, sir, to me to make your 
 acquaintance." 
 
 " Let me present you," continued Tom, " to Sir 
 Hercules O'Halloran, who has come down to have 
 a look at the Scotch Volunteers." Then, in a 
 whispered aside, " A very eminent man, particular 
 friend of the Queen's ; might do you all a deal of 
 service ; he reports everything, sir, everything — 
 medical service and all." 
 
 " God bless me ! " said the unsuspecting doctor ; 
 " it's a great honour. Sir Hercules, to see you, and 
 to dine with you makes me very proud indeed. I 
 never expected such a distinction, I'm sure. May 
 I make so bold, Sir Hercules, as to ask how you 
 left her Majesty the Queen ? " 
 
 Trying to combine the air of camps and courts, 
 I replied, with bland condescension, that my royal 
 mistress was, at the date of my last telegram from 
 Windsor that forenoon, in the enjoyment of excel- 
 lent health and spirits ; had lunched in private ; 
 was to drive to Eton College for inspecting pur-
 
 THE VOLUNTEERS OF STRATIIKIXAHAX. 93 
 
 poses in the afternoon, "and \>\ tliis time," looking 
 at my watch, " is entertaining, with her usual con- 
 descension, the Ai'chbishop of Canterbury and the 
 Pope's Legate at dinner." 
 
 " God bless me ! " cried the doctor ; " this is 
 wonderful ! And you heard all this to-day, Sir 
 Hercules? here, far away in the Higldands? Ex- 
 cuse the freedom, but there's something awful in 
 meeting the like of you. Sir Hercules." 
 
 " Oh ! I'm a very humble person, doctor ; don't 
 imagine" (with great humility) "I'm anybody to 
 be afraid of. Her Majesty is good enough to keep 
 me posted up in her movements. Three telegrams 
 a-day, that's all. There's so much I have to be 
 consulted about, you see ; you understand me ? 
 eh'?" 
 
 "Unquestionably, Sir Hercules, of course. It 
 must be a great comfort to her Majesty, although 
 I say it to your face, sir, to have such a fine, affable, 
 pleasant nobleman to consult with ; and she'll miss 
 you much, no doubt," 
 
 " Tut, tut, doctor, you flatter me, and make a 
 great man of a mere nobody — a poor soldier, sir, 
 nothing more, who is glad to make 3'our acquaint- 
 ance, doctor." 
 
 I concluded with an access of condescension, ex- 
 tending my hand, which the doctor took in a tumult 
 of delight and awe. 
 
 Tom warned me by a look not to go too far ; but
 
 94 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 as he had given me my role^ I was determined to 
 play it for myself. Besides, indeed, the doctor was 
 evidently prepared to swallow anything. 
 
 "Now let us sit down to dinner," said Tom. 
 " Sir Hercules, will you kindly face me ? Gentle- 
 men, pray be seated. I'm afraid the dinner won't 
 be very choice." 
 
 Nor, in truth, was it. He who hath bent his 
 hungry head over dmner in a Highland inn, even 
 in the tourists' season, may remember how much 
 that meal is indebted to the keen mountain air and 
 the appetite with which it is approached ; and he 
 may therefore form some idea of a similar banquet 
 oiit of the season. Fowl there was, but such as 
 reminded one of the feathered spectre which, on 
 arriving at a dak bungalow in India, the traveller 
 inevitably sees led shrieking to the slaughter, to 
 serve as the 'piece de resistance fifteen minutes after. 
 Eggs were there, but such as *^ Brother Sam " 
 describes as having been "very nice little eggs 
 six weeks ago ; " and as for the ham, it painfully 
 suggested the universal adaptability of the driver's 
 boot 
 
 Our guests, however, seemed to enjoy it thorough- 
 ly. The doctor, though perched, timid and bird- 
 like, on the edge of his chair, contrived to play an 
 excellent knife and fork; and the lieutenant, his 
 head almost flush with the table, ate like a ghoul, 
 albeit sorely impeded therein by an attempt to
 
 THE VOLUNTEEIIS OF STRATIIiaNAIIAN. 95 
 
 reconcile the normal position of liis hands in the 
 arm - holes of his waistcoat, with tlieir duties of 
 wielding laiife, fork, and spoon. 
 
 I had taken a quiet opportunity of hinting to 
 Tom my suspicion that the lieutenant was hiding 
 his light under a bushel, with a view to evading 
 business ; and that if the conversation were to be 
 kept off it for a time, the scoundrel would be found 
 comparatively fluent, especially under the immediate 
 influence of meat and drink. In pursuit of these 
 tactics, therefore, we contrived to make the conver- 
 sation (if such it could be called) general. 
 
 We drew Glensnork on the subject of his farm — 
 the merits of black-faced and white-faced, wool, 
 heather, wintering, turnips, and other congenial 
 topics. He became comparatively lucid, and by 
 degrees, as glass after glass of vitriolic sherry 
 descended, there was no lack of a certain fluency. 
 His English was execrable, but he had plenty of 
 it. The doctor, though penetrated with awe, and 
 sitting, as it were, on the threshold of royalty, 
 nevertheless contrived to chat away pretty freely, 
 and was of considerable service in acting as a sort 
 of jackal to the lieutenant, laying him on to topics 
 on which he had some ideas, and eventually, when 
 the creature passed into the narrative and facetious 
 stage, drawing him out in what he evidently con- 
 sidered his brilliant things. In this way we were 
 favoured with a little episode in his military career
 
 96 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 which was clearly held to reflect much credit on the 
 lieutenant's courage and wit. 
 
 " When the Queen had a reviews," he said (his 
 use of singulars and plurals was remarkably vague 
 
 and impartial) " in Edinburgh Ferry certaint- 
 
 lee you would be there, general ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ! " I replied ; " and I think I remember 
 your face there." 
 
 " Most notoriouslee you would be seeing me there. 
 "Well, sir, when the Queen had her reviews there, 
 I went to it, with his lordship's regiment — eight 
 hundred ferry beautiful fine fellows — and when 
 we were making the march into the Cannygate, a 
 French Spies keepit walkin' beside us, and lookin' 
 pretty surprised and frightened like. At last the 
 Spies comes to me and says, ' Can these men fight ? ' 
 says he. And I turned to him, mighty fierce, and 
 says I to the Spies, ' Go away, you tamned ugly 
 teef of a Spies ! ' says I ; 'go and tell your King 
 and your countree not to give them the chance,' 
 and she jist turned aboot and went away Avith a 
 ferry white face. I put the fear of deeth on to that 
 Spies." This gem he favoured us with three or 
 four times, accompanying it with a great deal of 
 weird laughter. 
 
 The doctor then turned the conversation to 
 salmon-fishing ; and on my asking how they were 
 off for fish in the river there, he replied, that what 
 with stake-nets at the mouth, and "burning the
 
 THE VOLUNTEERS OF STItATIIKIXAIIAX. 97 
 
 water" up above, there was but poor sport to be 
 had. 
 
 " Burning the water ! " I said ; " I thought that 
 had been illegal for long." 
 
 " So it has, Sir Hercules ; but it's done a good 
 deal for all. Ask Glcnsnork, Sir Hercules," said 
 the doctor, with a t^vinkle in his eye. 
 
 " Deed, doctor, and it's a pretty small quantitee 
 Glensnorruk kens aboot the wather ; he never 
 touches it ; " a statement which in many senses 
 was no doubt incontrovertible. 
 
 " Ah ! but your shepherds, your shepherds ? I'm 
 afraid they're pretty guilty." 
 
 " Hoosh, doctor ! not kihy at all ; the shepherds 
 be on the hills with the sheeps, and not able to be 
 kilty A\ath the fishes and sawmonts in the wather." 
 " Well, Glensnorruk, there was Fraser you 
 
 know " 
 
 "Ach! to be certaintlee, Lauchy Fraser. But 
 who made her kilty? Me, surr — Glensnorruk 
 hersel' — spoke to the Shirra's man and made her 
 kilty." 
 
 " Ah ! how was that ? " said the doctor. 
 "Well, Lauchy be always makin' his tamned 
 ugly traffics into my house, and always coortin' 
 and coortin' my servant lass for drams and brose, 
 and kissin' and trash. I bo findin' him pretty 
 seldom oot o' the house, and quarrelled him. 
 'Mister Lauchy,' says I, 'bo greatlee kind, and 
 s.s. — I. X
 
 98 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 get trams and brose and servant lasses for yonrsel', 
 and don't be bringing yourself into my kitchings 
 twice again, you nasty trooper ! ' says I, ' or maybe 
 there'll be a little more said.' Ferry well, two days 
 afterliin, I be going into my own Idtchings to crack 
 wi' Sliennet, my own servant lass — shess, sir, my own 
 servant Shennet — and there is my pretty shentle- 
 man Laucliy again, wi' a dram in his mooth and 
 a big fishes beside him, coortin' and quarrellin' at 
 Shennet to kettle the fishes for him. * You plack- 
 gard ! ' says I, ' you vagabones ! you are into here 
 again ! ' ' Plackgard your nanesell, Glenschnorruk,' 
 says he, giving me his peastly tongue. ' Where 
 have you been, you sloightearf says L 'To the 
 hills and to the sheeps,' says he. ' Did you find 
 that big sawmonts on to the hills among the 
 sheeps ? ' says I. * I met her there,' says he. 
 'Ach! you tamned hreugadair!'' says I; 'I will 
 teach you to come coortin' at Shennet, you teef! 
 you poacher ! and to set fire to the wather against 
 the law. Come to Donald, come to the Shirra's 
 man, and get your fishes kettled.' So I handed 
 him and his fishes to the lock-up, and kettled him ; 
 and it was '■ Good-bye, Mr Lauchy ; ye've saved 
 Glenschnorruk six months' wage,' which he was 
 awed." 
 
 " And where is he now ? " I inquired. 
 
 " The tevil may ask the questions — in the chails, 
 to be sure."
 
 THE VOLUNTEERS OF STRATIIKINAIIAN. 99 
 
 " And you never paid him ? " 
 
 "Not a hapnee, the teef ! he would have paid tlio 
 Shin-a for the poachin', and been oot o' the chails 
 coortin' again." 
 
 Glensnork was, of course, so much delighted with 
 this splendid illustration of crime, law, and justice, 
 that he repeated it frequently ; and the apprecia- 
 tion displayed by his audience bringing him into 
 high good-humour, Tom seized the opportunity of 
 turning the conversation into a business channel. 
 
 " Well, M'Tavish," he said, dinner being now 
 some time over, " I'm very glad to have made your 
 acquaintance in this pleasant sort of way. Here's 
 to your very good health ; and now I think it's time 
 to discuss the real business of the evening." 
 
 " Goot life, captain ! business already ? You 
 must be ferry heavy on the speerits, if you would 
 be for beginning already," said the lieutenant. 
 " No, surr ; my thanks to you, but not a drop of 
 tuddy till the wine settled herself. It was a 
 mighty fine surprise for Mr Lauchy when she ob- 
 sairved herself in the lock-up. ' It wiU be your 
 fun, Glenschnorruk," says she, 'that " 
 
 " I beg your pardon," interrupted Tom ; " you 
 misunderstood my meaning ; what I wished to ex- 
 press was, that we should lose no time in looking 
 at the concern which has brought us here to- 
 night." 
 
 " Hoosh, captain ! you would not be thinkin* of
 
 100 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD. 
 
 that. If the post-boy cannot look at his own horses 
 and his own concern, he must be a ferry poor cratur 
 inteecl, and the doctor's powney Galium, she looks 
 at herself. ' It will be your fun, Glenschnorruk,' 
 says Mr Lauchy, ' that you are putting on to my 
 head.' ' My teer goot friend,' says I " 
 
 "You misunderstand me again, Mr M'Tavish," 
 said Tom, firmly. "You must be aware that it 
 is now six months since you lost your captain, 
 and " 
 
 " Six months, captain ? wiU it be six months sin' 
 the cratur died ? " 
 
 " Six months," said Tom. 
 
 " Well, maybe, maybe ; oich ! oich ! six months. 
 Well, weU, she was a nice bit cratury. 'Yes, Mr 
 Lauchy,' says I, ' you are ferry right, and you will 
 have ' " 
 
 " The devil seize Mr Lauchy ! " thimdered Tom, 
 in a fury. " I'll tell you what it is, Mr M'Tavish, 
 I have come here to discuss business, and not to 
 waste time, and if you had the proper sj^irit " 
 
 "Well, well, captain," said the irrepressible, in 
 the tone of one yielding to excessive importunity, 
 " if you must set to the speerits, goot life ! let us 
 yoke to them, but be ferry strict with Mr Stew-art 
 to give them out of his own brown pig.-"- As the 
 meenister says, ' Stew-art's pig is like the cask o' 
 
 1 An earthenware vessel called a " grey-beard " in the Lowland 
 dialect, and containing a gallon.
 
 THE VOLUNTEERS OF STRATHKINAIIAN. 101 
 
 the weedy wTimmin, with a last drop always into it.' 
 You will ken the meenister, captain ? " 
 
 Tom's wrath melted away at the peal of laughter 
 witli which I greeted the heutenant's last flank 
 movement ; he joined in it, but denied all know- 
 ledge of the divine, and outmanoeu\Ted MTavish 
 by plunging in medias res. 
 
 " Now, Mr M'Tavish," he said, " have the good- 
 ness to listen without interrupting me. I have 
 come here to-night to see that the corps does elect 
 a captain, and I mean to see that it does, and I 
 wish to know if you Avill support Sir William 
 M'Vittie. The Lord • Lieutenant is anxious that 
 he should be nominated, and, what is more, so is 
 the Queen. You must elect a Keltshire man ; ho 
 is a Keltshire man, and the best, and indeed the 
 only, man you can get in the district. Now I have 
 said my say ; let me hear yours, but let it be to 
 the point. We have had quite enough of Mr 
 Lauchy and his salmon, and I won't listen to 
 another word except on business." 
 
 " Ferry well, surr, ferry well ; but you will likely 
 be ringin' for Stew-art's pig first ? " 
 
 " Certainly," said Tom, ringing the bell ; " and 
 now go on." 
 
 " Ferry well, I was just saying to me own- 
 self and to the Collecthur lately, that it would 
 be incaatious to be in a tremendous hurry aboot 
 the business. ' Collecthur,' says I, ' we cannot
 
 102 T^VLES FROM "BLACKWOOD. 
 
 chump over crayt big lietches and titches withoot a 
 look into them.' ' What you say is a true case,' 
 says the Collecthur. ' You are a cliver man, Glen- 
 schnorruk,' says he ; ' and we must not chump 
 over a captain ferry hastilee.' " 
 
 "Well," said Tom, "that's all very true; but 
 I'll be hanged if six months isn't long enough to 
 look at the biggest hedge or ditch that was ever 
 jumped over, and in fact there is to be no more 
 delay in the matter. I tell you I won't stand this 
 humbug any longer, and you mistake your man if 
 you think you can play the fool with me. Will you 
 support Sir William or will you not ? and if not, 
 will you propose some one else, in opposition to 
 the Queen's wishes, and the Lord-Lieutenant's and 
 mine?" Tom added, demurely. 
 
 " I am sure," said the doctor, on whom the fiery 
 sherry was working its effect perceptibly — " I am 
 sure such a statement would be sufficient for the 
 corps ; the Queen's wish and the Lord-Lieutenant's 
 and yours, captain, and I may add yours. Sir 
 Hercules (for of course your feeling will be her 
 Majesty's), would weigh with them against any 
 other suggestion ; and I will say this, that if Glen- 
 snork were to set himself up in an opposition to 
 these wishes of yours, he would pan himself, pan 
 himself, Sir Hercules, I do assure you." 
 
 " I don't doubt it," I said, assuming that the 
 process of " panning " was equivalent to ostracism
 
 THE VOLUNTEERS OF STRATHKINAIIAN. 103 
 
 in Strathkinahan ; " and serve Lim right too," I 
 added, rather fiercely. 
 
 " But he may bo sure of this," continued the 
 doctor, " that Strathkinalian will refuse to bo 
 panned with him." 
 
 " Hoosh, doctor ! " said the lieutenant, whoso 
 normal attitude towards the doctor was that of 
 an honoured patron evidently ; " you are a ferry 
 cliver man, but you are incaatious to speak when 
 you are not asked to spoke. Ailsie M'Leod is in 
 crayt trouble with her tooth-gums ; you had petter" 
 (with a dignified wave) "go and make them heal 
 —tit, tit!" 
 
 " The opinion of a sober professional man," cried 
 the doctor, in high wrath, " is at least as valuable 
 as that of a being who forgets himself daily with 
 the bottle." 
 
 " Deed, doctor, he'll be a ferry smart man that 
 forgets the pottle when you are into the room. 
 Go away — go and sing a song to Ailsie's tooth- 
 gums." 
 
 " Come, come, gentlemen," cried Tom, as the 
 doctor was bursting out in huge wrath at this tu 
 quoque, " we are forgetting ourselves ; to business, 
 business, business. Wliat do you say, Mr M'Tavish 
 — will you support Sir William ? " 
 
 " Well, well, Sir William is a fine man, a ferry 
 fine nice nobleman ; but, for God's sake, captain, 
 is Stew-art niver bringing his pig?"
 
 104 TALES FKOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 '' Oh yes ! this will bring him " (ringing the 
 bell) ; " and now go on, for heaven's sake ! " 
 
 A diversion was, however, again created in the 
 lieutenant's favour by the entrance of the landlord, 
 who informed us that the corps had been for a 
 considerable time awaiting us in the barn, and 
 were beginning to get a '' little troublesome ; " and 
 as it appeared to Tom and myself that perhaps 
 more might be done by a direct appeal to the 
 whole body than by fencing with their impracti- 
 cable officer, we decided to descend at once. 
 
 A strange scene presented itself to our eyes as 
 we entered the barn. It was dimly lighted by a 
 few tallow candles stuck into bottles, and by a 
 stable-lantern suspended from a crossbeam in the 
 centre. A heavy cloud of tobacco -smoke brooded 
 over all, through which were hazily revealed the 
 figures of the Volunteers. We had a dim panorama 
 of shaggy crests of hair, of red faces, of tobacco- 
 pipes, and of all manner of improvised drinking- 
 vessels ; while the hum of many voices, the puffing 
 of many pipes, and the glugging of lips that drank 
 greedily, were the sounds that met our ears. When 
 our entrance was observed, suddenly uprose from 
 the mist the form of a tall man with an outstretched 
 arm, and from his lips proceeded a sound much 
 resembling an ill-executed sneeze — " Att-itshun ! " 
 The form and the voice were those of the Collector, 
 who seemed to have partially succeeded in " laying
 
 THE VOLUNTEERS OF STRATHKINAIIAX. 105 
 
 the spirit," and who now, in the exercise of his mili- 
 tary function, was calling the room to " attention." 
 
 The men all rose, looking like the peaks of hills 
 appearing above the morning mist. 
 
 " Saloot ! " cried the Collector, still favouring the 
 attitude of the lion rampant ; whereupon the corps 
 all began to make what looked like mesmeric passes 
 with their right arms in the air. " Dooble saloot ! " 
 shouted the Collector again ; and then each man 
 employed his left arm also, which gave the pleasing 
 general effect of about fifty men swimming for their 
 lives in an ocean of tobacco-smoke. This movement 
 had for me such a delightful novelty that I could 
 not help remarking on it to the lieutenant, who 
 explained wuth great pride that it was an invention 
 of his own devised to meet a diflSculty he had felt 
 in receiving merely the same salute as the Collector. 
 " So I doobled it for my nanesel' ; and if the 
 craturs had more airms, they would use plenty 
 more of them for the captain and yoursel'." 
 
 Tom now told the lieutenant that he would like 
 to see the company fallen in in their ranks for a 
 minute or two, just to get an idea of the general 
 appearance of the men. 
 
 " Would you put the craturs into rangks withoot 
 their sojer's clothes on, captain ? and without their 
 guns ? Tit, tit ! begging your grace, that would 
 be a ferry fulish-like trick, to be sure." 
 
 " I don't want to see their clothing or their rifles ;
 
 106 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 I want to see the men themselves. Have the good- 
 ness to fall them in," said Tom, firmly, " and get 
 them into single rank." 
 
 " Ferry goot, ferry well," said the lieutenant, 
 with a shrug. " Shooliter, be craytly kind and 
 put the craturs into a single rank." The Collector 
 had, however, apparently succumbed to his old 
 enemy again, for he only waved his arm feebly, 
 and muttered, with a sort of imbecile snigger, 
 " She kens naething aboot it." 
 
 "Very well," said Tom, "I'll do it myself; give 
 me a sergeant." 
 
 " Is there a sergeant among ye ? " cried M'Tavish. 
 
 " No," shouted the collective voice of Strathkin- 
 ahan from the mist. 
 
 "Very well, a corporal will do," said Tom. 
 
 " Is Corporal M'lldhu thereaboots ? " inquired 
 M'Tavish, peering into the haze. 
 
 " He's at the bothy," shouted a score of voices. 
 
 " Why did he not take heed to come doon ? " said 
 the lieutenant. 
 
 " He had words wi' the Collector," explained the 
 chorus again. 
 
 " Well, well, that's a peety — a sore peety — and 
 the captain here and all." 
 
 I understood the chorus to admit, by a sort of 
 rumbling growl, that it was a pity. 
 
 " Well, never mind," said Tom ; " give me a 
 ' coverer ' of some sort, and we'll get on."
 
 THE VOLUNTEERS OF STRATH KIN AILVN. 107 
 
 "Deed, and it's a thing the corps never had,_ 
 captain. There was a taak of sairvin' them oot at 
 our own costs ; and they would be ferry goot in the 
 wat nichts if they were happenin' to be M'Intosh'a 
 clothes, and cheap." 
 
 " Isn't this nice ? " said Tom, grimly, looking 
 round at me. " Give me your right-hand man, 
 then ; I suppose the company has a right and a 
 left?" 
 
 " Shess, sir ! most notoriouslee, most certaintlee. 
 Hand me oot the richt-hand man," he cried into the 
 mist. 
 
 *' She is not into here," replied the chorus. 
 
 " Who is she then, at all ? " cried the lieutenant. 
 
 "Lauchy Fraser," shouted the chorus, with a 
 roar of laughter. 
 
 " Ach ! deed, and it is trooth," cried the lieuten- 
 ant, heartily joining in the mirth ; " she is on a 
 veesit to the shirra ; " whereupon there was another 
 roar, which put Tom quite out of temper, and he 
 pounced personally into the mist, and seizing the 
 first man he found there, stood him up against the 
 wall. 
 
 " This is the right-hand man," he said ; " and now 
 come on, all the rest of you, and fall in." And what 
 with the doctor's assistance and mine, he at length 
 contrived to get them into a row against the wall, 
 all continuing to smoke their pipes and to retain 
 their drinking-vessels in their hands. Tom winked
 
 108 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 at these delinquencies, however, for the purpose, as 
 he explained to me after, of keeping them in good- 
 humour and carrying his point. " Now, Mr M'Tav- 
 ish, take command of them ; and if your ensign can 
 stand, which seems doubtful, he may as well take 
 his place — it may keep him out of mischief, at least." 
 
 "I am to command them, captain?" 
 
 " If you please, Mr M'Tavish." 
 
 The lieutenant waddled out in front of the line, 
 his hands in the arm-holes of his waistcoat, his head 
 low, and shooting backwards and forwards, like a 
 large gander waddling heavily to a pond, while 
 from his lips came a sort of preliminary hissing, 
 also suggestive of that bird. The hissing gradually 
 " boiled up," so to speak, till it bubbled into a cry 
 of " Oarter arrums ! " whereupon the men gave an 
 apologetic plunge in their ranks, apparently to im- 
 ply that if they had the means, the lieutenant's 
 wish would be cheerfully complied with. 
 
 " Tut, tut ! Mr M'Tavish," said Tom, struggling 
 between laughter and indignation, "I don't mean 
 that ; take command in the regular way." 
 
 " Shoolter arrums ! " shouted the bewildered lieu- 
 tenant, and again the corps executed a sort of pas 
 cCextase. 
 
 " Fall in on the right, Mr M'Tavish," said Tom, 
 with a desperate effort to keep his countenance ; 
 " and, for the love of heaven, take your hands out 
 of your waistcoat, and hold up your head, and try
 
 THE VOLUNTEERS OF STnATIIKINAIIAN. 109 
 
 to look like a reasonable being for three minutes ! " 
 he added, as the lieutenant moved sulkily to his 
 position. 
 
 The arrangements being at last completed, in- 
 cluding the position of the Collector, who, by way 
 of compromise, was accommodated with a stool on 
 the left flank, Tom and I walked slowly down the 
 rank and inspected the men. They were a fine set 
 of fellows, certainly — tall, sinewy, broad-shouldered, 
 and athletic-looking. Many, indeed, bore very un- 
 equivocal traces of the manner in which they liad 
 occupied their time at " the bothy ; " but there was 
 no disgraceful case like that of the Collector, the 
 intermittent nature of whose inebriety made it diffi- 
 cult to deal with on any unifoi-m system. The men, 
 as a rule, stood steadily enough in the ranks, 
 though in one or two exceptional cases an attempt 
 was made to shake hands with the inspecting officer 
 as he passed. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Tom, when the inspection was 
 completed, " I have to congratulate you on your fine, 
 I may say your soldier-like, appearance. I have 
 often heard of the fine 'physique you have in this 
 
 district " (" It could not have been the feesick 
 
 of Dr M'Kinlay," interpolated M'Tavish, still rank- 
 ling at his medical friend), "and I am not disap- 
 pointed. A fine physique, and the mental intelli- 
 gence which you evidently possess, are immense 
 advantages ; but they must be properly applied,
 
 110 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 and there are two things that can alone compass 
 this end — drill and discipline. As it is with the 
 regular, so it is with the volunteer soldier. I am 
 sorry to find, with regard to the first, that you have 
 been unfortunate in losing your drill-sergeant ; but 
 I am now making arrangements to supply his place. 
 With regard to the second, the grand essential 
 is, that the corps should be fully and eflficiently 
 officered ; above all things, that there should be at 
 its head a competent captain — a man of intelligence, 
 energy, and, I may add, social position. A long 
 period has elapsed since the death of your late 
 captain, and no step has been taken to elect and 
 nominate his successor to the Lord-Lieutenant. I 
 have made frequent representations to your officers 
 on this score, but without any result. I have there- 
 fore personally visited you for the double purpose 
 of inspecting the corps, and of impressing upon you 
 all the necessity of at once proceeding to elect a 
 captain. When I say that / am inspecting the 
 corps, I do not speak correctly, for I am in reality 
 on this occasion only the attendant of the distin- 
 guished General Sir Hercules O'Halloran, who, in 
 his capacity of Inspector-General of Reserves, does 
 you the honour of being present here to-night, and 
 may not improbably feel himself called upon to ad- 
 dress a few words of advice to you on the subject I 
 have been insisting upon. When I mention that Sir 
 Hercules, in addition to his great military distinc-
 
 THE VOLUNTEERS OF STRATIIKINAIIAN. Ill 
 
 tion, is so highly honoured as to be the confidential 
 adviser of our beloved Sovereign, you will, I am 
 sure, concur with me in the propriety of at once 
 giving three cheers for that eminent officer. Hip ! 
 hip ! hip ! hurrah ! " The cheers were given with 
 right goodwill, till roof and rafters rang ; and then 
 Tom gravely continued his oration : " The Lord- 
 Lieutenant will not appoint a gentleman to that 
 position without your nomination, and I must tell 
 you that he is not a little surprised and disappoint- 
 ed at the delay which has taken place. It would 
 not be right for me to conceal from you, and I have 
 Sir Hercules's sanction to mention, that pain and 
 surprise have also been excited in far more august 
 quarters, by what he has felt himself compelled 
 to stigmatise as ' this unseemly tardiness ; ' but to- 
 night I am confident this stigma will be removed, 
 and I now propose that we proceed at once to elect 
 a gentleman to the vacant position. I will not 
 trouble you to stand in the ranks while this goes 
 on ; but I earnestly request you to sit dowTi in an 
 orderly manner, and discuss the matter in a busi- 
 ness-like way. To the right face! Break off!" 
 The men tumbled out of their ranks, and reseated 
 themselves on the benches ; the Collector obeyed 
 the order by turning a back somersault off his stool ; 
 and the lieutenant waddled back into civil life much 
 relieved, to lay aside the crown of office. " Now," 
 said Tom, "let us discuss the matter quietly. I
 
 112 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 say Sir William M'Vittie is our best man, and that 
 we ought to elect him at once. Light your pipe, 
 M'Tavish, and give us your opinion." 
 
 " Sir William is no doot a ferry fine, nice, partee- 
 cular, pretty fellow, captain," said the lieutenant, 
 emphasising each epithet with a draw at his pipe, 
 in which an inordinate amount of suctional power 
 was employed ; " but if a captain is to be aal the 
 goot things that you have spoke into your bit 
 speech. Sir William will not be our man." 
 
 " How d'ye mean ? " inquired Tom. 
 
 " Angus M'Rioch, will you be craytly kind, and 
 tell the captain whether Sir William is for the dip- 
 ping or for the smearing of the sheeps ? " said the 
 lieutenant, in a voice of the deepest solemnity. 
 
 " Dij)ping ! " bellowed the whole room as one 
 man. 
 
 "Ferry well, captain, you will not, after that, 
 again be speaking for Sir William," said M'Tavish, 
 with the air of one who has got rid of the first of a 
 series of difficulties, and proceeds to handle the next, 
 confident of success. 
 
 " But I don't see what that has got to do with 
 the question," urged Tom. " As he has neither got 
 to dip nor smear the Volunteers, I don't think it 
 matters what he does with his sheep." 
 
 " There niver was a yowe, there niver was a tupp, 
 there niver was a wedder dipped yet at aal on to the 
 holdings of my father's son ; there niver will be a
 
 THE VOLUNTEERS OF STRATIIKINAIIAN. 113 
 
 yowe, there niver will be a tupp, there niver will bo 
 a wedder dipped on to his holdings," said a lantern- 
 jawed old fellow in a sort of chant ; and the some- 
 what irrelevant statement was received with much 
 applause, and evidently held to strengthen the case 
 against Sir William. 
 
 "What woxild the old red man, Colin-with-the- 
 crooked-nose, have said to all the dippings and the 
 trash, Angus ? " inquired another anti-Sir William- 
 ite ; but the Nestor only smoked with ineffable 
 grimness. He had uttered, and tliat, lie evidently 
 thought, should settle the matter without further 
 parley. 
 
 " There was once a pollis-offisher, by the name of 
 M'Ardle, in the Strath," suggested another of the 
 party, " but he is not into it now. Will somebody 
 be ferry kind, and say who pit him oot?" 
 
 " Sir William ! " cried a dozen voices. 
 
 " I suppose a pollis-offisher is to have no mouth 
 into this Strath," observed a gentleman largely 
 provided in respect of that feature, and with com- 
 plexional indications that neither in eating nor in 
 speaking was it principally employed. 
 
 "M'Ardlo was not a drucken man," hiccoughed 
 the Collector. " He tasted — at a time — like me ; 
 it was his dewty — Sir William pit him oot for — for 
 his de\\i;y. His name was Peter." And much 
 honour was done to these decidedly hazy proposi- 
 tions. 
 
 s.s. — I. Y
 
 114 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 " If Sir William is to be captain in the Stratli, the 
 Volunteers may ferry quickly put their mouths into 
 the store wi' the guns, and not bring them oot 
 again," suggested another satirist. 
 
 ''After the shearin', when the ball was in the 
 barn at Craig- Vittie, there was plenty of tea, but I 
 did not obsairve anything for a man-body to drink," 
 said another. 
 
 '' If Sir William is to be captain, he will have 
 to list the auld wives into the company. Betty 
 M'Candlish will make a ferry parteecular fine lif- 
 tenant to him, and Ailsie M'Leod will be ensign 
 instead of the Collector." 
 
 '' Sir William is a temperanst man at his heart." 
 
 " And a temperanst man is a teirant." 
 
 " And we will have no teirants and no teiranny 
 here." 
 
 Loud applause followed these heroic sentiments, 
 and the lieutenant, turning to Tom, observed, " You 
 see, captain. Sir William is a parteecular nice goot 
 nobleman, but the Volunteers will not be for having 
 a teirant for their captain." 
 
 *' But there is no one else in the district you can 
 elect, and as you must elect some one, why, you 
 must elect Sir William. It's all nonsense about 
 tyranny. Sir William is an excellent man, and no 
 more a teetotaller than I am, though, of course, he 
 doesn't think that every parade is to be turned into 
 a drinking bout. When you know him better, when
 
 THE VOLUNTEERS OF STHATIIKINAIIAN. 115 
 
 ho is mixed up with you as your captain, you will 
 find all these thinj^s you've been hearing about him 
 are nonsense, and I hear he is going to reside regu- 
 larly at Craig-Vittie." 
 
 " If I might make bold to say a word," said a 
 diplomatist, whose opinion was evidently held in 
 high esteem, " I would say this, that if we must 
 elect a captain, we must elect him ; but if there is 
 no one into the Strath who is shootable for the 
 poseetion, then, for Got's sake, let us not at aal 
 forget that there is other places with shootable 
 people into them. We will elect some ferry crayt 
 man ; we will elect the Prince of Whales. He will 
 be captain to the company ; but we will not be 
 troubling him, and he will not be troubling himself 
 to come down to the Strath for the dreels ; and so 
 we will have a captain and no teiranny." 
 
 This novel method of solving the difficulty found 
 universal favour ; and M'Tavish at once abandoned 
 his Fabian policy, and became clamorous for instant 
 action as to the Prince's election. 
 
 Tom took me out of the room for consultation. 
 "Did you ever see such an impracticable set of 
 devils ? " he said. " What's to be done ? " 
 
 "Arguing won't mend matters, that's clear," I 
 replied. " Give me some particiilars about this Sir 
 William, and I'll see what I can do." Tom did so, 
 and I learned that Sir William had quite recently 
 succeeded to the property ; that he had lived prin-
 
 116 TALES FEOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 cipally abroad in the diplomatic service, and was as 
 yet almost unknown in the Strath ; but that he was 
 about to settle on his acres, and that his co-opera- 
 tion and assistance would be of the greatest im- 
 portance in saving the Volunteer movement in the 
 locality from death by alcoholic drowning. He 
 was reported to be a very sensible man ; and though 
 neither the tyrant nor the ascetic he was alleged to 
 be by the corps, he had, on a recent short visit to 
 the Strath, been not a little startled and scandalised 
 at the extraordinary chronic state of fuddlement in 
 which its inhabitants lived, and had expressed him- 
 self pretty broadly on the subject, and, in one or 
 two instances, made a clearance of the most inveter- 
 ate offenders. Hinc illce lacrymoe. " In fact," Tom 
 concluded, " he is just the man to keep these dipso- 
 maniacs in order ; and I know he will accept, if he 
 is elected." 
 
 "Very well," said I, "you had better let me 
 speak to them. Just say that ' the General ' will 
 address a few observations to the corps." 
 
 When we returned to the meeting we found that 
 they had just elected the Prince of Wales nem. con., 
 and were expecting with flaming eyes the arrival of 
 the " glasses round " with which the lieutenant had 
 suggested they should celebrate the event " at their 
 own costs." 
 
 Three cheers for " our captain, the Prince," were 
 given somewhat defiantly on our entrance ; and, on
 
 THE VOLUNTEERS OF STRATIIKIXAHAN, 117 
 
 the whole, matters bore a decidedly unsatisfactory 
 aspect. 
 
 "Gentlemen," cried Tom, " Lieutenant - General 
 Sir Hercules O'Halloran, K.C.B., Inspector of the 
 Reserve Forces, will address you ; " and I stepped 
 forward, desperately determined that if unscrupu- 
 lous impudence could avert the collapse of the Kelt- 
 shire " Ad. Batt." and the loss of my friend Tom's 
 appointment, it should not be wanting to me on 
 this occasion. 
 
 " Gentlemen," I said, " first of all I must express 
 to you, as representing the Eoyal Family, my very 
 sincere thanks for the honour which you have so 
 loyally and so very properly bestowed upon us — 
 I mean, upon the Prince of Wales. Gentlemen, you 
 have done honour to yourselves in honouring him — 
 (cheers) — and before I go further I beg that you 
 will allow me, on behalf of the Queen, to defray the 
 expense of the farther honour which you propose 
 to offer him in drinking his health." (Loud and 
 protracted cheering, during which I tried to look as 
 if the Privy purse was at that moment in my port- 
 manteau up-stairs.) " But having said thus much, 
 it deeply grieves me to add that duty and my in- 
 structions compel me to decline, with every ex- 
 pression of gratitude, the honour Avliich you have 
 done to his Eoyal Highness." (Murmurs, soothed 
 by the arrival of the liquor, during Avhich I paused 
 for a second or two.) " Yes, gentlemen," I resumed,
 
 118 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 "it is my painful duty to be obliged to decline. 
 You must all be aware, of course, that the Prince, 
 from his position and natural affabiHty, is perpetu- 
 ally importuned to accept situations similar to that 
 which you have offered him to-night. In such great 
 numbers are they offered to him, indeed, that to fill 
 one tithe of them, even in a nominal and honorary 
 way, would strain and overtax his royal energies 
 most insupportably. Under these circumstances 
 we were obliged to come to a fixed determination ; 
 and I assure you that in coming to it I experienced 
 the greatest hesitation and difSculty, but having 
 been come to, it cannot be deviated from. It was 
 this, — that the Prince should only consent to take 
 command of one corps at a time. What that corps 
 should be it was of course left for me to decide ; 
 and after renewed hesitation, my choice fell upon — 
 upon — upon the corps which — now enjoys that dis- 
 tinction. 
 
 " The Prince himself, with that self-abnegation 
 Avhich characterises him, has frequently implored 
 me to reconsider the matter, and bring him into a 
 wider connection with a movement which he honours 
 and admires. 
 
 " Supported by her Majesty, I have, however, re- 
 mained firm ; and you must pardon me if I say that 
 even the impression which you as a corps have made 
 upon me to-night, and the a6sor&m^ interest which you 
 clearly take in your duties, cannot make me waver.
 
 THE VOLUNTEERS OF STRATIIKINAHAN. 119 
 
 " On Monday night, the niglit before I left Lou- 
 don, I was dining in private with the Prince and 
 the Duke of Cambridge ; and his Royal Higlmess, 
 understanding that I was about to proceed north- 
 ward on my tour of inspection, again reverted to 
 the subject. 'Are you still as obstinate as ever, 
 Hercules?' said his Eoyal Highness. 'Please your 
 Royal Highness, I am a rock,' I replied. 'As 
 the Russians found at Inkerman,' remarked the 
 Duke of Cambridge." (" Three cheers for Sir Her- 
 cules ! " cried the doctor, which were rather quaver- 
 ingly given, however.) " ' Won't you give me a 
 corps in each of the three kingdoms?' urged the 
 Prince. ' It can't be done at any price, your Royal 
 Highness,' I replied, firaily but respectfully. ' I like 
 the Scotch,' continued tne Prince. ' Tliey are a 
 noble race,' I replied ; * especially the Highlanders.' 
 'You should have seen them following ine up the 
 Alma Heights,' said the Duke. ' Give me a Scotch 
 corps. General,' said the Prince — ' there's a good 
 fellow.' * It cuts me to the heart to say " No," sir,' 
 I replied. ' But what am I to say to all these fine 
 fellows ? ' he inquired, pulling out a bundle of papers 
 which were requisitions from the Kirkintilloch, Kil- 
 bogie, Slamannan, Cowcaddens, and other corps. 
 ' You can show your interest in them by nominat- 
 ing the gentleman you would wnsh to fill the post 
 instead of your Royal Highness,' I replied. ' It is 
 a happy thought,' said the Prince ; ' but it is impos-
 
 120 TALES FKOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 sible for me to go down to Kilbogie and Cowcaddens 
 at present, and I would not nominate a substitute 
 without being sure of him, as, of course, where / 
 nominate, the corps can't refuse to elect.' ' Leave 
 it all to Sir Hercules,' said the Duke ; ' his judgment 
 in all military matters is simply the best in the 
 country.' ' Your Koyal Highness does me infinite 
 honour,' I replied. ' Pooh, pooh ! only your due, 
 O'Halloran,' said the Duke. 'Well, O'Halloran, 
 would you mind going to these places for me,' said 
 the Prince, ' to say that I thank the corps with all 
 my heart, and that I leave you to act for me and 
 nominate a substitute?' 'It is my duty and de- 
 light to do what your Koyal Highness wishes,' I 
 replied. ' But you must be very careful in your 
 selection. General ; you must be sure that the man 
 is fit in every way — above all, that he is a district 
 proprietor ; — and when you have made your choice 
 you must be firm. Kemember that for the moment 
 you are the Prince of Wales ; and if any other corps 
 should elect me while you are in the north, pray 
 go to them also, and select a substitute for me. I 
 am ashamed to give you so much trouble.' ' Don't 
 mention it. Prince,' I replied ; ' I will carry out 
 your instructions to the letter.' 
 
 " Well, gentlemen, I have been to Kirkintilloch, 
 I have been to Kilbogie, to Slamannan, and to Cow- 
 caddens, and in each of these places I have made, I 
 think, satisfactory appointments. In one instance
 
 THE VOLUNTEERS OF STKATIIKIXAIIAX. 121 
 
 the corps had set their hearts upon a gentleman I 
 could not appoint ; but I am bound to say, that the 
 moment they became aware of the ground on whicli 
 I stood, they evinced the patriotic and loyal self- 
 denial which is characteristic of the volunteer, and 
 at once accepted with enthusiasm the gentleman I 
 had selected. 
 
 " Now, gentlemen, by your selection of the Prince 
 to-night you have virtually thrown, as you must see, 
 the appointment of your captain into my hands ; for 
 though, as a matter of form, I shall simply propose 
 a gentleman to you, you \vill, as a matter of course, 
 accept him ; and, standing in this position, I feel 
 the grave responsibility which rests upon me. On 
 the one hand, it is most unpleasant to me to run 
 counter to your inclinations ; but on the other, the 
 duty I owe to the Prince is paramount. 
 
 "As far as my own convictions go, however, I 
 have no hesitation in making my selection. In 
 many districts where I might be called upon to act 
 as I am to-night, I should require time for inquiry 
 and consideration ; but here, in Strathkinahan, I find 
 ready to my hand the right man, and that in the 
 person of one of my oldest and dearest friends, a 
 man of great distinction, high character, probity, 
 and Presbyterian principles — a man, in fact, every 
 inch a man and a soldier. I allude to my honour- 
 able friend Sir Wilham M'Vittie of Craig-Yittie, 
 Baronet."
 
 122 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 A perfect howl of indignation rose from the 
 party, upon whom this came like a thunderclap. 
 It was necessary to take a high tone at once, so 
 " Volunteers ! " I cried, raising my voice sternly, 
 "you forget in whose presence you vu-tually are. 
 Situated as you are, this unseemly demonstration 
 is very nearly approaching to a seditious cry, and I 
 trust" (with grim emphasis) "that I shall never 
 have to report or to punish sedition in Strathkina- 
 han. I propose to you Sir William M'Vittie. I am 
 sorry there is a prejudice against him, but I can't 
 help it. How groundless it is I well know. 
 
 " His views upon certain practical matters, such 
 as the dipping of sheep, may not be as healthy as I 
 could wish, but a residence in Strathkinahan will 
 correct them. As to his being a temperance man, 
 that I repudiate, on behalf of my old friend, as a 
 personal insult ; and when I tell you that at Court, 
 where he is known well, his singular power of con- 
 suming claret and other fluids has procured for him 
 the nickname of " Gallon " M'Vittie, you will, I 
 think, acquit him of any such baseness." ("Hurrah ! 
 hurrah ! " from the doctor and Tom, slightly joined 
 in by a few converts.) 
 
 " I beg to propose him, then, as a fit and proper 
 person to be Captain of the Strathkinahan Volun- 
 teers, and I expect the proposal to be seconded and 
 carried unanimously." 
 "I second it. Sir Hercules !" cried the doctor, at once.
 
 THE VOLUNTEERS OF STRATHKINAIIAX. 123 
 
 " And it is carried nem. con." I added, hastily. 
 " Get paper, pen, and ink, and I will draw the re- 
 quisition." 
 
 ** I make so bold as to make a protest against it," 
 said the diplomatist. 
 
 It was necessary to nip this sort of thing in the 
 bud by a coitj) detat, so I replied with fierce energy, 
 advancing and gobbling at the fellow, " Hold your 
 tongue, sir ! you ought to be ashamed of yourself, 
 sir ! All your brother volunteers blush for you, sir ! 
 Another word, and I shall turn you out of the corps, 
 and out of the room, and send you to the lock-up, 
 sir ! " 
 
 This quelled the fellow ; and the rest of them ac- 
 cepted me as apparently a sort of dictator, endowed 
 A\-ith the fullest legislative and executive powers. No 
 farther difficulty was made ; and after I had ordered 
 another round of liquor to the health of the Queen, 
 another to the health of Sir William, and a third in 
 honour of Tom and myself, certain hieroglyphs were 
 dashingly appended to the requisition ; and the meet- 
 ing broke up in the highest delight, after singing 
 " Auld Lang Syne," and dancing hand in hand round 
 the prostrate and senseless form of the Collector. 
 
 Next morning we departed at daybreak, and posted 
 the requisition at the first village. I confess I had 
 many misgivings as to what the morning feelings of 
 the Volunteers might be, and whether, in my wish 
 to serve Tom, I might not have inin him into a
 
 124 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 serious scrape. All, however, went well, and in 
 three weeks I had the satisfaction of seeing Sir 
 William gazetted. And now I can assure my 
 readers that the pious fraud has turned out to 
 admiration. 
 
 The Strathldnahans are now a flourishing corps, 
 and Sir William and Tom are still prospering in 
 their official connection with the once tottering 
 "Ad. Batt." 
 
 For once, then, the efforts of a practical joker 
 have been productive of beneficial results, for my 
 friend Tom has much benefited therefrom, and 
 thereby, in Strathkinahan, the Volunteer institution 
 has been placed on a solid and satisfactory basis ; 
 so that though the austere may decline to admit 
 the Horatian " Dulce est desipere in loco," perhaps 
 the blending in this case of the " utile " with the 
 " dulce " may lead them to find extenuating circum- 
 stances in the outrageous audacity of my conduct. 
 Tom has no doubt whatever on the subject. Look- 
 ing over my shoulder as I wi'ite, he bawls out — 
 
 " Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci." 
 " You carried my point for me, old boy, and I'm for 
 ever grateful."
 
 THE PIIILOSOniErt'S BABY. 
 
 [MAGA. February 1874.] 
 
 I HAD been considering for about a year whether 
 I should marry Winifred Hanway, when I heard 
 that she was engaged to the Philosopher. Why did 
 she accept him ? It is true that he is both imag- 
 inative and critical ; but faculties exercised in the 
 formation of psychological In^potheses and the labo- 
 rious destruction of those of one's neighbour, do not 
 usually rouse the sympathy of a bright and beauti- 
 ful girl, who is more fit to live than to think about 
 life. He is certainly handsome, but as certainly his 
 clothes are barbarous. His trousers cannot keep 
 their shape for a day, and his hats are never new. 
 If he notices the rain, he opens an umbrella which 
 might have served as an ineffectual protection at 
 the time of the Deluge ; if he finds out that it is 
 cold, he assumes a garment which might have been 
 the everyday coat of Methuselah. His manners are 
 as strange as his appearance. He may often be 
 seen walking in the Park at the fashionable hour
 
 126 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 Avith a far-off look in his eyes, and his hat thrust 
 back as if to lessen the external pressure on his 
 active brain ; more rarely you may hear him burst- 
 ing into enthusiasm in Piccadilly, though Piccadilly 
 is the last place in which a man should allow him- 
 self to be enthusiastic. In short, though he is a 
 true friend, he is an uncomfortable acquaintance ; 
 and his volcanic utterances, after long periods of 
 calm contemplation, cause such shocks to one's 
 nerves as would be conveyed to the Sunday citizen 
 by the eruption of Primrose Hill. But if it was odd 
 that the beautiful Winifred Hanway should marry 
 my friend, it was yet more odd that he should 
 marry any one. There were no topics more certain 
 to excite an explosion in the philosopher than the 
 excessive population of the country, and the whole- 
 some solitude of the Thinker. " How," he would 
 fiercely ask, " can a man think effectually on funda- 
 mental subjects, who is compelled by the despicable 
 circumstances of his life to exhaust his analytical 
 faculty in considering how to pay his butcher and 
 when to buy his coals ? I tell you, sir, it's better 
 to starve with cold and hunger than to debase one's 
 noblest part to a game of skill with a grasping 
 grocer." Again and again I had heard him declaim 
 in this preposterous fashion ; and after all, he was 
 going to the altar like any other victim, and would 
 doubtless take a house upon his back with the 
 docility of a snail.
 
 THE philosopher's BABY. 127 
 
 I could not solve the problem ; I would not give 
 it up. So, full of the determination to drag 
 Diogenes out of his tub, and the secret out of 
 Diogenes, I stepped round the comer to offer my 
 congratulations. My friend was in his study appar- 
 ently writing, really eating a quill pen. He rose at 
 me with a rush, wrung my hand till it ached, and 
 blushed rather uncomfortably. Congratulations are 
 the curse of the Briton. "WHiether he is offering 
 them or receiving them, he is generally obliged to 
 take refuge in intermittent hand-shaking, and most 
 of his sentences tail off into grunts and groans. 
 But on this occasion it was evident that the philo- 
 sopher had something ready to say, and was nerv- 
 ously anxious to say it. Indeed I had hardly said 
 more than " My dear fellow, I don't know when 
 ... I really am so a^\4ully glad, I . . . it's in 
 every way so, such a satisfactory, you know . . . 
 I really do wish all possible, and all that sort of 
 thing, you know " — when he burst in with a speech 
 so fluently delivered, that I knew I was not his 
 earliest visitor that morning. " Of course it's taken 
 you by surprise," he said, " as I knew it would ; 
 but the truth is, that I have been thinking of it for 
 a long time, and I am sure I am right." Here I 
 tried to get in an expression of wonder at his new 
 notion of duty, but he was bent on being rid of the 
 matter, and hurried on to his reasons. " In the 
 first place," said he, "I am sure that, instead of
 
 128 TALES FKOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 increasing my domestic worries, my marriage will 
 transfer them in a body to my wife ; and, secondly, 
 when I consider the vast number of fools who are 
 every day born into the world, I am terrified by 
 the picture of what the next generation will be, if 
 the thinkers of this are to be without successors." 
 Having discharged his reasons in this wise, the 
 orator stood blinking at me as if he feared dissent, 
 but I was too astounded by his magnificent audacity 
 to reply. Slowly a look of peace stole back into 
 his face, a pleasant light dawned in his eyes, and 
 the promise of a smile played at the corner of his 
 mouth. His remarkable fluency was gone, and in- 
 deed his voice sounded quite choky when he said, 
 "Johnny, you don't know what an angel she is." 
 A light broke in upon me. " Philosopher," I said, 
 '' I believe you are going to be married because 
 you fell in love?" "Perhaps you are right," said 
 the philosopher. 
 
 After the wedding, the philosopher and his wife 
 went abroad for an indefinite period, and their 
 friends heard but little of them. He wrote to no- 
 body, and she did not write to me. Yet there were 
 occasional rumours. Now they were breathing the 
 keen air of the Engadine, now sinking to the chest- 
 imts and vines of Chiavenna ; now he was lashing 
 himself to fren2y over the treasures of Rome ; now 
 she was gazing with sweet northern eyes across the
 
 THE philosopher's baby. 129 
 
 glowing splendour of the Bay of Naples. Then 
 they were in Germany, and about to settle for life 
 in a university town ; but anon had fled from it in 
 haste after a long night's dispute, in the course of 
 which my learned friend had wellnigh come to 
 blows with the university's most celebrated pro- 
 fessor. 
 
 At last I heard that they were again in London, 
 and, full of enthusiasm, darted round the corner to 
 welcome them home. Nobody was with them but 
 Mrs Hanway, Winifred's mother. I w^ould enter 
 unannounced, and surprise the philosopher. I en- 
 tered unannounced, and was surprised myself. Was 
 this the effect of matrimony or of foreign travel? 
 Each occupant of the room was engaged in an exer- 
 cise wholly unconnected, as it seemed, with those 
 of the rest. My friend's wife, the lady whom I had 
 almost loved, queen of all grace and comeliness, 
 was appearing and disappearing like a flash behind 
 the day's * Times,' showing at the moments of dis- 
 closure a face flushed with excitement, and lustrous 
 coils of hair tumbled into the wildest disorder, 
 while she accompanied the whole performance with 
 strange and inarticulate sounds. Her mother, the 
 same Mrs Hanway who was so perfect a model of 
 dress and caniage that many of her lady friends 
 were wont to lament among themselves that she 
 gave herself such airs, was seated on the floor 
 dressed for walking but without her bonnet. Yes, 
 
 s.s. — I. z
 
 ] 30 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD. 
 
 she was certainly drumming- on an inverted tea-tray 
 with the wrong end of the poker. And the philoso- 
 pher ? It was perplexing, after tliree years' separa- 
 tion, to meet him thus. The philosopher was can- 
 tering round the room on all-fours, wearing on his 
 head his own waste-paper basket. Briskly he can- 
 tered round, ever and anon frisking like a lamb in 
 spring-time, until he reached my feet, which were 
 rooted to the spot with astonishment. He glanced 
 up sideways, rose with a cry to the normal attitude 
 of man, and grasped me by the hand. At the 
 sound of his voice, his wife dropping the paper from 
 her hands raised them quickly to her hair ; and his 
 mother-in-law, with as much dignity as the effort 
 would allow, scrambled on to her feet. Then in an 
 instant the cause of their eccentric conduct was 
 made clear. Throned ujDon the hearthrug, and 
 showing by a gracious smile a few of the newest 
 teeth, sat a fine baby of some fifteen months. In 
 one dimpled fist was tightly clenched the brush, 
 which had so neatly arranged the mother's braids ; 
 while the other was engaged in pounding the grand- 
 mother's best bonnet into a shapeless mass. 
 
 We were all somewhat embarrassed except the 
 t)aby. The ladies knew that they were untidy, and 
 I that I was an intruder. As for the learned father, 
 he stood now on one leg and now on the other, 
 while he shifted the waste-paper basket from hand 
 to hand, and continued to smile almost as persever-
 
 THE PIIILOSOniEU'S BABY. 131 
 
 ingly as his amiable offspriiifj. Yet it was he who 
 at last put an end to our awkward position by ex- 
 pressing a wild desire to have my opinion of the 
 new curtains in his study. Rather sheepishly I 
 said good-bye to the lady of the house, trying to 
 express by my eyes that I would never call again 
 unannounced. I knew that Mrs Hanway had not 
 forgiven me, as I humbly took the two fingers 
 which she offered ; and I felt like a brute, as the 
 most important member of the family condescended 
 to leave a damp spot by the edge of my left 
 whisker. 
 
 Wlien, however, I had been swept down-stairs by 
 my impulsive friend, and was alone with him in his 
 den, my courage returned, and with it some indig- 
 nation. I confronted him, and sternly asked why I 
 had not been told that he was a father. " Not been 
 told?" echoed he ; '' do you mean to say that you 
 did not know about the Baby ? " " Not so much as 
 that it was," I replied, gloomily. He was over- 
 whelmed : of course he had supposed that every 
 one knew it from the Queen downwards. Of coiirse 
 fifty people ought to have told me, who of course 
 had told me everything else. At last my curiosity 
 got the better of my indignation, and I cut short 
 his apologies by beginning my questions — " Does 
 the shape of its head content you ? " I asked. " Tlie 
 shape of whose what ? " cried the philosopher, 
 apparently too surprised for grammar. " Of the
 
 132 TALES FKOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 baby's head, of course," I replied, tartly ; " I merely 
 wish to know if the child is likely to be as intel- 
 lectual as you hoped." " Isn't the hair lovely?" he 
 asked, inconsequently. This was too much, and 
 assuming my severest manner I delivered myself 
 in this wise — " I thought, though no doubt I was 
 wrong, that the use of a baby to you would be 
 partly to furnish you with raw material for a philo- 
 sopher, partly to enable you by constant observa- 
 tion to gain further evidence bearing on such vexed 
 questions as, whether the infant gains its idea of 
 space by feeling about, whether it is conscious of 
 itself, &c." ''Well," he said, laughing, "I don't 
 expect much help from my infant in those matters, 
 imless I can get inside her and think her thoughts." 
 "Her thoughts?" cried I, in amazement; "you 
 don't mean to say it's a girl ? Good gracious ! you 
 are not going to educate a female philosopher?" 
 He looked rather vexed. " Of course it's a girl," 
 he said. " The father of a female philosopher ! " I 
 gasped. " Dear me ! " said he, somewhat testily ; 
 " isn't it enough to be father of a noble woman ? " 
 
 Now I have often put up with a great deal from 
 my learned friend, and am quite aware that I have 
 been spoken of as "Bozzy" behind my back. But 
 there is a turning-point even for the worm, and 
 nobody will sit for ever at the feet which are con- 
 stantly kicking him. I had been snubbed more 
 than enough by this illogical parent, and assum-
 
 THE rillLOSOrilEU'S BABY. 133 
 
 ing my most sarcastic manner, I inquired, with an 
 appearance of deference — "Is it not rather early 
 to speak of your daughter as a noble woman 'i " 
 " Not at all," said the pliilosopher. 
 
 I had kept aloof from the philosopher for some 
 weeks, nursing my wrath, like Achilles I said to 
 myself — cross as a bear, I overheard my landlady 
 say in the passage — when I received a hasty note 
 begging me to come to him at once. I fancied 
 myself summoned to a council of chiefs ; so, having 
 donned my shining armour, I left my tent with fit- 
 tiiiG: diirnitv, and descended with a clang into the 
 plain. Yet I could not but be aware of my land- 
 lady's eye piercing me through the crack of the 
 parlour-door purposely left ajar, and of the hasty 
 flapping of loose slippers which told of the startled 
 slavey's flight into the abyss below. 
 
 An unusual silence held my friend's house that 
 morning. The door was opened, before I had time 
 to ring, by a melancholy footman, who, walking 
 before me with the elaborate delicacy of an Agag, 
 noiselessy ushered me into the study. It was my 
 lot to be again rooted to the spot with amazement. 
 By the book-case, in a shaded corner of the room, 
 with his head bowed low upon his hands, knelt 
 the philosopher. Here was a long step from the 
 siege of Troy, from the simple wrath of a child- 
 like hero to the most complex embarrassment of
 
 134 " TALES FKOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 an heir of all the ages. Wliat should I do ? The 
 dismal menial had fled to the shades, without a 
 word, Avithout even a glance into the room. If I 
 retreated, I left my friend unaided, and remained 
 ignorant of the cause of his strange conduct. If I 
 advanced, I was again the intruder on a scene not 
 prepared for my inspection. In an agony of hesita- 
 tion I fell to brushing my hat with my elbow ; but 
 not finding the expected relief in the occupation, I 
 was about to desist, when my hat decided what my 
 head could not, by falling with a crack on the floor. 
 The effect was electrical. Without one glance at 
 the intruder, the philosopher made a grab at the 
 nearest book-shelf, dragged out a volume which 
 had not been touched for half a century, and hunted 
 for nothing in its pages with frantic eagerness. He 
 was still at it, when I stood over him and noted 
 without wonder that he held the book upside down ; 
 then with the poorest imitation of surprise which I 
 have ever seen, he rose and grasped my hand, 
 " You found me on the track of something," he 
 
 said ; " I was looking it out in — in " 
 
 Here it occurred to him that he did not know the 
 name of the venerable tome which he had so rudely 
 disturbed ; and with a heightened colour and a 
 sudden change of manner he turned quickly to 
 me and said, "My child is ill." I felt positively 
 guilty. I had been angry with that baby for mak- 
 ing my wise friend foolish, for not being a boy, for
 
 THE philosopher's BABY. 135 
 
 being called " a noble woman." Was it not shame- 
 ful that a great hulking brute should sneer at a 
 weak thing that could not even answer with a 
 taunt? Were not my clumsy sarcasms enough to 
 criish so delicate a plant ? The poor little " noble 
 woman " was in danger, and I could do nothing to 
 help her. There were tears in the eyes which were 
 looking into mine for comfort ; but I had nothing 
 readv to sav. 
 
 "I could not stand being alone," he muttered, 
 after a short silence ; " the doctor is with her now, 
 and in a moment I may hear that my little daughter 
 must — in fact may hear the worst." 
 
 Wliile he was speaking, I seemed to have fifty 
 consoling remarks to offer ; but when he stopped, 
 no one sentence would disengage itself from the 
 rest. What I blurted out at last seems almost 
 ridiculous as I look back on it. 
 
 "You must hope for the best," I said; "you 
 know she has youth on her side." 
 
 The words were scarcely out of my mouth when 
 I heard a measured step upon the stairs ; presently 
 the door was opened by the noiseless footman, and 
 the most famous of London doctors entered tlie 
 room. My friend leaned heavily on my arm, but 
 looked at the man of science with seeming calm. 
 
 " I am happy to say," said the physician, cheer- 
 ily, " that our little friend is going on as well as 
 possible."
 
 136 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 " And she is out of danger ? " 
 
 " She never was in it." 
 
 " Never in danger?" cried I, almost disappointed. 
 
 " She has nothing the matter with her," he re- 
 pHed, " but a shght feverish cold. I have seldom 
 seen a finer or more healthy child. Good morning." 
 
 I never was more annoyed. Here was a waste 
 of my finest feelings. Here was I stirred to the 
 depth, wellnigh moved to tears, by a baby's fever- 
 ish cold. Of course I was very glad that it was no 
 worse ; but my friend was too absurd, and I would 
 not spare him. 
 
 " Won't you resume your studies ? " I asked, sar- 
 castically, pointing to the distm-bed book, which 
 was lying on the ground at our feet. His humility 
 might have disarmed me : " I am afraid I've been a 
 fool," he said ; *' but if you had seen her all flushed 
 and breathing hard ; and then she is so small and 
 fragile." 
 
 '' Yes, for a noble woman," I remarked ; he re- 
 ceived the dart meekly. " Philosopher," said I, 
 suddenly, determined to rouse him at any cost, 
 " when I entered this room, you were engaged in 
 prayer." His colour certainly deepened. " May I 
 ask," I inquired with an appearance of deference, 
 "whether you were addressing yourself to the 
 Personal First Cause, or to the Unknowable — but 
 perhaps you were merely bowing to the rational 
 order of the Universe?"
 
 THE nilLOSOPIIER'S BABY. 137 
 
 He made a gesture of impatience, but answered 
 still with studied moderation, " I was alone and in 
 trouble." 
 
 "And the efficacy of prayer?" I asked. 
 
 " For heaven's sake," cried he, bursting into ex- 
 citement, " stop your jargon ! Nothing sliows such 
 ignorance of a subject as having all its cant phrases 
 on the tip of your tongue. Can't I speak to God 
 without expecting to be paid for it ? " 
 
 This was turning the tables. If he was going to 
 take to questions, I knew I should end by admitting 
 myself a fool. So to avoid a Socratic dialogue I 
 put my hand on my friend's shoulder and said : 
 " You are a good man, philosopher ; may you and 
 the ' noble woman ' live a thousand years." 
 
 "Thank you," he said, simply; "and now you 
 must let me go and sing a peean with the nobler 
 woman, my patient Penelope, my sweet wife." 
 
 So he went with long strides over the asphodel 
 meadow, and I betook myself to my tent full of 
 pleasant thoughts.
 
 THE SECRET CHAMBER. 
 
 [Dedicated to the inquirers in the Norman Toiver.] 
 
 BY M. 0. W. OLIPHANT. 
 
 [MAG A. Decembee 1876.] 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CASTLE GOWRIE is one of the most famous 
 and interesting in all Scotland. It is a beau- 
 tiful old house, to start with, — perfect in old feudal 
 grandeur, with its clustered turrets and walls that 
 could withstand an army, — its labyrinths, its hidden 
 stairs, its long mysterious passages — passages that 
 seem in many cases to lead to nothing, but of which 
 no one can be too sure what they lead to. The 
 front, with its fine gateway and flanking towers, is 
 approached now by velvet lawns, and a peaceful, 
 beautiful old avenue, with double rows of trees, 
 like a cathedral ; and the woods out of which these 
 grey towers rise, look as soft and rich in foliage, if 
 not so lofty in growth, as the groves of the South. 
 But this softness of aspect is all new to the place, — 
 that is, new within the century or two which count
 
 THE SECRET CHAMBER. 139 
 
 for but littlo in tho history of a dwelling-place, somo 
 part of which, at least, has been standing since tho 
 days when tlie Saxon Athelings brought such share 
 of the arts as belong to them, to solidify and regu- 
 late the original Celtic art which reared incised 
 stones upon rude burial-places, and twined mystic 
 knots on its crosses, before historic days. Even of 
 tliis primitive decoration there are relics at Gowric, 
 where the twistings and twinings of Kunic cords 
 appear still on some bits of ancient wall, solid as 
 rocks, and almost as everlasting. From these to 
 the graceful French turrets, which recall many a 
 grey chateau, what a long interval of years ! But 
 these are filled with stirring chronicles enough, 
 besides the dim, not always decipherable records, 
 wliich different developments of architecture have 
 left on the old house. The Earls of Gowrie had 
 been in the heat of every commotion that took 
 place on or about the Highland line for more gen- 
 erations than any but a Celtic pen could record. 
 Eebellions, revenges, insurrections, conspiracies, 
 nothing in which blood was shed and lands lost, 
 took place in Scotland, in which they had not had 
 a share ; and the annals of the house are very full, 
 and not "without many a stain. They had been a 
 bold and vigorous race — with much evil in them, 
 and some good ; never insignificant, whatever else 
 they might be. It could not be said, however, that 
 they are remarkable nowadays. Since the first
 
 140 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 Stuart rising, known in Scotland as " the Fifteen," 
 tlaey have not done much that has been worth 
 recording ; but yet their family history has alwaj^s 
 been of an unusual kind. The Randolphs could 
 not be called eccentric in themselves : on the con- 
 trary, when you knew them, they were at bottom a 
 respectable race, full of all the country-gentleman 
 virtues ; and yet their public career, such as it was, 
 had been marked by the strangest leaps and jerks 
 of vicissitude. You would have said an impulsive, 
 fanciful family — now making a grasp at some 
 visionary advantage, now rushing into some wild 
 speculation, now maldng a sudden sally into public 
 life — but soon falling back into mediocrity, not able 
 apparently, even when the impulse was purely sel- 
 fish and mercenary, to keep it up. But this would 
 not have been at all a true conception of the family 
 character ; their actual virtues were not of the 
 imaginative order, and their freaks were a mystery 
 to their friends. Nevertheless these freaks were 
 what the general world was most aware of in the 
 Randolph race. The late Earl had been a represen- 
 tative peer of Scotland (they had no English title), 
 and had made quite a wonderful start, and for a 
 year or two had seemed about to attain a very- 
 eminent place in Scotch afflxirs ; but his ambition 
 "was found to have made use of some very equivocal 
 modes of gaining influence, and he dropped accord- 
 ingly at once and for ever from the political firma-
 
 THE SECRET CHAMBER. 141 
 
 ment. This was quite a common circumstance in 
 the family. An apparently brilliant beginning, a 
 discovery of evil means adopted for ambitious ends, 
 a sudden subsidence, and the curious conclusion at 
 the end of everything that this schemer, this un- 
 scrupulous speculator or politician, was a dull, good 
 man after all — unambitious, contented, full of 
 domestic kindness and benevolence. This family 
 peculiarity made the history of the Eandolphs a 
 very strange one, broken by the oddest interrup- 
 tions, and with no consistency in it. There was 
 another circumstance, however, which attracted still 
 more the wonder and observation of the public. 
 For one who can appreciate such a recondite matter 
 as family character, there are hundreds who are 
 interested in a family secret, and this the house of 
 Randolph possessed in perfection. It was a mys- 
 tery which piqued the imagination and excited the 
 interest of the entire country. The story went, 
 that somewhere hid amid the massive walls and 
 tortuous passages there was a secret chamber in 
 Gowrie Castle. Everybody knew of its existence ; 
 but save the Earl, his heir, and one other person, 
 not of the family, but filling a confidential post in 
 their service, no mortal knew where this mysterious 
 hiding-place was. There had been countless guesses 
 made at it, and expedients of all kinds invented 
 to find it out. Every visitor who ever entered the 
 old gateway, nay, even passing travellers who saw
 
 142 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 the turrets from the road, searched keenly for some 
 trace of this mysterious chamber. But all guesses 
 and researches were equally in vain. 
 
 I was about to say that no ghost-story I eve\ 
 heard of has been so steadily and long believed. 
 But this would be a mistake, for nobody knew even 
 with any certainty that there was a ghost con- 
 nected with it. A secret chamber was nothing 
 wonderful in so old a house. No doubt they exist 
 in many such old houses, and are always curious 
 and interesting — strange relics, more moving than 
 any history, of the time when a man was not safe in 
 his own house, and when it might be necessary to 
 secure a refuge beyond the reach of spies or traitors 
 at a moment's notice. Such a refuge was a neces- 
 sity of life to a great medieval noble. The peculiar- 
 ity aboiit this secret chamber, however, was, that 
 some secret connected with the very existence of 
 the family was always understood to be involved in 
 it. It was not only the secret hiding-place for an 
 emergency, a kind of historical possession presup- 
 posing the importance of his race, of which a man 
 might be honestly proud ; but there was something 
 hidden in it of which assuredly the race could not 
 be proud. It is wonderful how easily a family 
 learns to pique itself upon any distinctive posses- 
 sion. A ghost is a sign of importance not to be 
 despised ; a haunted room is worth as much as the 
 richest farm to the complacency of the family that
 
 THE SECRET CHAMBER. 113 
 
 o\viis it. And no doubt the younger branches of the 
 Govvrie family — the light-miuded portion of the race 
 — felt this, and were proud of their unfathomable 
 secret, and felt a thrill of agreeable awe and piquant 
 suggestion go through them, when they remem- 
 bered the mysterious something which they did 
 not know in tlieu* familiar home. That thrill ran 
 through the entire circle of visitors, and chLldien, 
 and servants, when the Earl peremptorily forbade a 
 projected improvement, or stopped a reckless ex- 
 ploration. They looked at each other with a pleas- 
 urable shiver. "Did you hear?" they said. "He 
 will not let Lady GowTie have that closet she wants 
 so much in that bit of wall. He sent the workmen 
 about their business before they could touch it, 
 though the wall is twenty feet thick if it is an inch ; 
 ah ! " said the visitoi's, looking at each other ; and 
 this lively suggestion sent tinglings of excitement 
 to their very finger-points ; but even to his wife, 
 mourning the commodious closet she had intended, 
 the Earl made no explanations. For anything she 
 knew, it might be there, next to her room, this 
 mysterious lurking-place ; and it may be supposed 
 that this suggestion conveyed to Lady Go\\Tie's 
 veins a thrill more keen and strange, perhaps too 
 vivid to be pleasant. But she was not in the fav- 
 oured or unfortunate number of those to whom the 
 truth could be revealed. 
 
 I need not say what the different theories on the
 
 144 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 subject were. Some tlionglit there had been a 
 treacherous massacre there, and that the secret 
 chamber was blocked by the skeletons of murdered 
 guests, — a treachery no doubt covering the family 
 with shame in its day, but so condoned by long 
 softening of years as to have all the shame taken 
 out of it. The Eandolphs could not have felt their 
 character affected by any such interesting historical 
 record. They were not so morbidly sensitive. 
 Some said, on the other hand, that Earl Eobert, 
 the wicked Earl, was shut up there in everlasting 
 penance, playing cards with the devil for his soul. 
 But it would have been too great a feather in the 
 family cap to have thus got the devil, or even one 
 of his angels, bottled up, as it were, and safely in 
 hand, to make it possible that any lasting stigma 
 could be connected with such a fact as this. What 
 a thing it would be to know where to lay one's 
 hand upon the Prince of Darkness, and prove him 
 once for all, cloven foot and everything else, to the 
 confusion of gainsayers ! 
 
 So this was not to be received as a satisfactory 
 solution, nor could any other be suggested which 
 was more to the purpose. The popular mind gave 
 it up, and yet never gave it up; and still every- 
 body Avho visits Gowi-ie, be it as a guest, be it 
 as a tourist, be it only as a gazer from a passing 
 carriage, or from the flying railway train which 
 just glimpses its turrets in the distance, daily and
 
 THE SECRET CHAMBER. 145 
 
 yearly spends a certain amount of curiosity, wonrler- 
 ment, and conjecture about tlio Secret Chamber — 
 the most piquant and undiscoverable wonder which 
 has endured unguessed and undeciphered to modem 
 times. 
 
 This was how the matter stood when young John 
 Randolph, Lord Lindores, came of age. He was a 
 young man of great character and energy, not like 
 the usual Eandolph strain — for, as we have said, 
 the type of character common in this romantically- 
 situated family, notwithstanding the erratic inci- 
 dents common to them, was that of dulness and 
 honesty, especially in their early days. But young 
 Lindores was not so. He Avas honest and honour- 
 able, but not dull. He had gone through almost 
 a remarkable course at school and at the university 
 — not perhaps in quite the ordinary way of scholar- 
 ship, but enough to attract men's eyes to him. 
 He had made more than one great speech at the 
 Union. He \/as full of ambition, and force, and life, 
 intending all sorts of great things, and meaning to 
 make his position a stepping-stone to all that was 
 excellent in public life. Not for him the country- 
 gentleman existence which was congenial to his 
 father. The idea of succeeding to the family 
 honours and becoming a mere Scotch peer, either 
 represented or representative, filled him with horror; 
 and filial piety in his case was made warm by all 
 the energy of personal hope, when he prayed that 
 
 S.S. — I. 2 A
 
 146 TALES FKOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 his father might live, if not for ever, yet longer 
 than any Lord Gowrie had lived for the last centnry 
 or two. He was as sure of his election for the 
 county the next time there was a chance, as any- 
 body can be certain of anything ; and in the mean- 
 time he meant to travel, to go to America, to go no 
 one could tell where, seeking for instruction and 
 experience, as is the manner of high-spirited young 
 men with parliamentary tendencies in the present 
 day. In former times he would have gone " to the 
 wars in the Hie Germanic," or on a crusade to the 
 Holy Land ; but the days of the crusaders and of 
 the soldiers of fortune being over, Lindores followed 
 the fashion of his time. He had made all his 
 arrangements for his tour, which his father did not 
 oppose. On the contrary. Lord Gowrie encouraged 
 all those plans, though with an air of melancholy 
 indulgence which his son could not understand. 
 " It will do you good," he said, with a sigh. " Yes, 
 yes, my boy ; the best thing for you." This, no 
 doubt, was true enough ; but there was an implied 
 feeling that the young man would require some- 
 thing to do him good — that he would want the 
 soothing of change and the gratification of his 
 wishes, as one might speak of a convalescent or 
 the victim of some calamity. This tone puzzled 
 Lindores, who, though he thought it a fine thing 
 to travel and acquire information, was as scornful 
 of the idea of being done good to, as is natural
 
 THE SECRET CHAMBER. 117 
 
 to any fine yoTing fellow fresh from Oxford and 
 the triumphs of the Union. But ho reflected that 
 the old school had its own way of treating things, 
 and was satisfied. All was settled accordingly for 
 this jonmey, before he came home to go through 
 the ceremonial performances of the coming of age, 
 the dinner of the tenantry, the speeches, the con- 
 gratulations, his father's banquet, his mother's ball. 
 It was in summer, and the country was as gay as 
 all the entertainments that were to be given in liis 
 honour. His friend who was going to accompany 
 him on his tour, as he had accompanied him through 
 a considerable portion of his life — Almeric Ffarring- 
 ton, a young man of the same aspirations — came 
 up to Scotland with him for these festivities. And 
 as they rushed through the night on the Great 
 Northern Eailway, in the intervals of two naps, 
 they had a scrap of conversation as to these birth- 
 day glories. " It will be a bore, but it will not 
 last long," said Lindores. They were both of the 
 opinion that everything that did not produce In- 
 formation or promote culture was a bore. 
 
 "But is there not a revelation to be made to 
 you, among all the other things you have to go 
 through ? " said Ffarrington. *' Have not you lo 
 be introduced to the secret chamber, and all that 
 sort of thing? I should like to be of the party 
 there, Lindores." 
 
 " Ah," said the heir, " I had forgotten that part
 
 148 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 of it," wliich, however, was not the case. " Indeed 
 I don't know if I am to be told. Even family 
 dogmas are shaken nowadays." 
 
 " Oh, I should insist on that," said Ffarrington, 
 lightly. *' It is not many who have the chance of 
 paying such a visit — better than Home and all the 
 mediums. I should insist upon that." 
 
 '' I have no reason to suppose that it has any 
 connection with Home or the mediums," said Lin- 
 dores, slightly nettled. He was himself an esprit 
 fort ; but a mystery in one's own family is not like 
 vulgar mysteries. He liked it to be respected. 
 
 " Oh, no offence," said his companion. " I have 
 always thought that a railway train would be a 
 great chance for the spirits. If one were to show 
 suddenly in that vacant seat beside you, what a 
 triumphant proof of their existence that would 
 be ! but they don't take advantage of their oppor- 
 tunities." 
 
 Lindores could not tell what it was that made 
 him think at that moment of a portrait he had seen 
 in a back room at the castle of old Earl Eobert, the 
 wicked Earl. It was a bad portrait — a daub — a 
 copy made by an amateur of the genuine portrait, 
 which, out of horror of Earl Eobert and his wicked 
 ways, had been removed by some intermediate lord 
 from its place in the gallery. Lindores had never 
 seen the original — nothing but this daub of a copy. 
 Yet somehow this face occurred to him by some
 
 THE SECRET CHAMBER. 149 
 
 strange link of association — seemed to come into 
 his eyes as his friend spoke. A slight shiver ran 
 over him. It was strange. He made no reply to 
 Ffan-ington, but set himself to think how it could 
 be that the latent presence in his mind of some 
 anticipation of this approaching disclosure, touched 
 into life by liis friend's suggestion, should have 
 called out of his memory a momentary reahsation 
 of the acknowledged magician of the family. This 
 sentence is full of long words ; but unfortunately 
 long words are required in such a case. And the 
 process was very simple when you traced it out. It 
 was the clearest case of unconscious cerebration. 
 He shut his eyes by way of securing privacy while 
 he thought it out ; and being tired, and not at all 
 alarmed by his unconscious cerebration, before he 
 opened them again fell fast asleep. 
 
 And his birthday, which was the day following 
 his arrival at Glenlyon, was a very busy day. Ho 
 had not time to think of anything but the immediate 
 occupations of the moment. Public and private 
 greetings, congratulations, offerings, poured upon 
 him. The Gowries were popular in this genera- 
 tion, which was far from being usual in the family. 
 Lady Gowrie was kind and generous, with that 
 kindness which comes from the heart, and which 
 is the only Idndness likely to impress the keen- 
 sighted popular judgment ; and Lord GowTie had 
 but little of the equivocal reputation of his pie-
 
 150 TALES FEOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 decessors. They could be splendid now and then 
 on great occasions, though in general they were 
 homely enough ; all which the public likes. It 
 was a bore, Lindores said ; but yet the young man 
 did not dislike the honours, and the adulation, and 
 all the hearty speeches and good wishes. It is 
 sweet to a young man to feel himself the centre of 
 so many hopes. It seemed very reasonable to him 
 — very natural — that he should be so, and that the 
 farmers should feel a pride of anticipation in think- 
 ing of his fature speeches in Parliament. He pro- 
 mised to them with the sincerest good faith that 
 he would not disappoint their expectations — that 
 he would feel their interest in him an additional 
 spur. What so natural as that interest and these 
 expectations? He was almost solemnised by his 
 own position — so young, looked up to by so many 
 people — so many hopes depending on him ; and yet 
 it was quite natural. His father, however, was 
 still more solemnised than Lindores — and this was 
 strange, to say the least. His face grew graver and 
 graver as the day went on, till it ahnost seemed as 
 if he were dissatisfied with his son's popularity, or 
 had some painful thought weighing on his mind. 
 He was restless and eager for the termination of 
 the dmner, and to get rid of his guests ; and as 
 soon as they were gone, showed an equal anxiety 
 that his son should retire too. '' Go to bed at once, 
 as a favour to me," Lord Gowrie said. " You will
 
 THE SECRET CHAMBER. 151 
 
 have a great deal of fatigue — to-morrow." "You 
 need not be afraid for me, sir," said Lindores, half 
 afiFrontcd ; but he obeyed, being tired. He had not 
 once thought of the secret to bo disclosed to him, 
 through all that long day. But when he woke 
 suddenly with a start in the middle of the night, 
 to find the candles all lighted in his room, and liis 
 father standing by his bedside, Lindores instantly 
 thought of it, and in a moment felt that the leading 
 event — the chief incident of all that had happened 
 — was going to take place now. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Lord Gowrie was very grave, and very pale. He 
 was standing with his hand on his son's shoulder 
 to wake him ; his dress was unchanged from the 
 moment they had parted. And the sight of this 
 formal costume was very bewildering to the young- 
 man as he started up in his bed. But next moment 
 he seemed to know exactly how it was, and, more 
 than that, to have known it all his life. Explana- 
 tion seemed unnecessary. At any other moment, 
 in any other place, a man would be stai-tled to be 
 suddenly woke up in the middle of the night. But 
 Lindores had no such feeling ; ho did not even ask a 
 question, but sprang up, and fixed his eyes, taking 
 in all the strange circumstances, on his father's face.
 
 162 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 " Get up, my boy," said Lord Gowrie, " and dress 
 as quickly as you can ; it is full time. I have 
 lighted your candles, and your things are all ready. 
 You have had a good long sleep." 
 
 Even now he did not ask, Wliat is it ? as under 
 any other circumstances he would have done. He 
 got up without a word, with an impulse of nervous 
 speed and rapidity of movement such as only ex- 
 citement can give, and dressed himself, his father 
 helping him silently. It was a curious scene : the 
 room gleaming with lights, the silence, the hurried 
 toilet, the stillness of deep night all around. The 
 house, though so full, and with the echoes of festivity 
 but just over, was quiet as if there was not a crea- 
 ture within it — more quiet, indeed, for the stillness 
 of vacancy is not half so impressive as the stillness 
 of hushed and slumbering life. 
 
 Lord Gowrie went to the table when this first 
 step was over, and poured out a glass of wine from 
 a bottle which stood there, — a rich, golden-coloured, 
 perfumy wine, which sent its scent through the 
 room. " You will want all your strength," he said ; 
 "take this before you go. It is the famous Im- 
 perial Tokay ; there is only a little left ; and you 
 will want all your strength." 
 
 Lindores took the wine ; he had never drunk any 
 like it before, and the peculiar fragrance remained 
 in his mind, as perfumes so often do, with a whole 
 world of association in them. His father's eyes
 
 THE SECRET CHAMBER. 153 
 
 dwelt upon liim with a melancholy sympathy. 
 '* You are going to encounter the greatest trial of 
 your life," he said ; and taking the young man's 
 hand into his, felt his pulse. " It is quick, but it 
 is quite firm, and you have had a good long sleep." 
 Then he did what it needs a great deal of pressure 
 to induce an Englishman to do, — he kissed his son 
 on the cheek. " God bless you ! " he said faltering. 
 " Come, now, everything is ready, Lindores." 
 
 He took up in his hand a small lamp, which h« 
 had apparently brought with him, and led the way. 
 By this time Lindores began to feel himself again, 
 and to wake to the consciousness of all his own 
 superiorities and enlightenments. The simple sense 
 that he was one of the members of a family with 
 a mystery, and that the moment of his personal 
 encounter with this special power of darkness had 
 come, had been the first thrilling, overwhelming 
 thought. But now as he followed his father, 
 Lindores began to remember that he himself was 
 not altogether like other men ; that there was that 
 in him which would make it natural that he should 
 throw some light, hitherto unthought of, upon this 
 carefully -preserved darkness. What secret even 
 there might be in it — secret of hereditary tendency, 
 of psychic force, of mental conformation, or of some 
 curious combination of circumstances at once more 
 and less potent than these — it was for him to find 
 out. He gathered all his forces about him, re-
 
 154 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 minded himself of modern enlightenment, and 
 bade his nerves be steel to all vulgar horrors. 
 He, too, felt his o\vn pulse as he followed his 
 father. To spend the night perhaps amongst the 
 skeletons of that old - world massacre, and to 
 repent the sins of his ancestors — to be brought 
 within the range of some optical illusion believed 
 in hitherto by all the generations, and which, 
 no doubt, was of a startling kind, or his father 
 would not look so serious, — any of these he felt 
 himself quite strong to encounter. His heart 
 and spirit rose. A young man has but seldom the 
 opportunity of distinguishing himself so early in 
 his career ; and his was such a chance as occurs 
 to very few. No doubt it was something that 
 would be extremely trying to the nerves and 
 imagination. He called up all his powers to 
 vanquish both. And along with this call upon 
 himself to exertion, there was the less serious 
 impulse of curiosity : he would see at last what 
 the Secret Chamber was, where it was, how it 
 fitted into the labyrinths of the old house. This 
 he tried to put in its due place as a most interest- 
 ing object. He said to himself that he would wil- 
 lingly have gone a long journey at any time to be 
 present at such an exploration ; and there is no 
 doubt that, in other circumstances, a secret cham- 
 ber, with probably some unthought-of historical 
 interest in it, would have been a very fascinating
 
 THE SECRET CHAMBER. 155 
 
 discovery. Ho tried very hard to excito himself 
 about tliis ; but it was curious how fictitious ho felt 
 the interest, and how conscious ho was that it was 
 an effort to feel any curiosity at all on the subject. 
 The fact was, that the Secret Chamber was entire- 
 ly secondary — thrown back, as all accessories are, 
 by a more pressing interest. The overpowering 
 thought of what was in it drove aside all healthy, 
 natural curiosity about itself. 
 
 It must not be supposed, however, that the father 
 and son had a long way to go to have time for all 
 these thoughts. Thoughts travel at lightning 
 speed, and there was abundant leisure for this 
 between the time they had left the door of Lin- 
 dores' room, and gone down the comdor, no further 
 off than to Lord Go^aie's own chamber, naturally 
 one of the chief rooms of the house. Nearly op- 
 posite this, a few steps further on, was a little 
 neg-lected room devoted to lumber, with which 
 Lindores had been familiar all his life. VTiiy this 
 nest of old rubbish, dust, and cobwebs should be 
 BO near the bedroom of the head of the house had 
 been a matter of surprise to many people — to the 
 guests who saw it while exploring, and to each 
 new servant in succession who planned an attack 
 upon its ancient stores, scandalised by finding it 
 to have been neglected by their predecessors. All 
 their attempts to clear it out had, however, been 
 resisted, nobody could tell how, or indeed thought
 
 156 TALES FEOM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 it wortli while to inquire. As for Linclores, he had 
 been nsed to the place from his childliood, and 
 therefore accepted it as the most natural thing in 
 the world. He had been in and out a hundred 
 times in his play. And it was here, he remembered 
 suddenly, that he had seen the bad picture of Earl 
 Eobert which had so curiously come into his eyes 
 on his journey here, by a mental movement which 
 he had identified at once as unconscious cerebra- 
 tion. The first feeling in his mind, as his father 
 went to the open door of this lumber-room, was a 
 mixture of amusement and surprise. What was he 
 going to pick up there ? some old pentacle, some 
 amulet or scrap of antiquated magic to act as 
 armour against the evil one? But Lord Gowrie, 
 going on and setting down the lamp on the table, 
 turned round upon his son with a face of agitation 
 and pain which barred all further amusement : he 
 grasped him by the hand, crushing it between his 
 own. "Now my boy, my dear son," he said, in 
 tones that were scarcely audible. His countenance 
 was full of the dreary pain of a looker-on — one who 
 has no share in the excitement of personal danger, 
 but has the more terrible part of watching those 
 who are in deadliest peril. He was a powerful 
 man, and his large form shook with emotion ; great 
 beads of moisture stood upon his forehead. An old 
 sword with a cross handle lay upon a dusty chair 
 among other dusty and battered relics. " Take
 
 THE SECRET CHAMBER. 157 
 
 this -with you," lie said, in the same inaudible, 
 breathless way — whether as a weapon, whether as 
 a religious symbol, Lindores could not guess. The 
 young man took it mechanically. His father pushed 
 open a door which it seemed to him he had never 
 seen before, and led him into another vaulted cham- 
 ber. Here even the limited powers of speech Lord 
 Gowi-ie had retained seemed to forsake him, and his 
 voice became a mere hoarse murmur in his throat. 
 For want of speech he pointed to another door in 
 the further corner of this small vacant room, gave 
 him to understand by a gesture that he was to 
 knock there, and then went back into the lumber- 
 room. The door into this was left open, and a faint 
 glimmer of the lamp shed light into this little in- 
 termediate place — this debatable land between the 
 seen and the unseen. In spite of himself, Lindores' 
 heart began to beat. He made a breathless pause, 
 feelino- his head go round. He held the old sword 
 in his hand, not knowing what it was. Then, 
 summoning all his courage, he went forward and 
 knocked at the closed door. His knock was not 
 loud, but it seemed to echo all over the silent 
 house. Would everybody hear and wake, and rush 
 to see what had happened ? This caprice of ima- 
 gination seized upon him, ousting all the firmer 
 thoughts, the steadfast calm of mind with which he 
 ought to have encountered the mystery. Would 
 they all rush in, in wild deshabille, in terror and
 
 ]58 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD 
 
 » 
 
 dismay, before the door opened ? How long it was 
 of opening ! He tonclied the panel wdth his hand 
 again. — This time there was no delay. In a moment, 
 as if thrown suddenly ojDen by some one within, the 
 door moved. It opened just wide enough to let 
 him enter, stopping half-way as if some one invis- 
 ible held it, wide enough for welcome, but no more. 
 Lindores stepped across the threshold with a beat- 
 ing heart. What was he about to see ? the skeletons 
 of the murdered victims? a ghostly charnel-house 
 fuU of bloody traces of crime ? He seemed to be 
 hurried and pushed in as he made that step. Wha^t 
 was this world of mystery into which he was 
 plunged — what was it he saw? 
 
 He saw — nothing — except what was agreeable 
 enough to behold, — an antiquated room hung with 
 tapestry, very old tapestry of rude design, its 
 colours faded into softness and harmony ; between 
 its folds here and there a panel of carved wood, 
 rude too in design, with traces of half- worn gilding; 
 a table covered with strange instruments, parch- 
 ments, chemical tubes, and curious machinery, all 
 with a quaintness of form and dimness of material 
 that spoke of age. A heavy old velvet cover, thick 
 with embroidery faded almost out of all colour, was 
 on the table ; on the wall above it, something that 
 looked like a very old Venetian mirror, the glass so 
 dim and crusted tliat it scarcely reflected at all ; on 
 the floor an old soft Persian carpet, worn into a
 
 THE SECllET CILUIBEIJ. 159 
 
 vague blending of all colours. This was all that 
 he thought ho saw. His heart, which had been 
 thumping so loud as almost to choke him, stopped 
 that tremendous upward and downward motion like 
 a steam piston ; and he grew calm. Perfectly still, 
 dim, unoccupied : yet not so dim either ; there was 
 no apparent source of hght, no windows, curtains 
 of tapestry drawn everywhere — no lamp visible, no 
 fire — and yet a kind of strange light which made 
 everything quite clear. He looked round, trying 
 to smile at his terrors, trying to say to himself that 
 it was the most curious place he had ever seen — 
 that he must show Ffarrington some of that tapestry 
 — that he must really bring away a panel of that 
 carving, — when he suddenly saw that the door was 
 shut by which he had entered — nay, more than 
 shut, undiscernible, covered like all the rest of the 
 walls by that strange tapestry. At this his heart 
 began to beat again in spite of him. He looked 
 round once more, and woke up to more \dvid being 
 with a sudden start. Had his eyes been incapable 
 of vision on his first entrance ? Unoccupied ? 
 Who was that in the great chair? 
 
 It seemed to Lindores that he had seen neither 
 the chair nor the man when he came in. There 
 they were, however, solid and unmistakable ; the 
 chair carved like the panels, the man seated in 
 fi:ont of the table. He looked at Lindores with 
 a calm and open gaze, inspecting him. The young
 
 160 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 man's heart seemed in his throat fluttering hke a 
 bird, but he was brave, and his mind made one 
 final effort to break this spell. He tried to speak, 
 labouring with a voice that would not sound, and 
 with lips too parched to form a word. '' I see how 
 it is," was what he wanted to say. It was Earl 
 Eobert's face that was looking at him ; and startled 
 as he was, he dragged forth his philosophy to 
 support him. What could it be but optical delu- 
 sion, unconscious cerebration, occult seizure by the 
 impressed and struggling mind of this one coun- 
 tenance? But he could not hear himself speak 
 any word as he stood convulsed, struggling with 
 dry lips and choking voice. 
 
 The Appearance smiled, as if knowing his 
 thoughts — not unkindly, not malignly — with a 
 certain amusement mingled with scorn. Then he 
 spoke, and the sound seemed to breathe tln-ough 
 the room not like any voice that Lindores had ever 
 heard, a kind of utterance of the place, like the rustle 
 of the air or the ripple of the sea. " You will learn 
 better to-night : this is no phantom of your brain ; 
 it is I." 
 
 " In God's name," cried the young man in his 
 soul ; he did not know whether the words ever got 
 into the air or not, if there was any air ; — " in God's 
 name, who are you?" 
 
 The figure rose as if coming to him to reply ; 
 and Lindores, overcome by the apparent apjiroach.
 
 THE SECRET CHAMDEK. Id 
 
 Struggled into utterance. A cry came from him — 
 he heard it this time — and even in his extremity 
 felt a pang the more to hear the terror in his own 
 voice. But he did not flinch, he stood desperate, 
 all his strength concentrated in the act ; he neither 
 turned nor recoiled. Vaguely gleaming through his 
 mind came the thought, that to be thus brought 
 in contact with the unseen was the experiment 
 to be most desired on earth, the final settlement 
 of a hundred questions ; but his faculties were not 
 sufficiently under command to entertain it. He 
 only stood firm, that was all. 
 
 And the figure did not approach him ; after a 
 moment it subsided back again into the chair — 
 subsided, for no sound, not the faintest, accom- 
 panied its movements. It was the form of a man 
 of middle age, the hair white, but the beard only 
 crisped with grey, the features those of the picture 
 — a familiar face, more or less like all the Ean- 
 doli^hs, but with an air of domination and power 
 altogether unlike that of the race. He was dressed 
 in a long robe of dark colour, embroidered with 
 strange lines and angles. There was nothing re- 
 pellent or teiTible in his air — nothing except the 
 noiselessness, the calm, the absolute stillness, which 
 was as much in the place as in him, to keep up the 
 involuntary trembling of the beholder. His ex- 
 pression was full of dignity and thoughtfulness, 
 and not malignant or unkind. He might have 
 s.s. — L 2 B
 
 162 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 been the kindly patriarch of the house, watching 
 over its fortunes in a seclusion he had chosen. 
 The pulses that had been beating in Lindores were 
 stilled. What was his panic for ? a gleam even of 
 self-ridicule took possession of him, to be standing 
 there like an absurd hero of antiquated romance 
 with the rusty, dusty sword — good for nothing, 
 surely not adapted for use against this noble old 
 magician — in his hand — 
 
 "You are right," said the voice, once more 
 answering his thoughts ; " what could you do with 
 that sword against me, young Lindores ? Put it 
 by. Why should my children meet me like an 
 enemy? You are my flesh and blood. Give me 
 your hand." 
 
 A shiver ran through the young man's frame. 
 The hand that was held out to him was large and 
 shapely and white, with a straight line across the 
 palm — a family token upon which the Eandolphs 
 prided themselves — a friendly hand ; and the face 
 smiled upon him, fixing him with those calm, pro- 
 found, blue eyes. " Come," said the voice. The 
 word seemed to fill the place, melting upon him 
 from every corner, whispering round him with 
 softest persuasion. He was lulled and calmed in 
 spite of himself. Spirit or no spirit, why should 
 not he accept this proffered courtesy? What harm 
 could come of it? The chief thing that retained 
 him was the dragging of the old sword, heavy and
 
 THE SECRET CHAMBER. 163 
 
 useless, which he held rueclianically, but whicli 
 some internal feeling — he could not tell what — 
 prevented him from putting down. Superstition, 
 was it? 
 
 "Yes, that is superstition," said his ancestor, 
 serenely ; '* put it down and come." 
 
 " You know my thoughts," said Lindores ; " I did 
 not speak." 
 
 " Your mind spoke, and spoke justly. Put down 
 that emblem of brute force and superstition to- 
 gether. Here it is the intelligence that is supreme. 
 Come." 
 
 Lindores stood doubtful. He was calm ; the 
 power of thought was restored to him. If this 
 benevolent venerable patriarch was all he seemed, 
 why his father's terror? why the secrecy in Avhich 
 his being was involved? His own mind, though 
 calm, did not seem to act in the usual way. 
 Thoughts seemed to be driven across it as by a 
 wind. One of these occurred to him suddenly 
 now — 
 
 " There came and looked him in the face, 
 
 An angel beautiful and bright. 
 And that he knew it was a fiend." 
 
 The words were not ended, when Earl Eobert 
 replied suddenly with impatience in his voice, 
 " Fiends are of the fancy of men ; like angels and 
 other follies. I am your father. You know me ; 
 and you are mine, Lindores. I have power beyond
 
 164 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 what you can understand ; but I want flesh and 
 blood to reign and to enjoy. Come, Lindores ! " 
 
 He put out his other hand. The action, the look, 
 were those of kindness, almost of longing, and the 
 face was familiar, the voice was that of the race. Su- 
 pernatural ! was it supernatural that this man should 
 live here shut up for ages ? and why ? and how ? 
 Was there any explanation of it ? The young man's 
 brain began to reel. He could not tell which was 
 real — the life he had left half an hour ago, or this. 
 He tried to look round him, but could not ; his eyes 
 were caught by those other kindred eyes, which 
 seemed to dilate and deepen as he looked at them, 
 and drew him with a strange compulsion. He felt 
 himself yielding,- swaying towards the strange being 
 who thus invited him. What might happen if he 
 yielded? And he could not turn away, he could 
 not tear himself from the fascination of those eyes. 
 With a sudden strange im^Dulse which was half de- 
 spair and half a bewildering half-conscious desire to 
 try one potency against another, he thrust forward 
 the cross of the old sword between him and those 
 appealing hands. " In the name of God ! " he said. 
 
 Lindores never could tell whether it was that he 
 himself grew faint, and that the dimness of swoon- 
 ing came into his eyes after this violence and strain 
 of emotion, or if it was his spell that worked. But 
 there was an instantaneous change. Everything 
 Bwam around him for the moment, a giddiness and
 
 THE SECRET CHAMBER. 165 
 
 blindness seized him, and he saw nothing but the 
 vague outlines of the room, empty as when ho 
 entered it. But gradually his consciousness came 
 back, and he found himself standing on the same 
 spot as before, clutching the old sword, and grad- 
 ually, as through a dream, recognised the same 
 figure emerging out of the mist which — was it 
 solely in his own eyes? — had enveloped every- 
 thing. But it was no longer in the same attitude. 
 The hands which had been stretched out to him 
 were busy now with some of the strange instru- 
 ments on the table, moving about, now in the action 
 of WTiting, now as if managing the keys of a tele- 
 graph. Lindores felt that his brain was all atwist 
 and set wrong ; but he was still a human being of 
 his century. He thought of the telegraph with a 
 keen thrill of curiosity in the midst of his reviving 
 sensations. What communication was this which 
 was going on before his eyes ? The magician 
 worked on. He had his face turned towards his 
 victim, but his hands moved with unceasing 
 activity. And Lindores, as he grew accustomed 
 to the position, began to weary — to feel like a 
 neglected suitor waiting for an audience. To bo 
 wound up to such a strain of feeling, then left to 
 wait, was intolerable ; impatience seized upon him. 
 ^Vhat circumstances can exist, however horrible, in 
 which a human being -will not feel impatience ? He- 
 made a great many efforts to speak before he could
 
 166 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 succeed. It seemed to him that his body felt more 
 fear than he did — that his muscles were contracted, 
 his throat parched, his tongue refusing its office, 
 althoiigh his mind was unaffected and undismayed. 
 At last he found an utterance in spite of all resist- 
 ance of his flesh and blood. 
 
 "Wlio are you?" he said hoarsely. "You that 
 live here and oppress this house?" 
 
 The vision raised its eyes full upon him, with 
 again that strange shadow of a smile, mocking yet 
 not unkind. " Do you remember me," he said, " on 
 your journey here ? " 
 
 "That was — a delusion." The young man gasped 
 for breath. 
 
 " More like that you are a delusion. You have 
 lasted but one - and - twenty years, and I — for 
 centuries." 
 
 " How ? For centuries — and why ? Answer me 
 — are you man or demon ? " cried Lindores, tearing 
 the words, as he felt, out of his own throat. " Are 
 you living or dead ? " 
 
 The magician looked at him with the same intense 
 gaze as before. "Be on my side and you shall 
 know everything, Lindores. I want one of my own 
 race. Others I could have in plenty ; but I want 
 you. A Eandolph, a Eandolph ! and you. Dead ! 
 do I seem dead? You shall have everything — 
 more than dreams can give — if you will be on my 
 side."
 
 THE SECRET CHAMBER. 16'? 
 
 Can he give ^Yhat Le has not? was the thoxight 
 that ran througli the mind of Lindores. But he 
 could not speak it. Something that choked and 
 stifled him was in his throat. 
 
 " Can I give what I have not ? I have every- 
 thing — power, the one thing worth having ; and 
 you shall have more than power, for you are young 
 — my son ! Lindores ! " 
 
 To argue was natural, and gave the young man 
 strength. " Is this life," he said, " here ? What is 
 all your power worth — here ? To sit for ages, and 
 make a race unhappy ? " 
 
 A momentary convulsion came across the still 
 face. " You scorn me," he cried, with an appear- 
 ance of emotion, " because you do not understand 
 how I move the world. Power ! 'Tis more than 
 fancy can grasp. And you shall have it ! " said the 
 wizard, with what looked like a show of enthusiasm. 
 He seemed to come nearer, to grow larger. He put 
 forth his hand again, this time so close that it seemed 
 impossible to escape. And a crowd of wishes seemed 
 to rush upon the mind of Lindores. What harm to 
 try if this might be true ? To try what it meant — 
 perhaps nothing, delusions, vain show, and then 
 there could be no harm ; or perhaps there was 
 knowledge to be had, which was power. Try, try, 
 try ! the air buzzed about him. The room seemed 
 full of voices urging him. His bodily frame rose 
 into a tremendous whirl of excitement, his veins
 
 168 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 seemed to swell to bursting, liis lips seemed to 
 force a yes, in spite of him, quivering as they 
 came apart. The hiss of the s seemed in his ears. 
 He changed it into the name which was a spell 
 too, and cried " Help me, God ! " not knowing 
 why. 
 
 Then there came another pause — he felt as if he 
 liad been dropped from something that held him, 
 and had fallen, and was faint. The excitement had 
 been more than he could bear. Once more every- 
 thing swam around him, and he did not know 
 where he was. Had he escaped altogether? was 
 the first waking wonder of consciousness in his 
 mind. But when he could think and see again, he 
 was still in the same spot, surrounded by the old 
 curtains and the carved panels — but alone. He felt, 
 too, that he was able to move, but the strangest 
 dual consciousness was in him throughout all the 
 rest of his trial. His body felt to him as a fright- 
 ened horse feels to a traveller at nisrht — a thins: 
 separate from him, more frightened than he was — 
 starting aside at every step, seeing more than its 
 master. His limbs shook Avith fear and weakness, 
 almost refusing to obey the action of his will, trem- 
 bling under him with jerks aside when he coin- 
 pelled himself to move. The hair stood upright on 
 his head — every finger trembled as with palsy — his 
 lips, his eyelids, quivered with nervous agitation. 
 But his mind was strong, stimulated to a desperate
 
 THE SECRET CIIAMBEU. 169 
 
 calm. Ho draggod himself round the room, he 
 crossed the very spot where the magician had been 
 — all was vacant, silent, clear. Had lie vanquished 
 the enemy ? This thought came into his mind with 
 an involuntary triumph. The old strain of feel- 
 ing came back. Such effects might be produced, 
 perhaps, only by imagination, by excitement, by 
 
 delusion 
 
 Lindores looked up, a sudden attraction drawing 
 his eyes to one spot, he could not tell why : and the 
 blood suddenly froze in his veins that had been so 
 boiling and fermenting. Some one was looking at 
 him from the old mirror on the wall. A face not 
 human and life-like, like that of the inhabitant of 
 this place, but ghostly and terrible, like one of the 
 dead ; and while he looked, a crowd of other faces 
 came behind, all looking at him, some mournfully, 
 some with a menace in their terrible eyes. The 
 mirror did not change, but within its small dim 
 space seemed to contain an innumerable company, 
 crowded above and below, all with one gaze at hirn. 
 His lips dropped apart with a gasp of horror. More 
 and more and more ! Ho was standing close by 
 the table when this crowd came. Then all at once 
 there was laid upon him a cold hand. He turned ; 
 close to his side, bnishing him with his robe, hold- 
 ing him fast by the arm, sat Earl Robert in his 
 great chair. A shriek came from the young man's 
 lips. He seemed to hear it echoing away into
 
 170 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD." 
 
 unfatliomable distance. Tlie cold touch penetrated 
 to liis very soul. 
 
 " Do you try spells upon me, Lindores ? That 
 is a tool of the past. You shall have something 
 better to work with. And are you so sure of whom 
 you call iipon ? If there is such a one, why should 
 He help you who never called on Him before ? " 
 
 Lindores could not tell if these words were 
 spoken ; it was a communication rapid as the 
 thoughts in the mind. And he felt as if something 
 answered that was not all himself. He seemed to 
 stand passive and hear the argument. " Does God 
 reckon with a man in trouble whether he has ever 
 called to Him before ? I call now " (now he felt it 
 was himself that spoke) : " go, evil spirit ! — go, 
 dead and cursed ! — go, in the name of God ! " 
 
 He felt himself flung violently against the walk 
 A faint laugh, stifled in the throat, and followed by 
 a groan, rolled round the room ; the old curtains 
 seemed to open here and there, and flutter, as if 
 with comings and goings. Lindores leaned with 
 his back against the wall, and all his senses re- 
 stored to him. He felt blood trickle down his neck; 
 and in this contact once more with the physical, his 
 body, in its madness of fright, grew manageable. 
 For the first time he felt wholly master of himself. 
 Though the magician was standing in his place, a 
 great, majestic, appalling figure, he did not shrink. 
 " Liar ! " he cried, in a voice that rang and echoed
 
 THE SECRET CHAMBER. 171 
 
 as in natural air — " clinging to miserable life like a 
 worm — like a reptile ; promising all things, having 
 nothing, but this den, unvisited by the light of day. 
 Is this your power — your superiority to men who 
 die? is it for this that you oppress a race, and 
 make a house unhappy ? I vow, in God's name, 
 your reign is over ! You and your secret shall last 
 no more." 
 
 Tliere was no reply. But Lindores felt his 
 terrible ancestor's eyes getting once more that 
 mesmeric mastery over him which had already 
 almost overcome his powers. He must withcbaw 
 his own, or perish. He had a human horror of 
 turning his back upon that watchful adversary : to 
 face him seemed the only safety ; but to face him 
 was to be conquered. Slowly, with a pang inde- 
 scribable, he tore himself from that gaze : it seemed 
 to drag his eyes out of their sockets, his heart out 
 of his bosom. Eesolutely, with the daring of des- 
 peration, he turned round to the spot where he 
 entered — the spot w^here no door was, — hearing 
 already in anticipation the step after him — feeling 
 the grip that would crush and smother his exhaust- 
 ed life — but too desperate to care.
 
 172 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 How wonderful is the blue dawning of the new 
 day before the sun ! not rosy- fingered, like that 
 Aurora of the Greeks who comes later with all her 
 wealth ; but still, dreamy, wonderful, stealing out 
 of the unseen, abashed by the solemnity of the new 
 birth. When anxious watchers see that first bright- 
 ness come stealing upon the waiting skies, what 
 mingled relief and renewal of misery are in it ! 
 another long day to toil through — yet another sad 
 night over ! Lord Gowrie sat among the dust and 
 cobwebs, his lamp flaring idly into the blue morn- 
 ing. He had heard his son's human voice, though 
 nothing more ; and he expected to have him 
 brought out by invisible hands, as had happened 
 to himself, and left lying in long deathly swoon 
 outside that mystic door. This was how it had 
 happened to heir after heir, as told from father to 
 son, one after another, as the secret came down. 
 One or two bearers of the name of Lindores had 
 never recovered ; most of them had been saddened 
 and subdued for life. He remembered sadly the 
 freshness of existence which had never come back 
 to himself; the hopes that had never blossomed 
 again ; the assurance with which never more he 
 had been able to go about the world. And now 
 his son would be as himself — the glory gone out of
 
 THE SECKET CHAMBEJi. 173 
 
 his living — his ambitions, his aspirations wrecked. 
 He had not been endowed as his boy was — he had 
 been a plain, honest man, and nothing more ; but 
 experience and life had given him wisdom enougli 
 to smile by times at the coquetries of mind in 
 which Lindores indulged. Were they all over now, 
 those freaks of young intelligence, those enthu- 
 siasms of the soul? The curse of the house had 
 come upon him — the magnetism of that strange 
 presence, ever living, ever watchful, present in all 
 the family history. His heart was sore for his son ; 
 and yet along with this there was a certain consola- 
 tion to him in having henceforward a partner in the 
 secret — some one to whom he could talk of it as he 
 had not been able to talk since his oaati father died. 
 Almost all the mental struggles which GowTie liad 
 known had been connected with this mystery ; and 
 he had been obliged to hide them in his bosom — 
 to conceal them even when they rent him in two. 
 Now he had a partner in his trouble. This was 
 what he was thinking as he sat through the night. 
 How slowly the moments passed ! He was not 
 aware of the daylight coming in. After a while 
 even thought got suspended in listening. Was not 
 the time nearly over? He rose and began to pace 
 about the encumbered space, which was but a step 
 or two in extent. There was an old cupboard in 
 the wall, in which there were restoratives — pungent 
 essences and cordials, and fresh water which he had
 
 174 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD. 
 
 himself brought — everything was ready ; presently 
 the ghastly body of his boy, half dead, would be 
 tlu-ust forth into his care. 
 
 But this was not how it happened. While he 
 waited, so intent that his whole frame seemed to 
 be capable of hearing, he heard the closing of the 
 door, boldly shut with a sound that rose in muffled 
 echoes through the house, and Lindores himself 
 appeared, ghastly indeed as a dead man, but walk- 
 ing upright and firmly, the lines of his face drawn, 
 and his eyes staring. Lord Gowrie uttered a cry. 
 He was more alarmed by this unexpected return 
 than by the helpless prostration of the swoon 
 which he had expected. He recoiled from his son 
 as if he too had been a spirit. " Lindores ! " he 
 cried ; was it Lindores, or some one else in his 
 place ? The boy seemed as if he did not see him. 
 He went straight forward to where the water stood 
 on the dusty table, and took a great draught, then 
 turned to the door. " Lindores ! " said his father, 
 in miserable anxiety ; " don't you know me ? " 
 Even then the young man only half looked at him, 
 and put out a hand almost as cold as the hand 
 that had clutched himself in the Secret Chamber ; 
 a faint smile came upon his face. " Don't stay 
 here," he whispered ; '' come ! come ! " 
 
 Lord Gowrie drew his son's arm within his own, 
 and felt the tlnill through and through him of 
 nerves strained beyond mortal strength. Ho could
 
 TIIE SECRET CHAMUEU. 175 
 
 scarcely keep up with him as he stalked along the 
 corridor to his room, stumbling as if he could not 
 see, yet swift as an arrow. When they reached his 
 room Lindores turned and closed and locked the 
 door, then laughed as he staggered to the bed. 
 " That will not keep him out, will it ? " he said. 
 
 " Lindores," said his father, " I expected to find 
 you unconscious. I am almost more frightened to 
 find you like this. I need not ask if you have seen 
 him " 
 
 " Oh, I have seen him. The old liar ! Father, 
 promise to expose him, to turn him out — promise 
 to clear out that accursed old nest ! It is our own 
 fault. Why have we left such a place shut out 
 from the eye of day ? Isn't there something in 
 the Bible about those who do evil hating the 
 hght ? " 
 
 " Lindores ! you don't often Ciuote the Bible." 
 
 " No, I suppose not ; but there is more truth in 
 — many things than we thought." 
 
 " Lie down," said the anxious father. ** Take 
 some of this wine — try to sleep." 
 
 *' Take it away ; give me no more of that de\ar8 
 drink. Talk to me — that's better. Did you go 
 through it all the same, poor papa ? — and hold me 
 fast. You are warm — vou are honest ! " he cried. 
 He put forth his hands over his father's, warming 
 them with the contact. He put his cheek like a 
 child against his father's arm. He gave a faint
 
 176 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 laugh, with the tears in his eyes. ''Warm and 
 honest," he repeated. " Kind flesh and blood ! and 
 did you go through it all the same ? " 
 
 " My boy ! " cried the father, feehng his heart 
 glow and swell over the son who had been parted 
 from him for years by that development of young 
 manhood and ripening intellect which so often 
 severs and loosens the ties of home. Lord Go\\Tie 
 had felt that Lindores half desjDised his simple 
 mind and duller imagination ; but this childlike 
 clinging overcame him, and tears stood in his eyes. 
 " I fainted, I suppose. I never knew how it ended. 
 They made what they liked of me. But you, my 
 brave boy, you came out of your own will." 
 
 Lindores shivered. " I fled ! " he said. *' No 
 honour in that. I had not courage to face him 
 longer. I will tell you by-and-by. But I want to 
 know about you." 
 
 What an ease it was to the father to speak ! 
 For years and years this had been shut up in his 
 breast. It had made him lonely in the midst of his 
 friends. 
 
 " Thank God," he said, '' that I can speak to you, 
 Lindores. Often and often I have been tempted 
 to tell your mother. But why should I make her 
 miserable ? She knows there is something ; she 
 knows when I see him, but she knows no more." 
 
 " When you see him ? " Lindores raised himself, 
 with a return of his first ghastly look, in his bed.
 
 THE SECRET CHAMBER. 177 
 
 Then lie raised his clenched fist wildly, and shook 
 it in the air. " Vile devil, coward, deceiver ! " 
 
 " Oh hush, hush, hush, Lindores ! God help us I 
 what troubles you may bring ! " 
 
 "And God help me, whatever troubles I bring," 
 said the young man. '' I defy him, father. An 
 accursed being like that must be less, not more 
 powerful, than we are — with God to back us. Only 
 stand by me : stand by me " 
 
 " Hush, Lindores ! You don't feel it yet ; never 
 to get out of hearing of him all your life ! He will 
 make you pay for it — if not now, after ; when you 
 remember he is there, whatever happens, knowing 
 everything ! But I hope it will not be so bad with 
 you as with me, my poor boy. God help you 
 indeed if it is, for you have more imagination and 
 more mind. I am able to forget him sometimes 
 when I am occupied — when I am in the hunting- 
 field, going across country. Cut you are not a 
 hunting man, my poor boy," said Lord Gowrie, 
 with a curious mixture of a regret, which was less 
 serious than the other. Then he lowered his voice. 
 " Lindores, this is what has happened to me since 
 the moment I gave him my hand." 
 
 " I did not give him my hand." 
 
 " You did not give him your hand ? God bless 
 you, my boy! You stood out?" he cried, with 
 tears again rushing to his eyes ; " and they sa}- — 
 they say — but I don't know if there is any truth in 
 
 S.S.— I. 2 c
 
 1 78 TALES FROM " BLACKWOOD," 
 
 it." Lord Gowrie got i;p from his son's side, and 
 walked up and down witli excited steps. " If 
 there should be truth in it ! Many people tliink 
 the whole thing is a fancy. If there should be 
 truth in it, Lindores ! " 
 
 "In what, father?" 
 
 " They say, if he is once resisted his power is 
 broken — once refused. You could stand against 
 him — you ! Forgive me, my boy, as I hope God 
 will forgive me, to have thought so little of His 
 best gifts," cried Lord Gowrie, coming back with 
 Avet eyes ; and stooping, he kissed his son's hand. 
 " I thought you would be all the more shaken, be- 
 cause there was more mind in you than body," he 
 said, humbly. " I thought if I could but have saved 
 you from the trial ; and i/ou are the conqueror ! " 
 
 " Am I the conqueror ? I think all my bones 
 are broken, father — out of their sockets," said the 
 young man, in a low voice. " I think I shall go to 
 sleep." 
 
 " Yes, rest, my boy. It is the best thing for 
 you," said the father, though with a pang of mo- 
 mentary disappointment. Lindores fell back upon 
 the pillow. He was so pale that there were 
 moments when the anxious watcher thought him 
 not sleeping but dead. He put his hand out feebly, 
 and grasped his father's hand. " Warm — honest," 
 he said, with a feeble smile about his lipe, and fell 
 asleep.
 
 THE SECRET CHAMBER. 179 
 
 The dayliglit was full in the room, breaking 
 through bhutters and curtains, and mocking at the 
 lamp that still flared on the table. It seemed an 
 emblem of the disorders, mental and material, of 
 this strange night ; and, as such, it affected the 
 plain imagination of Lord Gowrie, who would have 
 fain got up to extinguish it, and whose mind re- 
 turned again and again, in spite of him, to this 
 symptom of disturbance. By-and-by, when Lin- 
 dores' grasp relaxed, and he got his hand free, he got 
 lip from his son's bedside, and put out the lamp, 
 putting it carefully out of the way. With equal 
 care he put away the wine from the table, and gave 
 the room its ordinary aspect, softly opening a win- 
 dow to let in the fresh air of the morning. The 
 park lay fresh in the early sunshine, still, except 
 for the twittering of the birds, refreshed with dews, 
 and shining in that soft radiance of the morning 
 which is over before mortal cares are stirring. 
 Never, perhaps, had Gowrie looked out upon the 
 beautiful world around his house without a thought 
 of the weird existence which was going on so near 
 to him, which had gone on for centuries, shut up 
 out of sight of the sunshine. The Secret Cham- 
 ber had been present with him ever since he had 
 first visited it. He had never been able to get 
 free of the spell. He had felt himself watched, sur- 
 rounded, spied upon, day after day, since he was of 
 the age of Lindores, and that was thirty years ago.
 
 180 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 He turned it all over in Lis mind, as he stood there 
 and his son slept. It had been on his lips to tell all 
 his story to his boy, who had now come to inherit 
 the enlightenment of his race. And it was a dis- 
 appointment to him to have the flood in his heart 
 forced back again, and silence imposed upon him 
 once more. Would Lindores care to hear it when 
 he woke ? would he not rather, as Lord Gowrie 
 remembered to have done himself, thrust the 
 thought as far as he could away from him, and en- 
 deavour to forget for the moment — until the time 
 came when he would not be permitted to forget ? 
 He had been like that himself, he recollected now. 
 He had not wished to hear his own father's tale. 
 "I remember," he said to himself; "I remember" 
 — turning over everything in his mind. If Lindores 
 might only be willing to hear the story when he 
 woke ! But then he himself had not been willing 
 when he was Lindores, and he could understand his 
 son, and would not blame him ; but it would be a 
 disappointment. He was thinking this when he 
 heard Lindores' voice calling him. He went back 
 hastily to his boy's bedside. It was strange to see 
 him in his evening dress with his worn face, in the 
 fresh light of the morning, which poured in at every 
 crevice. " Does my mother know ? " said Lindores ; 
 " what will she think ? " 
 
 " She knows something ; she knows you have 
 some trial to go through. Most likely she will be
 
 THE SECRET CHAMBER. 181 
 
 praying for xis both ; that's the way of women," 
 said Lord Go\vTie, with tho tremulous tenderness 
 wliich comes into a man's voice sometimes wlien he 
 speaks of a good wife. " I'll go and ease her mind, 
 and tell her all is well over " 
 
 " Not yet. Tell mo first," said the young man, 
 putting his hand upon his father's arm. 
 
 What an ease it was ! " I was not so good to 
 my father," he thought to himself, with sudden 
 penitence for the long-past, long -forgotten fault, 
 which, indeed, he had never realised as a fault 
 before. And then he told his son what had been 
 the story of his life — how he had scarcely ever sat 
 alone without feeling, from some corner of the 
 room, from behind some curtain, those eyes upon 
 him ; and how, in the difficulties of his life, that 
 secret inhabitant of the house had been always 
 present, sitting by him and advising him. " When- 
 ever there has been anything to do : when there 
 has been a question between two ways, all in a 
 moment I have seen him by me : I feel when he is 
 coming. It does not matter where I am — here or 
 anywhere — as soon as ever there is a question of 
 family business ; and always he persuades me to 
 the wrong way, Lindores. Sometimes I yield to 
 him, how can I help it ? He makes everything so 
 clear ; he makes wrong seem right. If I have done 
 unjust things in my day " 
 
 " You have not, father."
 
 182 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD. 
 
 " I have : there were these Highland people I 
 turned out. I did not mean to do it, Lindores ; but 
 he showed me that it would be better for the family. 
 And my poor sister that married Tweedside and 
 was wretched all her life. It was his doing, that 
 marriage ; he said she would be rich — and so she 
 was, poor thing, poor thing ! and died of it. And 
 
 old Macalister's lease Lindores, Lindores ! 
 
 when there is any business it makes my heart 
 sick. I know he will come, and advise wrong, and 
 tell me — something I will repent after." 
 
 " The thing to do is to decide beforehand, that, 
 good or bad, you will not take his advice." 
 
 Lord Gowrie shivered. '' I am not strong like 
 you, or clever ; I cannot resist. Sometimes I re- 
 pent in time and don't do it ; and then ! But for 
 your mother and you children, there is many a day 
 I would not have given a farthing for my life." 
 
 " Father," said Lindores, springing from his bed, 
 " two of us together can do many things. Give 
 me your word to clear out this cursed den of dark- 
 ness this very day." 
 
 " Lindores, hush, hush, for the sake of heaven ! " 
 " I will not, for the sake of heaven ! Throw it 
 open — let everybody who likes see it — make an 
 end of the secret — pull down everything, curtains, 
 walls. What do you say ? — sprinkle holy water ? 
 Are you laughing at me ? " 
 
 " I did not speak," said Earl Gowrie, growing
 
 THE SECRET CHAMBER. 183 
 
 very pale, and grasping his son's arm with both his 
 hands. " Hush, boy ; do you think ho does not 
 hear ? " 
 
 And then there was a low laugh close to them — 
 so close that both slirauk ; a laugh no louder than 
 a breath. 
 
 " Did yon laugh — ftxther ? " 
 
 " No, Lindores." Lord Gowrie had his eyes 
 fixed. Ho was as pale as the dead. He held his 
 son tight for a moment ; then his gaze and his 
 grasp relaxed, and he fell back feebly in a chair. 
 
 " You see ! " he said ; *' whatever we do it will 
 be the same ; we are under his power." 
 
 And then there ensued the blank pause with 
 which baffled men confront a hopeless situation. But 
 at that moment the first faint stirrings of the house 
 — a window being opened, a bar undone, a move- 
 ment of feet, and subdued voices — became audible 
 in the stillness of the morning. Lord Gowrie 
 roused himself at once. "We must not be found 
 like this," he said ; " we must not show how we 
 have spent the night. It is over, thank God ! and 
 oh, my boy, forgive me ! I am thankful there are 
 two of us to bear it ; it makes the burden lighter — 
 though I ask your pardon humbly for saying so. 
 I would have saved you if I could, Lindores." 
 
 " I don't wish to have been saved ; biit / will 
 not bear it. I wiU end it," the young man said, 
 with an oath out of which his emotion took all
 
 184 TALES FROM " BLACKAVOOD.'^ 
 
 profanity. His father said, " Hush, hush." With 
 a look of terror and pain, he left him ; and yet 
 there was a thrill of tender pride in his mind. 
 How brave the boy was ! even after he had been 
 there. Conld it be that this would all come to 
 nothing, as every other attempt to resist had done 
 before ? 
 
 " I suppose you know all about it now, Lin- 
 dores," said his friend Ffarrington, after breakfast ; 
 ''luckily for us who are going-over the house. 
 What a glorious old place it is ! " 
 
 *' I don't think that Lindores enjoys the glorious 
 old place to-day," said another of the guests under 
 his breath. " How pale he is ! He doesn't look as 
 if he had slept." 
 
 " I will take you over every nook where I have 
 ever been," said Lindores. He looked at his father 
 with almost command in his eyes. " Come with 
 me, all of you. We shall have no more secrets 
 here." 
 
 " Are you mad? " said his father in his ear. 
 
 " Never mind," cried the young man. " Oh, 
 trust me ; I will do it with judgment. Is every- 
 body ready ? " There was an excitement about 
 him that half frightened, half roused the party. 
 They all rose, eager, yet doubtful. His mother 
 came to him and took his arm. 
 
 " Lindores ! you will do nothing to vex your
 
 THE SECRET ClIAMBEK. 1S5 
 
 father ; don't make him unliappy. I don't know 
 your secrets, you two ; but look, he has enougli 
 to bear." 
 
 " I want you to know our secrets, mother. Why 
 should we have secrets from you ? " 
 
 " Why, indeed ? " she said, with tears iu her 
 eyes. " But, Lindores, my dearest boy, don't make 
 it worse for /</»?." 
 
 " I give you my word, I will be wary," he said ; 
 and she left him to go to his father, who followed 
 the party, with an anxious look upon his face. 
 " Are you coming, too ? " he asked. 
 " I ? Xo ; I will not go : but trust him — trust 
 the boy, John." 
 
 " He can do nothing ; he will not be able to do 
 anything," he said. 
 
 And thus the guests set out on their round — the 
 son in advance, excited and tremulous, the father 
 anxious and watchful behind. They began in the 
 usual way, -SN-ith the old state-rooms and picture- 
 gallery ; and in a short time the party had half 
 forgotten that there was anything unusual in the 
 inspection. When, however, they were half-way 
 do^^•n the gallery, Lindores stopped short with an 
 air of wonder. " You have had it put back then ? " 
 he said. He was standing in front of the vacant 
 space where Earl Robert's portrait ought to have 
 been. " ^Miat is it ? " they all cried, crowding 
 upon him, ready for any marvel. But as there
 
 186 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD. 
 
 was nothing to be seen, the strangers smiled 
 among themselves. '' Yes, to be sure, there is 
 nothing so suggestive as a vacant place," said a 
 lady who was of the party. "Whose portrait 
 ought to be there. Lord Lindores ? " 
 
 He looked at his father, who made a slight 
 assenting gesture, then shook his head drearily. 
 
 "Who put it there?" Lindores said, in a whisper. 
 
 " It is not there ; but you and I see it," said 
 Lord GowTie, with a sigh. 
 
 Then the strangers perceived that something 
 had moved the father and the son, and, notwith- 
 standing their eager curiosity, obeyed the dictates 
 of politeness, and dispersed into groujDs looking at 
 the other pictures. Lindores set his teeth and 
 clenched his hands. Ftny was growing upon him 
 — not the awe that filled his father's mind. " We 
 will leave the rest of this to another time," he cried, 
 turning to the others, almost fiercely. "Come, I 
 will show you something more striking now." He 
 made no further pretence of going systematically 
 over the house. He turned and went straight 
 up-stairs, and along the corridor. " Are we going 
 over the bed-rooms ? " some one said. Lindores led 
 the way straight to the old lumber-room, a strange 
 place for such a gay party. The ladies drew their 
 dresses about them. There was not room for 
 half of them. Those who could get in began to 
 handle the strange things that lay about, touching
 
 THE SECRET CIIAMBEI!. 187 
 
 them with dainty fingers, exclaiming how dusty 
 they were. The window was half blocked up by 
 old armour and rusty weapons ; but this did not 
 hinder the full summer daylight from penetrating 
 in a flood of light. Lindores went in with fiery 
 determination on his face. Ho went straiffht to 
 the wall, as if he would go through, then paused 
 with a blank gaze. "Where is the door?" he 
 said. 
 
 " You are forgetting yourself," cried Lord GowTie, 
 speaking over the heads of the others. " Lindores ! 
 you know very well there never was any door 
 there ; the wall is very thick ; you can see by the 
 depth of the window. There is no door there." 
 
 The young man felt it over with his hand. The 
 wall was smooth, and covered with the dust of ages. 
 With a groan he turned away. At this moment a 
 suppressed laugh, low, yet distinct, sounded close 
 by him. " Yoii laughed ? " he said, fiercely, to 
 FfaiTington, striking his hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 " I — laughed ! Nothing was farther from my 
 thoughts," said his friend, who was curiously 
 examining something that lay upon an old carved 
 chair. '* Look here ! what a wonderful sword, 
 cross - hiked ! Is it an Andrea? What's the 
 matter, Lindores ? " 
 
 Lindores had seized it from his hands ; he dashed 
 it against the wall with a suppressed oath. The 
 two or three people in the room stood aghast.
 
 188 TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD." 
 
 " Lindores ! " his father said, in a tone of warn- 
 ing. The young man dropped the useless weapon 
 with a groan, " Then God help us ! " he said ; 
 '' but I will find another way." 
 
 '' There is a very interesting room close by," said 
 Lord Gowrie, hastily — "this way! Lindores has 
 been put out by — some changes that have been 
 made without his knowledge," he said, calmly. 
 " You must not mind liim. He is disappointed. , 
 He is perhaps too much accustomed to have his 
 own way." 
 
 But Lord Gowrie knew that no one believed him. 
 He took them to the adjoining room, and told them 
 some easy story of an apparition that was supposed 
 to haunt it. " Have you ever seen it ? " the guests 
 said, pretending interest. " Not I ; but we don't 
 mind ghosts in this house," he answered, with a 
 smile. And then they resumed their round of the 
 old noble mystic house. 
 
 I cannot tell the reader what yoimg Lindores 
 has done to carry out his pledged word and redeem 
 his family. It may not be known, perhaps, for 
 another generation, and it will not be for me to 
 ^^^■ite that concluding chapter : but when, in the 
 ripeness of time, it can be narrated, no one will 
 say that the mystery of Gowi-ie Castle has been a 
 vulgar horror, though there are some who are 
 disposed to think so now.
 
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