THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES READE, ESQ. 
 
 AUTHOJ vv.ih [NOTOM 
 
 LONDON: 
 RICHARD BENTLEY NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 
 1853 
 
 himself (/•• ' •• llation, |
 
 PRINTED BY" HAKKISON AND SONS, 
 LONDON GAZETTE OFFICE, ST. MAETIN'S LANE;
 
 
 I DEDICATE 
 
 ALL THAT IS GOOD IN THIS WUKK 
 
 TO 
 
 MY .MOTHER. 
 
 0. R. 
 
 err
 
 CHEISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Viscount Ipsden, age twenty-five, income 
 eighteen thousand pounds per year, constitu- 
 tion equine, was unhappy ! This might sur- 
 prise some people : but there are certain 
 blessings, the non-possession of which makes 
 more people discontented than their possession 
 renders happy. 
 
 Foremost among these are " Wealth and 
 Rank :" were I to add " Beauty " to the list, 
 
 B
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 such men and women as go by fact, not by 
 conjecture, would hardly contradict me. 
 
 The fortunate man is he who, born poor, or 
 nobody, works gradually up to wealth and 
 consideration, and having got them, dies be- 
 fore he finds they were not worth so much 
 trouble. 
 
 Lord Ipsden started with nothing to win ; 
 and naturally lived for amusement. Now 
 nothing is so sure to cease to please, as plea- 
 sure, — to amuse, as amusement : unfortunately 
 for himself he could not at this period of his 
 life, warm to politics ; so, having exhausted 
 his London clique, he rolled through the 
 cities of Europe in his carriage, and cruised 
 its shores in his yacht, But he was not 
 happy ! 
 
 He was a man of taste, and sipped the arts 
 and other knowledge, as he sauntered Europe 
 round. 
 
 But he was not happy. 
 
 " What shall I do V said l'ennuye. 
 
 " Distinguish yourself," said one.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 3 
 
 « How r 
 
 No immediate answer, 
 
 " Take a prima donna oyer/' said another. 
 
 Well, the man took a prima donna over, 
 which scolded its maid from the Alps to 
 Dover in the lingua Toscana without the 
 bocca Romana, and sang in London without 
 applause ; because, what goes down at La 
 Scala does not generally go down at II Teatro 
 della Regina, Haymarket. 
 
 So, then my Lord strolled into Russia ; 
 there he drove a pair of horses, one of whom 
 put his head down and did the work ; the 
 other pranced and capricoled alongside, all 
 unconscious of the trace. lie seemed happier 
 than his working brother ; but the biped, 
 whose career corresponded with this playful 
 animal's, was not happy ! 
 
 At length an event occurred, that promised 
 to play an adagio upon Lord Ipsden's mind. 
 He fell in love with Lady Barbara Sinclair ; 
 and he had no sooner done this than he felt, 
 
 b2
 
 4 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 as we are all apt to do on similar occasions, 
 how wise a thing he had done ! 
 
 Besides a lovely person, Lady Barbara 
 Sinclair had a character that he saw would 
 make him ; and in fact. Lady Barbara Sin- 
 clair was, to an inexperienced eye, the exact 
 opposite of Lord Ipsden. 
 
 Her mental pulse was as plethoric as his 
 was languid. 
 
 She was as enthusiastic as he was cool. 
 
 She took a warm interest in every- 
 thing. 
 
 She believed that Government is a science, 
 and one that goes with copia verborum. 
 
 She believed that, in England, Government 
 is administered, not by a set of men, whose 
 salaries range from eighty to five hundred 
 pounds a-year and whose names are never 
 heard, but by the First Lord of the Treasury, 
 aud other great men. 
 
 Hence she inferred, that it matters very 
 much to all of us in whose hand is the rudder
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 5 
 
 of that state vessel, "which goes down the wind 
 of public opinion, without veering a point, let 
 who will be at the helm. 
 
 She also cared very much who was the new 
 Bishop. Religion, or if not religiou, theology, 
 would be effected thereby. 
 
 She was enthusiastic about poets ; imagined 
 their verse to be some sort of clue to their 
 characters, and so on. 
 
 She had other theories, which will be indi- 
 cated by-and-by ; at present it is enough to 
 say that her mind was young, healthy, some- 
 what original, full of fire and faith, and empty 
 of experience. 
 
 Lord Ipsden loved her ! it was easy to love 
 her. 
 
 First, there was not, in the whole range of 
 her mind and body, one grain of affectation of 
 any sort. 
 
 She was always, in point of fact, under the 
 influence of some male mind or other, gene- 
 rally some writer. What young woman is 
 not, more or less, a mirror % But she never
 
 6 CHEISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 imitated or affected ; she was always herself, 
 by whomsoever coloured. 
 
 Then she was beautiful and eloquent ; much 
 too high-bred to put a restraint upon her 
 natural manner, she was often more naive, 
 and even brusque than your would-be aristo- 
 crats dare to be ; but what a charming ab- 
 ruptness hers was. 
 
 I do not excel in descriptions, and yet I want 
 to give you some carnal idea of a certain 
 peculiarity and charm this lady possessed ; 
 permit me to call a sister art to my aid. 
 
 There has lately stepped upon the French 
 stage a charming personage, whose manner is 
 quite free from the affectation that soils 
 nearly all French actresses, Mademoiselle 
 Madeleine Brohan ! When you see this young 
 lady play Mademoiselle La Segliere, you see 
 high-bred sensibility personified, and you see 
 something like Lady Barbara Sinclair. 
 
 She was a connexion of Lord Ipsden's, but 
 they had not met for two years, when they 
 encountered each other in Paris just before
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 7 
 
 the commencement of this " Dramatic Story," 
 " Novel " by courtesy. 
 
 The month he spent in Paris, near her, was 
 a bright month to Lord Ipsden. A bystander 
 would not have gathered, from his manner, 
 that he was warmly in love with this lady, 
 but for all that, his Lordship was gradually 
 uncoiling himself, and gracefully, quietly, bask- 
 ing in the rays of Barbara Sinclair. 
 
 He was also just beginning to take an 
 interest in subjects of the day — ministries, 
 flat paintings, controversial novels, Cromwell's 
 spotless integrity, &c, — why not? They 
 interested her. 
 
 Suddenly the lady and her family returned 
 to England. Lord Ipsden, who was going to 
 Rome, came to England instead. 
 
 She had not been five days in London, 
 before she made her preparations to spend six 
 months in Perthshire. 
 
 This brought matters to a climax. 
 
 Lord Ipsden proposed in form. 
 
 Lady Barbara was surprised ; she had not
 
 8 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 viewed his graceful attentions in that light at 
 all. However, she answered by letter his 
 proposal which had been made by letter. 
 
 After a few of those courteous words a 
 lady always bestows on a gentleman who has 
 offered her the highest compliment any man 
 has it in his power to offer any woman, she 
 came to the point in the following charac- 
 teristic manner : 
 
 " The man I marry must have two things, 
 virtues and vices — you have neither : you do 
 nothing, and never will do anything but sketch 
 and hum tunes, and dance and dangle : forget 
 this folly the day after to-morrow, my dear 
 Ipsden, and if I may ask a favour of one to 
 whom I refuse that which would not be a 
 kindness, be still good friends with her who 
 will always be 
 
 " Your affectionate Cousin, 
 
 "Barbara Sinclair." 
 
 Soon after this effusion she vanished into
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 9 
 
 Perthshire, leaving her cousin stunned by a 
 blow which she thought would be only a 
 scratch to one of his character. 
 
 Lord Ipsden relapsed into greater listlessness 
 than before he had cherished these crushed 
 hopes. The world now became really dark 
 and blank to him. He was too languid to go 
 anywhere or do anything; a republican might 
 have compared the settled expression of his 
 handsome, hopeless face, with that of most 
 day-labourers of the same age, and moderated 
 his envy of the rich and titled. 
 
 At last he became so pale as well as lan- 
 guid, that Mr. Saunders interfered. 
 
 Saunders was a model valet and factotum ; 
 who had been with his master ever since he 
 left Eton, and had made himself necessary to 
 him in their journeys. 
 
 The said Saunders was really an invaluable 
 servant, and with a world of obsequiousness, 
 contrived to have his own way on most occa- 
 sions, lie had, I believe, only one great 
 weakness, that of imagining a beau-ideal of 
 
 B3
 
 10 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 aristocracy and then out-doing it in the person 
 of John Saunders. 
 
 Now this Saunders was human, and could 
 not be eight years with this young gentleman 
 and not take some little interest in him. He 
 was flunky, and took a great interest in him, 
 as stepping-stone to his own greatness. So 
 when he saw him turning pale and thin, and 
 reading one letter fifty times, he speculated 
 and inquired what was the matter. He 
 brought the intellect of Mr. Saunders to bear 
 on the question at the following angle : 
 
 " Now, if I was a young lord with 20,000/. 
 a-year, and all the world at my feet, what 
 would make me in this way?" 
 
 " Why, the liver ! Nothing else." 
 
 " And that is what is wrong with him, you 
 may depend." 
 
 This conclusion arrived at, Mr. Saunders 
 coolly wrote his convictions to Dr. Aberford, 
 and desired that gentleman's immediate atten- 
 tion to the case. An hour or two later, he 
 glided into his lord's room, not without some
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 11 
 
 secret trepidation, no trace of which appeared 
 on his face — he pulled a long histrionic coun- 
 tenance. " My Lord," said he, in soft, melan- 
 choly tones, " your Lordship's melancholy 
 state of health gives me great anxiety; and 
 with many apologies to your Lordship, the 
 Doctor is sent for, my Lord." 
 
 " Why, Saunders, you are mad ; there is 
 nothing the matter with me." 
 
 " I beg your Lordship's pardon, your Lord- 
 ship is very ill, and Dr. Aberford sent for." 
 
 " You may go, Saunders." 
 
 " Yes, my Lord. I couldn't help it ; I've 
 outstepped my duty, my Lord, but I could not 
 stand quiet and see your Lordship dying by 
 inches." Here Mr. S. put a cambric hand- 
 kerchief artistically to his eyes, and glided out, 
 having disarmed censure. 
 
 Lord Ipsden fell into a reverie. 
 
 " Is my mind or my body disordered ? Dr. 
 Aberford ! — absurd ! — Saunders is setting too 
 pragmatical. The Doctor shall prescribe for 
 him instead of me ; by Jove, that would serv<
 
 12 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 him right." And iny Lord faintly chuckled. 
 " No ! this is what I am ill of," — and he read 
 the fatal note again. " I do nothing ! — cruel, 
 unjust," sighed he. " I could * have done, 
 would have done, anything to please her. 
 Do nothing ! nobody does anything now — 
 things don't come in your way to be done as 
 they used centuries ago, or we should do them 
 just the same ; it is their fault, not ours," 
 argued his Lordship somewhat confusedly; 
 then leaning his brow upon the sofa he 
 wished to die : for, at that dark moment, life 
 seemed to this fortunate man an aching 
 void ; a weary, stale, flat, unprofitable tale ; a 
 faded flower ; a ball-room after daylight has 
 crept in, and music, motion, and beauty are 
 fled away. 
 
 " Dr. Aberford, my Lord." 
 
 This announcement, made by Mr. Saunders, 
 checked his Lordship's reverie. 
 
 " Insults everybody, does he not, Saunders 1 ?" 
 
 " Yes, my Lord," said Saunders, monoto- 
 nously.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 13 
 
 " Perhaps he will me ; that might amuse 
 me," said the other. 
 
 A moment later the Doctor bowled into 
 the apartment, tugging at his gloves, as he 
 ran. 
 
 The contrast between him and our poor 
 rich friend is almost beyond human language. 
 
 Here lay on a sofa, Ipsden, one of the 
 most distinguished young gentlemen in Europe; 
 a creature incapable, by nature, of a rugged 
 tone or a coarse gesture ; a being without the 
 slightest apparent pretension, but refined 
 beyond the wildest dream of dandies. To 
 him, enter Aberford, perspiring and shouting. 
 He was one of those globules of human quick- 
 silver one sees now and then, for two seconds; 
 they are, in fact, two globules; their head is 
 one, invariably bald, round, and glittering : 
 the body is another in activity and shape, 
 totus teres atque rotundus; and in fifty years 
 they live five centuries. Ilorum Rex Aber- 
 ford — of these our Doctor was the chief, 
 lie had hardly torn off one glove, and rolled
 
 14 CHKISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 as far as the third flower from the door on 
 his Lordship's carpet, before he shouted, 
 
 " This is rny patient, lolloping in pursuit of 
 health. — Your hand," added he. For he was 
 at the sofa long before his Lordship could 
 glide off it. 
 
 "Tongue. — Pulse is good. -Breathe in my 
 face." 
 
 " Breathe in your face, Sir ! how can I do 
 that T (with an air of mild doubt.) 
 
 " By first inhaling, and then exhaling in 
 the direction required, or how can I make 
 acquaintance with your bowels V 
 
 " My bowels !" 
 
 " The abdomen, and the greater and lesser 
 intestines. Well, never mind, I can get at 
 them another way; give your heart a slap, 
 so. — That's your liver. — And that's your 
 diaphragm." 
 
 His Lordship having found the required 
 spot (some people that I know could not) and 
 slapped it, the Aberford made a circular 
 spring and listened eagerly at his shoulder-
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 15 
 
 blade ; the result of this scientific pantomime 
 seemed to be satisfactory, for he exclaimed, 
 not to say bawled : 
 
 " Hallo ! here is a Viscount as sound as a 
 roach ! Now, ) r oung gentleman," added he : 
 " your organs are superb, yet you are really 
 out of sorts ; it follows you have the maladies 
 of idle minds, love, perhaps, among the rest ; 
 you blush, a diagnostic of that disorder ; 
 make your mind easy, cutaneous disorders, 
 such as love, &c, shall never kill a patient 
 of mine, with a stomach like yours : so, now 
 to cure you!" And away went the spherical 
 Doctor, with his hands behind him, not up 
 and down the room, but slanting and tacking, 
 like a knight on a chess-board. He had not 
 made many steps, before, turning his upper 
 globule, without affecting his lower, he hurled 
 back, in a cold business-like tone, the follow- 
 ing interrogatory : 
 
 " What are your vices?" 
 
 " Saunders," inquired the patient, " which 
 are my vices V
 
 16 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 " M' Lord, Lordship hasn't any vices," 
 replied Saunders, with dull matter-of-fact 
 solemnity. 
 
 " Lady Barbara makes the same complaint," 
 thought Lord Ipsden. 
 
 " It seems I have not any vices, Dr. Aber- 
 ford," said he, demurely. 
 
 " That is bad ; nothing- to get hold of. 
 What interests you then V 
 
 " I don't remember." 
 
 " What amuses you ?" 
 
 " I forget." 
 
 " What ! no winning horse, to gallop away 
 your rents V 
 
 "No, sir!" 
 
 " No Opera Girl, to run her foot and ancle 
 through your purse V 
 
 " No, Sir ! and I think their ancles are not 
 what they were." 
 
 " Stuff! just the same, from their ancles up 
 to their ears, and down again to their morals ; 
 it is your eyes that are sunk deeper into your 
 head. Hum ! no horses, no vices, no dancers,
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 17 
 
 no yacht ; you confound one's notions of 
 nobility, and I ought to know them, for I 
 have to patch them all up a bit just before 
 they go to the deuce." 
 
 " But I have, Doctor Aberford." 
 
 "What!" 
 
 " A yacht ! and a clipper she is too.' 
 
 " Ah!— (Now I've got him)." 
 
 " In the Bay of Biscay she lay half a point 
 nearer the wind than Lord Heavyjib." 
 
 " Oh ! bother Lord Heavyjib, and his Bay 
 of Biscay." 
 
 " With all my heart, they have often bo- 
 thered me." 
 
 " Send her round to Granton pier, in the 
 Firth of Forth." 
 
 " I will, Sir." 
 
 " And write down this prescription." And 
 away he walked again, thinking the prescription. 
 
 " Saunders," appealed his master. 
 
 " Saunders be hanged." 
 
 "Sir!" said Saunders, with dignity, "I 
 thank you."
 
 18 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 " Don't thank me, thank your own deserts," 
 replied the modern Chesterfield. " Oblige me 
 by writing it yourself, my Lord, it is all the 
 bodily exercise you will have had to-day, no 
 doubt." 
 
 " The young Viscount bowed, seated himself 
 at a desk, and wrote from dictation — 
 
 " Dr. Aberford's Prescription." 
 
 " Make acquaintance with all the people 
 of low estate, who have time to be bothered 
 with you ; learn their ways, their minds, and 
 above all, their troubles." 
 
 " Wont't all this bore me % " suggested the 
 writer. 
 
 " You will see. Relieve one fellow-crea- 
 ture every day, and let Mr. Saunders book the 
 circumstances." 
 
 " I shall like this part," said the patient, 
 laying down his pen. " How clever of you 
 to think of such things ; may not I do two 
 sometimes 1 "
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 19 
 
 " Certainly not ; one pill per day, — Write, 
 Fish the herring! (that beats deer-stalking). 
 Run your nose into adventures at sea ; live 
 on ten-pence, and earn it. Is it down?" 
 
 " Yes it is down, but Saunders would have 
 written it better." 
 
 " If he hadn't he ought to be hanged," said 
 
 the Aberford, inspecting the work. " I'm off, 
 
 where's my hat I oh, there ; whcre's my 
 
 money \ oh, here. Now look here, follow my 
 
 prescription, and 
 
 ' Tou will soon have Mens sana in eorpore sano ; 
 And not care whether the girls say yes or say no.' 
 
 neglect it, and — my gloves ; oh, in my pocket 
 — you will be blast, and ennuye, and — (an 
 English participle, that means something as 
 bad) ; God bless you!" 
 
 And out he scuttled, glided after by Saun- 
 ders, for whom he opened and shut the street 
 door. 
 
 Never was a greater effect produced by a 
 doctor's visit : patient and physician were 
 made for each other. Dr. Aberford was the
 
 20 CHKISTIK JOHNSTONE. 
 
 specific for Lord Ipsden. He came to him 
 like a shower to a fainting strawberry. 
 
 Saunders, on his return, found his lord 
 pacing the apartment. 
 
 " Saunders," said he, smartly ; " send down 
 to Gravesend, and order the yacht to this 
 place — what is it % " 
 
 " Granton pier. Yes, my Lord." 
 
 " And, Saunders, take clothes, and books, 
 and violins, and telescopes, and things — and 
 me — to Euston Square, in an hour." 
 
 " Impossible, my Lord," cried Saunders, in 
 dismay. " And there is no train for hours." 
 
 His master replied with a hundred-pound 
 note, and a quiet, but wickedish look ; and 
 the prince of gentlemen's gentlemen had all 
 the required items with him, in a special 
 train, within the specified time, and away 
 they flashed, northwards.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 21 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 It is said that opposite characters make ' a 
 union happiest ; and perhaps Lord Ipsden, 
 diffident of himself, felt the value to him of a 
 creature so different as Lady Barbara Sinclair ; 
 but the lady, for her part, was not diffident of 
 herself, nor was she in search of her opposite ; 
 on the contrary, she was waiting patiently to 
 find just such a man as she was, or fancied 
 herself, a woman. 
 
 Accustomed to measure men by their cha- 
 racters alone, and to treat with sublime con- 
 tempt the accidents of birth and fortune, she 
 had been a little staggered by the assurance of
 
 22 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 this butterfly that had proposed to settle upon 
 her hand — for life. 
 
 In a word, the beautiful writer of the fatal 
 note was honestly romantic, according to the 
 romance of 1848, and of good society ; of 
 course she was not affected by hair tumbling 
 back or plastered down forwards, and a roll- 
 ing eye went no farther with her than a 
 squinting one. 
 
 Her romance was stern, not sickly. She 
 was on the look-out for iron virtues ; she had 
 sworn to be wooed with great deeds, or never 
 won ; on this subject she had thought much, 
 though not enough to ask herself whether 
 great deeds are always to be got at, however 
 disposed a lover may be. 
 
 No matter ; she kept herself in reserve for 
 some earnest man, who was not to come 
 flattering and fooling to her, but look another 
 way and do exploits. 
 
 She liked Lord Ipsden, her cousin once 
 removed, but despised him for being agreeable, 
 handsome, clever, and nobody.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 23 
 
 She was also a little bitten with what she 
 and others called the Middle Ages, in fact 
 with that picture of them which Grub Street, 
 imposing on the simplicity of youth, had got 
 up for sale by arraying painted glass, gilt rags, 
 and fancy, against fact. 
 
 With these vague and sketchy notices we 
 are compelled to part, for the present, with 
 Lady Barbara : but it serves her right ; she 
 has gone to establish her court in Perthshire, 
 and left her rejected lover on our hands. 
 
 Journeys of a few hundred miles are no 
 longer described. 
 
 You exchange a dead chair for a living 
 chair, Saunders puts in your hand a new tale 
 like this ; you mourn the superstition of book- 
 sellers, which still inflicts uncut leaves upon 
 humanity, though tailors do not send home 
 coats with the sleeves stitched up, nor cham- 
 bermaids put travellers into apple-pie beds as 
 well as damp sheets. You rend and read, and 
 are at Edinburgh, fatigued more or less, but 
 not by the journey.
 
 24 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 Lord Ipsden was, therefore, soon installed 
 by the Firth side, full of the Aberford. 
 
 The young nobleman not only venerated 
 the Doctor's sagacity, but half admired his 
 brusquerie and bustle ; things of which he was 
 himself never guilty. 
 
 As for the prescription, that was a Delphic 
 Oracle. Worlds could not have tempted him 
 to deviate from a letter in it. 
 
 He waited with impatience for the yacht ; 
 and, meantime, it struck him that the first part 
 of the prescription could be attacked at once. 
 
 It was the afternoon of the day succeeding 
 his arrival. The Fifeshire hills, seen across 
 the Firth from his windows, were beginning to 
 take their charming violet tinge, a light breeze 
 ruffled the blue water into a sparkling smile, 
 the shore was tranquil, and the sea full of 
 noiseless life, with the craft of all sizes gliding 
 and dancing and curtseying on their trackless 
 roads. 
 
 The air was tepid, pure, and sweet as 
 heaven ; this bright afternoon, nature had
 
 CHRISTIE JOHXSTONE. 25 
 
 grudged nothing that could give fresh life and 
 hope to such dwellers in dust and smoke and 
 vice, as were there, to look awhile on her 
 clean face and drink her honeyed breath. 
 
 This young gentleman was not insensible to 
 the beauty of the scene. He was a little lazy 
 by nature, and made lazier by the misfortune 
 of wealth, but he had sensibilities ; he was an 
 artist of great natural talent ; had he only 
 been without a penny, how he would have 
 handled the brush ! And then he was a 
 mighty sailor ; if he had sailed for biscuit 
 a few years, how he would have handled 
 a ship ! 
 
 As he was, he had the eye of a hawk for 
 Nature's beauties, and the sea always came 
 back to him like a friend after an ab- 
 sence. 
 
 This scene, then, curled round his heart a 
 little, and he felt the good physician was 
 wiser than the tribe that go by that name, 
 and strive to build health on the sandy 
 foundation of drugs.
 
 26 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 "Saunders! do you know what Dr. Aber- 
 ford means by the lower classes ? " 
 
 " Perfectly, my Lord." 
 
 " Are there any about here 1 " 
 
 " I am sorry to say they are everywhere, 
 my Lord." 
 
 " Get me some" — (cigarette). 
 
 Out went Saunders, with his usual graceful 
 empressement, but an internal shrug of his 
 shoulders. 
 
 He was absent an hour and a half; he 
 then returned with a double expression on 
 his face. Pride at his success in diving to 
 the very bottom of Society, and contempt of 
 what he had fished up thence. 
 
 He approached his Lord mysteriously, and 
 said, sotto voce, but impressively, " This is 
 low enough, my Lord." Then glided back, 
 and ushered in, with polite disdain, two 
 lovelier women than he had ever opened a 
 door to in the whole course of his perfumed 
 existence. 
 
 On their heads they wore caps of Dutch or
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 27 
 
 Flemish origin, with a broad lace border, 
 stiffened and arched over the forehead, about 
 three inches high, leaving the brow and cheeks 
 unencumbered. 
 
 They had cotton jackets, bright red and 
 yellow, mixed in patterns, confined at the 
 waist by the apron-strings, but bobtailecl be- 
 low the waist; short woollen petticoats, with 
 broad vertical stripes, red and white, most 
 vivid in colour: white worsted stockings, and 
 neat, though high-quartered shoes. Under 
 their jackets they wore a thick spotted cotton 
 handkerchief, about one inch of which was 
 visible round the lower part of the throat. 
 
 Of their petticoats, the outer one was 
 kilted, or gathered up towards the front, and 
 the second, of the same colour, hung in the 
 usual way. 
 
 Of these young women, one had an olive 
 complexion, with the red blood mantling 
 under it, and black hair, and glorious black 
 eye-brows. 
 
 The other was fair, with a massive but 
 
 c2
 
 28 CHMSTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 shapely throat, as white as milk ; gloss}" 
 brown hair, the loose threads of which 
 glittered like gold, and a blue eye, which 
 being contrasted with dark eye-brows and 
 lashes, took the luminous effect peculiar to 
 that rare beauty. 
 
 Their short petticoats revealed a neat ancle, 
 and a leg with a noble swell ; for Nature, 
 when she is in earnest, builds beauty on the 
 ideas of ancient sculptors and poets, not of 
 modern poetasters, who with their airy-like 
 sylphs and their smoke-like verses, fight for 
 want of flesh in woman and want of fact in 
 poetry as parallel beauties. 
 
 They are, my lads. — Continuez ! 
 
 These women had a grand corporeal treat ; 
 they had never known a corset ! so they were 
 straight as javelins ; they could lift their 
 hands above their heads ! — actually ! Their 
 supple persons moved as Nature intended ; 
 every gesture was ease, grace, and freedom. 
 
 What with their own radiance, and the 
 snowy cleanliness and brightness of their
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 29 
 
 costume, they came like meteors into the 
 apartment. 
 
 Lord Ipsden, rising gently from his seat, 
 with the same quiet politeness with which he 
 would have received two princes of the blood, 
 said, " How do you do ?" and smiled a wel- 
 come. 
 
 "Fine! hoow's yoursel?" answered the 
 dark lass, whose name was Jean Carnie, and 
 whose voice was not so sweet as her face. 
 
 " What'n lord are ye V continued she. 
 " Are you a juke 1 I wad like fine to hae a 
 crack wi' a juke." 
 
 Saunders, who knew himself the cause of 
 this question, replied, sotto voce, " His lord- 
 ship is a viscount." 
 
 " I didna kcn't," was Jean's remark. " But 
 it has a bonny soond." 
 
 " What mair would ye hae?" said the fail- 
 beauty, whose name was Christie Johnstone. 
 Then appealing to his Lordship as the likeliest 
 to know, she added, " Nobeelity is just a 
 soond itsel , I'm tauld."
 
 30 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 The Viscount finding himself expected to 
 say something on a topic he had not attended 
 much to, answered drily, " We must ask the 
 republicans, they are the people that give 
 their minds to such subjects." 
 
 " And yon man," asked Jean Carnie ; " is 
 he a lord, too V 
 
 " I am his Lordship's servant," replied 
 Saunders, gravely, not without a secret mis- 
 giving whether fate had been just. 
 
 " Na ! " replied she, not to be imposed 
 upon, " Ye are statelier and prooder than 
 this ane." 
 
 " I will explain," said his master, " Saun- 
 ders knows his value ; a servant like Saunders 
 is rarer than an idle viscount." 
 
 " My Lord, my Lord !" remonstrated Saun- 
 ders, with a shocked and most disclamatory 
 tone. " Rather !" was his inward reflection. 
 
 "Jean," said Christie, "ye hae muckle to 
 laern. Are ye for herrin' the day, Vile 
 Count r 
 
 " No ! are you for this sort of thing V
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE; 31 
 
 At this, Saunders, with a world of empresse- 
 ment, offered the Carnie some cake that was 
 on the table. 
 
 She took a piece, instantly spat it out into 
 her hand, and with more energy than delicacy 
 flung it into the fire. 
 
 "Augh!" cried she, "just a sugar and saut 
 butter thegither ; buy nae mair at yon shoep, 
 Vile Count." 
 
 "Try this, out of Nature's shop," laughed 
 their entertainer ; and he offered them, him- 
 self, some peaches and things. 
 
 " Hech ! a medi — cine !" said Christie. 
 
 " Nature, my lad," said Miss Carnie, 
 making her ivory teeth meet in their first 
 nectarine, " I didna ken whaur ye stoep, 
 but ye beat the other confectioners, that div 
 ye." 
 
 The fair lass, who had watched the Vis- 
 count all this time as demurely as a cat 
 cream, now approached him. 
 
 This young woman was the thinker ; her 
 voice was also rich, full, and melodious, and
 
 32 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 her manner very engaging; it was half ad- 
 vancing, half retiring, not easy to resist, or to 
 describe. 
 
 " Noo," said she, with a very slight blush 
 stealing across her face, " ye maun let me 
 catecheeze ye, wull ye." 
 
 The last two words were said in a way 
 that would have induced a bear to reveal his 
 winter residence. 
 
 He smiled assent. Saunders retired to the 
 door, and excluding every shade of curiosity 
 from his face, took an attitude, half majesty, 
 half obsequiousness. 
 
 Christie stood by Lord Ipsden, with one 
 hand on her hip (the knuckles down- 
 wards), but graceful as Antinous, and 
 began. 
 
 " Hoo muckle is the Queen greater than 
 y' are." 
 
 His Lordship was obliged to reflect. 
 
 " Let me see — as is the moon to a wax 
 taper, so is her Majesty the Queen to you and 
 me, and the rest."
 
 CHKISTIE JOHNSTONE. 33 
 
 " An' whaur does the Juke* come in V 
 
 "On this particular occasion, the Dukef 
 makes one of us, my pretty maid." 
 
 " I see ! Are na ye awfu' prood o' being a 
 Lorrd T 
 
 " What an idea !" 
 
 " His Lordship did not go to bed a spin- 
 ing-jenny, and rise up a lord, like some of 
 them," put in Saunders. 
 
 " Saunders," said the Peer, doubtfully, 
 " eloquence rather bores people." 
 
 " Then I mustn't speak again, my Lord," 
 said Saunders, respectfully. 
 
 " Noo," said the fair inquisitor, " ye shall 
 tell me how ye came to be Lorrds, your 
 faemily V 
 
 " Saunders !" 
 
 " Na ! ye mauna flee to Sandy for a thing, 
 ye are no a bairn, are ye V 
 
 Here was a dilemma, the Saunders prop 
 knocked rudely away, and obliged to think 
 for ourselves. 
 
 * Bucclcuch. + Wellington. 
 
 C :}
 
 34 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 But Saunders would come to his distressed 
 master's assistance. He furtively conveyed to 
 him a plump book, — this was Saunders's 
 manual of faith ; the author was Mr. Burke, 
 not Edmund. 
 
 Lord Ipsden ran hastily over the page, 
 closed the book, and said, " Here is the story." 
 
 " Five hundred years ago — " 
 
 " Listen, Jean," said Christie ; " we're gaun 
 to get a boeny story. 'Five hundre' years 
 ago,' ''" added she, with interest and awe. 
 
 " Was a great battle," resumed the nar- 
 rator, in cheerful tones, as one larking with 
 history, — "between a King of England and 
 his rebels. He was in the thick of the 
 fight— •" 
 
 " That's the King, Jean, he was in the 
 thick o't." 
 
 " My ancestor killed a fellow who was 
 sneaking behind him, but the next moment 
 a man-at-arms prepared a thrust at his ma- 
 jesty, who had his hands full with three 
 assailants."
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 35 
 
 "Eh! that's no fair," said Christie, "as 
 sure as deeth." 
 
 "My ancestor dashed forward, and as the 
 King's sword passed through one of them, he 
 clove another to the waist with a blow." 
 
 " Weel done ! weel done !" 
 
 Lord Ipsden looked at the speaker, her 
 eyes were glittering, and her cheek flushing. 
 
 " Good Heavens !" thought he ; " she be- 
 lieves it !" So he began to take more pains 
 with his legend. 
 
 " But for the spearsman," continued he, 
 " he had nothing but his body ; he gave it, it 
 was his duty, and received the death levelled 
 at his sovereign." 
 
 " Hech ! puir mon." And the glowing 
 eyes began to glisten. 
 
 " The battle flowed another way, and God 
 gave victory to the right ; but the King came 
 back to look for him, for it was no common 
 service." 
 
 " Deed no !" 
 
 Here Lord Ipsden began to turn his eye
 
 36 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 inwards, and call up the scene. He lowered 
 his voice. 
 
 " They found him lying on his back, look- 
 ing death in the face. 
 
 " The nobles, by the King's side, uncovered 
 as soon as he was found, for they were brave 
 men, too. There was a moment's silence ; eyes 
 met eyes, and said, this is a stout soldier's 
 last battle. 
 
 " The King could not bid him live." 
 
 " Na ! lad, King Deeth has ower strong a 
 grip." 
 
 " But he did what Kings can do, he gave 
 him two blows with his royal sword." 
 
 " Oh ! the robber, and him a deeing 
 
 mon." 
 
 " Two words from his royal mouth, and he 
 and we were Barons of Ipsden and Hawthorn 
 Glen from that day to this." 
 
 " But the puir dying creature V 
 
 " What poor dying creature V 
 
 "Your Forbear, lad." 
 
 "I don't know why you call him poor,
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 37 
 
 Madam ; all the men of that day are dust ; 
 they are the gold dust, who died with honour. 
 
 " He looked round, uneasily, for his son, — 
 for he had but one, — and when that son knelt, 
 unwounded, by him, he said, ' Good night, 
 Baron Ipsden ;' and so he died, lire in his 
 eye, a smile on his lip, and honour on his 
 name for ever. I meant to tell you a lie, and 
 I've told you the truth." 
 
 " Laddie," said Christie, half admiringly, 
 half reproachfully, " ye gar the tear come in 
 my een. Hech ! look at yon lassie ! how 
 could you think t'cat plums through siccan a 
 bonny story V 
 
 " Hets," answered Jean, who had, in fact, 
 cleared the plate, " I aye listen best when my 
 ain mooth's stappit." 
 
 " But see, now," pondered Christie, " twa 
 words fra a King, — tliir titles are just 
 breeth." 
 
 " Of course," was the answer. " All titles 
 are. What is popularity ? ask Aristidcs and 
 Lamartinc : — the breath of a mob, — smells of
 
 38 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 its source, — and is gone before the sun can 
 set on it. Now the royal breath does smell 
 of the Rose and Crown, and stays by us from 
 age to age." 
 
 The story had warmed our marble acquaint- 
 ance. Saunders opened his eyes, and thought 
 -' We shall wake up the House of Lords some 
 evening, — we shall." 
 
 His Lordship then added, less warmly, look- 
 at the girls — 
 
 " I think I should like to be a fisherman." 
 So saying, my Lord yawned slightly. 
 
 To this aspiration the young fishwives 
 deigned no attention, doubting, perhaps, its 
 sincerity; and Christie, with a shade of se- 
 verity, inquired of him how he came to be a 
 Vile Count. 
 
 "A Baron's no' a Vile Count, I'm sure," 
 said she ; " sae tell me how ye came to be a 
 Vile Count." 
 
 "Ah!" said he, "that is by no means a 
 pretty story, like the other ; you will not like 
 it, I am sure."
 
 CHEISTIE JOHNSTONE. 39 
 
 •' Ay, will I, — ay, will I ; I'm aye seeking 
 knoewledge," 
 
 " Well, it is soon told. One of us sat 
 twenty years on one seat, in the same house, 
 so one day he got up a — Viscount." 
 
 " Ower muckle pay for ower little 
 wark." 
 
 "Now don't say that, I wouldn't do it to 
 be Emperor of Russia." 
 
 " Aweel, I hae gotten a heap out o' ye ; 
 sae noow I'll gang, since ye are no for herrin' ; 
 come away, Jean." 
 
 At this their host remonstrated, and in- 
 quired, why bores are at one's service, night 
 and day, and bright people are always in a 
 hurry ; he was informed, in reply, " Labour 
 is the lot o' man. Div ye no ken that 
 muckle % And abune a' o' women."* 
 
 " Why, what can two such pretty creatures 
 have to do, except to be admired V 
 
 This question, coming within the dark 
 bounty's scope, she hastened to reply. 
 
 * A local idea, I suspect. — C. E.
 
 40 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 " To sell our herrin' — we hae three himdre' 
 left in the creel." 
 
 " What is the price ?" 
 
 At this question, the poetry died out of 
 Christie Johustone's face, she gave her com- 
 panion a rapid look, indiscernable by male eye, 
 and answered — 
 
 " Three a penny, sirr ; they are no plenty 
 the day," added she, in smooth tones that 
 carried conviction. 
 
 (Little liar, they were selling six a penny 
 everywhere). 
 
 " Saunders, buy them all, and be ever so 
 long about it ; count them, or some nonsense." 
 
 " He's daft ! he's daft ! Oh, ye ken Jean, 
 an Ennglishman and a lorrd, twa daft things 
 thegither, he could na' miss the road. Coont 
 them, lassie." 
 
 " Come away, Sandy, till I coont them till 
 ye," said Jean. 
 
 Saunders and Jean disappeared. 
 
 Business being out of sight, curiosity re- 
 vived.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 41 
 
 " An' what brings ye here from London, if 
 ye please 1 " recommenced the fair inquisitor. 
 
 " You have a good countenance, there is 
 something in jour face. I could find it in my 
 heart to tell you, but I should bore you." 
 
 " De'el a fear! (Bore me, bore me! whaat's 
 thaat, I wonder \ " 
 
 " What is your name, madam \ Mine is 
 Ipsden." 
 
 " They ca' me Christie Johnstone." 
 
 " Well, Christie Johnstone, I am under the 
 doctor's hands." 
 
 " Puir lad. What's the trouble?" (solemnly 
 and tenderly). 
 
 " Ennui!" (rather piteously). 
 
 " Yawn-we % I never heerd tell o't." 
 
 '■ you lucky girl," burst out he ; " but the 
 doctor has undertaken to cure me : in one 
 thing you could assist me, if I am not pre- 
 suming too far on our short acquaintance. I 
 am to relieve one poor, distressed person every 
 day — but I mustn't do two ; is not that a 
 bore?"
 
 42 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 " Gie's your hand, gie's your hand. I'm 
 vexed for ca'ing you daft. Hech ! what a saft 
 hand ye hae. Jean, I'm saying, come here, 
 feel this." 
 
 Jean, who had run in, took the Viscount's 
 hand from Christie. 
 
 " It never wroucht any," explained Jean. 
 
 " And he has bonny hair," said Christie, 
 just touching his locks on the other side. 
 
 " He's a bonny lad," said Jean, inspecting 
 him scientifically, and point-blank. 
 
 " Ay, is he," said the other. " Aweel, 
 there's Jess Rutherford, a widdy, wi' four 
 bairns, ye meicht do waur than ware your 
 siller on her. 
 
 " Five pounds to begin % " inquired his Lord- 
 ship. 
 
 " Five pund ! Are ye made o' siller 1 Ten 
 schell'n!" 
 
 Saunders was rung for, and produced a 
 one-pound note. 
 
 " The herrin is five and sax pence ; it's 
 four and sax pence I'm awin ye," said the
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 43 
 
 young fishwife, " and Jess will be a glad 
 woman the neicht." 
 
 The settlement was effected, and away went 
 the two friends, saying, 
 
 " Good boye, Vile Count." 
 
 Their host fell into thought. 
 
 " When have I talked so much V asked he, 
 of himself. 
 
 " Dr. Aberford, you are a wonderful man; I 
 like your lower classes amazingly." 
 
 " Mefiez vous, Monsieur Ipsden ! " should 
 some mentor have said. 
 
 As the devil puts into a beginner's hands, 
 ace, queen, five trumps, to give him a taste for 
 whist, so these lower classes have perhaps, 
 put forward one of their best cards to lead 
 you into a false estimate of the strength of 
 their hand. 
 
 Instead, however, of this, who should return 
 to disturb the equilibrium of truth, but this 
 Christina Johnstone. She came thoughtfully 
 in. and said — 
 
 " I've been taking a thoucht, and this is no
 
 44 CHlilSTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 what yon gude physeecian meaned ; ye are no 
 to fling your chaerity like a bane till a doeg ; 
 ye'll gang yoursel to Jess Rutherford ; Flucker 
 Johnstone, that's rny brother, will convoy ye." 
 
 " But how is your brother to know me V 
 
 " How % Because I'll gie him a sair, sair 
 hiding, if he lets ye gang by." 
 
 She then returned the one-pound note, a 
 fresh settlement was effected, and she left him. 
 
 At the door, she said, " And I am muckle 
 obleeged to ye for your story, and your good- 
 ness." 
 
 Whilst uttering these words, she half kissed 
 her hand to him, with a lofty and disengaged 
 gesture, such as one might expect from a 
 queen, if queens did not wear stays; and was 
 gone. 
 
 When his Lordship, a few minutes after, 
 sauntered out for a stroll, the first object he 
 beheld was an exact human square, a hand- 
 some boy, with a body swelled out, apparently 
 to the size of a man's, with blue flannel, and 
 blue cloth above it, leaning against a wall,
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTOXE. 45 
 
 with his hands in his pockets — a statuette of 
 insouciance. 
 
 This marine puff-ball was Flucker John- 
 stone, aged fourteen. 
 
 Stain his sister's face with diluted walnut- 
 juice, as they make the stage gipsy and Red 
 Indian (two animals imagined by actors to be 
 one,), and you have Flucker's face. 
 
 A slight moral distinction remains, not to 
 be so easily got over. 
 
 She was the best girl in the place, and he a 
 baddish boy. 
 
 He was, however, as sharp in his way as 
 she was intelligent in hers. 
 
 This youthful mariner allowed his Lordship 
 to pass him, and take twenty steps, but 
 watched him all the time, and compared him 
 with a description furnished him by his sister. 
 
 He then followed, and brought him to, as 
 he called it. 
 
 " I daur say it's you I'm to convoy to yon 
 auld faggitt!" said this baddish boy. 
 
 " On they went, Flucker rolling and pitch-
 
 46 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 ing and yawing to keep up with, the lordly 
 galley, for a fisherman's natural waddle is two 
 miles an hour. 
 
 At the very entrance of Newhaven, the new 
 pilot suddenly sung out " Starboard !" 
 
 Starboard it was, and they ascended a 
 filthy " close" or alley, they mounted a stair- 
 case, which was out of doors, and without 
 knocking, Flucker introduced himself into Jess 
 Rutherford's house. 
 
 " Here a gentleman to speak till ye, wife."
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 47 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The widow was weather-beaten and rough. 
 She sat mending an old net. 
 
 " The gentleman's welcome/' said she ; but 
 there was no gratification in her tone, and 
 but little surprise. 
 
 His Lordship then explained that, under- 
 standing there were worthy people in distress, 
 he was in hopes he might be permitted to 
 assist them, and that she must blame a neigh- 
 bour of hers if he had broken in upon her 
 too abruptly with this object. He then, with 
 a blush, hinted at ten shillings, which he
 
 48 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 begged she would consider as merely an in- 
 stalment, until he could learn the precise na- 
 ture of her embarrassments, and the best way 
 of placing means at her disposal. 
 
 The widow heard all this with a lack-lustre 
 mind. 
 
 For many years her life had been unsuccess- 
 ful labour ; if anything ever had come to her, 
 it had always been a misfortune ; her incidents 
 had been thorns — her events, daggers. 
 
 She could not realise a human angel coming 
 to her relief, and she did not realise it, and 
 she worked away at her net. 
 
 At this Flucker, to whom his Lordship's 
 speech appeared monstrously weak and point- 
 less, drew nigh, and gave the Widow, in her 
 ear, his version, namely, his sister's embel- 
 lished. It was briefly this — " That the gen- 
 tleman was a daft lord from England, who 
 had come with the bank in his breeks, to 
 remove poverty from Scotland, beginning with 
 her. ' Sae speak loud aneuch, and ye '11 no 
 waut siller,' " was his polite corollary.
 
 CHRISTIE J0HXST0NE. 49 
 
 His Lordship rose, laid a card on a chair, 
 begged her to make use of him, et cetera ; he 
 then, recalling the oracular prescription, said, 
 "Do me the favour to apply to me for any 
 little sum you have a use for, and in return I 
 will beg of you (if it does not bore you too 
 much) to make me acquainted with any little 
 troubles you may have encountered in the 
 course of your life." 
 
 His Lordship, receiving no answer, was about 
 to go, after bowing to her, and smiling grace- 
 fully upon her. 
 
 His hand was on the latch, when Jess 
 Rutherford burst into a passion of tears. 
 
 He turned with surprise. 
 
 " My troubles, laddie," cried she, trembling 
 all over. " The sun wad set, and rise, and set 
 again, ere I could tell ye a' the trouble I hae 
 come through. 
 
 " Oh ! ye need na vex yourself for an auld 
 wife's tears ; tears are a blessin', lad, I shall 
 assure ye. Mony's the time I hae prayed for 
 them, and could na hae them. Sit ye doon ! 
 
 D
 
 50 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 sit ye doon ! I'll no let ye gang fra my door 
 till I hae thankit ye— but gie me time, gie me 
 time. I canna greet a' the days of the 
 week." 
 
 Flucker, setat. 14, opened his eyes, unable 
 to connect ten shillings and tears. 
 
 Lord Ipsden sat down, and felt very sorry 
 for her. 
 
 And she cried at her ease. 
 
 If one touch of nature make the whole 
 world kin, methinks that sweet and wonderful 
 thing, sympathy, is not less powerful. What 
 frozen barriers, what ice of centuries, it can 
 melt in a moment. 
 
 His bare mention of her troubles had sur- 
 prised the widowed woman's heart, and now 
 she looked up, and examined his countenance ; 
 it was soon done. 
 
 A woman, young or old, high or low, can 
 discern and appreciate sensibility in a man's 
 face, at a single glance. 
 
 What she saw there was enough. She was 
 sure of sympathy. She recalled her resolve,
 
 CHEISTIE JOHNSTONE. 51 
 
 and the tale of her sorrows burst from her, like 
 a flood. 
 
 Then the old fishwife told the young Vis- 
 count how she had borne twelve children, and 
 buried six as bairns ; how her man was 
 always unlucky ; how a mast fell on him, and 
 disabled him a whole season ; how they could 
 but just keep the pot boiling by the deep-sea 
 fishing, and he was not allowed to dredge for 
 oysters, because his father was not a New- 
 haven man. How, when the herring-fishing 
 came, to make all right, he never had another 
 man's luck ; how his boat's crew would draw 
 empty nets, and a boat alongside him would 
 be gunwale down in the water with the fish. 
 How, at last, one morning, the 20th day of 
 November, his boat came in to Newhaven Pier 
 without him, and when he was inquired for, 
 his crew said, " He had stayed at home, like a 
 lazy loon, and not sailed with them the 
 night before. How she was anxious, and 
 had all the public-houses searched, " For he 
 took a drop now and then, nae wonder, and 
 
 d 2
 
 52 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 liira aye in the weather." Poor thing ! when 
 he was alive she used to call him a drunken 
 scoundrel to his face. How, when the tide 
 went down, a mad wife, whose husband had 
 been drowned twenty years ago, pointed out 
 something under the pier, that the rest took 
 for sea-weed floating — how it was the hair 
 of her man's head, washed about by the water, 
 and he was there, drowned without a cry or a 
 struggle, by his enormous boots, that kept him 
 in an upright position, though he was dead ; 
 there he stood, — dead — drowned by slipping 
 from the slippery pier, close to his comrades' 
 hands, in a dark and gusty night ; how her 
 daughter married, and was well to do, and 
 assisted her ; how she fell into a rapid de- 
 cline, and died, a picture of health to inexpe- 
 rienced eyes. How she, the mother, saw 
 and knew, and watched the treacherous ad- 
 vance of disease and death ; how others 
 said gaily, " Her daughter was better," and 
 she w r as obliged to say " Yes/' How she 
 had worked, eighteen hours a-day, at making
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 53 
 
 nets ; how, when she let out her nets to 
 the other men at the herring-fishing, they 
 always cheated her, because her man was 
 gone. How she had many times had to 
 choose between begging her meal and going 
 to bed without it, but, thank Heaven ! she had 
 always chosen the latter. 
 
 She told him of hunger, cold, and anguish. 
 As she spoke they became real things to 
 him ; up to that moment they had been 
 things in a story-book. And as she spoke she 
 rocked herself from side to side. 
 
 Indeed, she was a woman " acquainted with 
 grief." She might have said, " Here I and 
 sorrow sit ! This is my throne, bid kings 
 come and bow to it !" 
 
 Her hearer felt this, and therefore thi 
 woman, poor, old, and ugly, became sacred in 
 his eye ; it was with a strange sort of respect 
 that he tried to console her. 
 
 He spoke to her in tones gentle and sweet 
 as the south wind on a summer evening. 
 
 " Madam," said he, " let me be so happy as
 
 54 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 to bring you some comfort. The sorrows of 
 the heart I cannot heal ; they are for a 
 mightier hand ; but a part of your distress 
 appears to have been positive need ; that, we 
 can at least dispose of, and I entreat you to 
 believe, that from this hour want shall never 
 enter that door again. Never ! upon my 
 honour ! " 
 
 The Scotch are icebergs, with volcanoes 
 underneath ; thaw the Scotch ice, which is 
 very cold, and you shall get to the Scotch 
 fire, warmer than any sun of Italy or Spain. 
 
 His Lordship had risen to go. The old 
 wife had seemed absorbed in her own grief ; 
 she now dried her tears. 
 
 " Bide ye, Sirr," said she, " till I thank ye." 
 
 So she began to thank him, rather coldly 
 and stiffly. 
 
 " He says ye are a lord," said she ; " I 
 dinna ken, an' I dinna care ; but ye're a 
 gentleman, I daur say, and a kind heart ye 
 hae." 
 
 Then she began to warm.
 
 CHEISTIE JOHNSTONE. 55 
 
 " And je'll never be a grain the poorer for 
 the siller ye hae gien me ; for he that giveth 
 to the poor lendeth to the Lord." 
 
 Then she began to glow. 
 
 " But it's no your siller ; dinna think it — 
 na, lad, na ! Oh, fine ! I ken there's inony a 
 supper for the bairns and me in yon bits 
 metal ; but I canna feel your siller as I feel 
 your winsome smile — the drop in your young 
 een — an' the sweet words ye gied me, ia the 
 sweet music o' your Soothern tongue. Gude 
 bless ye ! *' (Where was her ice by this 
 time ?) " Gude bless ye ! and I bless 
 ye!" 
 
 And she did bless him ; and what a bless- 
 ing it was ; — not a melodious generality, like 
 a stage parent's, or papa's in a damsel's 
 novel. It was like the son of Barak on 
 Zophiin. 
 
 She blessed him, as one who had the power 
 and the right to bless or curse. 
 
 She stood on the high ground of her low 
 estate, and her afflictions — and demanded of
 
 56 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 their Creator to bless the fellow-creature that 
 had come to her aid and consolation. 
 
 This woman had suffered to the limits of 
 endurance ; yesterday she had said, "Surely 
 the Almighty does na see me a' these 
 years ! " 
 
 So now she blessed him, and her heart's 
 blood seemed to gush into words. 
 
 She blessed him by land and water. 
 
 She knew most mortal griefs ; for she had 
 felt them. 
 
 She warned them away from him one by 
 one. 
 
 She knew the joys of life ; for she had felt 
 their want. 
 
 She summoned them one by one to his side. 
 
 " And a fair wind to your ship," cried she ; 
 " an' the storms aye ten miles to leeward o' 
 her." 
 
 Many happy days, " an weel spent," she 
 wished him. 
 
 " His love should love him dearly, or a 
 better take her place."
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 57 
 
 " Health to his side by day ; sleep to his 
 pillow by night." 
 
 A thousand good wishes came, like a tor- 
 rent of fire, from her lips, with a power that 
 eclipsed his dreams of human eloquence ; and 
 then, changing in a moment from the thunder 
 of a Pythoness to the tender music of some 
 poetess mother, she ended — 
 
 " An' oh, my boenny, boenny lad, may ye 
 be wi' the rich upon the airth a' your days — 
 and wi' the puir in the warld to come !" 
 
 His Lordship's tongue refused him the thin 
 phrases of society. 
 
 " Farewell for the present," said he, and he 
 went quietly away. 
 
 He paced thoughtfully home. 
 
 He had drunk a fact with every sentence ; 
 and an idea with every fact. 
 
 For the knowledge we have never realized 
 is not knowledge to us — only knowledge's 
 shadow. 
 
 With the banished Duke, he now began to 
 feeel " we are not alone unhappy ;" this uni- 
 
 D 3
 
 58 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 versal world contains other guess sorrows 
 than yours, Viscount — scilicet than unvarying 
 health, unbroken leisure, and incalculable 
 income. 
 
 Then this woman's eloquence ! bless me ! 
 he had seen folk murmur politely in the Upper 
 House, and drone or hammer away at the 
 Speaker clown below, with more heat than 
 warmth. 
 
 He had seen nine hundred wild beasts fed 
 with peppered tongue, in a managerie called 
 L'Assembk'e Nationale. 
 
 His ears had rung often enough, for that 
 matter. 
 
 This time his heart beat. 
 
 He had been in the principal Courts of 
 Europe : knew what a handful of gentlefolks 
 call " the World : " had experienced the ho- 
 neyed words of courtiers ; the misty nothings 
 of diplomatists ; and the innocent prattle of 
 mighty kings. 
 
 But hitherto he seemed to have undergone 
 gibberish and jargon ; —
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 59 
 
 Gibberish and jargon — Political ! 
 
 Gibberish and jargon — Social ! 
 
 Gibberish and jargon — Theological ! 
 
 Gibberish and jargon — Positive ! 
 
 People had been prating — Jess had spoken. 
 
 But, it is to be observed, he was under the 
 double effect of eloquence and novelty ; and, so 
 situated, we overrate things, you know. 
 
 That night he made a provision for this 
 poor woman, in case he should die before next 
 week. 
 
 " Who knows," said he, " she is such an 
 unlucky woman." 
 
 Then he went to bed, and whether from the 
 widow's blessing, or the air of the place, lie 
 slept like a ploughboy. 
 
 Leaving Richard, Lord Ipsdcn, to work out 
 the Aberford problem — to relieve poor people, 
 one or two of whom, like the Rutherford, 
 were grateful, the rest acted it to the life— 
 to receive now and then a visit from Christiua 
 Johnstone, who borrowed every mortal book 
 in his house, who sold him fish, invariably
 
 60 CHEISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 cheated him bj the indelible force of habit, 
 and then remorsefully undid the bargain, with 
 a peevish entreaty that " he would not be so 
 green, for there was no doing business with 
 him," — to be fastened upon by Flucker, who, 
 with admirable smoothness and cunning, 
 wormed himself into cabin-boy on board the 
 yacht, and man-at-alms ashore. 
 
 To cruise in search of adventures, and meet 
 nothing but disappointments ; to acquire a 
 browner tint, a lighter step, and a jacket. 
 
 Our story moves for a while towards 
 humbler personages.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 61 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Jess Rutherford, widow of Alexander 
 Johnstone, for Newhaven wives, like great 
 artists, change their conditions without changing 
 their names, was known in the town only as a 
 dour wife, a sour old carline. ^Vhose fault \ 
 
 Do wooden faces and iron tongues tempt 
 sorrow to put out its snails' horns % 
 
 She hardly spoke to any one, or any one to 
 her, but four days after the visit we have 
 described, people began to bend looks of 
 sympathy on her, to step out of their way to 
 give her a kindly good-morrow ; after a bit, fish 
 and meal used to be placed on her table by
 
 62 CHRISTTE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 one neighbour or another, when she was out : 
 and so on. She was at first behind-hand in 
 responding to all this, but, by degrees, she 
 thawed to those who were thawing to her. 
 Next, Saunders called on her, and showed her 
 a settlement, made for her benefit, on certain 
 lands in Lanarkshire. She was at ease for 
 life. 
 
 The Almighty, had seen her all these years. 
 
 But how came her neighbours to melt % 
 
 Because a nobleman had visited her. 
 
 Not exactly, dear novel-reader. 
 
 This was it. 
 
 That same night, by a bright fire lighting 
 up snowy walls, burnished copper, gleaming 
 candlesticks, and a dinner-table floor, sat the 
 mistress of the house, Christie Johnstone, and 
 her brother, Flucker. 
 
 She with a book, he with his reflections 
 opposite her. 
 
 " Lassie, hae ye ony siller past ye V 
 
 " Aye, lad ; an' I mean to keep it !" 
 
 The baddish boy had registered a vow to
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 63 
 
 the contrary, and proceeded to bleed his flint 
 (for to do Christie justice the process was not 
 very dissimilar) . Flucker had a versatile genius 
 for making money ; he had made it in forty 
 different ways, by land and sea, ten pence at 
 a time. 
 
 " I hae gotten the life o' Jess Rutherford, 
 till ye," said he. 
 
 " Giest then." 
 
 " I'm seeking half-a-crown for %" said he. 
 
 Now, he knew he should never get half-a- 
 crown, but he also knew that if he asked a 
 shilling, he should be beaten down to four 
 pence. 
 
 So half-a-crown was his first bode. 
 
 The enemy, with anger at her heart, called 
 up a humorous smile, and saying " an yell 
 get sax pence," went about some household 
 matter ; in reality, to let her proposal rankle 
 in Flucker. 
 
 Flucker lighted his pipe slowly, as one who 
 would not do a sister the injustice to notice so 
 trivial a proposition.
 
 64 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 He waited fresh overtures. 
 
 They did not come. 
 
 Christie resumed her book. 
 
 Then the baddish boy fixed his eye on the 
 lire, and said softly and thoughtfully to the 
 fire, " Hech, what a heap o' troubles yon 
 woman has come through." 
 
 This stroke of art was not lost. Christie 
 looked up from her book ; pretended he had 
 spoken to her, gave a fictitious yawn, and 
 renewed the negociation with the air of one 
 disposed to kill time. 
 
 She was dying for the story. 
 
 Commerce was twice broken off, and re- 
 newed by each power in turn. 
 
 At last the bargain was struck at fourteen 
 pence. 
 
 Then Flucker came out, the honest merchant. 
 
 He had listened intently with mercantile 
 views. 
 
 He had the widow's sorrows all off 
 pat. 
 
 He was not a bit affected himself, but by
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 65 
 
 pure memory he remembered where she had 
 been most agitated or overcome. 
 
 He gave it Christie, word for word, and 
 even threw in what dramatists call " the busi- 
 ness," thus — 
 
 " Here ye suld greet — " 
 
 " Here ye'll play your hand like a geraffe." 
 
 " Geraffe 1 That's a beast, I'm think- 
 ing." 
 
 " Na ; it's the thing on the hill, that maks 
 signals." 
 
 " Telegraph, ye fulish goloshen !" 
 
 " Oo ay, telegraph ! Geraffe's sunest said 
 for a'." 
 
 Thus Jess Rutherford's life came into Chris- 
 tie Johnstone's hands. 
 
 She told it to a knot of the natives next 
 day ; it lost nothing, for she was a woman of 
 feeling, and by intuition an artist of the tongue. 
 She was the best raconteur in a place where 
 there are a hundred, male and female, who 
 attempt that art. 
 
 The next day she told it again, and then
 
 66 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 inferior narrators got hold of it, and it soon 
 circulated through the town. 
 
 And this was the cause of the sudden sym- 
 pathy with Jess Rutherford. 
 
 As our prigs would say, 
 
 " Art had adopted her cause and adorned 
 her tale."
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 67 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The fishing village of Newhavcn is an 
 unique place ; it is a colony that retains dis- 
 tinct features ; the people seldom intermarry 
 with their Scotch neighbours. 
 
 Some say the colony is Dutch, some Danish, 
 some Flemish. The character and cleanliness 
 of their female costume points rather to the 
 latter. 
 
 Fish, like horse-flesh, corrupts the mind and 
 
 manners. 
 
 After a certain age, the Newhavcn fishwife 
 
 is always a blackguard, and ugly ; but among 
 
 the younger specimens, who have not traded
 
 68 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 too much, or come into much contact with 
 larger towns, a charming modesty, or else sly- 
 ness (such as no man can distinguish from it, 
 so it answers every purpose), is to be found, 
 combined with rare grace and beauty. 
 
 It is a race of women that the northern sun 
 peachifies instead of rosewoodizing. 
 
 On Sundays the majority sacrifice appear- 
 ance to fashion ; these turn out rainbows of 
 silk, satin, and lace. In the week they were 
 all grace, and no stays ; now they seem all 
 stays and no grace. They never look so ill 
 as when they change their "costume" for 
 " dress." 
 
 The men are smart fishermen, distinguished 
 from the other fishermen of the Firth chiefly 
 by their " dredging song." 
 
 This old song is money to them : — 
 thus, 
 
 Dredging is practically very stiff rowing for 
 ten hours. 
 
 Now both the Newhaven men, and their 
 rivals, are agreed that this song lifts them
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 69 
 
 through more work than untuned fishermen 
 can manage. 
 
 I have heard the song, and seen the work 
 done to it ; and incline to think it helps the 
 oar, not only by keeping the time true, and 
 the spirit alive, but also by its favourable 
 action on the lungs. It is sung in a peculiar 
 way : the sound is, as it were, expelled from 
 the chest in a sort of musical ejaculations ; 
 and the like, we know, was done by the 
 ancient gymnasts ; and is done by French 
 bakers, in lifting their enormous dough, and by 
 our paviours. 
 
 The song, in itself, does not contain above 
 seventy stock verses, but these perennial lines 
 are a nucleus, round which the men improvise 
 the topics of the day, giving, I know not for 
 what reason, the preference to such as verge 
 upon indelicacy. 
 
 The men and women are musical and nar- 
 rative ; three out of four can sing a song 
 or tell a story, and they omit few oppor- 
 tunities. 
 
 Males and females suck whiskey like milk,
 
 70 CHEISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 and are quarrelsome in proportion : the men 
 fight (round handed), the women fleicht or 
 scold, in the form of a tea-pot, — the handle 
 fixed and the spout sawing the air. 
 
 A singular custom prevails here : 
 
 The maidens have only one sweetheart 
 a-piece ! ! ! 
 
 So the whole town is in pairs. 
 
 The courting is all done on Saturday night, 
 by the lady's fire. It is hard to keep out of a 
 groove in which all the town is running ; and 
 the Johnstone had possessed, as mere property 
 — a lad ! 
 
 She was so wealthy that few of them could 
 pretend to aspire to her, so she selected for 
 her chattel a young man called Willy Liston ; 
 a youth of an unhappy turn,— he contributed 
 nothing to hilarity, his face was a kill joy, — 
 nobody liked him ; for this female reason, 
 Christie distinguished him. 
 
 He found a divine supper, every Saturday 
 night, in her house ; he ate, and sighed ! 
 Christie fed him, and laughed at him. 
 Flucker ditto.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTOXE. 71 
 
 As she neither fed nor laughed at any 
 other man, some twenty were bitterly jealous 
 of Willy Liston, and this gave the blighted 
 youth a cheerful moment or two. 
 
 But the bright alliance received a check 
 some months before our tale. 
 
 Christie was helluo librorum ! and like 
 others who have that taste, and can only 
 gratify it in the interval of manual exercise, 
 she read very intensely in her hours of study. 
 A book absorbed her. She was like a leech 
 on these occasions, non missura cutem: even 
 Jean Carnie, coadjutor or u neebor," as they 
 call it, found it best to keep out of her way 
 till the book was sucked. 
 
 One Saturday night Willy Liston's evil star 
 ordained that a gentleman of French origin 
 and Spanish dress, called Gil Bias, should be 
 the Johnstone's companion. 
 
 Willy Liston arrived. 
 
 Christie, who had bolted the door, told him 
 from the window, civilly enough, but decidedly, 
 ; ' She would excuse his company, that night."
 
 72 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 " Vara weel," said Willy, and departed. 
 
 Next Saturday — no Willy came. 
 
 Ditto tbe next. Willy was waiting the 
 amende. 
 
 Christie forgot to make it. 
 
 One day she was passing the boats, Willy 
 beckoned her mysteriously ; he led her to his 
 boat, which was called "The Christie John- 
 stone ;" by the boat's side was a paint pot 
 and brush. 
 
 They had not supped together for five 
 Saturdays. 
 
 Ergo, Mr. Liston had painted out the four 
 first letters of " Christie," he now proceeded to 
 paint out the fifth, giving her to understand, 
 that if she allowed the whole name to go, a 
 letter every blank Saturday, her image would 
 be gradually, but effectually, obliterated from 
 the heart Listonian. 
 
 My reader has done, what Liston did not, 
 anticipate her answer. She recommended 
 him, whilst his hand was in, to paint out the 
 entire name, and with white paint and a
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 73 
 
 smaller brush, to substitute some other female 
 appellation. So saying, she tripped off. 
 
 Mr. Liston on this was guilty of the fol- 
 lowing inconsistency ; lie pressed the paint 
 carefully out of the brush into the pot : haying 
 thus economized his material, he hurled the 
 pot which contained his economy at "tie 
 Johnstone," he then adjourned to the " Pea- 
 cock," and " away at once with love and 
 reason." 
 
 Thenceforth, when men asked who was 
 Christie Johnstone's lad, the answer used to 
 be, '< She's seeking ane." Quelle horreur ! ! 
 
 Newhaven doesn't know everything, but my 
 intelligent reader suspects, and if confirming 
 his suspicions can reconcile him to our facts, 
 it will soon be done. 
 
 But he must come with us to Edinburgh ; 
 it's only three miles. 
 
 E
 
 74 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 A little band of painters came into Edin- 
 burgh from a professional walk. Three were 
 of Edinburgh : Groove, aged fifty ; Jones and 
 Hyacinth, young ; the latter long-haired. 
 
 With them was a young Englishman, the 
 leader of the expedition — Charles Gatty. 
 
 His step was elastic, and his manner won- 
 derfully animated, without loudness. 
 
 " A bright day," said he. " The sun forgot 
 where he was, and shone ; everything was in 
 favour of art." 
 
 " Oh dear, no," replied old Grove, " not 
 where I was."
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 75 
 
 " Why, what was the matter V 
 
 "The flies kept buzzing and biting, and 
 sticking in the work : that's the worst of out 
 o' doors ! " 
 
 " The flies ! is that all ? Swear the spiders 
 in special constables next time," cried Gatty. 
 " We shall win the day ; " and light shot into 
 his hazel eye. 
 
 " The world will not always put up with 
 the humbugs of the brush, who, to imitate 
 nature, turn their back on her. Paint an 
 out o' door scene in doors ! I swear by the 
 sun it's a lie ! the one stupid, impudent lie, 
 that glitters amongst the lies of vulgar art, 
 like Satan amongst Belial, Mammon, and all 
 those beggars. 
 
 " Now look here ; the barren outlines of a 
 scene must be looked at, to be done ; hence 
 the sketching system slop-sellers of the Aca- 
 demy ! but the million delicacies of light, 
 .shade, and colour, can be trusted to memory, 
 can they 1 r ' 
 
 " It's a lie big enough to shake the earth 
 
 E 2
 
 76 CHEISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 out of her course ; if any part of the work 
 could be trusted to memory or imagination, it 
 happens to be the bare outlines, and they 
 can't. The million subtleties of light and 
 colour ; learn them by heart, and say them off 
 on canvass ! the highest angel in the sky 
 must have his eye upon them, and look devilish 
 sharp, too, or he shan't paint them : I give 
 him Charles Gatty's word for that." 
 
 " That's very eloquent, I call it," said Jones. 
 
 " Yes," said poor old Grove, " the lad will 
 never make a painter." 
 
 " Yes I shall, Grove ; at least I hope so, 
 but it must be a long time first." 
 
 " I never knew a painter who could talk and 
 paint both," explained Mr. Grove. 
 
 " Very well," said Gatty. " Then I'll say 
 but one word more, and it is this. The arti- 
 fice of painting is old enough to die ; it is 
 time the art was born. Whenever it does 
 come into the world, you will see no more 
 dead corpses of trees, grass, and water, robbed 
 of their life, the sun-light, and flung upon
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 77 
 
 canvass in a studio, by the light of a cigar, 
 and a lie — and " 
 
 " How much do you expect for your pic- 
 ture % " interrupted Jones. 
 
 "What has that to do with it? With 
 these little swords," (waving his brush), " we'll 
 fight for nature-light, truth-light, and sun- 
 light, against a world in arms, — no, worse, in 
 swaddling-clothes." 
 
 " With these little swerrds," replied poor 
 old Grove, " we shall cut our own throats if 
 we go against people's prejudices." 
 
 The young artist laughed the old daub- 
 ster a merry defiance, and then separated 
 from the party, for his lodgings were down 
 the street. 
 
 He had not left them long, before a most 
 musical voice was heard, crying, 
 
 " A caallerr owoo ! " 
 
 And two young fishwives hove in sight. 
 
 The boys recognised one of them as Gatty's 
 sweetheart. 
 
 " Is he in love with her % " inquired Jones.
 
 78 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 Hyacinth the long-haired, undertook to 
 reply. 
 
 " He loves her better than anything in the 
 world, except Art. Love and Art are two 
 beautiful things." whined Hyacinth. 
 
 " She, too, is beautiful. I have done her," 
 added he with a simper. 
 
 " In oil 1 " asked Grove. 
 
 " In oil 1 no, in verse, here," and he took 
 out a paper. 
 
 " Then hadn't we better cut, you might pro- 
 pose reading them," said poor old Grove 
 
 " Have you any oysters \ " inquired Jones 
 of the Carnie and the Johnstone, who were 
 now alongside. 
 
 " Plenty," answered Jean. " Hae ye ony 
 siller 1 " 
 
 The artists looked at one another, and didn't 
 all speak at once. 
 
 "I, madam," said old Grove, insinuatingly, 
 to Christie, " am a friend of Mr. Gatty's : 
 perhaps, on that account, you would lend me 
 an oyster or two."
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 79 
 
 " Na," said Jean, sternly. 
 
 " Hyacinth," said Jones, sarcastically, " give 
 them your verses, perhaps that will soften 
 them." 
 
 Hyacinth gave his verses, descriptive of her- 
 self, to Christie. 
 
 This youngster was one of those who mind 
 other people's business. 
 
 Alienis studiis delectatus contempsit suum. 
 
 His destiny was to be a bad painter, so he 
 wanted to be an execrable poet. 
 
 All this morning he had been doggrellicg, 
 when he ought to have been daubing ; and 
 now he will have to sup off a coloured print, 
 if he sups at all. 
 
 Christie read, blushed, and put the verses 
 in her bosom. 
 
 " Come awa, Custy," said Jean. 
 
 "Hets," said Christie, "gie the puir lads 
 twarree oysters, what the waur will we 
 be ? " 
 
 So they opened oysters for them ; and Hy- 
 acinth the long-haired looked down on the
 
 80 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 others with sarcastico-benignant superiority. 
 He had conducted a sister art to the aid of his 
 brother brushes. 
 
 " The poet's empire, all our hearts allow ; 
 But doggrel's power was never known till now."
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 81 
 
 CHAPTER V1T. 
 
 At the commencement of last chapter, 
 Charles Gattj, artist, was going to usher in a 
 new state of things, true art, etc. Wales was 
 to be painted in Wales, not Poland-street. 
 
 He and five or six more youngsters were to 
 be in the foremost files of truth, and take the 
 world by storm. 
 
 This was at two o'clock ; it it is now five ; 
 whereupon the posture of affairs, the prospects 
 of art, the face of the world, the nature of 
 things, are quite the reverse. 
 
 In the artist's room, on the floor, was a 
 small child, whose movements, and they were 
 
 e a
 
 82 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 many, were viewed with huge dissatisfaction 
 by Charles Gatty, Esq. This personage, pen- 
 cil in hand, sat slouching and morose, looking 
 gloomily at his intractable model. 
 
 Things were going on very badly ; he had 
 been waiting two hours for an infantine pose, 
 as common as dirt, and the little viper would 
 die first. 
 
 Out of doors everything was nothing, for 
 the sun was obscured, and to all appearance 
 extinguished for ever. 
 
 " Ah ! Mr. Groove," cried he, to that worthy, 
 who peeped in at that moment ; " you are 
 right, it is better to plough away upon canvass 
 blindfold, as our grandfathers — no, grand- 
 mothers, used, than to kill ourselves, toiling 
 after such coy ladies as Nature and Truth." 
 
 " A weel, I dinna ken, Sirr," replied Groove, 
 in smooth tones. " I did'na like to express 
 my warm approbation of you before the lads, 
 for fear of making them jealous." 
 
 " They be— no!" 
 
 " I ken what ye wad say, Sirr, an it wad
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 83 
 
 hae been a vara just an sprightly observaation. 
 Aweel, between oursels, I look upon ye as a 
 young gentleman of amazing talent and moe- 
 desty. MaD, ye dinna do yoursel justice ; 
 ye should be in th' Academy — at the 
 hede o't." 
 
 " Mr. Groove, I am a poor fainting pilgrim 
 on the road, where stronger spirits have 
 marched erect before me." 
 
 " A faintin pilgrim ! Deil a frights o' ye, 
 ye're a brisk and bonny lad. Ah, Sirr, in my 
 juvenile days, we didna fash wi nature, an 
 truth, an the like." 
 
 " The like ! What is like nature and truth, 
 except themselves % " 
 
 " Vara true, Sir ; vara true, and sae I doot 
 I will never attain the height o' profeeciency 
 ye hae reached. An at this vara moment, 
 Sir," continued Groove, with delicious solem- 
 nity and mystery, "ye see before ye, Sir, a 
 man wha is in maist dismal want — o' ten 
 shcllen!" — (A pause.) — "If your superior 
 talent has put ye in possession of that sum,
 
 84 CHKISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 ye would obleege me infinitely by a temporary 
 accommodaation, Mr. Gaattie." 
 
 " Why did you not come to the point at 
 once % " cried Gatty, brusquely ; " instead of 
 humbling me with undeserved praise. There." 
 — Groove held out his hand, but made a wry 
 face when, instead of money, Gatty put a 
 sketch into his hand. 
 
 " There," said Gatty, " that is a lie !" 
 
 " How can it be a lee?" said the other, with 
 sour inadvertence. " How can it "be a lee, 
 when I hae na spoken ? " 
 
 " You don't understand me. That sketch 
 is a libel on a poor cow and an unfortunate 
 oak tree. I did them at the Academy. They 
 had never done me any wrong, poor things ; 
 they suffered unjustly. You take them to a 
 shop, swear they are a tree and a cow, and 
 some fool, that never really looked into a cow 
 or a tree, will give you ten shillings for them." 
 
 " Are ye sure, lad 1 " 
 
 " I am sure. Mr. Groove, sir, if you cannot 
 sell a lie for ten shillings, you are not fit to
 
 CHPJSTIE JOHNSTONE. 85 
 
 live in this world ; where is the lie that will 
 uot sell for ten shillings." 
 
 " I shall think the better o' lees all my days ; 
 sir, your words are inspeeriting." And away 
 went Groove with the sketch. 
 
 Gatty reflected, and stopped him. 
 
 " On second thoughts, Groove, you must 
 not ask ten shillings ; you must ask twenty 
 pounds for that rubbish." 
 
 " Twenty pund ! What for will I seek 
 twenty pund % " 
 
 " Simply because people that would not give 
 you ten shillings for it will offer you eleven 
 pounds for it if you ask twenty pounds." 
 
 " The fules," roared Groove. " Twenty 
 pund ! hem ! " He looked closer into it. " For 
 a'," said he, " I begin to obsairve it is a work 
 of great merit. I'll seek twenty pund ; an Til 
 no tak less than fifteen schelln, at present." 
 
 The visit of this routine painter did not 
 cheer our artist. 
 
 The small child got a coal, and pounded 
 the floor with it, like a machine incapable of
 
 86 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 fatigue. So the wished-for pose seemed more 
 remote than ever. 
 
 The day waxed darker, instead of lighter ; 
 Mr. Gatty's reflections took also a still more 
 sombre hue. 
 
 " Even nature spites us," thought he, " be- 
 cause we love her." 
 
 " Then, cant, tradition, numbers, slang, and 
 money are against us ; the least of these is 
 singly a match for truth ; we shall die of despair 
 or paint cobwebs in Bedlam ; and I am faint, 
 weary of a hopeless struggle ; and one man's 
 brush is truer than mine, another's is bolder, — 
 my hand and eye are not in tune. Ah ! no ! 
 I shall never, never, never be a painter." 
 
 These last words broke audibly from him, 
 as his head went down almost to his knees. 
 
 A hand was placed on his shoulder, as a 
 flake of snow falls on the water. It was 
 Christie Johnstone, radiant, who had glided in 
 unobserved. 
 
 " What's wrang wi ye, my lad V 
 
 " The sun is gone to the devil, for one thing."
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE, 87 
 
 " Hech ! hech ! ve'll no be long ahint hiin ; 
 div ye no think shame/' 
 
 " And I want that little brute just to do so, 
 and he'd die first." 
 
 " Oh ! ye villain, to ca' a bairn a brute ; 
 there's but ae brute here, an it's no you, Jamie, 
 nor me, — is it my lamb 1 " 
 
 She then stepped to the window. 
 
 " It's clear to windward ; in ten minutes 
 ye'll hae plenty sun. Tak your tools noo." 
 And at the word she knelt on the floor, 
 whipped out a paper of sugar-plums, and said 
 to him she had christened " Jamie," — " Heh ! 
 Here's sweeties till ye." Out went Jamie's 
 arms, as if he had been a machine, and she had 
 pulled the right string. 
 
 " Ah, that will do," said Gatty, and sketched 
 away. 
 
 Unfortunately Jamie was quickly arrested 
 on the way to immortality by his mother, who 
 came in, saying, — 
 
 " I maun hae my bairn, — he canna be aye 
 wasting his time here."
 
 88 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 This sally awakened the satire that ever 
 lies ready in piscatory bosoms. 
 
 " Wasting his time ! ye're no blate. Oh, 
 ye'll be for taking him to the college to laern 
 pheesick, — and teach maenners," 
 
 " Ye needna begin on me," said the woman, 
 " I'm no match for Newhaven." 
 
 So saying she cut short the dispute by carry- 
 ing off the gristle of contention. 
 
 " Another enemy to art," said Gatty, hurl- 
 ing away his pencil. 
 
 The young fishwife inquired if there were 
 any more griefs : what she had heard had not 
 accounted, to her reason, for her companion's 
 depression. 
 
 " Are ye sick, laddyl" said she. 
 
 " No, Christie, not sick, but quite, quite 
 down in the mouth." 
 
 She scanned him thirty seconds. 
 
 " What had ye till your dinner?" 
 
 " I forget." 
 
 " A choep, likely V' 
 
 " 1 think it was."
 
 CHKISTIE JOHNSTONE. 89 
 
 " Or maybe it was a steak % ,: 
 
 " I dare say it was a steak." 
 
 " Taste my girdle cake, that I've brought 
 for ye." 
 
 She gave hiin a piece ; he ate it rapidly, 
 and looked gratefully at her. 
 
 " Noo, div ye no think shame to look me in 
 the face 1 Ye hae na dined ava." And she 
 wore an injured look. 
 
 " Sit ye there ; it's ower late for dinner, 
 but ye'll get a cup tea : doon i' the mooth, 
 nae wonder, when nacthing gangs doon 
 your " 
 
 In a minute she placed a tea-tray, and ran 
 into the kitchen with a tea-pot. 
 
 The next moment a yell was heard, and she 
 returned laughing, with another tea-pot. 
 
 " The wife had maskit her tea till hersel'," 
 said this lawless forager. 
 
 Tea and cake on the table — beauty seated 
 by his side — all in less than a minute. 
 
 He offered her a piece of cake. 
 
 " Na ! I am no for any." 
 
 " Nor I then," said he.
 
 90 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 " Hets ! eat, I tell ye." 
 
 He replied by putting a bit to her heavenly 
 mouth. 
 
 " Ye're awfu' opinionated," said she, with a 
 countenance that said nothing should induce 
 her, and eating it almost contemporaneously. 
 
 " Put plenty sugar," added she, referring to 
 the Chinese infusion ; " mind, 1 hae a sweet 
 tooth." 
 
 " You have a sweet set," said he, approach- 
 ing another morsel. 
 
 They showed themselves by way of smile, 
 and confirmed the accusation. 
 
 " Aha ! lad," answered she ; " they've been 
 the death o' mony a herrin' ! " 
 
 "Now, what does that mean in English, 
 Christie ? " 
 
 " My grinders — (a full stop). 
 
 " Which you approve — (a full stop). 
 
 " Have been fatal — (a full stop.) 
 
 " To many fishes ! " 
 
 Christie prided herself on her English, which 
 she had culled from books. 
 
 Then he made her drink from the cup, and
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 91 
 
 was ostentatious in putting his lips to the 
 same part of the brim. 
 
 Then she left the table, and inspected all 
 things. 
 
 She came to his drawers, opened one, and 
 was horror-struck. 
 
 There were coats and trousers, with their 
 limbs interchangeably intertwined, waistcoats, 
 shirts, and cigars, hurled into chaos. 
 
 She instantly took the drawer bodily out, 
 brought it, leaned it against the tea-table, 
 pointed silently into it, with an air of majestic 
 reproach, and awaited the result. 
 
 " I can find whatever I want," said the un- 
 blushing bachelor, " except money." 
 
 " Siller docs na bide wi' slovens ! hae ye 
 often siccan a gale o J wind in your drawer 1 ' ; 
 
 " Every day ! Speak English ! " 
 
 " Aweel ! How do you do % that's English ! 
 I daur say." 
 
 "Jolly \" cried lie, with his mouth full. 
 
 Christie was now folding up and neatly 
 arranging his clothes.
 
 92 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 " Will you ever, ever be a painter 1 r ' 
 
 "lama painter ! I could paint the devil 
 pea-green ! " 
 
 " Dinna speak o' yon lad, Chairles, it's no 
 canny." 
 
 " No ! I am going to paint an angel ; the 
 prettiest, cleverest girl in Scotland, ' The 
 Snowdrop of the North.' " 
 
 And he dashed into his bed-room to find a 
 canvass. 
 
 "Hech!" reflected Christie. " Thir Eng- 
 lish hae flattering tongues, as sure as Dethe ; 
 ' The Snaw-drap o' the Norrth ! ' "
 
 CHEISTIE JOHNSTONE. 93 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Gatty's back was hardly turned when a 
 visitor arrived, and inquired, " Is Mr. Gatty at 
 home % " 
 
 " What's your will wi' him % ,: was the Scot- 
 tish reply. 
 
 " Will you give him this % " 
 
 " What est ? " 
 
 " Are you fond of asking questions % " in- 
 quired the man. 
 
 " Ay ! and fules canna answer them," re- 
 torted Christie. 
 
 The little document which the man in retir- 
 ing, left with Christie Johnstone, purported to
 
 94 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 come from one Victoria, who seemed, at first 
 sight, disposed to show Charles Gatty civilities. 
 " Victoria — to Charles Gatty, greeting ! (sa- 
 lutem). Christie was much struck with this 
 instance of royal affability ; she read no far- 
 ther, but began to think, " Victoree ! that's 
 the Queen hersel. A letter fra the Queen to 
 a painter lad ! Picters will rise i' the mairket 
 — it will be an order to paint the bairns. I 
 hae brought him luck ; I am real pleased." 
 and on Gatty's return, canvass in hand, she 
 whipped the document behind her, and said 
 archly, " 1 hae something for ye, a tecket 
 fra a leddy, ye'll no want siller fra this 
 day." 
 
 " Indeed ! " 
 
 " Ay ! indeed, fra a great leddy ; its vara 
 gude o' me to gie ye it ; heh ! tak it." 
 
 He did take it, looked stupified, looked 
 again, sunk into a chair, and glared at it. 
 
 " Laddy ! " said Christie. 
 
 " This is a new step on the downward 
 path." said the poor painter.
 
 CHK1STIE JOHNSTONE. 95 
 
 " Is it no an orrder to paint the young 
 Prence 1 " said Christie, faintly. 
 
 " No ! " almost shrieked the victim. " It's 
 a writ ! I owe a lot of money." 
 
 " Oh, Chairles ! " 
 
 " See ! I borrowed sixty pounds six months 
 ago of a friend, so now I owe eighty ! " 
 
 " All right ! " giggled the unfriendly visitor 
 at the door, whose departure had been more 
 or less fictitious. 
 
 Christie, by an impulse, not justifiable, but 
 natural, drew her oyster-knife out, and this 
 time the man really went away. 
 
 " Hairtless mon ! w cried she, " could he no 
 do his ain dirrty work, and no gar me gie the 
 puir lad th' action, and he likeit me sae 
 weel ! " and she began to whimper. 
 
 " And love you more now," said he ; " don't 
 you cry, clear, to add to my vexation." 
 
 " Na ! I'll no add to your vexation," and 
 she gulped down her tears. 
 
 " Besides, I have pictures painted worth two 
 hundred pounds ; this is only for eighty. To
 
 96 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 be sure you can't sell them for two hundred 
 pence when you want. So I shall go to jail, 
 but they won't keep me long." 
 
 Then he took a turn, and began to fall into 
 the artistic, or true view of matters, which, 
 indeed, was never long absent from him. 
 
 " Look here, Christie," said he, " I am sick 
 of conventional assassins, humbugging models, 
 with dirty beards, that knit their brows, and 
 try to look murder ; they never murdered so 
 much as a tom-cat, I always go in for the real 
 thing, and here I shall find it " 
 
 " Dinna gang in there, lad, for ony favour." 
 
 " Then I shall find the accessories of a pic- 
 ture I have in my head — chains with genuine 
 rust, and ancient mouldering stones, with the 
 stains of time." His eye brightened at the 
 prospect. 
 
 " You among fiefs, and chains, and stanes ! 
 Ye'll break my hairt, laddy, ye'll no be easy 
 till you break my hairt ; " and this time the 
 tears would not be denied. 
 
 " I love you for crying ; don't cry ; " and
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 97 
 
 he fished from the chaotic drawer a cambric 
 handkerchief, with which he dried her tears as 
 they fell. 
 
 It is my firm belief she cried nearly twice 
 as much as she really wanted to ; she con- 
 trived to make the grief hers, the sympathy 
 his. Suddenly she stopped, and said — 
 
 " I'm daft ; ye'll accept a lane o' the siller 
 fra me, will ye no V 
 
 " No !" said he, " And where could you 
 find eighty pound V 
 
 " Auchty pund," cried she, " it's no auchty 
 pund that will ding Christie Johnstone, laddy. 
 I hae boats and nets worth twa auchtys ; and 
 I hae forty pund laid by ; and I hae seven 
 hundred pund at London, but that I canna 
 meddle. My feyther lent it the King or 
 the Queen, I dinna justly mind ; she pays me 
 the interest twice the year. Sae ye ken 1 
 could na be sae dirty as seek my siller, when 
 she pays me th' interest : to the very day, ye 
 ken. She's just the only one o' a' my debtors 
 
 F
 
 98 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 that's hoenest, but never heed, ye'll no gang to 
 
 jail" 
 
 " I'll hold my tongue, and sacrifice my pic- 
 tures," thought Charles. 
 
 " Cheer up !" said Christie, mistaking the 
 nature of his thoughts, " for it did na come 
 fra Victoree hersel'. It wad smell o' the 
 musk ye ken. Na, it's just a wheen black- 
 guards at London that maks use o' her name 
 to torment puir folk. Wad she pairsecute a 
 puir lad % No likely." 
 
 She then asked questions, some of which 
 were embarrassing. One thing he could never 
 succeed in making her understand, how, since 
 it was sixty pounds he borrowed, it could be 
 eighty pounds he owed. 
 
 Then once more she promised him her pro- 
 tection, bade him be of good cheer, and left 
 him. 
 
 At the door she turned, and said, "Chairles, 
 here's an auld wife seeking ye," and vanished. 
 
 These two young people had fallen ac-
 
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 99 
 
 quainted at a Newhaven wedding. Christie, 
 belonging to no one, had danced with him all 
 the night, they had walked under the stars to 
 cool themselves, for dancing reels, with heart 
 and soul, is not quadrilling. 
 
 Then he had seen his beautiful partner in 
 Edinburgh, and made a sketch of her, which 
 he gave her ; and by-and-by he used to run 
 down to Newhaven, and stroll up and down a 
 certain green lane near the town. 
 
 Next, on Sunday evenings, a long walk 
 together, and then it came to visits at his 
 place now and then. 
 
 And here Raphael and Fornarina were 
 inverted, our artist used to work, and Christie 
 tell him stories the while. 
 
 And as her voice curled round his heart, he 
 used to smile and look, and lay inspired 
 touches on his subject. 
 
 And she, an artist of the tongue (without 
 knowing herself one), used to make him grave, 
 or gay, or sad, at will, and watch the effect of 
 her art upon his countenance ; and a very 
 
 F 2
 
 100 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 pretty art it is — the viva voce storyteller's — 
 and a rare one amongst the nations of Europe. 
 
 Christie had not learned it in a day ; when 
 she began, she used to tell them, like the other 
 Newhaven people, with a noble impartiality of 
 detail, wearisome to the hearer. 
 
 But latterly she had learned to seize the 
 salient parts of a narrative ; her voice had 
 compass, and, like all fine speakers, she travelled 
 over a great many notes in speaking ; her low 
 tones were gorgeously rich, her upper tones 
 full and sweet ; all this, and her beauty, made 
 the hours she gave him very sweet to our poor 
 artist. 
 
 He was wont to bask in her music, and tell 
 her in return how he loved her, and how 
 happy they were both to be as soon as he had 
 acquired a name, for a name was wealth, he 
 told her. And although Christie Johnstone 
 did not let him see how much she took all 
 this to heart and believed it, it was as sweet 
 music to her, as her own honeysuckle breath 
 to him.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 101 
 
 She improved him. 
 
 He dropped cigars, and medical students, 
 and similar abominations. 
 
 Christie's cool, fresh breath, as she hung 
 over him while painting, suggested to him 
 that smokiug might, peradventure, be a sin 
 against nature as well as against clean- 
 liness. 
 
 And he improved her ; she learned from art 
 to look into nature (the usual process of 
 mind). 
 
 She had noticed too little the flickering gold 
 of the leaves at evening, the purple hills, and 
 the shifting stories and glories of the sky ; but 
 now, whatever she saw him try to imitate, she 
 learned to examine. She was a woman, and 
 admired sunset, etc., for this boy's sake, and 
 her whole heart expanded with a new sensa- 
 tion that softened her manner to all the world, 
 and brightened her personal rays. 
 
 This charming picture of mutual affection 
 had hitherto been admired only by those who 
 figured in it.
 
 102 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 But a visitor had now arrived on purpose to 
 inspect it, etc., attracted by report. 
 
 A friend had considerately informed Mrs. 
 Gatty, the artist's mother, and she had in- 
 stantly started from Newcastle. 
 
 This was the old lady Christie discovered 
 on the stairs. 
 
 Her sudden appearance took her son's 
 breath away. 
 
 No human event was less likely than that 
 she should be there, yet there she was. 
 
 After the first surprise and affectionate 
 greetings, a misgiving crossed him, " she must 
 know about the writ " — it was impossible ; but 
 our minds are so constituted — when we are 
 guilty, we fear that others know what we 
 know. 
 
 Now Gatty was particularly anxious she 
 should not know about this writ, for he had 
 incurred the debt by acting against her advice. 
 
 Last year he commenced a picture in which 
 was Durham Cathedral ; his mother bade him 
 stay quietly at home, and paint the cathedral
 
 CHKISTIE JOHNSTONE. 103 
 
 and its banks from a print, " as any other 
 painter would," observed she. 
 
 But this was not the lad's system ; he spent 
 five months on the spot, and painted his 
 picture, but he had to borrow sixty pounds to 
 do this ; the condition of this loan was, that 
 in six months he should either pay eighty 
 pounds, or finish, and hand over, a certain 
 half-finished picture. 
 
 He did neither ; his new subject thrust 
 aside his old one, and he had no money, ergo 
 his friend, a picture-dealer, who had found 
 artists slippery in money matters, followed 
 him up sharp, as we see. 
 
 " There is nothing the matter, I hope, 
 mother. What is it V 
 
 "I'm tired, Charles." He brought her a 
 seat : she sat down. 
 
 " 1 did not come from Newcastle at my age, 
 for nothing ; you have formed an improper 
 acquaintance." 
 
 " I, who \ Is it Jack Adams ?" 
 
 " Worse than any Jack Adams !"
 
 104 CHEISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 " Who can that be ? Jenkyns, mother, 
 because he does the same things as Jack, and 
 pretends to be religious." 
 
 " It is a female — a fishwife. Oh, my son !" 
 
 " Christie Johnstone an improper acquain- 
 tance," said he, " why ! I was good for nothing 
 till I knew her ; she has made me so good, 
 mother ; so steady, so industrious ; you will 
 never have to find fault with me again." 
 
 " Nonsense : — a woman that sells fish in the 
 streets !" 
 
 " But you have not seen her. She is beau- 
 tiful, her mind is not in fish ; her mind 
 grasps the beautiful and the good — she is a 
 companion for princes ! What am I that 
 she wastes a thought or a ray of music on 
 me ? Heaven bless her. She reads our best 
 authors, and never forgets a word ; and she 
 tells me beautiful stories — sometimes they 
 make me cry, for her voice is a music that 
 goes straight to my heart." 
 
 "A woman that does not even wear the 
 clothes of a lady."
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 105 
 
 " It is the only genuine costume in these 
 islands not beneath a painter's notice." 
 
 " Look at me, Charles \ at your mother." 
 
 " Yes, mother," said he, nervously. 
 
 " You must part with her, or kill me." 
 
 He started from his seat and began to 
 flutter up and down the room ; poor ex- 
 citable creature. " Part with her," cried 
 he, " I shall never be a painter if I do ; 
 what is to keep my heart warm when the sun 
 is hid, when the birds are silent, when dif- 
 ficulty looks a mountain, and success a mole- 
 hill % What is an artist without love 1 How 
 is he to bear up against his disappointments 
 from within, his mortification from without % 
 the great ideas he has and cannot grasp, and 
 all the forms of ignorance that sting him, 
 from stupid insensibility down to clever, shallow 
 criticism V 
 
 " Come back to common sense," said the old 
 lady, coldly and grimly. 
 
 He looked uneasy : common sense had often 
 
 f 3
 
 106 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 been quoted against him, and common sense 
 had always proved right. 
 
 " Come back to common sense. She shall 
 not be your mistress, and she cannot bear 
 your name ; you must part some day, because 
 you cannot come together, and now is the best 
 time." 
 
 " Not be together \ all our lives, all our 
 lives, ay," cried he, rising into enthusiasm, 
 " hundreds of years to come will we two be 
 together before men's eyes — I will be an 
 immortal painter, that the world and time 
 may cherish the features I have loved. I love 
 her, mother," added he, with a tearful tender- 
 ness that ought to have reached a woman's 
 heart ; then flushing, trembling, and inspired 
 he burst out, " And I wish I was a sculptor 
 and a poet too, that Christie might live in 
 stone and verse, as well as colours, and all 
 who love an art might say, ' This woman can- 
 not die, Charles Gatty loved her.' ' 
 
 He looked in her face, he could not believe
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 107 
 
 any creature could be insensible to his love, 
 and persist to rob him of it. 
 
 The old woman paused, to let his eloquence 
 evaporate. 
 
 The pause chilled him ; then gently and 
 slowly, but emphatically, she spoke to him 
 thus — 
 
 " Who has kept you on her small means 
 ever since you were ten years and seven 
 months old % " 
 
 " You should know, mother, dear mother." 
 
 " Answer me, Charles." 
 
 " My mother." 
 
 " Who has pinched herself, in every earthly 
 thing, to make you an immortal painter, and, 
 above all, a gentleman ? " 
 
 " My mother." 
 
 " Who forgave you the little faults of youth, 
 before you could ask pardon ? " 
 
 " My mother ! Oh, mother, I ask pardon 
 now for all the trouble I ever gave the best, 
 the dearest, the tenderest of mothers." 
 
 " Who will go home to Newcastle, a broken-
 
 108 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 hearted woman, with the one hope gone that 
 has kept her up in poverty and sorrow so 
 many weary years, if this goes on 1 " 
 
 " Nobody, I hope." 
 
 " Yes, Charles ; your mother/' 
 
 " Oh, mother ; you have been always my 
 best friend." 
 
 " And am this day." 
 
 " Do not be my worst enemy now : it is for 
 me to obey you ; but it is for you to think 
 well before you drive me to despair." 
 
 And the poor womanish heart leaned his 
 head on the table, and began to sorrow over 
 his hard fate. 
 
 Mrs. Gatty soothed him. " It need not be 
 done all in a moment — it must be done kindly, 
 but firmly. I will give you as much time as 
 you like." 
 
 This bait took — the weak love to temporize. 
 
 It is doubtful whether he honestly intended 
 to part with Christie Johnstone, but to pacify 
 his mother, he promised to begin and gradually 
 untie the knot.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 109 
 
 " My mother will go," whispered his deceit- 
 ful heart, " and when she is away, perhaps I 
 shall find out that in spite of every effort I 
 cannot resign my treasure." 
 
 He gave a sort of half-promise for the sake 
 of peace. 
 
 His mother instantly sent to the inn for her 
 boxes. 
 
 " There is a room in this same house," said 
 she, " I will take it ; I will not hurry you, 
 but until it is done, I stay here — if it is a 
 twelvemonth about." 
 
 He turned pale. 
 
 " And now hear the good news I have 
 brought you from Newcastle," 
 
 Oh ! these little iron wills, how is a great 
 artist to fight three hundred and sixty-five 
 days against such an antagonist. 
 
 Every day saw a repetition of these dia- 
 logues, in which genius made gallant bursts 
 into the air, and strong, hard sense, caught 
 him on his descent, and dabbed glue on his 
 gauzy wings.
 
 1 i CH1USTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 Old age and youth see life so differently. 
 
 To youth it is a story-book, in which we 
 are to command the incidents, and be the 
 bright exceptions to one rule after another. 
 
 To age it is an almanack, in which every- 
 thing will happen just as it has happened so 
 many times. 
 
 To youth, it is a path through a sunny 
 meadow. 
 
 To age, a hard turnpke : 
 
 Whose travellers must be all sweat and 
 dust, when they are not in mud and 
 drenched : 
 
 Which wants mending in many places, and 
 is mended with sharp stones. 
 
 Gatty would not yield to go down to New- 
 heaven, and take a step against his love, but he 
 yielded so far as to remain passive, and see 
 whether this creature was necessary to his 
 existence or not. 
 
 Mrs. G. scouted the idea. 
 
 " He was to work, and he would soon forget 
 her."
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. Ill 
 
 Poor bo j, he wanted to work ; his debt 
 weighed on him ; a week's resolute labour 
 might finish his first picture and satisfy his 
 creditor. The subject was an interior. He 
 set to work, he stuck to work, he glued to 
 work, his body — but his heart ? 
 
 Ah, my poor fellow, a much slower horse 
 than Gatty will go by you, ridden as you are 
 by a leaden heart. 
 
 Tu nihil invitai theirs pingesve Minerva. 
 
 It would not lower a mechanical dog's 
 efforts, but it must yours. 
 
 He was unhappy. He heard only one side 
 for days, that side was recommended by his 
 duty, filial affection, and diffidence of his own 
 good sense. 
 
 He was brought to see his proceedings were 
 eccentric, and that it is destruction to be 
 eccentric. 
 
 He was made a little ashamed of what he 
 had been proud of. 
 
 He was confus ;d and perplexed ; he hardly
 
 112 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 knew what to think or do ; he collapsed, and 
 all his spirit was fast leaving him, and then he 
 felt inclined to lean on the first thing he could 
 find, and nothing came to hand but his 
 mother. 
 
 Meantime, Christie Johnstone was also 
 thinking of him, but her single anxiety was to 
 find this eighty pounds for him. 
 
 It is a Newhaven idea that the female is 
 the natural protector of the male, and this 
 idea was strengthened in her case. 
 
 She did not fully comprehend his character 
 and temperament, but she saw, by instinct, 
 that she was to be the protector. 
 
 Besides, as she was twenty-one, and he only 
 twenty-two, she felt the difference between 
 herself — a woman, and him — a boy, and to 
 leave him to struggle unaided out of his dif- 
 ficulties, seemed to her heartless. 
 
 Twice she opened her lips to engage the 
 charitable " Vile Count" in his cause, but 
 shame closed them again ; this would be asking 
 a personal favour, and one on so large a scale.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 113 
 
 Several days passed thus ; she had deter- 
 mined not to visit him without good news. 
 
 She then began to be surprised, she heard 
 nothing from him. 
 
 And now she felt something that prevented 
 her calling on him. 
 
 But Jean Carnie was to be married, and the 
 next day the wedding party were to spend in 
 festivity upon the island of Inch Coombe. 
 
 She bade Jean call on him, and without 
 mentioning her, invite him to this party, from 
 which, he must know, she would not be absent. 
 
 Jean Carnie entered his apartment, and at 
 her entrance, his mother, who took for granted 
 this was his sweetheart, whispered in his ear 
 that he should now take the first step, and 
 left him. 
 
 What passed between Jean Carnie and 
 Charles Gatty, is for another chapter.
 
 114 CHfUSTIE JOHxNSTOXE. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A young Viscount with income and person 
 cannot lie perdu three miles from Edinburgh. 
 
 First one discovers him, then another, then 
 twenty, then all the world, as the whole clique 
 is modestly called. 
 
 Before, however, Lord Ipsden was caught, 
 he had acquired a browner tint, a more elastic 
 step, and a stouter heart. 
 
 The Aberford prescription had done won- 
 ders for him. 
 
 He caught himself passing one whole day 
 without thinking of Lady Barbara Sinclair. 
 
 But even Aberford had misled him ; there
 
 CHK1STIE JOHNSTONE. 115 
 
 were no adventures to be found in the Firth 
 of Forth ; most of the days there was no 
 wind to speak of ; twice it blew great guns, 
 and the men were surprised at his Lordship 
 going out, but nobody was in any danger 
 except himself ; the fishermen had all slipped 
 into port before matters were serious. 
 
 He found the merchantmen that could sail 
 creeping on with three reefs in their mainsail ; 
 and the Dutchmen lying to and breasting it, 
 like ducks in a pond, and with no more 
 chance of harm. 
 
 On one of these occasions he did observe 
 a little steam-tug, going about a knot an hour, 
 and rolling like a washing-tub. He ran down 
 to her, and asked if he could assist her; she 
 answered through the medium of a sooty 
 animal at her helm, that she was (like our 
 universities) " satisfied with her own progress;'' 
 she added, being under intoxication, " That if 
 any danger existed, her scheme was to drown 
 it in the bo-o-owl ;" and two days afterwards, 
 he saw her puffing and t panting, and fiercely
 
 116 CHKISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 dragging a gigantic three-decker out into deep 
 water, like an industrious flea pulling his 
 phaeton. 
 
 And now it is my office to relate how Mr. 
 Flucker Johnstone comported himself on one 
 occasion. 
 
 As the yacht worked alongside Granton 
 Pier, before running out, the said Flucker, 
 calmly and scientifically, drew his Lordship's 
 attention to three points : 
 
 The direction of the wind — the force of the 
 wind — and his opinion, as a person expe- 
 rienced in the Firth, that it was going to be 
 worse instead of better ; in reply, he received 
 an order to step forward to his place in the 
 cutter — the immediate vicinity of the jib- 
 boom. On this Mr. Flucker instantly burst 
 into tears. 
 
 His Lordship, or as Flucker called him, 
 ever since the yacht came down, " the Skip- 
 per," deeming that the higher appellation, 
 inquired with some surprise, what was the 
 matter with the boy 1
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 11 7 
 
 One of the crew, who, by-the-by, squinted, 
 suggested " it was a slight illustration of the 
 passion of fear." 
 
 Mucker confirmed the theory, by gulping 
 out, " We'll never see Newhaven again." 
 
 On this the Skipper smiled, and ordered 
 him ashore, somewhat peremptorily. 
 
 Straightway he began to howl, and saying 
 " it was better to be drowned than be the 
 laughing-stock of the place," went forward to 
 his place ; on his safe return to port, this 
 young gentleman was very severe on open 
 boats, which he said " bred womanish notions 
 in hearts naturally dauntless. — Give me a 
 lid to the pot," added he, " and I'll sail with 
 Old Nick, let the wind blow high or low." 
 
 The Aberford was wrong when he called 
 love a cutaneous disorder. 
 
 There are cutaneous disorders that take 
 that name, but they are no more love than 
 verse is poetry ; 
 
 Than patriotism is love of country ; 
 
 Than theology is religion ;
 
 118 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 Than science is philosophy ; 
 
 Than paintings are pictures ; 
 
 Than reciting on the boards is acting ; 
 
 Than physic is medicine ; 
 
 Than bread is bread, or gold, gold — in 
 shops. 
 
 Love is a state of being ; the beloved object 
 is our centre ; and our thoughts, affections, 
 schemes, and selves, move but round it. 
 
 We may diverge hither or thither, but the 
 golden thread still holds us. 
 
 Is fair or dark beauty the fairest \ The 
 world cannot decide ; but love shall decide in 
 a moment. 
 
 A halo surrounds her we love, and makes 
 beautiful to us her movements, her looks, her 
 virtues, her faults, her nonsense, her affecta- 
 tion, and herself, and that's love, Doctor ! 
 
 Lord Tpsden was capable of loving like 
 this ; but to do Lady Barbara justice, she 
 had done much to freeze the germ of noble 
 passion ; she had not killed, but she had be- 
 numbed it.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 119 
 
 " Saunders," said Lord Ipsden, one morning 
 after breakfast, " have you entered everything 
 in your diary V 
 
 " Yes, my Lord." 
 
 " All these good people's misfortunes V 
 
 " Yes, my Lord." 
 
 " Do you think you have spelt their names 
 right r 
 
 " Where it was impossible, my Lord, I sub- 
 stituted an English appellation hidentical in 
 meaning." 
 
 " Have you entered and described my first 
 interview with Christie Johnstone, and some- 
 body something V 
 
 " Most minutely, my Lord." 
 
 " How I turned Mr. Burke into poetry — 
 how she listened with her eyes all glistening — 
 how they made me talk — how she dropped a 
 tear, he ! he ! he ! at the death of the first 
 baron — how shocked she was at the king 
 striking him when he was dying, to make a 
 knight-banneret of the poor old fellow V 
 
 " Your Lordship will find all the particulars
 
 120 CHKISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 exactly related," said Saunders, with dry 
 pomp. 
 
 " How she found out that titles are but 
 breath — how I answered — some nonsense?" 
 
 " Your Lordship will find all the topics 
 included." 
 
 " How she took me for a madman t 
 
 " And you for a prig V 
 
 " The latter circumstance eluded my me- 
 mory, my Lord." 
 
 " But when I told her I must relieve only 
 one poor person by day, she took my 
 hand." 
 
 " Your Lordship will find all the items 
 realized in this book, my Lord." 
 
 " What a beautiful book !" 
 
 " Alba are considerably ameliorated, my 
 Lord V 
 
 « Alba V 
 
 " Plural of album, my Lord," explained the 
 refined factotum, " more delicate, I conceive, 
 than the vulgar reading." 
 
 Viscount Ipsden read from
 
 christie johnstone. 121 
 
 " Mr. Saunders's Album. 
 
 " To illustrate the inelegance of the inferior 
 classes, two juvenile vendors of the piscatory 
 tribes were this day ushered in, and instanta- 
 neously, without the accustomed preliminaries, 
 plunged into a familiar conversation with Lord 
 Viscount Ipsden. 
 
 " Their vulgarity, shocking and repulsive to 
 myself, appeared to afford his Lordship a 
 satisfaction greater than he derives from the 
 graceful amenities of fashionable association — " 
 
 " Saunders, I suspect you of something." 
 
 " Me, my Lord ! " 
 
 " Yes. Writing in an Annual.'' 
 
 " I do, my Lord," said he with benignant 
 hauteur, It appears every month — ' The 
 Polytechnic.'" 
 
 " I thought so ! you are polysyllabic, Saun- 
 ders ; en route !" 
 
 " In this hallucination I find it difficult to 
 participate ; associated from infancy with the 
 
 G
 
 122 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 aristocracy, I shrink, like the sensitive plant, 
 from contact with anything vulgar." 
 
 " I see ! I begin to understand you, Saun- 
 ders. Order the dog-cart, and Wordsworth's 
 mare for leader, we'll give her a trial. You 
 are an ass, Saunders." 
 
 " Yes, my Lord ; I will order Robert to tell 
 James to come for your Lordship's commands 
 about your Lordship's vehicles. (What could 
 he intend by a recent observation of a dis- 
 courteous character 1 ") 
 
 His Lordship soliloquized. 
 
 " I never observed it before, but Saunders 
 is an ass ! La Johnstone is one of Nature's 
 duchesses, and she has made me know some 
 poor people that will be richer than the rich 
 one day ; and she has taught me that honey 
 is to be got from bank notes — by merely giving 
 them away." 
 
 Amongst the objects of charity Lord Ipsden 
 discovered, was one Thomas Harvey, a maker 
 and player of the violin. This man was a
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 123 
 
 person of great intellect ; he mastered every 
 subject he attacked. By a careful examination 
 of all the points that various fine-toned instru- 
 ments had in common, he had arrived at a 
 theory of sound ; he made violins to corres- 
 pond, and was remarkably successful in in- 
 suring that which had been too hastily ascribed 
 to accident, a fine tone. 
 
 This man, who was in needy circumstances, 
 demonstrated to his Lordship that ten pounds 
 would make his fortune ; because with ten 
 pounds he could set up a shop instead of 
 working out of the world's sight, in a room. 
 
 Lord Ipsden gave him ten pounds ! 
 
 A week after, he met Harvey, more ragged 
 and dirty than before. 
 
 Harvey had been robbed by a friend whom 
 he had assisted. Poor Harvey ! Lord Ipsden 
 gave him ten pounds more ! 
 
 Next week, Saunders entering Harvey's 
 house, found him in bed at noon, because he 
 had no clothes to wear. 
 
 Saunders suggested that it would be better 
 
 g2
 
 124 CHKISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 to give his wife the next money, with strict 
 orders to apply it usefully. 
 
 This was done! 
 
 The next day, Harvey finding his clothes 
 upon a chair, his tools redeemed from pawn, 
 and a beef-steak ready for his dinner, accused 
 his wife of having money, and meanly refusing 
 him the benefit of it. She acknowledged she 
 had a little, and appealed to the improved 
 state of things as a proof that she knew better 
 than he the use of money. He demanded the 
 said money. She refused — he leathered her 
 — she put him in prison. 
 
 This was the best place for him. The man 
 was a drunkard, and all the riches of Egypt 
 would never have made him better off. 
 
 And here, gentlemen of the lower classes, a 
 word with you. How can you, with your small 
 incomes, hope to be well off, if you are more 
 extravagant than those who have large ones % 
 
 " Us extravagant % " you reply. 
 
 Yes ! your income is ten shillings a-week ; 
 out of that you spend three shillings in drink ;
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 125 
 
 ay ! you the sober ones. You can't afford it, 
 my boys. Find me a man whose income is a 
 thousand a-year ; well, if he imitates you, and 
 spends three hundred upon sensuality, I bet 
 you the odd seven hundred, he does not make 
 both ends meet ; the proportion is too great. 
 And two-thirds of the distress of the lower 
 orders is owing to this — that they are more 
 madly prodigal than the rich ; in the worst, 
 lowest, and most dangerous item of all human 
 prodigality ! 
 
 Lord Ipsden went to see Mrs. Harvey ; it 
 cost him much to go ; she lived in the Old 
 Town, and he hated disagreeable smells ; he 
 also knew from Saunders that she had two 
 black eyes, and he hated women with black 
 eyes of that sort. But this good creature did 
 go; did relieve Mrs. Harvey; and, bare-headed, 
 suffered himself to be bedewed ten minutes by 
 her tearful twaddle. 
 
 For once, Virtue was rewarded : returning 
 over the North Bridge, he met somebody whom, 
 but for his charity, he would not have met.
 
 126 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 He came in one bright moment plump upon 
 — Lady Barbara Sinclair. She flushed, he 
 trembled, and in two minutes he had forgotten 
 every human event that had passed since last 
 he was by her side. 
 
 She seemed pleased to see him, too ; she 
 ignored entirely his obnoxious proposal ; he 
 wisely took her cue, and so, on this secret 
 understanding, they were friends. He made 
 his arrangements, and dined with her family. 
 It was a family party. In the evening Lady 
 Barbara allowed it to transpire that she had 
 made inquiries about him. 
 
 (He was highly flattered) : and she had dis- 
 covered he was lying hid somewhere in the 
 neighbourhood. 
 
 " Studying the guitar ? " inquired she. 
 
 " No," said he, " studying a new class of 
 the community. Do you know any of what 
 they call the ' lower classes 1 ' " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Monstrous agreeable people, are they not V 
 
 " No, very stupid ! I only know two old
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 127 
 
 women — except the servants, who have no 
 characters. They imitate us, I suspect, which 
 does not say much for their taste." 
 
 " But some of lny friends are young women, 
 that makes all the difference." 
 
 " It does ! and you ought to be ashamed. 
 If you want a low order of mind, why desert 
 our own circle ? " 
 
 " My friends are only low in station ; they 
 have rather lofty minds, some of them." 
 
 " Well, amuse yourself with these lofty 
 minds. Amusement is the end of being, you 
 know, and the aim of all the men of this day." 
 
 " We imitate the ladies," said he, slily. 
 
 " You do," answered she, very drily ; and 
 so the dialogue went on, and Lord Ipsden 
 found the pleasure of being with his cousin 
 compensate him fully for the difference of 
 their opinions ; in fact, he found it simply 
 amusing that so keen a wit as his cousin's 
 could be entrapped into the humour of de- 
 crying the time one happens to live in, and 
 admiring any epoch one knows next to nothing
 
 128 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 about, and entrapped by the notion of its 
 originality, above all things ; the idea being 
 the stale common-place of asses in every age, 
 and the manner of conveying the idea being a 
 mere imitation of the German writers, not the 
 good ones, Men entendu, but the quill-drivers, 
 the snobs of the Teutonic pen. 
 
 But he was to learn that follies are not 
 always laughable, that eadem sentire is a 
 bond, and that when a clever and pretty 
 woman chooses to be a fool, her lover, if he 
 is wise, will be a greater — if he can. 
 
 The next time they met Lord Ipsden found 
 Lady Barbara occupied with a gentleman, 
 whose first sentence proclaimed him a pupil 
 of Mr. Thomas Carlyle, and he had the morti- 
 fication to find that she had neither an ear 
 nor an eye for him. 
 
 Human opinion has so many shades, that it 
 is rare to find two people agree. 
 
 But two people may agree wonderfully, if 
 they will but let a third think for them 
 both.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 129 
 
 Thus it was that these two ran so smoothly 
 in couples. 
 
 Antiquity, they agreed, was the time when 
 the world was old, its hair grey, its head 
 wise. Every one that said " Lord, Lord ! ' ; 
 two hundred years ago, was a Christian. There 
 were no earnest men now ; Williams, the 
 missionary, who lived and died for the Gospel, 
 was not earnest in religion ; but Cromwell, 
 who packed a jury, and so murdered his pri- 
 soner, — Cromwell, in whose mouth was heaven, 
 and in his heart temporal sovereignty, was 
 the pattern of earnest religion, or, at all events, 
 second in sincerity to Mahomet alone, in the 
 absence of details respecting Satan, of whom 
 we know only that his mouth is a scripture 
 concordance, and his hands the hands of Mr. 
 Carlyle's saints. 
 
 Then they went back a century or two, and 
 were eloquent about the great antique heart, 
 and the beauty of an age whose samples were 
 Abbot Sampson and Joan of Arc. 
 
 Lord Ipsdcn hated argument; but jealousy 
 
 G 3
 
 130 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 is a brass spur, it made even this man fluent 
 for once. 
 
 He suggested " That five hundred years 
 added to a world's life made it just five 
 hundred years older, not younger, and if 
 older, greyer, — and if greyer, wiser. 
 
 " Of Abbot Sampson," said he, " whom 
 I confess both a great and a good man, his 
 author, who with all his talent belongs to the 
 class muddle-head, tells us, that when he had 
 been two years in authority his red hair had 
 turned grey, fighting against the spirit of his 
 age ; how the deuce, then, could he be a 
 sample of the spirit of his age ? 
 
 " Joan of Arc was burnt by acclamation of 
 her age, and is admired by our age. Which 
 fact identifies an age most with a heroine, to 
 give her your heart, or to give her a blazing 
 faggot and death ? 
 
 " Abbot Sampson and Joan of Arc/' con- 
 cluded he, " prove no more in favour of their 
 age, and no less against it, than Lot does for 
 or aainst Sodom. Lot was in Sodom, but
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 131 
 
 not of it ; and so were Sampson and Joan in, 
 but not of, the villanous times they lived in. 
 
 " The very best text-book of true religion 
 is the New Testament, and I gather from it, 
 that the man who forgives his enemies whilst 
 their axe descends on his head, however poor 
 a creature he may be in other respects, is a 
 better Christian than the man who has the 
 God of Mercy for ever on his lips, and whose 
 hands are swift to shed blood. 
 
 " The earnest men of former ages are not 
 extinct in this," added he. " Whenever a scaf- 
 fold is erected outside a prison door, if you are 
 earnest in pursuit of truth, and can put up 
 with disgusting objects, you shall see a relic of 
 ancient manners hung. 
 
 " There still exist, in parts of America, 
 rivers on whose banks are earnest men, who 
 shall take your scalp, the wife's of your bosom, 
 and the innocent child's of her bosom. 
 
 " In England we are as earnest as ever in 
 pursuit of heaven, and of innocent worldly ad- 
 vantages. If, when the consideration of life
 
 132 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 and death interposes, we appear less earnest 
 in pursuit of comparative trifles, such as king- 
 doms or dogmas, it is because, cooler in action 
 we are more earnest in thought, — because 
 reason, experience, and conscience are things 
 that check the unscrupulousness or beastly 
 earnestness of man. 
 
 " Moreover, he who has the sense to see 
 that questions have three sides, is no longer 
 so intellectually as well as morally degraded 
 as to be able to cut every throat that utters 
 an opinion contrary to his own. 
 
 " If the phrase 'earnest man' means man 
 imitating the beasts that are deaf to reason, it 
 is to be hoped that civilization and Christianity 
 will really extinguish the whole race for the 
 benefit of the earth." 
 
 Lord Ipsden succeeded in annoying the 
 fair theorist, but not in convincing her. 
 
 The mediaeval enthusiasts looked on him 
 as some rough animal that had burst into 
 sacred grounds ud consciously, and gradually 
 edged away from him.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 133 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Lord Ipsuen had soon the mortification of 
 discovering that this Mr. was a con- 
 
 stant visitor at the house ; and although his 
 cousin gave him her ear in this man's absence, 
 on the arrival of her fellow-enthusiast he had 
 ever the mortification of finding himself de 
 trop. 
 
 Once or twice he demolished this personage 
 in argument, and was rewarded by finding 
 himself more de trop. 
 
 But one day Lady Barbara, being in a 
 cousinly humour, expressed a wish to sail 
 in his Lordship's yacht, and this hint soon led 
 to a party being organized, and a sort of pic-
 
 134 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 nic on the island of Inch Coombe ; his Lord- 
 ship's cutter being the mode of conveyance to 
 and from that spot. 
 
 Now it happened that on that very day 
 Jean Oarnie's marriage was celebrated on that 
 very island by her relations and friends. 
 
 So that we shall introduce our readers to 
 
 THE RIVAL PIO-NIOS. 
 
 We begin with Les gens comme ilfaut. 
 
 Pic-Nic, No. 1. 
 
 The servants were employed in putting 
 away dishes into hampers. 
 
 There was a calm silence. 
 
 " Hem," observed Sir Henry Talbot. 
 
 " Eh V replied the Honourable Tom Hither- 
 ington. 
 
 " Mamma," said Miss Vere, " have you 
 brought any work 1" 
 
 " No, my dear." 
 
 " At a pic-nic," said Mr. Hitherington,
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 135 
 
 " isn't it the thing for somebody — aw — to do 
 something % " 
 
 " Ipsden," said Lady Barbara, " there is an 
 understanding between you and Mr. Hither- 
 ington. I condemn you to turn him into 
 English." 
 
 " Yes, Lady Barbara ; I'll tell you, he 
 means — do you mean anything, Tom V 
 
 Hitherington. " Can't anybody guess what I 
 mean % " 
 
 Lady Barbara. " Guess first yourself, you 
 can't be suspected of being in the secret." 
 
 Hither. " What I mean is, that people sing 
 a song, or run races, or preach a sermon, or 
 do something funny at a pick-nic, — aw — some- 
 body gets up and does something." 
 
 Lady Bar. " Then perhaps Miss Vere, whose 
 singing is famous, will have the complaisance 
 to sing to us. 
 
 Miss Vere. " I should be happy, Lady 
 Barbara, but 1 have not brought my music." 
 
 Lady Bar. " Oh, we are not critical ; the 
 simplest air, or even a fragment of melody ;
 
 136 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 the sea and the sky will be a better accom- 
 paniment than Broadwood ever made." 
 
 Miss V. " I can't sing a note without book." 
 
 Sir H. Talbot. " Your music is in jour soul 
 — not at your fingers' ends." 
 
 Lord Ipsden, to Lady Bar. " It is in her 
 book, and not in her soul." 
 
 Lady Bar. to Lord Ips. " Then it has 
 chosen the better situation of the two." 
 
 Ips. " Miss Vere is to the fine art of music, 
 what the engrossers are to the black art of 
 law ; it all filters through them without leaving 
 any sediment ; and so the music of the day 
 passes through Miss Vere's mind, but none 
 remains— to stain its virgin snow." He bows, 
 she smiles. 
 
 Lady Bar., to herself. " Insolent : and the 
 little dunce thinks he is complimenting her." 
 
 Ips. " Perhaps Talbot will come to our 
 rescue — he is a fiddler. ' 
 
 Tal. " An amateur of the violin." 
 
 Ips. " It is all the same thing." 
 
 Lady Bar. " 1 wish it may prove so."
 
 CHEISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
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 139 
 
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 o.»_iL"P±t"-i 
 
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 Miss V. "Beautiful." 
 
 Mrs. Vere. " Charming." 
 
 Hither. "Superb!" 
 
 Ips. " You are aware that good music is a 
 thing to be wedded to immortal verse, shall I 
 recite a bit of poetry to match Talbot's strain V 
 
 Miss V. " Oh, yes ! how nice." 
 
 Ips. {rhetorically). " A. B. C. D. E. F. G. 
 H. I. J. K. L. M. N. 0. P. Q. R. S. T. U. V. 
 W. X. Y. Z. Y. X. W. V. U. T. S. 0. N. M. 
 L. K. J. I. H.G.F. A. M. p. t." 
 
 Lady Bar. " Beautiful ! Superb ! Ipsden 
 has been taking lessons on the thinking instru- 
 ment.
 
 140 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 Hither. " He has been perdu amongst 
 vulgar people." 
 
 Tal. " And expects a pupil of Herz to play 
 him tunes !" 
 
 Lady Bar. " What are tunes, Sir Henry." 
 
 Tal. " Something I don't play, Lady Bar- 
 bara." 
 
 Lady Bar. " I understand you ; something 
 we ought to like." 
 
 Ips. " I have a Stradivarius violin at 
 home : it is yours, Talbot, if you can define 
 a tune." 
 
 Tal. " A tune is — everybody knows what." 
 
 Lady Bar. " A tune is a tune, that is what 
 you meant to say." 
 
 Tal. " Of course it is." 
 
 Lady Bar. " Be reasonable, Ipsden ; no 
 man can do two things at once ; how can the 
 pupil of Herz condemn a thing and know 
 what it means contemporaneously ?" 
 
 Ips. " Is the drinking-song in ' Der Freis- 
 chutz/ a tune ? " 
 
 Lady Bar. " It is."
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 141 
 
 Ips. " And the melodies of Handel are they 
 tunes ?" 
 
 Lady Bar. (pathetically). " They are ! They 
 are !" 
 
 Ips. " And the ' Russian Anthem/ and the 
 ' Marseillaise/ and ' Ah, Perdona V " 
 
 Tal. " And Yankee Doodle ?" 
 
 Lady Bar. " So that Sir Henry, who prided 
 himself on his ignorance, has a wide field for its 
 dominion." 
 
 Tal " All good violin players do like me ; 
 they prelude, not play tunes." 
 
 Ips. "Then Heaven be thanked for our 
 blind fiddlers. You like syllables of sound in 
 unmeaning rotation, and you despise its words, 
 its purposes, its narrative feats ; carry out 
 your principle, it will show you where you are. 
 Buy a dirty pallet for a picture, and dream 
 the alphabet is a poem." 
 
 Lady Bar., to herself. " Is this my cousin 
 Richard T 
 
 Hither. " Mind, Ipsden, you are a man of 
 property, and there are such things as commis- 
 sions de lunatico.
 
 142 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 Lady Bar. " His defence will be that his 
 friends pronounce him insane." 
 
 Ips. "No; I shall subpcena Talbot's fiddle, 
 cross-examination will get nothing out of that 
 but, do, re, mi, fa." 
 
 Lady Bar. " Yes, it will ; fa, mi, re, do." 
 
 Tal. " Violin, if you please." 
 
 Lady Bar. " Ask Fiddle's pardon, directly." 
 Sound of fiddles is heard in the distance. 
 
 Tal. " How lucky for you, there are fiddles 
 and tunes, and the natives you are said to 
 favour, why not join them." 
 
 Ips. {shaking his head solemnly) . " I dread 
 to encounter another prelude." 
 
 Hither. " Come, I know you would like ; it 
 is a wedding party — two sea monsters have 
 been united. The sailors and fishermen are all 
 blue cloth and wash-leather gloves. 
 
 Miss V. " He ! he !" 
 
 Tal. " The fishwives unite the colours of the 
 rainbow — " 
 
 Lady Bar. "(and we all know how hideous 
 they are) — to vulgar, blooming cheeks, staring 
 white teeth, andskyblue eyes."
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 143 
 
 Mrs V. " How satirical jou are, especially 
 you, Lady Barbara." 
 
 Here Lord Ipsden, after a word to Lady 
 Barbara, the answer to which did not appear 
 to be favourable, rose, gave a little yawn, 
 looked steadily at his companions without see- 
 ing them, and departed without seeming aware 
 that he was leaving anybody behind him. 
 
 Hither. " Let us go somewhere where we can 
 quiz the natives without being too near them." 
 
 Lady Bar. " I am tired of this unbroken 
 solitude, I must go and think to the sea," 
 added she, in a mock soliloquy ; and out she 
 glided with the same unconscious air as his 
 Lordship had worn. 
 
 The others moved off slowly together. 
 
 " Mamma," said Miss Vere, " I can't under- 
 stand half Barbara Sinclair says." 
 
 " It is not necessary, my love," replied 
 Mamma, " she is rather eccentric, and I fear she 
 is spoiling Lord Ipsden." 
 
 " Poor Lord Ipsden," murmured the lovely 
 Vere, " be used to be so nice, and do like
 
 144 CHMSTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 everybody else. Mamma, I shall bring some 
 work the next time." 
 " Do, my love." 
 
 Pic-Nic, No. 2, 
 
 In a house, two hundred yards from this 
 scene, a merry dance, succeeding a merry song, 
 had ended, and they were in the midst of an 
 interesting story ; Christie Johnstone was the 
 narrator. She had found the tale in one of 
 the Viscount's books, — it had made a great 
 impression on her. 
 
 The rest were listening intently ; in a room 
 which had lately been all noise, not a sound 
 was now to be heard but the narrator's voice. 
 
 "Aweel, lasses, here are the three wee 
 kists set, the lads are to chuse, — the ane that 
 chuses reicht is to get Porsha, an' the lave to 
 get the bag, and dee baitchelars ; — Flucker 
 Johnstone, you that's sae clever, — are ye for 
 gowd, or siller, or leed V 
 
 1st Fishwife. " Gowd for me !" 
 
 2nd ditto. " The white siller's my taste."
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 145 
 
 Flucker. " Na ! there's aye some deevelish 
 trick in thir lassies' stories. I shall lie-to, till 
 the ither lads hae chused ; the rnair part will 
 put themsels oot, ane will hit it off reicht 
 may-be, then I shall gie him a hidin, an' carry 
 off the lass. You-hoo ! " 
 
 Jean Carnie. " That's you, Flucker." 
 
 Christie Johnstone. "And div ye really 
 think we are gawn to let you see a' the world 
 chuse? Na, lad, ye are putten oot o' the 
 room, like witnesses." 
 
 Flucker " Then I'd toss a penny; forgienye 
 trust to luck, she whiles favours ye, but gien ye 
 commence to reason and argefy — ye're done !" 
 
 Christie. "The suitors had na your wit, 
 my manny, or may-be they had na a penny 
 to toss, sae ane chused the gowd, and ane the 
 siller; but they got an awfu' affront. The 
 gold kist had just a skull intill't, and the siller 
 a deed cuddy's head !" 
 
 Chorus of Females. " He ! he ! he !" 
 
 Ditto of Males. " Haw ! haw ! haw ! haw ! 
 Ho ! " 
 
 H
 
 146 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 Christie. " An' Porsha puttit the pair of 
 gowks to the door. Then came Bassanio, the 
 lad fra Veeneece, that Porsha loed in secret. 
 Veeneece, lasses, is a wonderful city; the 
 streets o't are water, and the carriages are 
 boats — that's in Chambers'." 
 
 Flucher. " Wha are ye making a fool o' ?" 
 
 Christie. " What's wrang 1 " 
 
 Flucher. " Yon's just as big a lee as ever 
 I heerd." 
 
 The words were scarcely out of his mouth 
 ere he had reason to regret them ; a severe 
 box on the ear was administered by his indig- 
 nant sister. Nobody pitied them. 
 
 Christie. " I'll laern ye t' aifront me before 
 a' the company." 
 
 Jean Carnie. "Suppose it's a lee, there's 
 nae silver to pay for it, Flucker." 
 
 Christie. " Jean, I never telt a lee in a' my 
 days." 
 
 Jean. " There's ane to begin wi' then. Go 
 ahead, Custy." 
 
 Christie. " She bade the music play for him,
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 147 
 
 for music brightens tbouclit ; ony way, he 
 chose the leed kist. Open'st and wasn't there 
 Porsha's pictur, and a posej, that said, 
 
 " 'If you be well pleased with this, 
 
 And hold your fortune for your bliss; 
 Turn you where your leddy is, 
 
 And greet her wi' a loving " (Pause.) 
 
 " Kess," roared the company. 
 Chorus, led by Flucher. " Ilurraih ! " 
 Christie {pathetically). " Flucker, behave !" 
 Sandy Liston {drunk). " Hur-raih !" He 
 then solemnly reflected. — " Na ! but its na 
 hurraih, decency requires amen first an' hur- 
 raih afterwards; here's kissin plenty, but I 
 hear nae word o' the minister. Ye'll obsairve 
 young woman, that kissin's the prologue to 
 sin, and I'm a decent mon, an' a grey-headed 
 mon, an' your licht stories are no for me; sae 
 if the minister's no expeckit I shall retire — an' 
 tak my quiet jill my lane." 
 
 Jean (Jamie. " And div ye really think a 
 decent cummer like Custy wad let the lad aud 
 las> misbehave thirsels \ Na ! lad, the ininis- 
 
 H2
 
 148 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 ter's at the door, but (sinking her voice to a 
 confidential whisper) I daurna let him in, for 
 fear he'd see je hae putten the enemy in your 
 mooth sae aerly. (That's Ousty's word)." 
 
 " Jemmy Drysel," replied Sandy, addressing 
 vacancy, for Jemmy was mysteriously at work 
 in the kitchen, "ye hae gotten a thoughtfu' 
 wife. (Then, with a strong revulsion of feel- 
 ing.) "Dinna let the blakguard* in here," 
 cried he, " to spoil the young folk's sporrt." 
 
 Christie. " Aweel, lassies, comes a letter to 
 Bassanio; he reads it, and turns as pale as 
 deeth." 
 
 A Fishwife. " Gude help us." 
 
 Christie. "Poorsha behoved to ken his 
 grief, wha had a better reicht ? ' Here's is a 
 letter, leddy,' says he, ' the paper's the boedy 
 of my freend, like, and every word in it a 
 gaping wound.'" 
 
 * At present this is a spondee in England — a trochee 
 in Scotland. The pronunciation of this important 
 word ought to be fixed, representing, as it does, so 
 large a portion of the community in both countries.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 149 
 
 A Fisherman. " Maircj on us." 
 
 Christie. " Lad it was fra puir Antonio, 
 ye mind o' him, lasses. Heck ! the ill luck of 
 yon man, no a ship come hame ; ane foundered 
 at sea, coming fra Tri-po-lis ; the pirates scut- 
 tled another, an' ane ran ashore on the Good- 
 wyns, near Bright-helm-stane, that's in Eng- 
 land itsel', I daur say: sae he could na pay 
 the three thoosand ducats, an' Shylock had 
 grippit him, an' sought the pund o' flesh aff 
 the breest o' him, puir body." 
 
 Sandy Liston. " He would na be the waur 
 o' a wee bit hiding, yon thundering iirang 
 utang; let the man alane, ye cursed old can- 
 nibal." 
 
 Christie. "Poorsha keepit her man but ae 
 hoor till they were united, an' then sent him 
 wi' a puckle o' her ain siller to Veencece, and 
 Antonio, — think of that, lassies, — pairted on 
 their wedding day." 
 
 Lizzy Johnstone, a fishwife, aged 1 2. " Hech ! 
 hech, it's lamentable." 
 
 Jean Carnie. " I'm saying, mairriage is
 
 150 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 quick wark, in some pairts, — here there's an 
 awfii' trouble to get a man." 
 
 A young Fishwife. " Ay, is there." 
 
 Omnes. "Haw! haw! haw!" (The fishwife 
 hides.) 
 
 Christie. "Fill jour taupsels, lads and 
 lasses, and awa to Veneece." 
 
 Sand?/ Liston (sturdily). " I'll no gang to 
 sea this day." 
 
 Christie. " Noo, we are in the hall o' judg- 
 ment. Here are set the judges, awfu' to 
 behold ; there, od his throne, presides the 
 Juke." 
 
 Flucher. " She's awa to her Ennglish." 
 
 Lizzy Johnstone. " Did we come to Veeneece 
 to speak Scoetch, je useless fule. 
 
 Christie. "Here, pale and hopeless, but 
 resigned, stands the broken mairchant, An- 
 tonio; there, wi' scales and knives, and revenge 
 in his murderin' eje, stands the crewel Jew 
 Shylock." 
 
 "Aweel," muttered Sandy, considerately, 
 "I'll no mak a disturbance on a wedding day."
 
 CHKISTIE JOHNSTONE. 151 
 
 Christie. They wait for Bell — I diniia mind 
 his mind — a laerned lawyer, ony way; he's 
 sick, but sends ane mair laerned still, and 
 when this ane comes, he looks not older nor 
 wiser than mysel." 
 
 Flucker. " No possible ! " 
 
 Christie. " Ye needna be sae sarcy, Flucker, 
 for when he comes to his wark he soon lets 
 'em ken — runs his een like lightening ower the 
 boend. ' This bond's forfeit. Is Antonio not 
 able to dischairge the money V ' Ay !' cries 
 Bassanio, ' here's the sum thrice told.' — Says 
 the young judge, in a bit whisper to Shy lock, 
 ' Shylock, there's thrice thy money offered 
 thee. Be mairceful,' says he, out loud, ' Wha'll 
 mak me,' says the Jew body. ' Mak ye,' says 
 he ; ' maircy is no a thing ye strain through a 
 sieve, mon ; it droppeth like the gentle dew 
 fra heaven upon the place beneath; it blesses 
 him that gives and him that taks; it becomes 
 the king better than his throne, and airthly 
 power is maist like God's power when maircy 
 seasons justice.' "
 
 152 CHRISTIE JOIIXSTONE. 
 
 Robert Haw, Fisherman. " Dinna speak 
 like that to me onybody, or 1 shall gie ye my 
 boat, and fling my nets intil it, as ye sail 
 awa." 
 
 Jean Carnie. " Sae he let the puir deevil 
 go. Oh ! ye ken wha could stand up against 
 siccan a shower o' Ennglish as thaat." 
 
 Christie. " He just said, ' My deeds upon 
 my heed. I claim the law,' says he; 'there 
 is no power in the tongue o' man to alter 
 me. I stay here on my boend.' " 
 
 Sandy Liston. — " I hae sat quiet ! — quiet 
 I hae sat, against my will, no to disturb Jamie 
 Drysel's weddin'; but ye carry the game ower 
 far, Shylock, my lad. I'll just give yon bluidy 
 minded lirang iitang a hidin', and bring Tony 
 off, the gude, puir spirited creature : and him, 
 an' me, an' Bassanee, an' Porshee, we'll all hae 
 a jill thegither." 
 
 He rose, and was instantly seized by two of 
 the company, from whom he burst furiously, 
 after a struggle, and the next moment was 
 heard to fall clean from the top to the bottom,
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 153 
 
 of the stairs. Flucker and Jean ran out ; the 
 rest appealed against the interruption. 
 
 Christie. " Hech ! he's killed ; Sandy Lis- 
 ton's brake his neck." 
 
 " What aboot it, lassy V said a young fish- 
 erman, "its Antonio I'm feared for; save him, 
 lassy, if poessible ; but I doot ye'll no get him 
 clear o' yon deevelich heathen. 
 
 "Auld Sandy's cheap sairved," added he, 
 with all the indifference a human tone could 
 convey. 
 
 " Oh, Cursty," said Lizzy Johnstone, with a 
 peevish accent, " dinna break the bonny yarn 
 for naething." 
 
 Flucker, {returning). " He's a' reicht." 
 
 Christie. " Is he no dead T 
 
 flucker. " Him deed ? he's sober — that's a 5 
 the change 1 see." 
 
 Christie. " Can he speak \ I'm asking ye." 
 
 Flucker. " Yes, he can speak." 
 
 Christie. " What does he say, puir body ?" 
 
 flucker. "He sat up, an' sought a jill fra' 
 the wife — puir body !" 
 
 H 3
 
 154 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 Christie. "Hech, hech ! lie was my pupil in 
 the airt o' sobriety ! — aweel, the young judge 
 rises to deliver the sentence of the coort. — 
 Silence !" thundered Christie. — A lad and a 
 lass that were slightly flirting were discoun- 
 tenanced. 
 
 Christie. " A pund o' that same mairchant's 
 flesh is thine ! the coort awards it, and the 
 law does give it. 1 ' 
 
 A young Fishwife. " There, I thoucht sae ; 
 he's gaun to cut him, he's gaun to cut him ; 
 I'll no can bide." (Exibat.) 
 
 Christie. " Ther's a fulish goloshen. — 
 ' Have by a doctor to stop the blood.' — ' I see 
 nae doctor in the boend,' says the Jew body." 
 
 FlucJcer, " Bait your hook wi' a boend, and 
 ye shall catch yon carle's saul, Satin, my 
 lad." 
 
 Christie (with dismal pathos). "Oh! Flucker, 
 dinna speak evil o' deegneties, — that's may-be 
 fishing for yoursel' the noo ! — 'An' ye shall 
 cut the flesh frae off his breest.' — ' A sentence/ 
 says Shylock, ' come, prepare/ '
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 155 
 
 Christie made a dash en Skylock, and the 
 company trembled. 
 
 Christie. " ' Bide a wee/ says the judge, 
 * This boend gies ye na a drap o' bluid ; the 
 words expressly are, a pund o' flesh !' 
 (A Dramatic Pause.) 
 
 Jean Carnie (drawing her breath). " That's 
 into your mutton, Shylock." 
 
 Christie {with dismal pathos). " Oh, Jean ! 
 yon's an awfu' voolgar exprassion to come fra' 
 a woman's inooth." 
 
 " Could ye no hae said, ' intil his bacon V 
 said Lizzy Johnstone, confirming the remon- 
 strance. 
 
 Christie. " Then tak your boend, an' your 
 pund o' flesh, but in cutting o't, if thou dost 
 shed one drop of Christian bluid — thou 
 diest!" 
 
 Jean Carnie. " Hech ! " 
 
 Christie. " Thy goods are by the laws of 
 Veneecc con-fis-cate, confiscate!" 
 
 Then like an artful narrator, she began to 
 wind up the story more rapidly.
 
 156 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 " Sae Shylock got to be no sae saucy — 
 ' Pay the boend thrice/ says he, ' and let the 
 puir deevil go.' — ' Here it's/ says Bassauio. — 
 Na ! the young judge wadna let him. — ' He 
 has refused it in open coort ; no a bawbee for 
 Shy lock but just the forfeiture ; an' lie daur 
 na tak it/ — ' I'm awa', says he. — ' The deivil 
 tak ye a'.'— Na! he wasna to win clear sae; 
 ance they'd gotten the Jew on the hep, they 
 worried him, like good Christians, that's a 
 fact. The judge fand a law that fitted him, 
 for conspiring against the life of a citizen ; 
 an' he behooved to give up hoose an' lands, 
 an' be a Christian ; yon was a soor drap — he 
 tarned no weel, puir auld villain, an' scairlit ; 
 an' the lawyers sent ane o' their weary 
 parchments till his hoose, and the puir auld 
 heathen signed awa his siller, an' Abraham, 
 an' Isaac, an' Jacob, on the heed o't. I 
 pity him, an auld, auld man ; and his dochter 
 had rin off wi' a Christian lad — they ca' 
 her Jessica, and didn't she steal his very 
 diamond ring that his ain lass , gied him
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 157 
 
 when he was young, an' maybe no sae liard- 
 hairted." 
 
 Jean Carnie. "Oh the jaud! suppose he 
 was a Jew, it was na her business to clean 
 him oot." 
 
 A young Fishwife. " Aweel, it was only a 
 Jew body, that's my comfort." 
 
 Christie. "Ye speak as a Jew was na a man ; 
 has not a Jew eyes, if ye please \ " 
 
 Lizzy Johnstone. "Ay, has he! — and the 
 awfuest lang neb atween em." 
 
 Christie. " Has not a Jew affections, paas- 
 sions, orrgans V 
 
 Jean. " Na ! Christie ; thir lads comes 
 fr' Italy!" 
 
 Christie. " If you prick him, does he not 
 bleed ; if you tickle him, does na he 
 lauch?" 
 
 A young Fishwife [pertly). " I never kittlet 
 a Jew, for my pairt, — sae I'll no can tell ye." 
 
 Christie. " If you poison him, does he not 
 die \ and if you wrang him," (with fury) 
 " shall lie not revenge ?"
 
 158 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 Lizzy Johnstone. " Oh ! but je're a fear- 
 some lass." 
 
 Christie. " Wha'U gie rne a sang for my 
 bonny yarn V 
 
 Lord Ipsden, who had been an unobserved 
 auditor of the latter part of the tale, here 
 inquired whether she had brought her book. 
 
 « What'n buik 1 » 
 
 " Your music-book ! " 
 
 " Here's my music-book, said Jean, roughly." 
 tapping her head. 
 
 " And here's mines," said Christie, bird-ly, 
 touching her bosom. 
 
 " Richard," said she, thoughtfully, " I wish 
 ye may no hae been getting in voolgar com- 
 pany ; div ye think we hae minds like rinning 
 water \ " 
 
 Flucker (avec malice). "And tongues like 
 the mill-clack abune it % Because if ye think 
 sae, captain, — ye're no far wrang !" 
 
 Christie. " Na! we hae na muckle gowd 
 may-be ; but our minds are gowden vessels," 
 
 Jean. " Aha ! lad."
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 159 
 
 " Christie. " They are not saxpenny sieves, to 
 let music an' metre through, and leave us none 
 the wiser or better. Dinna gang in low voolgar 
 company, or you a lost laddy." 
 
 Ipsden. " Vulgar, again ! everybody has a 
 different sense for that word, I think. What 
 is vulgar V 
 
 Christie. " Voolgar folk sit on an chair, 
 ane, twa, whiles three hours, eatin an' abune a' 
 drinkin, as still as hoegs, or gruntin puir every 
 day clashes, goessip, rubbich ; when ye are 
 aside them, ye might as weel be aside a cuddy ; 
 they canna gie ye a sang, they canna tell ye a 
 story, they canna think ye a thoucht, to save 
 their useless lives ; that's voolgar folk ." 
 
 She sings. " A caaller herrin' !" 
 
 Jean. " A caaller herrin' ! " 
 
 Omnes. 
 
 " Come buy my bonny caaller herrin', 
 
 " Six a penny caaller from the sea," &c. 
 
 The music chimed in, and the moment the 
 song was done, without pause, or anything to 
 separate or chill the succession of the arts, the
 
 160 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 fiddles diverged with a gallant plunge into 
 " The Dusty Miller." The dancers fouDd their 
 feet by an instinct as rapid, and a rattling 
 reel shook the floor like thunder. Jean Oar- 
 nie assumed the privilege of a bride, and 
 seized his Lordship ; Christie, who had a mind 
 to dance with him too, took Flucker captive, 
 and these four were one reel ! There were 
 seven others. 
 
 The principle of reel dancing is articula- 
 tion : the foot strikes the ground for every 
 accented note, (and by-the-by, it is their 
 weakness of accent which makes all English 
 reel and hornpipe players such failures). 
 
 And 'in the best steps of all, which it has in 
 common with the hornpipe, such as the quick 
 " heel and toe," " the sailor's fling," and the 
 " double shuffle," the foot strikes the ground 
 for every single note of the instrument. 
 
 All good dancing is beautiful. 
 
 But this articulate dancing, compared with 
 the loose, lawless diffluence of motion that 
 goes by that name, gives me (I must confess it)
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 161 
 
 as much more pleasure as articulate singing is 
 superior to tunes played on the voice by a 
 young lady. 
 
 Or the clean playing of my mother to the 
 piano-forte splashing of my daughter ; though 
 the latter does attack the instrument as a 
 washerwoman her soapsuds, and the former 
 works like a lady. 
 
 Or skating to sliding : 
 
 Or English verse to dactyls in English : 
 
 Or painting to daubing : 
 
 Or preserved strawberries to strawberry jam. 
 
 What says Goldsmith of the two styles % 
 
 " They swam, sprawled, frisked, and lan- 
 guished ; but Olivia's foot was as pat to the 
 music as its echo." — Vicar of Wakefield. 
 
 Newhaven dancing aims also at fun ; laugh- 
 ter mingles with agility ; grotesque, yet grace- 
 ful gestures are flung in, and little inspiriting 
 cries flung out. 
 
 His Lordship soon entered into the spirit of 
 it. Deep in the mystery of the hornpipe, he
 
 162 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 danced one or two steps Jean and Christie 
 had never seen, but their eyes were instantly 
 on his feet, and they caught in a minute, and 
 executed these same steps. 
 
 To see Christie Johnstone do the double 
 shuffle with her arms so saucily a-kimbo, and 
 her quick elastic foot at an angle of forty-five, 
 was a treat. 
 
 The dance became inspiriting, inspiring, in- 
 toxicating ; and when the fiddles at last left 
 off, the feet went on another seven bars by the 
 enthusiastic impulse. 
 
 And so, alternately spinning yarns, singing 
 songs, dancing, and making fun, and mingling 
 something of heart and brain in all, these 
 benighted creatures made themselves happy 
 instead of peevish, and with a day of stout, 
 vigorous, healthy pleasure, refreshed, indemni- 
 fied and warmed themselves for many a day 
 of toil. 
 
 Such were the two pic-nics of Inch-Coombe, 
 and these rival cliques, agreeing in nothing
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 163 
 
 else, would have agreed in this : each, if 
 allowed (but we won't allow either) to judge 
 the other, would have pronounced the same 
 verdict — 
 
 " lis ne savent pas vivre ces gens-la."
 
 164 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Two of our personages left Inch-Combe 
 less happy than when they came to it. 
 
 Lord Ipsden encountered Lady Barbara 
 
 with Mr. , who had joined her upon the 
 
 island. 
 
 He found them discoursing, as usual, about 
 the shams of the present day, and the sincerity 
 of Cromwell and Mahomet, and he found him- 
 self de trop. 
 
 They made him, for the first time, regret 
 the loss of those earnest times, when, "to 
 avoid the inconvenience of both addressing 
 the same lady," you could cut a rival's throat
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 165 
 
 at once, and be smiled on by the fair and 
 society. 
 
 That a book-maker should blaspheme high 
 civilization, by which alone he exists, and one 
 of whose diseases and flying pains he is, nei- 
 ther surprised nor moved him ; but that any 
 human being's actions should be affected by 
 such tempestuous twaddle, was ridiculous. 
 
 And that the witty Lady Barbara should be 
 caught by this chaff was intolerable ; he began 
 to feel bitter. 
 
 He had the blessings of the poor, the good 
 opinion of the world ; every living creature 
 was preposssesed in his favour but one, and 
 that one despised him ; it was a diabolical 
 prejudice ; it was the spiteful caprice of his 
 fate. 
 
 His heart, for a moment, was in danger of 
 deteriorating, lie was miserable ; the devil 
 suggested to him, "make others miserable too ;" 
 and he listened to the advice. 
 
 There was a fine breeze, but instead of
 
 166 CHRISTIE JOHNSTOXE. 
 
 sailing on a wind, as lie might have done, he 
 made a series of tacks, and all were ill. 
 
 The earnest man first ; and Flucker an- 
 nounced the skipper's insanity to the whole 
 town of Newhaven, for,- of course, these tacks 
 were all marine solecisms. 
 
 The other discontented Pic-nician was 
 Christie Johnstone. Gatty never came ; and 
 this, coupled with five or six days' previous 
 neglect, could no longer pass unnoticed. 
 
 Her gaiety failed her before the afternoon 
 was ended ; and the last two hours were spent 
 by her alone, watching the water on all sides 
 for him. 
 
 At last, long after the departure of his 
 Lordship's yacht, the Newhaven boat sailed 
 from Inch-Coombe with the wedding party. 
 There was now a strong breeze, and the water 
 every now and then came on board ; so the 
 men set the foresail with two reefs, and drew 
 the mainsail over the women ; and there, as 
 they huddled together in the dark, Jean
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 167 
 
 Carnie discovered that our gay story-teller's 
 eyes were wet with tears. 
 
 Jean said nothing ; she embraced her, and 
 made them flow faster. 
 
 But when they came alongside the pier, 
 Jean, who was the first to get her head from 
 under the sail, whipped it back again, and said 
 to Christie, 
 
 " Here he is, Christie ; dinna speak till 
 him." 
 
 And sure enough there was, in the twilight, 
 with a pale face and an uneasy look — Mr. 
 Charles Gatty ! 
 
 lie peered timidly into the boat, and when 
 he saw Christie, an "Ah!" that seemed to 
 mean twenty different things at once, burst 
 from his bosom. He held out his arm to 
 assist her. 
 
 She cast on him one glance of mute re- 
 proach, and placing her foot on the boat's 
 gunwale, sprang like an autelope upon the 
 pier, without accepting his assistance. 
 
 Before going farther, we must go back for
 
 168 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 this boy, and conduct him from where we left 
 him up to the present point. 
 
 The moment he found himself alone with 
 Jean Carnie, in his own house, he began to 
 tell her what trouble he was in ; how his 
 mother had convinced him of his imprudence 
 in falling in love with Christie Johnstone ; and 
 how she insisted on a connexion being broken 
 off, which had given him his first glimpse of 
 heaven upon earth, and was contrary to com- 
 mon sense. 
 
 Jean heard him out, and then, with the air 
 of a lunatic asylum keeper to a rhodomontad- 
 ing patient, told him " he was one fool, and 
 his mother was another/' First she took him 
 up on the score of prudence. 
 
 " You." said she, " are a beggarly painter, 
 without a rap ; Christie has houses, boats, nets 
 and money : you are in debt ; she lays by 
 money every week. It is not prudent on her 
 part to take up with you — the better your 
 bargain, my lad." 
 
 Under the head of common sense, which
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 169 
 
 she maintained was all on the same side of 
 the question, she calmly inquired — 
 
 " How could an old woman of sixty be 
 competent to judge how far human happiness 
 depends on love, when she has no experience 
 of that passion, and the reminiscences of her 
 youth have become dim and dark % You 
 might as well set a judge in court, that has 
 forgotten the law, — common sense f said she, 
 " the old wife is sixty, and you are twenty — 
 what can she do for you the forty years you 
 may reckon to outlive her 1 Who is to keep 
 you through those weary years, but the wife of 
 your own choice, not your mother's 1 You 
 English does na read the Bible, or ye'd ken 
 that a lad is to ' leave his father and mother, 
 and cleave until his wife,"' added she ; then, 
 with great contempt, she repeated, "common 
 sense, indeed ! ye're fou wi' your common 
 sense ; ye hae the name o't pat eneuch — but 
 there's na rauckle o' that mairchandize in your 
 hams." 
 
 Gatty was atonished : what ! was there 
 
 I
 
 170 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 really common sense on the side of bliss \ and 
 when Jean told him to join her party at Inch 
 Coombe, or never look her in the face again, 
 scales seemed to fall from his eyes ; and with a 
 heart that turned in a moment from lead to 
 a feather, he vowed he would be at Inch 
 Coombe. 
 
 He then begged Jean on no account to tell 
 Christie the struggle he had been subjected to, 
 since his scruples were now entirely con- 
 quered. 
 
 Jean acquiesced at once, and said, " Indeed, 
 she would be very sorry to give the lass that 
 niuckle pain." 
 
 She hinted, moreover, that her neebor's 
 spirit was so high, she was quite capable of 
 breaking with him at once upon such an inti- 
 mation ; and she, Jean, was "nae mischief- 
 maker." 
 
 In the energy of his gratitude, he kissed 
 this dark-browed beauty, professing to see in 
 her a sister. 
 
 And she made no resistance to this way of
 
 CHPJSTIE JOHNSTOXE. 171 
 
 showing gratitude, but muttered between her 
 teeth, " He's just a bairn ! " 
 
 And so she went about her business. 
 
 On her retreat, his mother returned to him, 
 and, with a sad air, hoped nothing that that 
 rude girl had said had weakened his filial duty. 
 
 " No, mother/' said he. 
 
 She then, without explaining how she 
 came acquainted with Jean's arguments, pro- 
 ceeded to demolish them one by one. 
 
 " If your mother is old and experienced," 
 said she, " benefit by her age and experience. 
 She has not forgotten love, nor the ills it leads 
 to, when not fortified by prudence. Scripture 
 says, a man shall cleave to his wife when he 
 has left his parents ; but in making that, the 
 most important step of life, where do you read 
 that he is to break the fifth commandment % 
 But I do you wrong, Charles, you never could 
 have listened to that vulgar girl when she told 
 you your mother was not your best friend." 
 
 " N — no, mother, of course not." 
 
 "Then you will not go to that place to 
 
 I 2
 
 172 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 break my heart, and undo all you have done 
 this week." 
 
 " I should like to go, mother." 
 
 " You will break my heart if you do." 
 
 " Christie will feel herself slighted, and she 
 has not deserved this treatment from me." 
 
 " The other will explain to her, and if she 
 is as good a girl as you say — " 
 
 " She is an angel !" 
 
 " How can a fishwife be an angel 1 Well, 
 then, she will not set a son to disobey his 
 mother." 
 
 " I don't think she would ! but is all the 
 goodness to be on her side V 
 
 " No, Charles, you do your part ; deny 
 yourself, be an obedient child, and your 
 mother's blessing and the blessing of Heaven 
 will rest upon you." 
 
 In short, he was not to go to Inch Coombe. 
 
 He stayed at home, his mother set him to 
 work ; he made a poor hand of it, he was so 
 wretched. She at last took compassion on 
 him, and in the evening, when it was now too
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 173 
 
 late for a sail to Inch Coombe, she herself 
 recommended a walk to him. 
 
 The poor boy's feet took him towards New- 
 haven, not that he meant to go to his love, 
 but he could not forbear from looking at the 
 place which held her. 
 
 He was about to return, when a spacious 
 blue jacket hailed him. Somewhere inside this 
 jacket was Master Flucker, who had returned 
 in the yacht, leaving his sister on the island. 
 
 Gatty instantly poured out a flood of ques- 
 tions. 
 
 The baddish boy reciprocated fluency : he 
 informed him " that his sister had been the 
 star of a goodly company, and that her own 
 lad having stayed away, she had condescended 
 to make a conquest of the skipper himself. 
 
 " He had come in quite at the tag end of one 
 of her stories, but it had been sufficient to do 
 his business — he had danced with her, had 
 even whistled whilst she sung, (heel), it was 
 bonny !) 
 
 " And when the cutter sailed, he, Flucker,
 
 174 CHKISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 had seen her perched on a rock, like a mer- 
 maid, watching their progress, which had been 
 slow, because the skipper, infatuated with so 
 sudden a passion, had made a series of un- 
 grammatical tacks." 
 
 For his part he was glad, said the gracious 
 Flucker ; the lass was a prideful hussy, that 
 had given some twenty lads a sore heart and 
 him many a sore back ; and he hoped his 
 skipper, with whom he naturally identified 
 himself rather than with his sister, would 
 ayenge the male sex upon her." 
 
 In short, he went upon this tack till he 
 drove poor Gatty nearly mad. 
 
 Here was a new feeling superadded; at first 
 he felt injured, but on reflection what cause 
 of complaint had he ? 
 
 He had neglected her ; he might have been 
 her partner— he had left her to find one where 
 she could. 
 
 Fool, to suppose that so beautiful a creature 
 would ever be neglected — except by him ! 
 
 It was more than he could bear.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 175 
 
 He determined to see her, to ask her for- 
 giveness, to tell her everything, to beg her to 
 decide, and, for his part, he would abide by 
 her decision. 
 
 Christie Johnstone, as we have already 
 related, declined his arm, sprang like a deer 
 upon the pier, and walked towards her home, 
 a quarter of a mile distant. 
 
 Gatty followed her, disconsolately, hardly 
 knowing what to do. 
 
 At last, observing that she drew near enough 
 to the wall to allow room for another on the 
 causeway, he had just nous enough to creep 
 alongside, and pull her sleeve somewhat 
 timidly. 
 
 " Christie, I want to speak to you." 
 
 " What can ye hae to say till me V 
 
 " Christie, I am very unhappy ; and J want 
 to tell you why, but I have hardly the strength 
 or the courage." 
 
 " Ye shall come ben my hoose if ye are 
 unhappy, and we'll hear your story : come 
 away."
 
 176 CHR1STJB JOHNSTONE. 
 
 He had never been admitted into her house 
 before. 
 
 They found it clean as a snowdrift. 
 
 They found a bright fire, and Flucker frying 
 innumerable steaks. 
 
 The baddish boy had obtained them in his 
 sister's name and at her expense, at the 
 flesher's, and claimed credit for his affection. 
 
 Potatoes he had boiled in their jackets, 
 and so skilfully, that those jackets hung by a 
 thread. 
 
 Christie laid an unbleached table-cloth, that 
 somehow looked sweeter than a white one, as 
 brown bread is sweeter than white. 
 
 But lo, Gatty could not eat; so then Christie 
 would not, because he refused her cheer. 
 
 The baddish boy chuckled, and addressed 
 himself to the nice brown steaks with their rich 
 gravy. 
 
 On such occasions a solo on the knife and 
 fork seemed better than a trio to the gracious 
 Flucker. 
 
 Christie moved about the room, doing little
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 177 
 
 household matters, Gattj's eye followed 
 her. 
 
 Her beauty lost nothing in this small apart- 
 ment ; she was here, like a brilliant in some 
 quaint, rough setting, which all earth's jewel- 
 lers should despise, and all its poets admire, 
 and it should show off the stone and not 
 itself. 
 
 Her beauty filled the room, and almost made 
 the spectators ill. 
 
 Gatty asked himself whether he could really 
 have been such a fool as to think of giving up 
 so peerless a creature. 
 
 Suddenly an idea occurred to him, a bright 
 one, and not inconsistent with a true artist's 
 character — he would decline to act in so 
 doubtful a case : he would float passively down 
 the tide of events — he would neither desert 
 her, nor disobey his mother ; he would take 
 everything as it came, and to begin, as he was 
 there, he would for the present say nothing 
 but what he felt, and what he felt was that he 
 loved her. 
 
 i 3
 
 178 CHEISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 He told her so accordingly. 
 
 She replied, concealing her satisfaction, 
 " that if he liked her, he would not have 
 refused to eat when she asked him." 
 
 But our hero's appetite had returned with 
 his change of purpose, and he instantly volun- 
 teered to give the required proof of affection. 
 
 Accordingly two pound of steaks fell before 
 him. 
 
 Poor boy — he had hardly eaten a genuine 
 meal for a week past. 
 
 Christie sat opposite him, and every time he 
 looked off his plate, he saw her rich blue eyes 
 dwelling on him. 
 
 Everything contributed to warm his heart, 
 he yielded to the spell, he became contented, 
 happy, gay. 
 
 Flucker ginger-cordialed him, his sister 
 bewitched him. 
 
 She related the day's events in a merry 
 mood. 
 
 Mr. Gatty burst forth into singing. 
 
 He sung two light and sombre trifles, such
 
 CHE1STIE JOHNSTONE. 179 
 
 as in the present day are deemed generally 
 encouraging to the spirits, and particularly in 
 accordance with the sentiment of supper — they 
 were about Death, and Ivy Green. 
 
 The dog's voice was not very powerful, but 
 sweet and round as honey dropping from the 
 comb. 
 
 His two hearers were entranced, for the 
 creature sang with an inspiration good singers 
 dare not indulge. 
 
 He concluded by informing Christie that 
 the ivy was symbolical of her, and the oak 
 prefigured Charles Gratty, Esq. 
 
 He might have inverted the simile with 
 more truth. 
 
 In short, he never said a word to Christie 
 about parting with her, but several about being 
 buried in the same grave with her, sixty years 
 hence, for which, the spot he selected was 
 Westminster Abbey. 
 
 And away he went, leaving golden opinions 
 behind him. 
 
 The next day, Christie was so affected with
 
 180 CHEISTTE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 his conduct, coming as it did, after an appa- 
 rent coolness, that she conquered her bashful- 
 ness and called on the " Vile Count," and 
 with some blushes and hesitation, inquired 
 " Whether a painter lad was a fit subject of 
 charity." 
 
 " Why not V said his Lordship. 
 
 She then told him Gatty's case, and he 
 instantly promised to see that artist's pictures, 
 particularly ane " awfu' bonny ane ;" the hero 
 of which she described, as an English minister 
 blessing the bairns with one hand, and giving 
 orders to kill the puir Scoetch with the other. 
 
 " C'est egal," said Christie in Scotch, " it's 
 awfu' bonny." 
 
 Gatty reached home late ; his mother had 
 retired to rest. 
 
 But the next morning she drew from him 
 what had happened, and then ensued another 
 of those dialogues which I am ashamed again 
 to give the reader. 
 
 Suffice it to say, that she one more pre- 
 vailed, though with far greater difficulty ;
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 181 
 
 time was to be given him to unsew a connec- 
 tion which he could not cut asunder, and he, 
 with tearful eyes and a heavy heart, agreed 
 to take some step the very first oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 This concession was hardly out of his 
 mouth, ere his mother made him kneel down 
 and bestowed her blessing upon him. He 
 received it coldly and dully, and expressed a 
 languid hope it might prove a charm to save 
 him from despair ; and sad, bitter, and de- 
 jected, forced himself to sit down and work on 
 the picture that was to meet his unrelenting 
 creditor's demand. 
 
 He was working on his picture, and his 
 mother, with her needle at the table, when a 
 knock was heard, and gay as a lark, and fresh 
 as the dew on the shamrock, Christie Johnstone 
 stood in person in the apartment. 
 
 She was evidently the bearer of good tidings; 
 but before she could express them, Mrs. Gatty 
 beckoned her son aside, and announcing, " she 
 should bo within hearing," bade him take the
 
 182 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 occasion that so happily presented itself, 
 and make the first step. 
 
 At another time, Christie, who had learned 
 from Jean the arrival of Mrs. Gatty, would 
 have been struck with the old lady's silence ; 
 but she came to tell the depressed painter 
 that the charitable Viscount was about to visit 
 him and his picture ; and she was so full of 
 the good fortune likely to ensue, that she was 
 neglectful of minor considerations. 
 
 It so happened, however, that certain inter- 
 ruptions prevented her from ever delivering 
 herself of the news in question. 
 
 First, Gatty himself came to her, and casting 
 uneasy glances at the door, by which his 
 mother had just gone out, said : — 
 
 " Christie/' 
 
 " My lad !" 
 
 " I want to paint your likeness." 
 
 This was for a souvenir, poor fellow ! 
 
 " Hech ! I wad like fine to be painted." 
 
 : ' It must be exactly the same size as your- 
 self, and so like you, that should we be parted
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 183 
 
 I may seem not to be quite alone in the 
 world" 
 
 Here he was obliged to turn his head away. 
 
 " But we'll no pairt," replied Christie, cheer- 
 fully. "Suppose ye're puir, I'm rich, and it's 
 a' one ; dinna be so cast down for auchty 
 pund." 
 
 At this, a slipshod servant entered, and said, 
 
 " There's a fisher lad, inquiring for Christie 
 Johnstone." 
 
 " It will be Flucker," said Christie ; " show 
 him ben. What's wrang the noo, I wonder !" 
 
 The baddish boy entered, took up a posi- 
 tion, and remained apparently passive, hands 
 in pockets. 
 
 Christie. " Aweel, what est V 
 
 Flucker. "Custy." 
 
 Christie. " What's your will, my manny V 
 
 Flucker. "Custv, I was at Inch Keith the 
 day. 
 
 Christie. " And hae ye really come to 
 Edinbro' to tell me thaat V 
 
 Flucker {drily). " Oh ! ye ken the lasses
 
 184 CHKISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 are a hantle wiser than we are — will ye hear 
 me ? South Inch Keith, I played a bowl i' 
 the water, just for divairsion, — and I catched 
 twarree fish!" 
 
 Christie. " Floonders, I bet." 
 
 Flucker. " Does floonders swim high '{ I'll 
 let you see his gills, and if ye are a reicht 
 fishwife ye'll smell bluid. 
 
 Here he opened his jacket, and showed a 
 bright little fish. 
 
 In a moment all Christie's nonchalance gave 
 way to a fiery animation. She darted to 
 Flucker's side. 
 
 " Ye hae na been sae daft as tell V asked 
 she. 
 
 Flucker shook his head contemptuously. 
 
 " Ony birds at the island, Flucker V 
 
 " Sea-maws, plenty, and a bird I dinna ken ; 
 he moonted sae high, then doon like thunder 
 intil the sea, and gart the water flee as high as 
 Ilaman, and porpoises as big as my boat." 
 
 " Porr-poises, fulish laddy — ye hae seen the 
 herrin whale at his wark, and the solant guse
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 185 
 
 ye hae seen her at wark ; and beneath the sea, 
 Flucker, every coed-fish and doeg-fish, and fish 
 that has teeth, is after them ; and half Scot- 
 land wad be at Inch Keith Island if they 
 kenned what ye hae tell't me — dinna speak to 
 me." 
 
 During this, Gatty, who did not compre- 
 hend this sudden excitement, or thought it 
 childish, had tried in vain to win her attention. 
 
 At last he said, a little peevishly, " Will 
 you not attend to me, and tell me at least, 
 when you will sit to me \ " 
 
 " Set ! " cried she. " When there's nae 
 wark to be done stanning." 
 
 And with this she was gone. — At the foot 
 of the stairs, she said to her brother, 
 
 "Puir lad! I'll sune draw auchty punds 
 fra' the sea for him, with my feyther's 
 nets." 
 
 As she disappeared, Mrs. Gatty appeared. 
 
 " And this is the woman whose mind was 
 not in her dirty business," cried she. 
 
 " Does not that open your eyes, Charles 1 "
 
 186 CHE1STIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 "Ah! Charles," added she, tenderly, "there's 
 no friend like a mother." 
 
 And off she carried the prize, — his vanity 
 had been mortified. 
 
 And so that happened to Christie John- 
 stone which has befallen many a woman, — 
 the greatness of her love made that love 
 appear small to her lover. 
 
 " Ah ! mother," cried he, " I must live for 
 you and my art ; I am not so dear to her as 
 I thought." 
 
 And so, with a sad heart, he turned away 
 from her ; whilst she, with a light heart, 
 darted away to think and act for him.
 
 CHKISTIE JOHNSTONE. 187 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 It was some two hours after this that a 
 gentleman, plainly dressed, but whose clothes 
 seemed a part of himself — (whereas mine I 
 have observed hang upon me ; and the Rev. 
 Josiah Splitall's stick to him) — glided into the 
 painter's room, with an inquiry whether he 
 had not a picture or two disposable. 
 
 " I have one finished picture, sir," said the 
 poor boy ; " but the price is high ! " 
 
 He brought it, in a faint-hearted way ; for 
 he had shown it to five picture-dealers, and 
 all five agreed it was hard 
 
 He had painted a lime-tree, distant fifty
 
 188 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 yards, and so painted it that it looked some- 
 thing like a lime-tree fifty yards off. 
 
 " That was mesquin," said his judges ; " the 
 poetry of painting required abstract trees, at 
 metaphysical distance, not the various trees of 
 nature, as they appear under positive acci- 
 dents." 
 
 On this Mr. Gatty had deluged them with 
 words. 
 
 " When it is art, truth, or sense, to fuse a 
 cow, a horse, and a critic, into one undistin- 
 guishable quadruped, with six legs, then it will 
 be art to melt an ash, an elm, and a lime, 
 things that differ more than quadrupeds, into 
 what you call abstract trees, that any man 
 who has seen a tree, as well as looked at one, 
 would call drunken stinging-nettles. You, 
 who never look at nature, how can you judge 
 the arts, which are all but copies of nature % 
 At two hundred yards distance full-grown 
 trees are more distinguishable than the animal 
 tribe. Paint me an abstract human being, 
 neither man nor a woman," said he, " and then
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE 189 
 
 I will agree to paint a tree that shall be no 
 tree ; and if no man will buy it, perhaps the 
 father of lies will take it off my hands, and 
 hang it in the only place it would not dis- 
 grace." 
 
 In short, he never left off till he had 
 crushed the non-buyers with eloquence and 
 satire ; but he could not crush them into 
 buyers, they beat him at the passive retort. 
 
 Poor Gatty, when the momentary excite- 
 ment of argument had subsided, drank the 
 bitter cup all must drink awhile, whose bark 
 is alive and strong enough to stem the current 
 down which the dead, weak things of the 
 world are drifting, many of them into safe 
 harbours. 
 
 And now he brought out his picture with a 
 heavy heart. 
 
 " Now," said he to himself, " this gentleman 
 will talk me dead, and leave me no richer in 
 coin, and poorer in time and patience." 
 
 The picture was placed in a light, the 
 visitor sat down before it.
 
 190 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 A long pause ensued. 
 
 " Has he fainted ? " thought Gatty, ironi- 
 cally, " he doesn't gabble." 
 
 " If you do not mind painting before me," 
 said the visitor, "I should be glad if you 
 would continue whilst I look into this picture." 
 
 Gatty painted. 
 
 The visitor held his tongue. 
 
 At first the silence made the artist uneasy, 
 but by degrees it began to give him pleasure ; 
 whoever this was, it was not one of the flies 
 that had hitherto stung him, nor the jackdaws 
 that had chattered him dead. 
 
 Glorious silence ! he began to paint under 
 its influence like one inspired. 
 
 Half an hour passed thus. 
 
 " What is the price of this work of art \ " 
 
 " Eighty pounds." 
 
 " I take it," said his visitor, quietly. 
 
 What, no more difficulty than that ? He 
 felt almost disappointed at gaining his object 
 so easily. 
 
 " I am obliged to you, sir ; much obliged to
 
 CHEISTIE JOHNSTONE. 191 
 
 you," he added, for he reflected what eighty 
 pounds were to him just then. 
 
 " It is my descendants who are obliged to 
 you," replied the gentleman ; " the picture is 
 immortal ! " 
 
 These words were an epoch in the painter's 
 life. 
 
 The grave, silent inspection that had pre- 
 ceded them, the cool, deliberate, masterly tone 
 in which they were said, made them oracular 
 to him. 
 
 Words of such import took him by surprise. 
 
 He had thirsted for average praise in vain. 
 
 A hand had taken him, and placed him at 
 the top of the tree. 
 
 He retired abruptly, or he would have burst 
 into tears. 
 
 He ran to his mother. 
 
 " Mother," said he, "I am a painter ; I 
 always thought so at bottom, but I suppose it 
 is the height of my ideas makes me discon- 
 tented with my work." 
 
 " What has happened ? "
 
 192 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 " There is a critic in my room. I had no 
 idea there was a critic in the creation, and 
 there is one in my room." 
 
 " Has he bought your picture, my poor 
 boy \ " said Mrs. Gatty, distrustfully. 
 
 To her surprise he replied ; — 
 
 " Yes ! he has got it ; only eighty pounds 
 for an immortal picture." 
 
 Mrs. Gatty was overjoyed, Gatty was a 
 little sad ; but reviving, he professed himself 
 glad ; the picture was going to a judge. 
 
 " It is not much money," said he, " but the 
 man has spoken words that are ten thousand 
 pounds to me." 
 
 He returned to the room ; his visitor, hat in 
 hand, was about to go ; a few words were 
 spoken about the art of painting, this led 
 to a conversation, and then to a short dis- 
 cussion. 
 
 The new comer soon showed Mr. Charles 
 Gatty his ignorance of facts. 
 
 This man had sat quietly before a multitude 
 of great pictures, new and old, in Europe.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 193 
 
 He cooled down Charles Gatty, Esq., mono- 
 polist of nature and truth. 
 
 He quoted to him thirty painters in Ger- 
 many, who paint every stroke of a landscape 
 in the open air, and forty in various nations 
 who had done it in times past. 
 
 " You, sir," he went on, " appear to hang on 
 the skirts of a certain clique, who handle the 
 brush well, but draw ill, aud look at nature 
 through the spectacles of certain ignorant 
 painters who spoiled canvass four hundred 
 years ago. 
 
 " Go no farther in that direction. 
 
 " Those boys like all quacks, have one great 
 truth which they disfigure with more than one 
 falsehood. 
 
 " Hold fast their truth, which is a truth the 
 world has always possessed, though its practice 
 has been confined to the honest and laborious 
 few . 
 
 " Eschew their want of mind and taste. 
 
 " Shrink with horror from that profane culte 
 
 K
 
 194 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 de laideur, that ' love of the lop-sided/ they 
 have recovered from the foul receptacles of 
 decayed art." 
 
 He reminded him further, that " Art is not 
 imitation, but illusion ; that a plumber and 
 glazier of our day and a mediaeval painter 
 are more alike than any two representatives 
 of general styles that can be found ; and for 
 the same reason, namely, that with each of 
 these, art is in its infancy ; these two sets of 
 bunglers have not learned how to produce the 
 illusions of art." 
 
 To all this he added a few words of compli- 
 ment on the mind, as well as mechanical dex- 
 terity, of the purchased picture, bade him good 
 morning, and glided away like a passing sun- 
 beam. 
 
 " A mother's blessing is a great thing to 
 have, and to deserve," said Mrs. Gatty, who 
 had rejoined her son. 
 
 " It is, indeed," said Charles. He could not 
 help being struck by the coincidence.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 195 
 
 He had made a sacrifice to his mother, and 
 in a few hours one of his troubles had melted 
 away. 
 
 In the midst of these reflections arrived Mr. 
 Saunders with a note. 
 
 The note contained a cheque for one hun- 
 dred and fifty pounds, with these lines, in 
 which the writer excused himself for the 
 amendment : "I am a painter myself," said 
 he, " and it is impossible that eighty pounds 
 can remunerate the time expended on this 
 picture, to say nothing of the skill." 
 
 We have treated this poor boy's picture 
 hitherto with just contempt, but now that it is 
 gone into a famous collection, mind, we always 
 admired it ; we always said so, we take our 
 oath we did ; if we have hitherto deferred 
 framing it, that was merely because it was not 
 sold. 
 
 Mr. Gatty's picture, at present in the 
 collection of lord ipsden ! 
 
 There was, hundreds of years ago, a certain 
 Bishop of Durham, who used to fight in person 
 
 K 2
 
 196 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 against the Scotch, and defeat them. When 
 he was not with his flock, the northern wolves 
 sometimes scattered it ; but when the holy 
 father was there, with his prayers and his 
 battle-axe, England won the day ! 
 
 This nettled the Scottish king, so he pene- 
 trated one day, with a large band, as far as 
 Durham itself, and for a short time blocked the 
 prelate up in his stronghold. This was the 
 period of Mr. Gatty's picture ; 
 
 Whose title was, 
 
 " Half Church of God, half Tower against 
 the Scot." 
 
 In the background was the cathedral, on 
 the towers of which paced to and fro men in 
 armour, with the western sun glittering thereon. 
 In the centre, a horse and cart, led by a boy, 
 were carrying a sheaf of arrows, tied with a 
 straw-band. In part of the foreground was 
 the prelate, in a half suit of armour, but bare- 
 headed ; he was turning away from the boy, 
 to whom his sinking hand had indicated his 
 way into the holy castle, and his benignant
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 197 
 
 glance rested on a child, whom its mother was 
 holding up for his benediction. In the fore- 
 ground the afternoon beams sprinkled gold on 
 a long glassy slope, corresponding to the ele- 
 vation on which the cathedral stood, separated 
 by the river Wear from the group ; and these 
 calm beauties of Nature, with the mother and 
 child, were the peaceful side of this twofold 
 story, 
 
 Such are the dry details. But the soul of 
 its charm no pen can fling on paper. For the 
 stately cathedral stood and lived ; the little 
 leaves slumbered yet lived; and the story 
 floated aud lived, in the potable gold of the 
 summer afternoon. 
 
 To look at this painted poem was to feel a 
 thrill of pleasure in bare existence ; it went 
 through the eyes, where paintings stop, and 
 warmed the depths and recesses of the heart, 
 with its sunshine and its glorious air.
 
 198 CHEISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " Wh a.t is in the wind this dark night ? Six 
 Newhaven boats and twenty boys and hobble- 
 de-hoys, hired by the Johnstones at half-a- 
 crown each for a night's job." 
 
 " Secret service!" 
 
 " What is it for V 
 
 " I think it is a smuggling lay," suggested 
 Flucker, " but we shall know all in good time." 
 
 " Smuggling V Their countenances fell, 
 they had hoped for something more nearly 
 approaching the illegal. 
 
 " Maybe she has fand the herrin'," said a 
 ten -year old.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 199 
 
 "Haw! haw! haw!" went the others. 
 " She find the herrin', when there's five hun- 
 dred fishermen after them baith sides the 
 Firrth." 
 
 The youngster was discomfited. 
 
 In fact the expedition bore no signs of 
 fishing. 
 
 The six boats sailed at sundown, led by 
 Flucker ; he brought-to on the south side of 
 Inch Keith, and nothing happened for about 
 an hour. 
 
 Then such boys as were awake, saw two 
 great eyes of light coming up from Granton ; 
 rattle went the chain cable, and Lord Ipsden's 
 cutter swung at anchor in four fathom water. 
 
 A thousand questions to Flucker. 
 
 A single puff of tobacco smoke was his 
 answer. 
 
 And now crept up a single eye of light 
 from Leith ; she came among the boats ; the 
 boys recognized a crazy old cutter from Leith 
 harbour, with Christie Johnstone on board. 
 
 " What is that brown heap on her deck V
 
 200 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 " A mountain of nets — fifty stout herring 
 nets." 
 
 Tunc manifesto, fides. 
 
 A jell burst from all the bojs. 
 
 " He's gaun to tak us to Dunbar." 
 
 " Half-a -crown ! ye're no blate." 
 
 Christie ordered the boats alongside her 
 cutter, and five nets were dropped into each 
 boat, six into Flucker's 
 
 The depth of water was given them, and 
 they were instructed to shoot their nets so as 
 to keep a fathom and a half above the rocky 
 bottom. 
 
 A herring net is simply a wall of meshes 
 twelve feet deep fifty feet long ; it sinks to a 
 vertical position by the weight of net twine, 
 and is kept from sinking to the bottom of the 
 sea by bladders or corks. These nets are tied 
 to one another, and paid out at the stern of 
 the boat. Boat and nets drift with the tide, 
 if therefore the nets touched the rocks they 
 would be torn to pieces, and the fisherman 
 ruined.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 201 
 
 And this saves the herring — that fish lies 
 hours and hours at the very bottom of the sea, 
 like a stone, and the poor fisherman shall 
 drive with his nets, a yard or two over a 
 square mile of fish, and not catch a herring 
 tail ; on the other hand, if they rise to play 
 for five minutes, in that five minutes they shall 
 fill seven hundred boats. 
 
 At nine o'clock all the boats had shot their 
 nets, and Christie went alongside his Lordship's 
 cutter ; he asked her many questions about 
 herring fishery, to which she gave clear 
 answers, derived from her father, who had 
 always been what the fishermen call a lucky 
 fisherman ; that is, he had opened his eyes 
 and judged for himself. 
 
 Lord Ipsden then gave her blue lights to 
 distribute among the boats, that the first which 
 caught herring might signal all hands. 
 
 This was done, and all was expectation. 
 
 Eleven o'clock came— no signal from any 
 boat. 
 
 Christie became anxious ; at last she went 
 
 k3
 
 202 CHRISTIE JOHKSTONE. 
 
 round to the boats ; found the bojs all asleep, 
 except the baddish boy ; waked them up, .and 
 made them all haul in their first net. The 
 nets came in as black as ink, no sign of a 
 herring. 
 
 There was but one opinion; there was no 
 herring at Inch Keith ; they had not been there 
 this seven years. 
 
 At last, Flucker, to whom she came in turn, 
 told her he was going into two fathom water, 
 where he would let out the bladders and drop 
 the nets on their cursed backs. 
 
 A strong remonstrance was made by Christie, 
 but the baddish boy insisted that he had an 
 equal right in all her nets, and setting his sail, 
 he ran into shoal water. 
 
 Christie began to be sorrowful : instead of 
 making money she was going to throw it away, 
 and the neer-do-weel Flucker would tear six 
 nets from the ropes. 
 
 Flucker hauled down his sail, and unstepped 
 his mast in two fathom water; but he was not 
 such a fool as to risk his six nets ; he devoted
 
 CHKISTIE JOHNSTONE. 203 
 
 one to his experiment, and did it well ; he let 
 out his bladder line a fathom, so that one half 
 his net would literally be higgledy-piggledy 
 with the rocks, unless the fish were there en 
 masse. 
 
 No long time was required. 
 
 In five minutes he began to haul in the net ; 
 first, the boys hauled in the rope, and then the 
 net began to approach the surface. Flucker 
 looked anxiously down, the other lads incre- 
 dulously ; suddenly they all gave a yell of 
 triumph — an appearance of silver and lightning 
 mixed, had glanced up from the bottom ; in 
 came the first two yards of the net — there 
 were three herrings in it. These three proved 
 Flucker's point as well as three million. 
 
 They hauled in the net. Before they had 
 a quarter of it in, the net came up to the 
 surface, and the sea was alive with molten 
 silver. The upper half of the net was empty, 
 but the lower half was one solid mass of fish. 
 
 The boys could not find a mesh, they had 
 nothing to handle but fish.
 
 204 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 At this moment the easternmost boat showed 
 a blue light. 
 
 " The fish are rising," said Flucker, " we'll 
 na risk nae mair nets." 
 
 Soon after this a sort of song was heard 
 from the boat that had showed a light. Flucker, 
 who had got his net in, ran down to her, and 
 found, as he suspected, that the boys had not 
 power to draw the weight of fish over the 
 gunwale. 
 
 They were singing, as sailors do, that they 
 might all pull together ; he gave them two of 
 his crew, and ran down to his own skipper. 
 
 The said skipper gave him four men. 
 
 Another blue light ! 
 
 Christie and her crew came a little nearer 
 the boats, and shot twelve nets. 
 
 The yachtsmen entered the sport with zeal, 
 so did his Lordship. 
 
 The boats were all full in a few minutes, 
 and nets still out. 
 
 Then Flucker began to fear some of these 
 nets would sink with the weight of fish ; for
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 205 
 
 the herring die after a while in a net, and a 
 dead herring sinks. 
 
 What was to be done % 
 
 They got two boats alongside the cutter, 
 and unloaded them into her, as well as they 
 could ; but before they could half do this the 
 other boats hailed them. 
 
 They came to one of them ; the boys were 
 struggling with a thing which no stranger 
 would have dreamed was a net. 
 
 Imagine a white sheet, fifty feet long, var- 
 nished with red-hot silver ; there were twenty 
 barrels in this single net. By dint of fresh 
 hands they got half of her in, and then the 
 meshes began to break ; the men leaned over 
 the gunwale, and put their arms round blocks 
 and masses of fish, and so flung them on board ; 
 and the cod-fish and dog-fish snapped them 
 almost out of the men's hands, like tigers. 
 
 At last, they came to a net, which was a 
 double wall of herring ; it had been some time 
 in the water, and many of the fish were dead ; 
 they tried their best, but it was impracticable;
 
 206 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 they laid hold of the solid herring, and when 
 they lifted up a hundred weight clear of the 
 water, away it all tore, and sank back again. 
 
 They were obliged to cut away this net, 
 with twenty pounds sterling in her. They cut 
 away the twine from the head-ropes, and net 
 and fish went to the bottom. 
 
 All hands were now about the cutter ; 
 Christie's nets were all strong, and new ; they 
 had been some time in the water ; in hauling 
 them up her side, quantities of fish fell out of 
 the net into the water, but there were enough 
 left. 
 
 She averaged twelve barrels a net. 
 
 Such of the yawls as were not quite full, 
 crept between the cutter and the nets, and 
 caught all they wanted. 
 
 The projector of this fortunate speculation 
 suddenly announced that she was very sleepy. 
 
 Flucker rolled her up in a sail, and she slept 
 the sleep of infancy on board her cutter. 
 
 When she awoke it was seven o'clock in the 
 morning, and her cutter was creeping with a
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 207 
 
 smart breeze, about two miles an hour, a mile 
 from Newhaven pier. 
 
 The yacht had returned to Granton, and 
 the yawls, very low in the water, were creep- 
 ing along like snails, with both sails set. 
 
 The news was in Edinburgh long before 
 they landed. 
 
 They had been discerned under Inch Keith 
 at the dawn. 
 
 And the manner of their creeping along, 
 when there was such a breeze, told the tale at 
 once to the keen, experienced eyes that are 
 sure to be scanning the sea. 
 
 Donkey carts came rattliDg down from the 
 capital. 
 
 Merchants came pelting down to Newhaven 
 pier. 
 
 The w r hole story began to be put together 
 by bits, and comprehended. 
 
 Old Johnstone's cleverness was recalled to 
 mind. 
 
 The few fishermen left at Newhaven were 
 ready to kill themselves.
 
 208 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 Their wives were ready to do the same good 
 office for La Johnstone. 
 
 Four Irish merchants agreed to work to- 
 gether, and to make a show of competition, 
 the better to keep the price down within 
 bounds. 
 
 It was hardly fair, four men against one 
 innocent unguarded female. 
 
 But this is a wicked world. 
 
 Christie landed, and proceeded to her own 
 house ; on the way she was met by Jean 
 Carnie, who debarrassed her of certain wrap- 
 pers, and a handkerchief she had tied round 
 her head, and informed her she was the pride 
 of Newhaven. 
 
 She next met these four little merchants, 
 one after another. 
 
 And since we ought to dwell as little as 
 possible upon scenes in which unguarded inno- 
 cence is exposed to artful conspiracies, we will 
 put a page or two into the brute form of 
 dramatic dialogue, and so sail through it 
 quicker.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 209 
 
 1 st Merchant. " Wh ere are je going, 
 Meggie?" 
 
 Christie Johnstone. " If onj body asks ye, 
 say ye dinna ken." 
 
 1st Mer. " Will ye sell your fish ?" 
 
 Christie. " Suner than gie them." 
 
 1 st Mer. " You will be asking fifteen 
 shillin' the cran." 
 
 Christie. " And ten to that." 
 
 1^ Jfer. " Good morning." 
 
 2nd Mer. " Would he not go over fifteen 
 shillings'? Oh the thief o' the world !— I'll 
 give sixteen." 
 
 3rd Mer. " But I'll give eighteen." 
 
 2nd Mer. " More fool you ! Take him up, 
 my girl." 
 
 Christie. "Twenty-five is my price the day." 
 
 3rd Mer. " You Mill keep them till Sunday 
 week and sell their bones." 
 
 [Exeunt the three Merchants. 
 Enter 4th Merchant. 
 
 4th Mer. " Are your fish sold ? — I'll give 
 sixteen shillings."
 
 210 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 Christie. " I'm seekin twenty -five, an' I'm 
 offered eighteen." 
 
 AthMer. "Take it." Exit. 
 
 Christie. " They liae putten their heads 
 thegither." 
 
 Here Flucker came up to her, and told 
 her there was a Leith merchant looking 
 for her. " And Custy," said he, " there's 
 plenty wind getting up, your fish will be sair 
 hashed ; put them off your hands, I rede 
 ye." 
 
 Christie. " Ay, lad ! — Flucker, hide, an' 
 when I play my hand sae, ye'll run in an' cry, 
 " Cirsty, the Irishman will gie ye twenty-two 
 schellin the cran." 
 
 Flucker. " Ye ken mair than's in the 
 catecheesm, for as releegious as ye are." 
 
 The Leith merchant was Mr. Miller, and 
 this is the way he worked. 
 
 Miller (in a melllifluous voice). " Are ye no 
 fatigued, my deear \ 
 
 Christie [affecting fatigue). "Indeed, sir, 
 and I am."
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 211 
 
 Miller. " Shall I have the pleasure to deal 
 wi je { 
 
 Christie. "If it's your pleasure, sir. I'm 
 seekin' twentv-five schellin." 
 
 Miller (pretending not to hear). " As you 
 are a beginner, I must offer fair ; twenty 
 schellin you shall have, and that's three shil- 
 lings above Dunbar." 
 
 Christie. " Wad ye even carted herrin with 
 my fish caller fra the sea 1 and Dunbar— oh 
 fine ! ye ken there's nae herrin at Dunbar the 
 morn ; this is the Dunbar schule that slipped 
 westward : I'm the mairket, yell hae to buy 
 o' me or gang to your bed — {Here -she 
 signalled to Flucher). I'll no be oot o' mine 
 
 lang." 
 
 Enter Flucher hastily, crying : " Cirsty, the 
 Irishman will gie ye twenty-two schellin." 
 
 " I'll no tak it," said Christie. 
 
 " They are keen to hae them," said Flucker ; 
 and hastily retired, as if to treat farther with 
 the small merchants. 
 
 On this Mr. Miller, pretending to make for
 
 212 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 Leith, said, carelessly, " Twentj-tliree shillings, 
 or they are not for me." 
 
 " Tak the cutter's freight at a hundre' cran, 
 an' I'm no caring," said Christie. 
 
 " They are mine !" said Mr. Miller, very 
 sharply. " How much shall I give you the 
 day V } 
 
 " Auchty pund, sir, if you please — the lave 
 when you like ; I ken ye, Mr. Miller." 
 
 Whilst counting her the notes, the purchaser 
 said slily to her : — 
 
 " There's more than a hundred cran in the 
 cutter, my woman." 
 
 " A little, sir," replied the vendor ; "but 
 ere I could count them till ye by baskets, they 
 would lose seven or eight cran in book,* your 
 gain, my loss." 
 
 " You are a vara intelligent young person," 
 said Mr. Miller, gravely. 
 
 " Ye had measured them wi' your walking- 
 stick, sir ; there's just ae scale ye didua wipe 
 off, though ye are a carefu' mon, Mr. Miller ; 
 
 * Bulk.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 213 
 
 sae I laid the bait for ye. an' fine ye took 
 it." 
 
 Miller took out his snuff-box, and tapping 
 it, said : 
 
 " Will ye go into partnership with me, my 
 dear T 
 
 "Ay, sir!" was the reply. "When I'm 
 aulder an' ye're younger." 
 
 At this moment, the four merchants, be- 
 lieving it useless to disguise their co-operation, 
 returned to see what could be done. 
 
 " We shall give you a guinea a barrel." 
 
 " Why ye offered her twenty-two shillings 
 before." 
 
 " That we never did, Mr. Miller." 
 
 " Haw ! haw !" went Flucker. 
 
 Christie looked down and blushed. 
 
 Eyes met eyes, and without a word spoken 
 all was comprehended, and silently approved. 
 There was no nonsense uttered about morality 
 in connection with dealing. 
 
 Mr. Miller took an enormous pinch of sniuff,
 
 214 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 and drew for the benefit of all present the 
 following inference : 
 
 Mr. Miller's Apothegm. 
 " Friends and neighbours ! when a man's 
 heed is grey with age and thoucht (pause) — 
 he's just fit to go to schule to a young lass o' 
 twenty." 
 
 There was a certain middled-aged fishwife, 
 called Beeny Liston, a tenant of Christie 
 Johnstone's ; she had not paid her rent for 
 some time, and she had not been pressed for 
 it ; whether this, or the whisky she was in the 
 habit of taking, rankled in her mind, certain 
 it is she had always an ill word for her land- 
 lady. 
 
 She now met her, envied her success, and 
 called out in a coarse tone, 
 
 Ct Oh, ye're a gallant quean ; ye'll be waur 
 than ever the noo." 
 
 " What's wrang, if ye please V said the 
 Johnstone, sharply.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 215 
 
 Reader, did you ever see two fallow bucks 
 commence a duel % 
 
 They strut round, eight yards apart, tails up, 
 look carefully another way to make the other 
 think it all means nothing, and being both equal- 
 ly sly, their horns come together as if by concert. 
 
 Even so commenced this duel of tongues 
 between these two heroines. 
 
 Beeny Liston, looking at everybody but 
 Christie, addressed the natives who were con- 
 gregating, thus : — 
 
 " Did ever ye hear o' a decent lass taking 
 the herrin' oot o' the men's mooths — is yon a 
 woman's pairt I'm asking ye 1" 
 
 On this, Christie looking carefully at all the 
 others except Beeny, inquired with an air of 
 simple curiosity : 
 
 " Can onybody tell me wha Liston Carnie's 
 drunken wife is speakin till ? no to ony decent 
 lass though. Na ! ye ken she wad na hae 
 th' impudence !" 
 
 " Oh, ye ken fine I'm speakin till yourseP." 
 
 Here the horns clashed together.
 
 216* CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 " To ine, woman 1 {with admirably acted 
 surprise). Oo, ay ! it will be for the twa 
 years' rent you're awin me. Giest !" 
 
 Beenij Liston. " Ye're just the impudentest 
 girrl i' the toon, an' ye hae proved it the day" 
 (her arms akimbo). 
 
 Christie (arms akimbo). " Me, impudent \ 
 how daur ye speak against my charackter, 
 that's kenned for decency o' baith sides the 
 Firrth." 
 
 Beeny (contemptuously). " Oh, ye're sly 
 enough to beguile the men, but we ken ye." 
 
 Christie. " I'm no sly — and (drawing near 
 and hissing the words) I'm no like the woman 
 Jean an' I saw in Rose Street, dead drunk on 
 the causeway, while her mon was working for 
 her at sea. If ye're no ben your hoose in ae 
 minute, I'll say that will gar Liston Cairnie 
 fling ye ower the pier head, ye fool-moothed 
 drunken leear — Scairt !"* 
 
 If my reader has seen and heard Mademoi- 
 selle Rachel utter her famous Sortez, in 
 * A local word ; a corruption from the French Sortez.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 217 
 
 " Virginie," he knows exactly with what a 
 gesture and tone the Johnstone uttered this 
 word. 
 
 Beeny (in a voice of whining surprise). 
 " Hech ! what a spite Flucker Johnstone's 
 dochter has taen against us." 
 
 Christie. " Scairt ! " 
 
 Beeny {in a coaxing voice, and moving a 
 step). " Aweel ! what's a' jour paession, my 
 boenny woman \ " 
 
 Christie. " Scairt ! " 
 
 Beeny retired before the thunder and light 
 ning of indignant virtue. 
 
 Then all the fishboys struck up a dismal 
 chant of victory. 
 
 " Yoo-hoo — Custy's won the day — Beeny 's 
 scair-^," going up on the last syllable. 
 
 Christie moved slowly away towards her 
 own house, but before she could reach the 
 door she began to whimper — little fool. 
 
 Thereat chorus of young Athenians 
 chanted : 
 
 " Yu-hoo ! come back, Beeny, ye'll maybe 
 
 L
 
 218 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 win yet. Custy's away gree-tin, " {going up 
 on the last syllable) . 
 
 " I'm no greetin, ye rude bairns," said Chris- 
 tie, bursting into tears, and retiring as soon 
 as she had effected that proof of her philo- 
 sophy. 
 
 It was about four hours later ; Christie had 
 snatched some repose. The wind, as Flucker 
 prognosticated, had grown to a very heavy 
 gale, and the Firth was brown and boiling. 
 
 Suddenly a clamour was heard on the shore, 
 and soon after a fishwife made her appearance, 
 with rather a singular burden. 
 
 Her husband, ladies ; rien que cela. 
 
 She had him by the scruf of the neck ; he 
 was dos-a-dos, with his booted legs kicking in 
 the air, and his fists making warlike but idle 
 demonstrations, and his mouth uttering inef- 
 fectual bad language. 
 
 This worthy had been called a coward by 
 Sandy Liston, and being about to fight with 
 hira, and get thrashed, his wife had whipped 
 him up, and carried him away ; she now
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 219 
 
 flung him down, at some risk to his equi- 
 librium. 
 
 " Ye are not fit to feicht wi' Sandy Liston," 
 said she ; " if je are for feichtin, here's for ye." 
 
 As a comment to this proposal, she tucked 
 up the sleeves of her short gown. He tried 
 to run by her ; she caught him by the bosom, 
 and gave him a violent push, that sent him 
 several paces backwards ; he looked half fierce, 
 half astounded ; ere he could quite recover 
 himself, his little servant forced a pipe into 
 his hand, and he smoked contented and peace- 
 able. 
 
 Before tobacco the evil passions fall, they 
 tell me. 
 
 The cause of this quarrel soon explained 
 itself; up came Sandy Liston, cursing and 
 swearing. 
 
 " What ! ye hae gotten till yer wife's ; that's 
 the place for ye ; — to say there's a brig in dis- 
 tress, and ye '11 let her go on the rocks under 
 your noses : but what are ye afraid o' 1 there's 
 na danger ? " 
 
 l 2
 
 220 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 " Nae danger ! " said one of the reproached, 
 " are ye fou ? " 
 
 " Ye are fou wi' fear yoursel' ; of a' the 
 beasts that crawl the airth, a cooward is the 
 ugliest, I think." 
 
 " The wifes will no let us," said one, sulkily. 
 
 " It's the woman in your hairts that keeps 
 ye," roared Sandy, hoarsely ; " curse ye, ye 
 are sure to dee ane day, and ye are sure to 
 
 be ! (a past participle) soon or late, 
 
 what signifies when ? Oh ! curse the hour 
 ever I was born amang sic a cooardly crew." 
 {Gun at sea.) 
 
 " There ! " 
 
 " She speaks till ye, hersel' ; she cries for 
 maircy ; to think that of a' that hear ye cry, 
 Alexander Liston is the only mon mon enough 
 to answer." (Gun.) 
 
 " You are mistaken, Mr. Alexander Liston," 
 said a clear, smart voice, whose owner had 
 mingled unobserved with the throng ; " there 
 are always men to answer such occasions ; 
 now, my lads, your boats have plenty of
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 221 
 
 beam, and well handled, should live in any 
 sea ; who volunteers with Alexander Liston 
 
 and me V 
 
 The speaker was Lord Ipsden. 
 
 The fishwives of Newhaven, more accustomed 
 to measure men than poor little Lady Barbara 
 Sinclair, saw in this man what, in point of 
 fact, he was, a cool daring devil, than whom 
 none more likely to lead men into mortal 
 danger, or pull them through it, for that 
 matter. 
 
 They recognized their natural enemy, and 
 collected together against him, like hens at 
 the sisht of a hawk. 
 
 " And would you really entice our men till 
 their death V 
 
 " My life 's worth as much as theirs, I sup- 
 pose." 
 
 " Na ! your life ! its na worth a button ; 
 
 when you dee, your next kin will dance, and 
 wha'll greet \ but our men hae wife and bairns 
 to look till." (Gun at sea.) 
 
 "Ah! I didn't look at it in that light/'
 
 222 CHEISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 said Lord Ipsden. He then demanded paper 
 and ink ; Christie Johnstone, who had come 
 out of her house, supplied it from her treasures, 
 and this cool hand actually began to convey a 
 hundred and fifty thousand pounds away, upon 
 a sheet of paper blowing in the wind ; when 
 he had named his residuary legatee, and dis- 
 posed of certain large bequests, he came to the 
 point — 
 
 " Christie Johnstone, what can these people 
 live on '{ two hundred a year \ living is cheap 
 here — confound the wind !" 
 
 " Twa hundred ? Fifty ! Vile Count." 
 
 "Don't call me Vile Count. I am Ipsden, 
 and my name's Richard. Now, then, be smart 
 with your names." 
 
 Three men stepped forward, gave their 
 names, had their widows provided for, and 
 went for their sou'westers, &c. 
 
 " Stay," said Lord Ipsden, writing. " To 
 Christina Johnstone, out of respect for her 
 character, one thousand pounds." 
 
 " Richard ! dinna gang," cried Christie, " oh !
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 223 
 
 dinna gang, dinna gang, dinna gang ; it's no 
 your business." 
 
 " Will you lend me your papa's Flushing 
 jacket and sou'wester, iny dear? If I was 
 sure to be drowned, I'd go !" 
 
 Christie ran in for them. 
 
 " In the meantime, discomposed by the wind, 
 and by feelings whose existence neither he, nor 
 I, nor any one, suspected, Saunders, after a 
 sore struggle between the frail man and the 
 perfect domestic, blurted out : — 
 
 " My Lord, I beg your Lordship's pardon, 
 but it blows tempestuous." 
 
 " That is why the brig wants us," was the 
 reply. 
 
 " My Lord, I beg your Lordship's pardon." 
 whimpered Saunders. 
 
 " But oh ! my Lord, don't go ; it's all very 
 well for fishermen to be drowned ; it is their 
 business, but not yours, my Lord." 
 
 " Saunders, help me on with this coat." 
 
 Christie had brought it. 
 
 "Yes, my Lord," said Saunders, briskly, h is 
 second nature reviving.
 
 224 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 His Lordship, whilst putting on the coat and 
 hat, undertook to cool Mr. Saunders's aristo- 
 cratic prejudices. 
 
 " Should Alexander Liston and I be 
 drowned," said he, coolly, " when our bones 
 come ashore, you will not know which are the 
 fisherman's, and which the Viscount's." So 
 saying, he joined the enterprize. 
 
 "I shall pray for ye, lad," said Christie 
 Johnstone, and she retired for that purpose. 
 
 Saunders, with a heavy heart, to the nearest 
 tavern, to prepare an accouut of what he called 
 " Heroism in high life," large letters, and the 
 usual signs of great astonishment !!!!!! for 
 the " Polytechnic Magazine." 
 
 The commander of the distressed vessel had 
 been penny-wise. He had declined a pilot 
 off the Isle of May, trusting to fall in with one 
 close to the port of Leith ; but a heavy gale 
 and fog had come on ; he knew himself in the 
 vicinity of dangerous rocks ; and, to make 
 matters worse, his ship, old and sore battered 
 by a long and stormy voyage, was leaky ; and 
 unless a pilot came alongside, his fate would
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 225 
 
 be, either to founder, or run upon the rocks, 
 where he must expect to go to pieces in a 
 quarter of an hour. 
 
 The Newhaven boat lay in comparatively 
 smooth water, on the lee side of the pier. 
 
 Our adventurers got into her, stepped the 
 mast, set a small sail, and ran out ! Sandy 
 Liston held the sheet, passed once round the 
 belaying-pin, and whenever a larger wave than 
 usual came at them, he slacked the sheet, and 
 the boat losing her way, rose gently, like a 
 cork, upon seas that had seemed about to 
 swallow her. 
 
 But seen from the shore it was enough to 
 make the most experienced wince ; so com- 
 pletely was this wooden shell lost to sight, as 
 she descended from a wave, that each time 
 her re-appearance seemed a return from the 
 dead. 
 
 The weather was misty — the boat was soon 
 lost sight of ; the story remains ashore. 
 
 L3
 
 226 CHRISTIE J0HNST0KE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 It was an hour later ; the natives of the New 
 Town had left the pier, and were about their 
 own doors, when three Buckhaven fishermen 
 came slowly up from the pier ; these men had 
 arrived in one of their large fishing-boats 
 which defy all weather. 
 
 The men came slowly up ; their petticoat 
 trousers were drenched, and their neck-hand- 
 kerchiefs and hair were wet with spray. 
 
 At the foot of the New Town they stood 
 still and whispered to each other. 
 
 There was something about these men that 
 drew the eye of Newhaven upon them.
 
 CHKISTIE JOHNSTONE. 227 
 
 111 the first place, a Buckhaven man rarely 
 communicates with natives of Newhaven, 
 except at the pier, where he brings in his cod 
 and ling from the deep sea ; flings them out 
 like stones, and sells them to the fishwives ; 
 then up sail and away for Fifeshire. 
 
 But these men evidently came ashore to 
 speak to some one in the town. 
 
 They whispered together ; something ap- 
 peared to be proposed and demurred to ; but 
 at last two went slowly back towards the pier, 
 and the eldest remained, with a fisherman's 
 long mackintosh coat in his "hand which the 
 others had given him as they left him. 
 
 With this in his hand, the Buckhaven 
 fisherman stood in an irresolute posture ; he 
 looked down, and seemed to ask himself what 
 course he should take. 
 
 " What's wrang \ " said Jean Carnie, who, 
 with her neighbours, had observed the men ; 
 " I wish yon man may na hae ill news." 
 
 " What ill news wad he hae \ " replied 
 another.
 
 228 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 " Are on j freends of Liston Caruie here V 
 said the fisherman. 
 
 " The wife's awa' to Granton, Beeny Liston 
 they ca' her — there's his house," added Jean, 
 pointing up the row. 
 
 " Ay," said the fisherman, " I ken he lived 
 there." 
 
 "Lived there!" cried Christie Johnstone ; 
 " oh! what's this?" 
 
 " Freends," said the man, gravely, " his 
 boat is driving keel uppermost in Kircauldy 
 Bay ; — we passed her near enough to read the 
 name upon her." 
 
 " But the men will have won to shore, 
 please God \ " 
 
 The fisherman shook his head. 
 
 " She'll hae coupit a mile wast Inch Keith, 
 an' the tide rinning aff' the island an' a heavy 
 sea gaun. This is a' Newhaven we'll see of 
 them (holding up the coat) till they rise to 
 the top in three weeks' time." 
 
 The man then took the coat, which was now 
 seen to be drenched with water, and hung it
 
 CHKISTIE JOHNSTONE. 229 
 
 up oil a line not very far from its unfortunate 
 owner's house : then, in the same grave and 
 subdued tone in which he had spoken all 
 along, he said, " We are sorry to bring siccan 
 a tale into your toon," and slowly moved off 
 to rejoin his comrades, who had waited for 
 him at no great distance. They then passed 
 through the Old Town, and in five minutes 
 the calamity was known to the whole place. 
 
 After the first stupor, the people in the New 
 Town collected into knots, and lamented their 
 hazardous calling, and feared for the lives of 
 those that had just put to sea in this fatal 
 gale for the rescue of strangers, and the older 
 ones failed not to match this present sorrow 
 with others within their recollection. 
 
 In the middle of this, Flucker Johnstone 
 came hastily in from the Old Town, and told 
 them he had seen the wife, Beeuy Liston, 
 coming through from Granton. 
 
 The sympathy of all was instantly turned 
 in this directiun. 
 
 " She would hear the news."
 
 230 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 " It would fall on her like a thunder-clap." 
 
 " What would become of her "? " 
 
 Every eye was strained towards the Old 
 Town, and soon the poor woman was seen 
 about to emerge from it ; but she was walking 
 in her usual way, and they felt she could not 
 carry her person so if she knew. 
 
 At the last house she was seen to stop and 
 speak to a fisherman and his wife that stood 
 at their own door. 
 
 " They are telling her," was then the cry. 
 
 Beeny Liston then proceeded on her way. 
 
 Every eye was strained. 
 
 No i they had not told her. 
 
 She came gaily on, the unconscious object 
 of every eye and every heart. 
 
 The hands of this people were hard, and 
 their tongues rude, but they had shrunk from 
 telling this poor woman of her bereavement — 
 they thought it kinder she should know it 
 under her own roof from her friends or neigh- 
 bours, than from comparative strangers. 
 
 She drew near her own door.
 
 CHEISTIE JOHNSTONE. 231 
 
 And now a knot collected round Christie 
 Johnstone, and urged her to undertake the 
 sad task. 
 
 " You that speak sa learned, Christie, ye 
 should tell her ; we daur na." 
 
 " How can I tell her V said Christie, turn- 
 ing pale. " How will I tell her^ 1 ? Ise try." 
 
 She took one trembling step to meet the 
 woman. 
 
 Beeny's eye fell upon her. 
 
 " Ay ! here's the Queen o' Newhaven," 
 cried she, in a loud and rather coarse voice. 
 " The men will hae ta leave the place now 
 y'are turned fisherman, I daur say.'' 
 
 " Oh, dinna fleicht on me ! dinna fleicht on 
 me ! " cried Christie, trembling. 
 
 " Maircy on us," said the other, " auld 
 Flucker Johnstone's dochter turned humble. 
 What next ? " 
 
 " I'm vexed for speaking back till ye the 
 morn," faltered Christie. 
 
 " Hett," said the woman, carelessly, " let 
 yon Ilea stick i' the wa.' I fancy 1 began on
 
 232 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 ye. Aweel, Oirsty," said she, falling into a 
 friendlier tone ; " it's the place we live in 
 spoils us — Newhaven's an impudent toon, as 
 sure as deeth." 
 
 " I passed through the Auld Toon the noo 
 — a place I never speak in ; an if they did ua 
 glower at me as I had been a strange 
 beast" 
 
 " They cam' to their very doors to glower 
 at me ; if yell believe me, I thoucht shame." 
 
 " At the hinder end my paassion got up, 
 and I faced a wife East-by, and I said, ' What 
 gars ye glower at me that way, ye ignorant 
 woman V ye would na think it, she answered 
 like honey itsel' — ' I'm askin' your paardon,' 
 says she ; and her mon by her side said ' Gang 
 hame to your ain boose, my woman, and Gude 
 help ye, and help us a' at our need,' the 
 decent mon. ' It's just there, I'm for,' said I, 
 ' to get my mon his breakfast.' ' 
 
 All who heard her drew their breath with 
 difficulty. 
 
 The woman then made for her own house,
 
 CR1ST11E JOHNSTONE. 233 
 
 but in going up the street she passed the wet 
 coat banging on the line. 
 
 She stopped directly. 
 
 They all trembled — they had forgotten the 
 coat — it was all over ; the coat would tell the 
 tale. 
 
 " Aweel," said she, " I could sweer that's 
 Liston Carnie's coat, a droukit wi' the rain ;" 
 then she looked again at it, and added, slowly, 
 " if I did'na ken he has his away wi' him at 
 the piloting." And in another moment she 
 was in her own house, leaving them all stand- 
 ing there half stupified. 
 
 Christie had indeed endeavoured to speak, 
 but her tongue had cloven to her mouth. 
 
 Whilst they stood looking at one another, 
 and at Beeny Liston's door, a voice that 
 seemed incredibly rough, loud, and harsh, 
 jarred upon them ; it was Sandy Liston, who 
 came in from Leith, shouting — 
 
 " Fifty pounds for salvage, lasses ! is na 
 thaat better than staying cooard-like aside the 
 women ?"
 
 234 CHEISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 "Whisht! whisht!" cried Christie. "We 
 are in heavy sorrow ; puir Liston Cairnie and 
 his son Willy lie deed at the bottom o' the 
 Firrth." 
 
 " Glide help us !" said Sandy, and his voice 
 sank 
 
 " An', oh, Sandy, the wife does na ken, and 
 it's hairt-breaking to see her, and hear her; we 
 canna get her tell't ; ye're the auldest mon 
 here ; yell tell her, will ye no, Sandy 1" 
 
 "No, me, that I will not!" 
 
 " Oh, yes ; ye are kenned for your stoot 
 heart, an' coorage ; ye come fra facing the sea 
 an' wind in a bit yawl " 
 
 " The sea and the wind," cried he, con- 
 temptuously ; " they be , I'm used wi' 
 
 them ; but to look a woman i' the face, an' 
 tell her her mon and her son are drowned 
 since yestreen, I hae na coorage for that." 
 
 All further debate was cut short by the 
 entrance of one who came expressly to dis- 
 charge the sad duty all had found so difficult. 
 It was the Presbyterian clergyman of the
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 235 
 
 place ; he waved them back. " I know, I 
 know," said be, solemnly. 
 
 " Where is the wife T 
 
 She came out of her bouse at this moment, 
 as it happened, to purchase something at 
 Drysale's shop, which was opposite. 
 
 " Beeny," said the clergyman, " I hare sor- 
 rowful tidings." 
 
 " Tell me them, sir," said she, unmoved. 
 " Is it a deeth V added she, quietly. 
 
 " It is ! — death, sudden and terrible ; in 
 your own house I must tell it you,— (and 
 may God show me how to break it to 
 her)." 
 
 He entered her house. 
 
 " Aweel," said the woman to the others, 
 * it maun be some far awa cousin, or the like, 
 for Liston an me hae nae near freends. Meg, 
 ye idle hizzy," screamed she to her servant, 
 who was one of the spectators, " your pat is 
 no on yet ; div ye think the men will no be 
 hungry when they come in fra the sea V 
 
 " They will never hunger nor thirst ony
 
 236 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 mair," said Jean, solemnly, as the bereaved 
 woman entered her own door. 
 
 There ensued a listless and fearful silence. 
 
 Every moment some sign of bitter sorrow 
 was expected to break forth from the house, 
 but none came ; and amidst the expectation 
 and silence the waves dashed louder and 
 louder, as it seemed, against the dyke, con- 
 scious of what they had done. 
 
 At last, in a moment, a cry of agony arose, 
 so terrible that all who heard it trembled, and 
 more than one woman shrieked in return, and 
 fled from the door; at which, the next moment, 
 the clergyman stood alone, collected, but pale, 
 and beckoned. Several women advanced. 
 
 " One woman," said he. 
 
 Jean Carnie was admitted ; and after a 
 while returned. 
 
 " She is come to hersel'," whispered she ; 
 " I am no weel mysel'." And she passed into 
 her own house. 
 
 Then Flucker crept to the door to see. 
 
 " Oh, dinna spie on her," cried Christie.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 237 
 
 " Oh, yes, Flucker," said many voices. 
 
 " He is kneelin'," said Flucker. " He has 
 her hand, to gar her kneel tae, — she winna, — 
 she does na see him, nor hear him ; he will 
 hae her. He has won her to kneel, — he is 
 prayin', an' greetin aside her. I canna see 
 noo, my een's blinded." 
 
 " He's a gude nion," said Christie. " Oh, 
 what wad we do without the ministers." 
 
 Sandy Liston had been leaning sorrowfully 
 against the wall of the next house, he now 
 broke out. 
 
 " An auld shipmate at the whale fishing ! ! ! 
 an' noow we'll never lift the dredging sang 
 thegither again, in yon dirty detch that's 
 droowned him; I maun hae whiskey, an' forget 
 it a'." 
 
 He made for the spirit-shop like a madman ; 
 but ere he could reach the door a hand was 
 laid on him like a vice. Christie Johnstone 
 had literally sprung on him. She hated this 
 horrible vice, — had often checked him ; and 
 now it seemed so awful a moment for such a
 
 238 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 sin, that she forgot the wild and savage nature 
 of the man who had struck his own sister, 
 and seriously hurt her, but a month before, — 
 she saw nothing but the vice and its victim, 
 and she seized him by the collar, with a grasp 
 from which he in vain attempted to shake 
 himself loose. 
 
 " No ! ye'll no gang there at siccan a 
 time." 
 
 " Hands off, ye daft jaud," roared he, '• or 
 there'll be another deeth i' the toon." 
 
 At the noise Jean Carnie ran in. 
 
 " Let the ruffian go," cried she, in dismay. 
 " Oh, Christie, dinna put your hand on a 
 lion's mane." 
 
 " Yes, I'll put my hand on his mane, ere 
 I'll let him mak a beast o' himsel'." 
 
 " Sandy, if ye hurt her, I'll find twenty 
 lads that will lay ye deed at her feet." 
 
 " Haud your whisht," said Christie, very 
 sharply, " he's no to be threetened." 
 
 Sandy Liston, black and white with rage, 
 ground his teeth together, and said, lifting his
 
 CHKISTIE JOHNSTONE. 239 
 
 hand, " Wull ye let me go, or must I tak my 
 hand till ye ?" 
 
 "No!" said Christie, "Til no let ye go, 
 sae look me i' the face; Flucker's dochter, 
 your auld comrade, that saved your life at 
 Holy Isle, — think o' his face, — art look in 
 mines, — an' strike me ! ! ! ! " 
 
 They glared on one another, — he, fiercely 
 and unsteadily ; she, firmly and proudly. 
 
 Jean Cairnie said afterwards, " her eyes 
 were like coals of fire." 
 
 " Ye are doing what nae mon i' the toon 
 daur ; ye are a bauld, unwise lassy." 
 
 " It's you mak me bauld," was the instant 
 reply. " I saw ye face the mad sea, to 
 save a ship fra the rocks, an' will I fear 
 a mon's hand, when I can save" — (rising 
 to double her height)—" my feyther's auld 
 freend fra the puir mon's enemy, the enemy 
 o' mankind, the cursed, cursed drink. Oh ! 
 Sandy Liston, hoow could ye think to put 
 an enemy in your mooth to steal awa your 
 brains !"
 
 240 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 " This's no Newhaven chat : wha lairns ve 
 sic words o' power V 
 
 " A deed mon !" 
 
 " I would na wonder, y'are no canny ; she's 
 ta'en a' the poower oot o' my body, I think." 
 Then suddenly descending to a tone of abject 
 submission, " What's your pleesure, Flucker 
 Johnstone's dochter V 
 
 She instantly withdrew the offensive grasp, 
 and leaning affectionately on his shoulder, she 
 melted into her rich Ionic tones. 
 
 " It's no a time for sin ; ye'll sit by my 
 fire, an' get your dinner ; a bonny haggis hae 
 I for you an' Flucker, an' we'll improve this 
 sorrowfu' judgment ; an' ye'll tell me o' auld 
 times; o' my feyther dear, that likeit ye weel 
 Sandy, — o' the storrms ye hae weathered, side 
 by side, — o' the muckle whales ye killed 
 Greenland way — an', abune a', o' the lives ye 
 hae saved at sea, by your daurin an' your 
 skell ; an', oh Sandy, will na that be better 
 as sit an' poor leequid damnation doown 
 your throat, an' gie awa the sense an
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 241 
 
 feeling o' a nion for a sair heed and an ill 
 
 name. 
 
 Fse gang, my lamb," said the rough man, 
 quite subdued ; " I daur say whiskey will no 
 pass my teeth the day." 
 
 And so he went quietly away, and sat by 
 Christie's fireside. 
 
 Jean and Christie went towards the boats. 
 
 Jean, after taking it philosophically for half 
 a minute, began to whimper. 
 
 " What's wrang?" said Christie. 
 
 " Div ye think my hairt's no in my mooth 
 wi' you gripping yon fierce robber." 
 
 Here a young fishwife, with a box in her 
 hand, who had followed them, pulled Jean by 
 the coats. 
 
 " I lets," said Jean, pulling herself free. 
 
 The child then, with a pertinacity these 
 little animals have, pulled Christie's coats. 
 
 ' Ilets," said Christie, freeing herself more 
 gently. 
 
 " Ye suld mairry Van Amburgh," continued 
 Jean ; " ye are just such a lass as he is a lad." 
 
 M
 
 242 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 Christie smiled proudly, was silent, but did 
 not disown the comparison. 
 
 The little fishwife, unable to attract atten- 
 tion by pulling, opened her box, and saying, 
 " Lasses, I'll let ye see my presoner : hech ! 
 he's boenny !" pulled out a mouse, by a string 
 fastened to his tail, and set him in the midst 
 for friendly admiration. 
 
 " I dinna like it — I dinna like it!" screamed 
 Christie ; " Jean, put it away — it fears me, 
 Jean!" This she uttered (her eyes almost 
 starting from her head with unaffected terror) 
 at the distance of about eight yards, whither 
 she had arrived in two bounds that would have 
 done no discredit to an antelope. 
 
 " Het," said Jean, uneasily, " hae ye coowed 
 yon savage, to be scared at the wee beastie V 
 
 Christie, looking askaunt at the animal, 
 explained — 
 
 " A moose is an awesome beast — it's no 
 like a mon ! " and still her eye was fixed by 
 fascination upon the four-footed danger. 
 
 Jean, who had not been herself in genuine
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 243 
 
 tranquillity, now turned savagely on the little 
 Wombwelless : " An' div ye really think ye are 
 to come here wi' a' the beasts i' the Airk ? 
 Come, awa ye go, the pair o' ye." 
 
 These severe words, and a smart push, sent 
 the poor little biped off roaring, with the 
 string over her shoulder, recklessly dragging 
 the terrific quadruped, which made fruitless 
 grabs at the shingle. — Moral. Don't terrify 
 bigger folk than yourself. 
 
 Christie had intended to go up to Edin- 
 burgh with her eighty pounds ; but there was 
 more trouble in store this eventful day. 
 
 Flucker went out after dinner, and left her 
 with Sandy Liston, who was in the middle of 
 a yarn, when some one came running in and 
 told her, Flucker was at the pier crying for 
 her. She inquired what was the matter — 
 " Come, an' ve'll see," was all the answer. 
 She ran down to the pier. There was poor 
 Flucker, lying on his back ; he had slipped 
 from the pier into a boat that lay alongside ; 
 the fall was considerable : for a minute he 
 
 M 2
 
 244 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 had been insensible, then he had been dread- 
 fully sick, and now he was beginning to feel 
 his hurt ; he was in great anguish ; nobody 
 knew the extent of his injuries ; he would let 
 nobody touch him ; all his cry was for his 
 sister. At last she came ; they all made way 
 for her ; he was crying for her as she came 
 up. 
 
 " My bairn ! my bairn \" cried she, and the 
 poor little fellow smiled, and tried to raise 
 himself towards her. 
 
 She lifted him gently in her arms — she was 
 powerful, and affection made her stronger ; 
 she carried him in her arms all the way home, 
 and laid him on her own bed. Willy Liston, 
 her discarded suitor, ran for the surgeon. 
 There were no bones broken, but his ancle 
 was severely sprained, and he had a terrible 
 bruise on the loins ; his dark, ruddy face was 
 streaked and pale ; but he never complained 
 after he found himself at home. 
 
 Christie hovered rouud him, a ministering 
 angel, applying to him with a light and loving
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 245 
 
 hand whatever could ease his pain; and he 
 watched her with an expression she had never 
 noticed in his eye before. 
 
 At last, after two hours' silence, he made 
 her sit in full view, and then he spoke to her ; 
 and what think you was the subject of his 
 discourse % 
 
 He turned to and told her, one after another, 
 without preface, all the loving things she had 
 done to him ever since he was five vears old. 
 Poor boy, he had never shown much gratitude, 
 but he had forgotten nothing, literally nothing. 
 
 Christie was quite overcome with this 
 unexpected trait ; she drew him gently to her 
 bosom, and wept over him ; and it was sweet 
 to see a brother and sister treat each other 
 almost like lovers, as these two began to do — 
 they watched each other's eye so tenderly. 
 
 This new care kept the sister in her own 
 house all the next day ; but towards the even- 
 ing, Jean, who knew her other anxiety, slipped 
 in and offered to take her place for an hour 
 by Flucker's side ; at the same time she
 
 246 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 looked one of those signals which are too 
 subtle for any but woman to understand. 
 
 Christie drew her aside, and learned that 
 Gatty and his mother were just coming 
 through from Leith ; Christie ran for her 
 eighty pounds, placed them in her bosom, cast 
 a hasty glance at a looking-glass, little larger 
 than an oyster-shell, and ran out. 
 
 " Hech ! What pleased the auld wife will be 
 to see he has a lass that can mak auchty 
 pund in a morning." 
 
 This was Christie's notion. • 
 
 At sight of them she took out the bank- 
 notes, and with eyes glistening and cheeks 
 flushing, she cried — 
 
 " Oh, Chairles, yell no gang to jail — I hae 
 the siller!'' and she offered him the money 
 with both hands, and a look of tenderness 
 and modesty that embellished human nature. 
 
 Ere he could speak, his mother put out her 
 hand, and not rudely, but very coldly repelling 
 Christie's arm, said in a freezing manner — 
 
 " We are much obliged to you, but my
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 247 
 
 son's own talents have rescued him from his 
 little embarrassment." 
 
 " A nobleman has bought my picture," said 
 Gatty, proudly. 
 
 " For one hundred and fifty pounds ; " said 
 the old lady ; meaning to mark the contrast 
 between that sum and what Christie had in 
 her hand. 
 
 Christie remained like a statue, with her 
 arms extended and the bank-notes in her 
 hand ; her features worked — she had much 
 ado not to cry ; and any one that had known 
 the whole story, and seen this unmerited 
 repulse, would have felt for her ; but her love 
 came to her aid, she put the notes in her 
 bosom, sighed and said — 
 
 " I would hae likeit to hae been the first 
 ye ken, but I'm real pleased." 
 
 " But, mother," said Gatty, " it was very 
 kind of Christie all the same. Oh, Christie!" 
 said he, in a tone of despair. 
 
 At this kind word Christie's fortitude was
 
 248 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 sore tried ; she turned away her head ; — she was 
 far too delicate to let them know who had 
 sent Lord Ipsden to buy the picture. 
 
 Whilst she turned away, Mrs. Gatty said in 
 her son's ear — 
 
 u Now, I have your solemn promise to do it 
 here, and at once ; you will find me on the 
 beach behind these boats — do it." 
 
 The reader will understand that during the 
 last few days, Mrs. Gatty had improved her 
 advantage, and that Charles had positively 
 consented to obey her; the poor boy was worn 
 out with the struggle — he felt he must have 
 peace or die ; he was thin and pale, and sudden 
 twitches came over him ; his temperament 
 was not fit for such a battle : and it is to be 
 observed, nearly all the talk was on one side. 
 He had made one expiring struggle, — he de- 
 scribed to his mother an artist's nature, his 
 strength, his weakness, — he besought her not 
 to be a slave to general rules, but to inquire 
 what sort of a companion the individual
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 249 
 
 Gattv needed : he lashed with true but bril- 
 Kant satire the sort of wife his mother was 
 ready to see him saddled with — a stupid, 
 unsympathizing creature, whose ten children 
 would, by nature's law, be also stupid, and so 
 be a weight on him till his dying day. He 
 painted Christie Johnstone, mind and body, in 
 words as true and bright as his colours ; he 
 showed his own weak points, her strong ones, 
 and how the latter would fortify the former. 
 
 He displayed, in short, in one minute more 
 intellect than his mother had exhibited in 
 -sixty years ; and that done, with all his 
 understanding, wit, and eloquence, he suc- 
 cumbed like a child, to her stronger will — he 
 promised to break with Christie Johnstone. 
 
 When Christie had recovered her composure 
 and turned round to her companions, she 
 found herself alone with Charles. 
 
 " Chairles," said she, gravely. 
 
 " Christie," said he, uneasily. 
 
 " Your mother does na like me. Oh ' j 
 
 m 3
 
 250 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 need na deny it ; and we are na together as 
 we used to be, my lad." 
 
 " She is prejudiced, but she has been the 
 best of mothers to me, Christie." 
 
 " Aweel." 
 
 " Circumstances compel me to return to 
 England." 
 
 (Ah, coward ! anything but the real truth !) 
 
 " Aweel, Chairles, it will no be for lang." 
 
 " I don't know ; you will not be so un- 
 happy as I shall — at least I hope not." 
 
 " Hoow do ye ken that V 
 
 " Christie, do you remember the first night 
 we danced together % " 
 
 " Ay." 
 
 " And we walked in the cool by the sea 
 side, and I told you the names of the stars, 
 and you said those were not their real names, 
 but nicknames we give them here on earth. I 
 loved you that first night." 
 
 " And I fancied you the first time I set eyes 
 on you."
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 251 
 
 " Plow can I leave you, Christie 1 What 
 shall I do T 
 
 " I ken what I shall do," answered Christie, 
 coolly ; then bursting into tears, she added, 
 " I shall dee ! I shall dee !" 
 
 "No ! you must not say so ; at least I will 
 never love any one but you." 
 
 " An' I'll live as I am a' my days for your 
 sake. Oh, England ! I hae likeit ye sae weel, 
 ye suld na rob me o' my lad — he's a' the joy I 
 hae !" 
 
 " I love you," said Gatty. " Do you love 
 me \ 
 
 All the answer was, her head upon his 
 shoulder. 
 
 "I can't do it," thought Gatty, "and I 
 won't! Christie," said he, "stay here, don't 
 move from here." And he dashed among the 
 boats in great agitation. 
 
 lie found his mother rather near the scene 
 of the late conference. 
 
 " Mother," said he, fiercely, like a coward 
 as he was, "ask me no more, my mind is made
 
 252 CHKISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 up for for ever ; T wil not do this scoundrelly, 
 heartless, beastly, ungrateful action you have 
 been pushing me to so long.'' 
 
 " Take care, Charles, take care," said the 
 old woman, trembling with passion, for this 
 was a new tone for her son to take with her. 
 "You had my blessing the other day, and 
 you saw what followed it ; do not tempt me 
 to curse an undutiful, disobedient, ungrateful 
 son." 
 
 " I must take my chance," said he, des- 
 perately ; " for I am under a curse any way ! 
 I placed my ring on her finger, and held up 
 my hand to God and swore she should be my 
 wife : she has my ring and my oath, and I will 
 not perjure myself even for my mother." 
 
 " Your ring ! Not the ruby ring I gave 
 you from your dead father's finger — not that !" 
 not that !" 
 
 " Yes ! yes ! I tell you yes ! and if he 
 was alive, and saw her, and knew her goodness, 
 he would have pity on me, but I have no 
 friend; you see how ill you have made me,
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 253 
 
 but you have no pity ; I could not have 
 believed it ; but since you have no mercy on 
 ine, I will have the more mercy on myself ; I 
 marry her to-morrow, and put an end to all 
 this shuffling and manoeuvring against an 
 angel ! I am not worthy of her, but I'll marry 
 her to-morrow. Good-by." 
 
 " Stay !" said the old woman, in a terrible 
 voice ; " before you destroy me and all I have 
 lived for, and suffered, and pinched for, hear 
 me ; if that ring is not off the hussy's finger 
 in half an hour, and you my son again, I fall 
 on this sand and " 
 
 " Then God have mercy upon me, for I'll 
 see the whole creation lost eternally, ere I'll 
 wrong the only creature that is an ornament 
 to the world." 
 
 He was desperate; and the weak, driven 
 to desperation, are more furious than the 
 strong. 
 
 It was by Heaven's mercy that neither 
 mother nor son had time to speak again. 
 
 As they faced each other, with flaming eyes
 
 254 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 and faces, all self-command gone, about to 
 utter hasty words, and lay up regret, perhaps 
 for all their lives to come, in a moment, as if 
 she had started from the earth, Christie John- 
 stone stood between them ! 
 
 Gatty's words, and still more, his hesitation, 
 had made her quick intelligence suspect : she 
 had resolved to know the truth ; the boats 
 offered every facility for listening — she had 
 heard every word. 
 
 She stood between the mother and son. 
 
 They were confused, abashed, and the hot 
 blood began to leave their faces. 
 
 She stood erect like a statue, her cheek pale 
 as ashes, her eyes glittering like basilisks, she 
 looked at neither of them. 
 
 She slowly raised her left hand, she with- 
 drew a ruby ring from it, and dropped the 
 ring on the sand between the two. 
 
 She turned on her heel, and was gone as 
 she had come, without a word spoken. 
 
 They looked at one another, stupified at 
 first ; after a considerable pause the stern old
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 255 
 
 woman stooped, picked up the ring, and in 
 spite of a certain chill that the young woman's 
 majestic sorrow had given her, said, placing 
 it on her own finger, " This is for jour 
 wife!!!" 
 
 " It will be for my coffin, then," said her son, 
 so coldly, so bitterly, and so solemnly, that the 
 mother's heart began to quake. 
 
 " Mother," said he, calmly, " forgive me, 
 and accept your son's arm." 
 
 " I will, my son !" 
 
 " We are alone in the world now, mother." 
 
 Mrs. Gatty had triumphed, but she felt the 
 price of her triumph more than her victory. 
 It had been done in one moment, that for 
 which she had so laboured, and it seemed that 
 had she spoken long ago to Christie, instead of 
 Charles, it could have been done at any mo- 
 ment. 
 
 Strange to say, for some minutes the mother 
 felt more uneasy than her son ; she was a 
 woman, after all, and could measure a woman's 
 heart, and she saw how deep the wound
 
 256 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 she had given one she was now compelled to 
 respect. 
 
 Charles, on the other hand, had been so 
 harassed backwards and forwards, that to him 
 certainty was relief ; it was a great matter to 
 be no longer called upon to decide. His 
 mother had said, " Part," and now Christie 
 had said " Part ;" at least the affair was 
 taken out of his hands, and his first feeling was 
 a heavenly calm. 
 
 In this state he continued for about a mile, 
 and he spoke to his mother about his art, 
 sole object now ; but after the first mile he 
 became silent, distrait; Christie's pale face, 
 her mortified air, when her generous offer was 
 coldly repulsed, filled him with remorse : finally, 
 unable to bear it, yet not daring to speak, he 
 broke suddenly from his mother without a 
 word, and ran wildly back to Newhaven ; he 
 looked back only once, and there stood his 
 mother, pale, with her hands piteously lifted 
 towards heaven. 
 
 By the time he got to Newhaven he was as
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 257 
 
 sorry for her as for Christie. He ran to the 
 house of the latter ; Flucker and Jean told 
 him she was on the beach. He ran to the 
 beach ! he did not see her at first, but pre- 
 sently looking back, he saw her, at the edge of 
 the boats, in company with a gentleman in a 
 boating dress. He looked — could he believe 
 his eyes 1 he saw Christie Johnstone kiss this 
 man's hand, who then taking her head gently 
 in his two hands, placed a kiss upon her 
 brow, whilst she seemed to yield lovingly to 
 the caress. 
 
 Gatty turned faint, sick ; for a moment 
 everything swam before his eyes ; he recovered 
 himself, they were gone. 
 
 He darted round to intercept them ; Chris- 
 tie had slipped away somewhere ; he encoun- 
 tered the man alone !
 
 258 CHKISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 OHATBR XV. 
 
 Christie's situation requires to be explained. 
 
 On leaving Gatty and his mother, she went 
 to her own house. Flucker — who after looking 
 upon her for years as an inconvenient appen- 
 dage, except at dinner-time, had fallen in love 
 with her in a manner that was half pathetic, 
 half laughable, all things considered — saw by 
 her face she had received a blow, and raising 
 himself in the bed, inquired anxiously " What 
 ailed her ? " 
 
 At these kind words, Christie Johnstone 
 laid her cheek upon the pillow beside Flucker's, 
 and said —
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 259 
 
 " Oh, my laamb, be kind to your puir sister 
 fra this hoor, for she has naething i' the warld 
 noo but yoursel'." 
 
 Flucker began to sob at this. 
 
 Christie could not cry ; her heart was like 
 a lump of lead in her bosom ; but she put her 
 arm round his neck, and at the sight of his 
 sympathy she pauted heavily, but could not 
 shed a tear — she was sore striken. 
 
 Presently Jean came in, and as the poor 
 girl's head ached as well as her heart, they 
 forced her to go and sit in the air. She took 
 her creepie and sat, and looked on the sea ; 
 but whether she looked seaward or land- 
 ward, all seemed unreal ; not things, but hard 
 pictures of things, some moving, some still. 
 Life seemed ended — -she had lost her love. 
 
 An hour she sat in this miserable trance ; 
 she was diverted into a better, because a some- 
 what less dangerous form of grief, by one of 
 those trifling circumstances that often pene- 
 trate to the human heart, when inaccessible 
 to greater tilings.
 
 260 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 Willie the fiddler and his brother came 
 through the town, playing as they went, ac- 
 cording to custom ; their music floated past 
 Christie's ears like some drowsy chime, until, 
 all of a sudden, they struck up the old English 
 air, " Speed the plough." 
 
 Now it was to this tune Charles Gatty had 
 danced with her their first dance the night 
 they made acquaintance. 
 
 Christie listened, lifted up her hands, and 
 crying— 
 
 "Oh, what will I do 1 ? what will I do V 
 burst into a passion of grief. 
 
 She put her apron over her head, and 
 rocked herself, and sobbed bitterly. 
 
 She was in this situation when Lord Ipsden, 
 who was prowling about, examining the pro- 
 portions of the boats, discovered her. 
 
 " Some one in distress — that was all in his 
 way," 
 
 " Madam ! " said he. 
 
 She lifted up her head. 
 
 " It is Christie Johnstone. I'm so glad ;
 
 CHRISTIE JOHSSTOXE. 261 
 
 that is, I'm sorry you are crying, but I'm glad 
 I shall have the pleasure of relieving you," and 
 his Lordship began to feel for a cheque-book. 
 
 " And div ye really think siller's a cure for 
 every grief ! " said Christie, bitterly. 
 
 " I don't know," said his Lordship ; " it has 
 cured them all as yet." 
 
 " It will na cure me, then !" and she covered 
 her head with her apron again. 
 
 " I am very sorry," said he; " tell me, 
 (whispering) what is it % poor little Christie !" 
 
 " Dinna speak to me ; I think shame ; ask 
 Jean. Oh ! Richard, I'll no be lang iu this 
 warld ! ! !" 
 
 " Ah !" said he, " I know too well what it 
 is now ; I know, by sad experience. But, 
 Christie, money will cure it in your case, and 
 it shall, too ; only instead of five pounds, we 
 must put a thousand pounds or two to your 
 banker's account, and then they will all .sec 
 your beauty, and run after you." 
 
 " How daur ye even to me that I'm seekin 
 a lad ?" cried she, rising from her stool ; " I
 
 262 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 would na care, suppose there was na a lad in 
 Britain." And off she flounced, 
 
 " Offended her by my gross want of tact," 
 thought the Viscount. 
 
 She crept back, and two velvet lips touched 
 his hand. That was because she had spoken 
 harshly to a friend. 
 
 " Oil! Richard," said she, despairingly, " I'll 
 no be lang in this warld." 
 
 He was touched : and it was then he took 
 her head and kissed her brow, and said, u This 
 will never do ; my child, go home and have 
 a nice cry, and I will speak to Jean ; and 
 rely upon me, I will not leave the neighbour- 
 hood till I have arranged it all to your satis- 
 faction." 
 
 And so she went, — a little, a very, very 
 little — comforted by his tone and words. 
 
 Now this was all very pretty ; but then 
 seen at a distance of fifty yards, it looked 
 very ugly ; and Gatty, who had never before 
 known jealousy, the strongest and worst of 
 human passions, was ripe for anything.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 263 
 
 He met Lord Ipsden, and said at once, in 
 his wise, temperate way : 
 
 " Sir, you are a villain ! " 
 
 Ipsden. " Plait-il?" 
 
 Gatty. " You are a villain !" 
 
 Ipsden. " How do you make that out V 
 
 Gatty. " But, of course, you are not a 
 coward, too." 
 
 Ipsden. {ironically). " You surprise me with 
 your moderation, Sir." 
 
 Gatty. " Then you will waive your rank, — 
 you are a Lord, I believe,— and give me satis- 
 faction." 
 
 Ipsden. " My rank, Sir, such as it is, en- 
 gages me to give a proper answer to proposals 
 of this sort ; I am at your orders." 
 
 Gatty. " A man of your character must 
 often have been called to an account by your 
 victims, so — so — " — (hesitating) — " perhaps 
 you will tell me the proper course." 
 
 Ipsden. " / shall send a note to the castle, 
 and the Colonel will send me down somebody 
 with a moustache ; [ shall pretend to remem-
 
 264 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 ber moustache, moustache will pretend he re- 
 members me ; he will then communicate with 
 your friend, and they will arrange it all 
 for us." 
 
 Gatty. " And, perhaps, through yonr licen- 
 tiousness, one or both of us will be killed." 
 
 Ipsden. " Yes ! but we need not trouble 
 our heads about that, — the seconds undertake 
 everything." 
 
 Gatty. " I have no pistols." 
 
 Ipsden. " If you will do me the honour to 
 use one of mine, it shall be at your service." 
 
 Gatty. " Thank you." 
 
 Ipsden. " To-morrow morning % " 
 
 Gatty. " No. I have four days' painting 
 to do on my picture, I can't die till it is 
 finished ; — Friday morning." 
 
 Ipsden. " (He is mad.) I wish to ask you 
 a question, you will excuse my curiosity. 
 Have you any idea what we are agreeing to 
 difier about 1" 
 
 Gatty. " The question does you little credit, 
 my Lord ; that is to add insult to wrong."
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 265 
 
 He went off hurriedly, leaving Lord Ipsden 
 mystified. 
 
 He thought Christie Johnstone was some- 
 how connected with it; but conscious of no 
 wrong, he felt little disposed to put up with 
 any insult, especially from this boy, to whom 
 he had been kind, he thought. 
 
 His Lordship was, besides, one of those 
 good, simple-minded creatures, educated abroad, 
 who, when invited to fight, simply bow, and 
 load two pistols, and get themselves called at 
 six ; instead of taking down tomes of casuistry 
 and puzzling their poor brains to find out 
 whether they are game-cocks or capons, and 
 why. 
 
 As for Gatty, he hurried home in a fever 
 of passion, begged his mother's pardon, and 
 reproached himself for ever having disobeyed 
 her on account of such a perfidious creature 
 as Christie Johnstone. 
 
 He then told her what he had seen, as 
 distance and imagination had presented it to 
 him; to his surprise the old lady cut him short. 
 
 N
 
 266 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 " Charles," said she, " there is no need to 
 take the girl's character away; she has but 
 one fault, — she is not in the same class of life 
 as you, and such marriages always lead to 
 misery ; but in other respects she is a worthy 
 young woman, — don't speak against her cha- 
 racter, or you will make my flesh creep; you 
 don't know what her character is to a woman, 
 high or low." 
 
 By this moderation perhaps she held him 
 still faster. 
 
 Friday morning arrived. Gatty had, by 
 hard work, finished his picture, collected his 
 sketches from nature, which were numerous, 
 left by memorandum everything to his mother, 
 and was, or rather felt, as ready to die as live. 
 
 He had hardly spoken a word, or eaten a 
 meal, these four days; his mother was in 
 anxiety about him. He rose early, and went 
 down to Leith ; an hour later, his mother, 
 finding him gone out, rose, and went to seek 
 him at Newhaven. 
 
 Meantime Flucker had entirely recovered,
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 267 
 
 but his sister's colour had left her cheeks ; 
 and the boy swore vengeance against the 
 cause of her distress. 
 
 Ou Friday morning, then, there paced on 
 Leith Sands two figures. 
 
 One was Lord Ipsden. 
 
 The other seemed a military gentleman, 
 who having swallowed the mess-room poker, 
 and found it insufficient, had added the ram- 
 rods of his company. 
 
 The more his Lordship reflected on Gatty, 
 the less inclined he had felt to invite a sati- 
 rical young dog from barracks to criticise such 
 a rencontre ; he had therefore ordered Saun- 
 ders to get up as a Field-Marshal, or some 
 such trifle, and what Saunders would have 
 called incomparable vertically was the result. 
 
 The Painter was also in sight. 
 
 Whilst he was coming up, Lord Ipsden was 
 lecturing Marshal Saunders on a point on 
 which that worthy had always thought himself 
 very superior to his master — " Gentlemanly 
 deportment." 
 
 N 2
 
 268 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 " Now, Saunders, mind and behave like a 
 gentleman, or we shall be found out." 
 
 " I trust, iny Lord, mj conduct — " 
 
 " What I mean is, you must not be so over- 
 poweringlj gentleman-like, as you are apt to 
 be; no gentleman is so gentleman-like as all 
 that ; it could not be borne, c'est suffoqunnt ; 
 and a white handerchief is unsoldier-like — 
 and nobody ties a white handkerchief so well 
 as that ; of all the vices, perfection is the 
 most intolerable." His Lordship then touched 
 with his cane the Generalissimo's tie, whose 
 countenance straightway fell, as though he 
 had lost three successive battles. 
 
 Gatty came up. 
 
 They saluted. 
 
 " Where is your second, Sir V said the 
 Marechal. 
 
 " My second V said Gatty. " Ah ! I forgot 
 to wake him — does it matter V 
 
 " It is merely a custom," said Lord Ipsden, 
 with a very slightly satirical manner. " Sava- 
 nadero " said he, " do us the honour to
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 269 
 
 measure the ground, aud be everybody's 
 second." 
 
 Savanadero measured the ground, and 
 handed a pistol to each combatant, and struck 
 an imposing attitude apart. 
 
 " Are you ready, gentlemen V said this 
 Jack-o'-both-sides. 
 
 " Yes !" said both. 
 
 Just as the signal was about to be given, an 
 interruption occurred. — " I beg your pardon, 
 Sir," said Lord Ipsden to his antagonist ; " I 
 am going to take a liberty — a great liberty 
 with you, but I think you will find your 
 pistol is only at half-cock." 
 
 " Thank you. my Lord ; what am I to do 
 with the thing?" 
 
 " Draw back the cock so, and be ready to 
 tire" 
 
 "So?" Bang! 
 
 He had touched the trigger as well as the 
 cock, so off went the barker; and after a 
 considerable pause the Field-Marshal sprang 
 yelling into the air.
 
 270 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 "Hallo!" cried Mr. Gattj. 
 
 " Ah ! oh ! I'm a dead man," whined the 
 General. 
 
 " Nonsense !" said Ipsden, after a moment 
 of anxiety. " Give yourself no concern, Sir," 
 said he, soothingly, to his antagonist — " A 
 mere accident. — Marechal, reload Mr. Gatty's 
 pistol." 
 
 " Excuse me, my Lord — " 
 
 " Load his pistol directly," said his Lordship, 
 sternly; " and behave like a gentleman." 
 
 " My Lord ! my Lord ! but where shall I 
 stand to be safe V 
 
 " Behind me !" 
 
 The Commander of Division advanced re- 
 luctantly for Gatty's pistol. 
 
 " No, my Lord !" said Gatty, " it is plain I 
 am not a fit antagonist ; I shall but expose 
 myself — and my mother has separated us ; I 
 have lost her — if you do not win her, some 
 worse man may ; but oh ! if you are a man 
 use her tenderly." 
 
 " Whom V
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 271 
 
 " Christie Johnstone ! Oh, Sir, do not make 
 her regret me too much ! She was my treasure, 
 my consolation, — she was to be my wife, she 
 would have cheered the road of life — it is a 
 desert now. I loved her — I — I — " 
 
 Here the poor fellow choked. 
 
 Lord Ipsden turned round, and threw his 
 pistol to Saunders, saying, " Catch that, Saun- 
 ders." 
 
 Saunders, on the contrary, by a single 
 motion changed his person from a vertical 
 straight line to a horizontal line, exactly 
 parallel with the earth's surface, and the 
 weapon sang innoxious over him. 
 
 His Lordship then, with a noble defiance of 
 etiquette, walked up to his antagonist and 
 gave him his hand, with a motion no one 
 could resist; — for he felt for the poor fellow. 
 
 " It is all a mistake," said he. " There is 
 no sentiment between La Johnstone and me 
 but mutual esteem. I will explain the whole 
 thing; / admire her for her virtue, her wit, her 
 i'liiocence, her goodness, and all that sort of
 
 272 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 thing ; and she — what she sees in me, I am 
 sure I don't know," added he, slightly shrug- 
 ging his aristocratic shoulders. " Do me the 
 honour to breakfast with me at Newhaven." 
 
 " I have ordered twelve sorts of fish at the 
 Peacock, my Lord," said Saunders. 
 
 " Divine ! (I hate fish) I told Saunders all 
 would be hungry and none shot; by-the-by, 
 you are winged, I think you said, Saunders V 
 
 " No, my Lord ! but look at my trousers." 
 
 The bullet had cut his pantaloons. 
 
 " I see — only barked ; so go and see about 
 our breakfast." 
 
 " Yes, my Lord" [faintly). 
 
 " And draw on me for fifty pounds worth 
 of — new trousers." 
 
 " Yes, my Lord" {sonorously). 
 
 The duellists separated, Gatty taking the 
 short cut to Newhaven ; he proposed to take 
 his favourite swim there, to refresh himself 
 before breakfast ; and he went from his Lord- 
 ship a little cheered by remarks which fell 
 from him, and which, though vague, sounded
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 273 
 
 friendly ; — poor fellow, except when he had 
 brush in hand he was a dreamer. 
 
 This Viscount, who did not seem to trouble 
 his head about class dignity, was to convert 
 his mother from her aristocratic tendencies, or 
 something. 
 
 Que sais-jef what will not a dreamer hope? 
 
 Lord Ipsden strolled along the sands, and 
 judge his surprise, when, attended by two 
 footmen, he met at that time in the morning, 
 Lady Barbara Sinclair. 
 
 Lord Ipsden had been so disheartened and 
 piqued by this lady's conduct, that for a whole 
 week he had not been near her : this line of 
 behaviour sometimes answers. 
 
 She met him with a grand display of cor- 
 diality. 
 
 She inquired, " Whether he had heard of a 
 most gallant action, that, coupled with another 
 circumstance (here she smiled) had in part, 
 reconciled her to the age we live in 1" 
 
 He asked for further particulars. 
 She then informed him " that a ship had 
 
 n 3
 
 274 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 been ashore on the rocks, that no fishermen 
 dared venture out, that a young gentleman 
 had given them his whole fortune, and so 
 bribed them to accompany him; that he had 
 saved the ship and the men's lives, paid away 
 his fortune, and lighted an odious cigar, and 
 gone home, never minding, amidst the blessings 
 and acclamations of a maritime population." 
 
 A beautiful story she told him ; so beauti- 
 ful, in fact, that until she had discoursed ten 
 minutes, he hardly recognized his own feat ; 
 but when he did, he blushed inside as well as 
 out with pleasure. Oh ! music of music — 
 praise from eloquent lips, and those lips, the 
 lips we love. 
 
 The next moment he felt ashamed ; ashamed 
 that Lady Barbara should praise him beyond 
 his merits, as he conceived. 
 
 He made a faint hypocritical endeavour to 
 moderate her eulogium ; this gave matters 
 an unexpected turn, Lady Barbara's eyes 
 flashed defiance. 
 
 " I say it was a noble action, that one
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 275 
 
 nursed in effeminacy (as you all are), should 
 teach the hardy seamen to mock at peril — 
 noble fellow ! " 
 
 " He did a man's duty, Barbara." 
 
 " Ipsden, take care, you will make me hate 
 you, if you detract from a deed you cannot 
 emulate. This gentleman risked his own life 
 to save others — he is a hero ! I should know 
 him by his face the moment I saw him. Oh 
 that I were such a man, or knew where to find 
 such a creature ! " 
 
 The water came into Lord lpsden's eyes ; he 
 did not know what to say or do ; he turned 
 away his head. 
 
 Lady Barbara was surprised ; her conscience 
 smote her. 
 
 " Oh, dear," said she, " there now, I have 
 given you pain — forgive me ; we can't all be 
 heroes ; dear Ipsden, don't think I despise you 
 now as I used. Oh, no ! I have heard of your 
 goodness to the poor, and I have more expe- 
 rience now. There is nobody I esteem more 
 than you, Richard, so you need not look so.'
 
 276 CHRISTIE JOHNSTOXE. 
 
 " Thank you, dearest Barbara." 
 
 " Yes, and if you were to be such a goose 
 as to write me another letter proposing ab- 
 surdities to me " 
 
 " Would the answer be different V 
 
 " Very different." 
 
 " Oh, Barbara ! would you accept V 
 
 " Why, of course not — but I would refuse 
 civilly !" 
 
 « Ah r 
 
 " There, don't sigh ; I hate a sighing man. 
 I'll tell you something that I know will make 
 you laugh." She then smiled saucily in his 
 face, and said, " Do you remember Mr. " 
 
 UeffronUe ! this was the earnest man. 
 
 But Ipsden was a match for her this time. 
 
 " I think I do," said he ; " a gentleman who 
 wants to make John Bull little again into 
 John Calf ; but it won't do." 
 
 Her Ladyship laughed. " Why did you 
 not tell us that on Inch Ooombe V 
 
 " Because I had not read ' The Catspaw ' 
 then."
 
 CHKIST1E JOHNSTONE. 277 
 
 " ' The CatspawT Ah ! I thought it could 
 uot be you. Whose is it V 
 
 " Mr. Jerrold's." 
 
 " Then Mr. Jerrold is cleverer than you." 
 
 " It is possible." 
 
 " It is certain ! Well, Mr. Jerrold and Lord 
 Ipsden, you will both be glad to hear that it 
 was, in point of fact, a bull that confuted the 
 advocate of the Middle Ages ; we were walk- 
 ing ; he was telling me manhood was extinct 
 except in a few earnest men who lived upon 
 the past, its associations, its truth ; when a 
 horrid bull gave — oh — such a bellow ! and 
 came trotting up. I screamed and ran — I 
 remember nothing but arriving at the stile, 
 and lo, on the other side, offering me his arm 
 with empressement across the wooden barrier 
 was " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Well! don't you see?" 
 
 " No — oh — yes, I see ! — fancy — ah ! Shall 
 1 tell you how he came to get first over % He 
 ran more earnestly than you."
 
 278 CHRISTIE JOHN STONE. 
 
 " It is not Mr. Jerrold this time, I presume,' 5 
 said her satirical Ladyship. 
 
 " No ! you cannot always have him. 1 
 venture to predict your Ladyship on your 
 return home gave this mediaeval personage his 
 conge." 
 
 « No I" 
 
 " No r 
 
 " I gave it him at the stile ! Let us be 
 serious, if you please ; I have a confidence to 
 make you, Ipsden. Frankly, I owe you some 
 apology for my conduct of late ; I meant to 
 be reserved — I have been rude, — but you shall 
 judge me. A year ago you made me some 
 proposals ; I rejected them because, though I 
 like you " 
 
 " You like me T 
 
 " I detest your character. Since then, my 
 West India estate has been turned into specie ; 
 that specie, the bulk of my fortune, placed on 
 board a vessel ; that vessel lost, at least we 
 think so— she has not been heard of." 
 
 " My dear cousin."
 
 CHKISTIE JOHNSTONE. 279 
 
 " Do jou comprehend that now I am cooler 
 than ever to all young gentlemen who have 
 large incomes, and" (holding out her hand like 
 an angel,) " I must trouble you to forgive me." 
 He kissed her lovely hand. 
 " I esteem you more and more," said he. 
 ■' You ought, for it has been a hard struggle 
 to me not to adore you, because you are so 
 improved, mon cousin" 
 
 " Is it possible ? In what respect V 
 " You are browner and charitabler ; and I 
 should have been very kind to you — mawkishly 
 kind I fear, my sweet cousin, if this wretched 
 money had not gone down in the ' Tisbe.' ' 
 " Hallo !" cried the Viscount. 
 " Ah ! " squeaked Lady Barbara, unused 
 to such interjections. 
 
 " Gone down in what V said Ipsden in a 
 loud voice. 
 
 " Don't bellow in people's ears. The ' Tisbe,' 
 stupid," cried she, screaming at the top of her 
 voice. 
 
 " Ri turn, ti turn, ti turn, turn, turn, tiddy,
 
 280 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 iddy," went Lord Ipsden, — he whistled a 
 polka. 
 
 Lady Barbara (inspecting him gravely). 
 " I have heard it at a distance, but I never 
 saw how it was done before. It is very, 
 very pretty ! ! ! ! " 
 
 Ipsden. " PoIJcez-vous, Madame V 
 
 Lady Barb. " Si, je polhe, Monsieur le 
 Vicomte." 
 
 They polked for a second or two. 
 
 " Well, I dare say I am wrong," cried Lady 
 Barbara, " but I like you better now you are 
 a downright — ahem! — than when you were 
 only an insipid non-intellectual — you are 
 greatly improved.' 
 
 Ips. " In what respects V 
 
 Lady Barb. " Did I not tell you % browner 
 and more impudent; but tell me," said she, 
 resuming her sly satirical tone, "how is it 
 that you, who used to be the pink of courtesy, 
 dance and sing over the wreck of my for- 
 tunes V 
 
 ' Because they are not wrecked."
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 281 
 
 " I thought I told you my specie is gone 
 down in the ' Tisbe.' " 
 
 Ipsden. "But the 'Tisbe' has not gone 
 down ." 
 
 Lady Barb. " I tell you it is." 
 
 Ipsden. " I assure you it is not." 
 
 Lady Barb. " It is not." 
 
 Ipsden. " Barbara ! I am too happy, I 
 begin to nourish such sweet hopes once more ; 
 oh, I could fall on my knees and bless you 
 for something you said just now." 
 
 Lady Barbara blushed to the temples. 
 
 " Then why dont you V said she. " All 
 you want is a little enthusiasm." Then re- 
 covering herself, she said — 
 
 " You kneel on wet sand, with black trou- 
 sers on ; that will never be ! ! !" 
 
 These two were so occupied that they did 
 not observe the approach of a stranger until 
 he broke in upon their dialogue. 
 
 An Ancient Mariner had been for some 
 minutes standing off and on, reconnoitring
 
 282 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 Lord Ipsden ; he now bore down, and with 
 great rough, roaring cordiality, that made 
 Lady Barbara start, cried out — 
 
 "Give me your hand, Sir, — give me your 
 hand, if you were twice a lord. 
 
 " I couldn't speak to you till the brig was 
 safe in port, and you slipped away, but I've 
 brought you up at last ; and — give me your 
 hand again, Sir. I say, isn't it a pity you are 
 a lord instead of a sailor 1" 
 
 Ipsden. " But I am a sailor." 
 
 Ancient Mariner. " That ye are, and as 
 smart a one as ever tied a true-lover's knot in 
 the top ; but tell the truth, — you were never 
 nearer losing the number of your mess than 
 that day in the old ' Tisbe.' " 
 
 Lady Barb. " The old ' Tisbe'! Oh!" 
 
 Ipsden. " Do you remember that nice little 
 lurch she gave to leeward as we brought her 
 round V 
 
 Lady Barb. " Oh, Richard !" 
 
 Ancient Mariner. "And that reel the old
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTOXE. 283 
 
 wench gave under our feet, north the pier- 
 head. I wouldn't have given a washing-tub 
 for her at that moment." 
 
 Ipsden. " Past danger becomes pleasure, 
 Sir. Olim et hcec meminisse — I beg your par- 
 don, Sir." 
 
 Ancient Mariner {taking off his hat, with 
 feeling). "God bless ye, Sir, and send ye 
 many happy days, and well spent, with the 
 pretty lady I see alongside; asking your par- 
 don, Miss, for parting pleasanter company, — 
 so I'll sheer off." 
 
 And away went the skipper of the ' Tisbe,' 
 rolling fearfully. In the heat of this remi- 
 niscence, the skipper of the yacht (they are all 
 alike, blue water once fairly tasted) had lost 
 sight of Lady Barbara ; he now looked round. 
 Imagine his surprise ! 
 
 Her Ladyship was in tears. 
 
 "Dear Barbara," said Lord Ipsden, "do 
 not distress yourself on my account." 
 
 " It is not your fe-feelings I care about ; at 
 least, I h-h-hope not ; but I have been so
 
 284 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 unjust, and I prided myself so on mj j-ju- 
 justice." 
 
 li Never mind !" 
 
 '- Oh ! if jou don't, I dont. I hate myself, 
 so it is no wonder you h-hate me." 
 
 '■ I love you more than ever." 
 
 " Then you are a good soul ! Of course you 
 know I always /-esteemed you, Richard." 
 
 " No ! I had an idea you despised me !" 
 
 " How silly you are ! Can't you see % When 
 I thought you were not perfection, which you 
 are now, it vexed me to death ; you never saw 
 me affront any one but you V 
 
 " No, I never did ! What does that prove V 
 
 " That depends upon the wit of him that 
 reasons thereon." (Coming to herself.) 
 
 " I love you, Barbara ! Will you honour 
 me with your hand V 
 
 " No ! I am not so base, so selfish : you 
 are worth a hundred of me, and here have I 
 been treating you de limit en bas. Dear 
 Richard, poor Richard. Oh ! oh ! oh !" (A 
 perfect flood of tears.)
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 285 
 
 " Barbara ! I regret nothing : this moment 
 pays for all." 
 
 " Well then, I will ! since you keep pressing 
 me. There, let me go ; I must be alone ; I 
 must tell the sea how unjust I was, and how 
 happy I am, and when you see me again, you 
 shall see the better side of your cousin Bar- 
 bara." 
 
 She was peremptory. " She had her folly 
 and his merits to think over," she said ; but 
 she promised to pass through Newhaven, 
 and he should put her into her pony-phaeton, 
 which would meet her there. 
 
 Lady Barbara was only a fool by the excess 
 of her wit over her experience ; and Lord 
 Ipsden's love was not misplaced, for she had 
 a great heart, which she hid from little people. 
 I forgive her ! 
 
 The resolutions she formed in company 
 with the sea, having dismissed Ipsden, and 
 ordered her flunky into the horizon, will pro- 
 bably give our Viscount just half a century of 
 conjugal bliss.
 
 286 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 As he was going, she stopped him and said, 
 " Your friend had browner hands than I have 
 hitherto conceived possible. To tell the truth, 
 I took them for the claws of a mahogany 
 table when he grappled you, — is that the 
 term % C'est egal — / like him — " 
 
 She stopped him again. " Ipsden, in the 
 midst of all this that poor man's ship is 
 broken. I feel it is ! You will buy him 
 another, if you really love me, — for I like 
 him." 
 
 And so these lovers parted for a time; and 
 Lord Ipsden with a bounding heart returned 
 to Newhaven. He went to entertain his late 
 vis-a-vis at the " Peacock." 
 
 Meantime a shorter and less pleasant ren- 
 contre had taken place between Leith and 
 that village. 
 
 Gatty felt he should meet his lost sweet- 
 heart ; and sure enough, at a turn of the 
 road Christie and Jean came suddenly upon 
 him. 
 
 Jean nodded, but Christie took no notice of
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 287 
 
 him ; they passed him ; he turned and fol- 
 lowed them, and said, " Christie !" 
 
 " What is jour will wi' me V said she, 
 coldly. 
 
 " I — T — how pale you are." 
 
 " I am no very weel." 
 
 " She has been watching over muckle wi' 
 Flucker," said Jean. 
 
 Christie thanked her with a look. 
 
 " I hope it is not — not — " 
 
 " Nae fears, lad," said she, briskly; " I dinna 
 think that muckle o' ye." 
 
 " And I think of nothing but you," said he. 
 
 A deep flush crimsoned the young woman's 
 brow, but she restrained herself, and said icily, 
 " Thaat's very gude o' ye, I'm sure." 
 
 Gatty felt all the contempt her manners 
 and words expressed. lie bit his lips: the 
 tear started to his eye. " You will forget me," 
 said he : " I do not deserve to be remem- 
 bered, but I shall never forget you. I leave 
 for England : I leave Newhaven for ever, 
 where I have been so happy. I am going at
 
 288 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 three o'clock by the steam- boat : won't you 
 bid nie good-by V he approached her timidly. 
 
 " Ay ! that wull do," cried she ; " Gude be 
 wi' ye, lad ; I wish ye nae ill." She gave a 
 commanding gesture of dismissal ; he turned 
 away, and went sadly from her. 
 
 She watched every motion when his back 
 was turned. 
 
 . " That is you, Christie," said Jean ! " use 
 the lads like dirt, an' they think a' the mair 
 o' ye.'; 
 
 " Oh, Jean, my hairt's broken. I'm just 
 
 deeing for him." 
 
 " Let me speak till him then," said Jean ; 
 " I'll sune bring him till his marrow-banes ;" 
 and she took a hasty step to follow him. 
 
 Christie held her fast. " I'd dee ere I'd 
 give in till them. Oh, Jean ! I'm a lassy 
 clean flung awa; he has neither hairt nor 
 spunk ava, yon lad !" 
 
 Jean began to make excuses for him : 
 Christie inveighed against him : Jean spoke 
 up for him with more earnestness.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 289 
 
 Now observe, Jean despised the poor boy. 
 
 Christie adored him. 
 
 So Jean spoke for him, because women of 
 every degree are often one solid mass of tact ; 
 and Christie abused him, because she wanted 
 to hear him defended.
 
 290 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Richard, Lord Viscount Ipsden, having 
 dotted the sea-shore with sentinels, to tell him 
 of Ladj Barbara's approach, awaited his guest 
 in the " Peacock "; but as Gatty was a little 
 behind time, he placed Saunders sentinel over 
 the " Peacock," and strolled eastward ; as he 
 came out of the " Peacock," Mrs. Gatty came 
 down the little hill in front, and also proceeded 
 eastward ; meantime Lady Barbara and her 
 escort were not far from the New Town of 
 Newhaven, on their way from Leith. 
 
 Mrs. Gatty came down, merely with a vague 
 fear. She had no reason to suppose her son's
 
 .CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 291 
 
 alliance with Christie either would or could be 
 renewed, but she was a careful player and 
 would not give a chance away ; she found he 
 was gone out unusually early, so she came 
 straight to the only place she dreaded ; it 
 was her son's last day in Scotland. She had 
 packed his clothes, and he had inspired her 
 with confidence by arranging pictures, &c, 
 himself ; she had no idea he was packing for 
 his departure from this life, not Edinburgh 
 only. 
 
 She came then to Newhaven with no serious 
 misgivings, for even if her son had again vacil- 
 lated, she saw that with Christie's pride and 
 her own firmness, the game must be hers in 
 the end ; but as I said before, she was one 
 who played her cards closely, and such seldom 
 lose. 
 
 But my story is with the two young fish- 
 wives, who, on their return from Leith, found 
 themselves at the foot of the New Town, New- 
 haven, some minutes before any of the other 
 persons who, it is to be observed, were ap- 
 
 o 2
 
 292 CHRISTIE JOHKSTONE. 
 
 proaching it from different points : they came 
 slowly in, Christie in particular, with a listless- 
 ness she had never known till this last week ; 
 for some days her strength had failed her — it 
 was Jean that carried the creel now — before, 
 Christie, in the pride of her strength, would 
 always do more than her share of their joint 
 labour : then she could hardly be forced to 
 eat, and what she did eat was quite tasteless 
 to her, and sleep left her, and in its stead 
 came uneasy slumbers, from which she awoke 
 quivering from head to foot. 
 
 Oh ! perilous venture of those who love one 
 object with the whole heart. 
 
 This great but tender heart was breaking- 
 day by day. 
 
 Well, Christie and Jean strolling slowly 
 into the New Town of Newhaven, found an 
 assemblage of the natives all looking seaward ; 
 the fishermen, except Sandy Liston, were away 
 at the herring fishery, but all the boys and 
 women of the New Town were collected; the 
 girls felt a momentary curiosity ; it proved,
 
 CHKISTIE JOHNSTONE. 293 
 
 however, to be only an individual swimming 
 in towards shore from a greater distance than 
 usual. 
 
 A little matter excites curiosity in such 
 places. 
 
 The man's head looked like a spot of ink. 
 
 Sandy Liston was minding his own business 
 lazily mending a skait net, which he had 
 attached to a crazy old herring-boat hauled 
 up to rot. 
 
 Christie sat down, pale and languid, by him, 
 on a creepie that a lass who had been baiting 
 a line with mussels had just vacated; suddenly 
 she seized Jean's arm with a convulsive mo- 
 tion ; Jean looked up — it was the London 
 steamboat running out from Leith to Grantou 
 Pier to take up her passengers for London. 
 Charles Gatty was going by that boat ; the 
 look of mute despair the poor girl gave, went 
 to Jean's heart — she ran hastily from the 
 group, and cried out of sight for poor 
 Christie. 
 
 A fishwife looking through a telescope at
 
 294 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 the swimmer, remarked, " He's coming in fast ; 
 he's a gallant swimmer yon — " 
 
 " Can he dee't % " inquired Christie, of 
 Sandy Liston. 
 
 " Fine thaat," was the reply, " he does it 
 aye o' Sundays when ye are at the kirk." 
 
 " It's no oot o' the kirk window ye'll hae 
 seen him, Sandy, my mon, said a young fish- 
 wife. 
 
 " Rin for my glass ony way, Flucker/' said 
 Christie, forcing herself to take some little 
 interest. 
 
 Flucker brought it to her, she put her hand 
 on his shoulder, got slowly up, and stood on 
 the creepie, and adjusted the focus of her glass; 
 after a short view, she said to Flucker — 
 
 " Rin and see the nock." She then levelled 
 her glass again at the swimmer. 
 
 Flucker informed her the nock said "half 
 eleven" — Scotch for " half-past ten." 
 
 Christie whipped out a well-thumbed alma- 
 nack. 
 
 Yon nock's aye ahint," said she. She
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 295 
 
 swept the sea once more with her glass, then 
 brought it together with a click, and jumped 
 off the stool : her quick intelligence yiewed 
 the matter differently from all the others. 
 
 " Noow," cried she, smartly, " wha'll lend 
 me his yawl V* 
 
 " Hets, dinna be sae interferin, lassie," said 
 a fishwife. 
 
 " Hae nane o' ye ony spunk ?" said Christie, 
 taking no notice of the woman. " Speak, 
 laddies ! " 
 
 " M'uncle's yawl is at the pier-head ; ye'll 
 get her, my woman," said a boy. 
 
 " A schell'n for wha's first on board," said 
 Christie, holding up the coin. 
 
 " Come awa, Flucker, we'll hae her schell'n," 
 and these two worthies instantly effected a 
 false start. 
 
 " It's no under your jackets," said Christie, 
 as she dashed after them like the wind. 
 
 " Haw ! haw ! haw ! " laughed Sandy. 
 
 " What's her business picking up a mon 
 against his will V said a woman.
 
 296 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 " She's an awfu' lassie," whined another. 
 
 The examination of the swimmer was then 
 continued, and the crowd increased ; some 
 would have it he was rapidly approaching, 
 others that he made little or no way. 
 
 " Wha est V said another. 
 
 " It's a lummy," said a girl. 
 
 " Na ! it's no a lummy," said another. 
 
 Christie's boat was now seen standing out 
 from the pier. Sandy Liston, casting a con- 
 temptuous look on all the rest, lifted himself 
 lazily into the herring-boat and looked seaward. 
 His manner changed in a moment. 
 
 " The deevii !" cried he; "the tide's turned! 
 You wi' your glass, could you no see yon man's 
 drifting oot to sea ?" 
 
 " Hech !" cried the women, "he'll be drooned 
 — heTl be drooned ! " 
 
 Yes ; he'll be drooned ! " cried Sandy, 
 " if yon lassie does na come alongside 
 him deevelich quick — he's sair spent I 
 doot." 
 
 Two spectators were now added to the
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 297 
 
 scene, Mrs. Gatty and Lord Ipsden. Mrs. 
 Gatty inquired what was the matter. 
 
 " It's a mon drooning," was the reply. 
 
 The poor fellow, whom Sandy, by aid of his 
 glass, now discovered to be in a worn-out 
 condition, was about half a mile east of 
 Newhaven pier-head, and unfortunately the 
 wind was nearly due east. Christie was 
 standing north-north-east, her boat-hook 
 jammed against the sail, which stood as flat 
 as a knife. 
 
 The natives of the Old Town were now 
 seen pouring down to the pier and the beach, 
 and strangers were collecting like bees. 
 
 " After wit is everybody's wit ! ! ! " — Old 
 Proverb. 
 
 The affair was in the Johnstone's hands. 
 
 " That boat is not going to the poor man," 
 said Mrs. Gatty, " it is turning its back upon 
 him." 
 
 • She canna lie in the wind's eye, for as 
 • lever as she is," answered a fishwife. 
 
 • I ken wiia it is," suddenly squeaked a 
 
 o 3
 
 298 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 little fishwife ; " it's Christie Johnstone's lad, 
 it's yon daft painter fr' England. Hech ! " 
 cried she, suddeuly, observing Mrs. Gatty, 
 "it's your son, woman." 
 
 The unfortunate woman gave a fearful 
 scream, and flying like a tiger on Liston, 
 commanded him " to go straight out to sea, 
 and save her son." 
 
 Jean Carnie seized her arm, " Div ye see 
 yon boat % ' cried she, " and div ye mind 
 Christie, the lass wha's hairt ye hae broken % 
 a weel, woman, — ifs just a race between deeth 
 and Cirsty Johnstone for your son." 
 
 The poor old woman swooned dead away ; 
 they carried her into Christie Johnstone's 
 house, and laid her down, then hurried back, 
 — the greater terror absorbed the less. 
 
 Lady Barbara Sinclair was there from 
 Leith, and seeing Lord Ipsden standing in 
 the boat with a fisherman, she asked him to 
 tell her what it was ; neither he nor any one 
 answered her. 
 
 " Why doesn't she come about, Liston 1 "
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 299 
 
 cried Lord Ipsden, stamping with anxiety and 
 impatience. 
 
 "She'll no be lang," said Sandy; "but 
 they'll niak a mess o't wi' ne'er a man i' the 
 boat." 
 
 " Ye're sure o' thaat ? " put in a woman. 
 
 " Ay, about she comes," said Liston, as the 
 sail came down on the first tack. He was 
 mistaken ; they dipped the lug as cleverly as 
 any man in the town could. 
 
 " Ilech ! look at her hauling on the rope 
 like a mon," cried a woman. The sail flew 
 up on the other tack. 
 
 " She's an awfu' lassie," whined another. 
 
 " He's awa," groaned Liston, " he's doon ! '> 
 
 " No ! he's up again," cried Lord Ipsden ; 
 " but I fear he can't live till the boat comes 
 to him." 
 
 The fisherman and the viscount held on by 
 each other. 
 
 " He does na see her, or maybe he'd tak 
 hairt." 
 
 " I'd give ten thousand pounds if only he
 
 300 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 could see her. My God, the man will be 
 drowned under our eyes. — If he but saw 
 her ! ! ! " 
 
 The words had hardly left Lord Ipsden's 
 lips, when the sound of a woman's voice came 
 like an J3olian note across the water. 
 
 " Hurraih ! " roared Liston, and every crea- 
 ture joined the cheer. 
 
 " She'll no let him dee. Ay ! she's in the 
 bows, hailing him an' waving the lad's bonnet 
 ower her head to gie him coorage. Gude 
 bless ye, lass ; Gude bless ye ! " 
 
 Christie knew it was no use hailing him 
 against the wind, but the moment she got the 
 wind she darted into the bows, and pitched 
 in its highest key her full and brilliant voice ; 
 after a moment of suspense she received proof 
 that she must be heard by him, for on the 
 pier now hung men and women, clustered like 
 bees, breathless with anxiety, and the moment 
 after she hailed the drowning man, she saw 
 and heard a wild yell of applause burst 
 from the pier, and the pier was more distant
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 301 
 
 than the man. She snatched Flucker's cap, 
 planted her foot on the gunwale, held on by 
 a rope, hailed the poor fellow again, and 
 waved the cap round and round her head, to 
 give him courage ; and in a moment, at the 
 sight of this, thousands of voices thundered 
 back their cheers to her across the water. 
 Blow, wind, — spring, boat, — and you, Christie, 
 still ring life towards those despairing ears, 
 and wave hope to those sinking eyes ; cheer 
 the boat on, you thousands that look upon 
 this action : Hurrah ! from the pier : Hurrah ! 
 from the town : Hurrah ! from the shore : 
 Hurrah ! now, from the very ships in the 
 roads ; whose crews are swarming on the 
 yards to look ; five minutes ago they laughed 
 at you ; three thousand eyes and hearts hang 
 upon you now, ay, these are the moments 
 we live for ! 
 
 And now dead silence. The boat is with- 
 in fifty-yards, they are all three consulting 
 together round the mast : an error now is 
 death ; his forehead only seems above water.
 
 302 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 " If they miss him on that tack V said Lord 
 Ipsden, significantly, to Liston. 
 
 " He'll never see London Brigg again," was 
 the whispered reply. 
 
 They carried on till all on shore thought 
 they would run over him, or past him ; but 
 no, at ten yards distant they were all at the 
 sail, and had it down like lightning ; and 
 then Flucker sprang to the bows, the other 
 boy to the helm. 
 
 Unfortunately, there were but two John- 
 stones in the boat ; and this boy, in his 
 hurry, actually put the helm to port, instead 
 of to starboard. Christie, who stood amid- 
 ships, saw the error ; she sprang aft, flung 
 the boy from the helm, and jammed it hard- 
 a-starboard with her foot. The boat answered 
 the helm, but too late for Flucker ; the man 
 was four yards from him as the boat drifted 
 by. 
 
 " He's a deed mon ! " cried Liston, on 
 shore. 
 
 The boat's length gave one more little
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 303 
 
 chance ; the after-part must drift nearer him — 
 thanks to Christie. Flucker flew aft ; flung 
 himself on his back, and seized his sister's 
 petticoats. 
 
 " Fling yourself ower the gunwale/' screamed 
 he. " Ye'll no hurt ; Fse haud ye." 
 
 She flung herself boldly oyer the gunwale ; 
 the man was sinking, her nails touched his 
 hair, her fingers entangled themselves in it, 
 she gave him a powerful wrench and brought 
 him alongside ; the boys pinned him like 
 wild cats. 
 
 Christie darted away forward to the mast, 
 passed a rope round it, threw it the boys, in 
 a moment it was under his shoulders, Christie 
 hauled on it from the fore thwart, the boys 
 lifted him, and they tumbled liim, gasping and 
 gurgling like a dying salmon, into the bottom 
 of the boat, and flung net, and jackets, and 
 sail over him, to keep the life in him. 
 
 Ah ! draw your breath all hands at sea and 
 ashore, and don't try it again, young gentle- 
 man, for there was nothing to spare : when
 
 304 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 you were missed at the bow two stout hearts 
 quivered for you ; Lord Ipsden hid his face 
 in his two hands, Sandy Liston gave a groan, 
 and when you were grabbed astern, jumped 
 out of his boat, and cried — 
 
 " A jill o' whiskey for ony favour, for it's 
 turned me as seeck as a doeg." He added, 
 " He may bless yon lassie's fowr banes, for 
 she's taen him oot o' deeth's maw, as sure as 
 Gude's in heaven ! " 
 
 Lady Barbara who had all her life been 
 longing to see perilous adventures, prayed, 
 and trembled, and cried most piteously ; and 
 Lord Ipsden's back was to her, and he paid 
 no attention to her voice ; but when the 
 battle was won and Lord Ipsden turned and 
 saw her, she clung to his arm and dried her 
 tears; and then the Old Town cheered the 
 boat, and the New Town cheered the boat, 
 and the towns cheered each other ; and the 
 Johnstones, lad and lass, set their sail, and 
 swept back in triumph to the pier ; so then 
 Lady Barbara's blood mounted and tingled in
 
 CHRISTIE J0HN3T0XE. 305 
 
 her veins like fire. " Oh, how noble!" cried 
 she. 
 
 " Yes, dearest," said Ipsden. " You have 
 seen something great done at last ; and by a 
 woman, too ! " 
 
 " Yes," said Barbara, " how beautiful ! oh ! 
 how beautiful it all is ; only the next one I 
 see I should like the danger to be over first, 
 that is all." 
 
 The boys and Christie, the moment they 
 had saved Gatty, up sail again for Newhaven ; 
 they landed in about three minutes at the 
 pier. 
 
 Time. 
 
 
 
 From Newhaven town to pier on foot . 
 
 1 m 
 
 . 30 sec. 
 
 First tack ...... 
 
 5 
 
 30 
 
 Second tack, and getting him on board . 
 
 4 
 
 00 
 
 Back to the pier, going tree . 
 
 3 
 
 30 
 
 Total . . 
 
 14 
 
 30 
 
 They came in to the pier, Christie sitting 
 quietly on the thwart after her work, the boy 
 steering, and Flucker standing against the 
 mast, hands in his pockets ; the deportment
 
 306 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 this young gentleman thought fit to assume 
 on this occasion was ' complete apathy ; ' he 
 came into port with the air of one bringing 
 home the ordinary results of his day's fishing ; 
 this was, I suppose, to impress the spectators 
 with the notion that saving lives was an every- 
 day affair with La Famille Johnstone ; as for 
 Gatty, he came to himself under his heap of 
 nets and jackets, and spoke once between 
 Death's jaw and the pier. 
 
 " Beautiful !" murmured he, and was silent. 
 The meaning of this observation never trans- 
 pired, aDd never will in this world. Six 
 months afterwards, being subjected to a 
 searching interrogatory, he stated that he 
 had alluded to the majesty and freedom of a 
 certain pose Christie had adopted whilst hail- 
 ing him from the boat ; but reader, if he had 
 wanted you and me to believe it was this, 
 he should not have been half a year finding it 
 out — increduli odimus ! They landed, and 
 Christie sprang on shore ; whilst she was 
 wending her way through the crowd, impeded
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 307 
 
 by greetings and acclamations, with every 
 now and then a lass waving her kerchief or 
 a lad his bonnet over the heroine's head, poor 
 Mrs. Gatty was receiving the attention of the 
 New Town ; they brought her to, they told 
 her the good news — she thanked God. 
 
 The whole story had spread like wildfire ; 
 they expostulated with her, they told her, 
 now was the time to show she had a heart, 
 and bless the young people. 
 
 She rewarded them with a valuable precept. 
 
 " Mind your own business !" said she. 
 
 " Hech ! y' are a dour wife !" cried New- 
 haven. 
 
 The dour wife bent her eyes on the ground. 
 
 The people were still collected at the foot 
 of the street, but they were now in knots, 
 when in dashed Flucker, arriving by a short 
 cut, and crying, " She does na ken, she does 
 na ken, she was ower moedest to look, I daur 
 say, and ye'll no tell her, for he's a blackguard, 
 an' he's just making a fulc o' the puir lass, 
 and if she kens what she has done for him,
 
 308 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 she'll be fonder o' him than a coow o' her 
 cauf." 
 
 " Oh, Flucker ! we maun tell her, its her 
 lad, her ain lad, she saved," expostulated a 
 woman. 
 
 " Did ever my feyther do a good turn till 
 ye V cried Flacker. " Aweel then, ye'll no 
 tell the lassy, she's weel as she is ; he's gaun 
 t' Enngland the day. I cannie gie ye a' a 
 hidin," said he, with an eye that flashed 
 volumes of good intention, on a hundred and 
 fifty people ; " but I am feytherless and mo- 
 therless, an' I can fa' on my knees an' curse 
 ye a' if ye do us sic an ill turn, an' then ye'll 
 see whether ye'll thrive." 
 
 " We'll no tell, Flucker, ye need na currse 
 us ony way." 
 
 His Lordship, with all the sharp authority 
 of a skipper, ordered Master Flucker to the 
 pier, with a message to the yacht ; Flucker 
 qua yachtsman was a machine, and went as a 
 matter of course. " I am determined to tell 
 her," said Lord Ipsden to Lady Barbara.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 309 
 
 " But,"' remonstrated Lady Barbara, " the 
 poor boy says he will curse us if we do." 
 
 " He won't curse me." 
 
 " How do you know that 1" 
 
 " Because the little blackguard's grog would 
 be stopped on board the yacht if he did." 
 
 Flucker had not been gone many minutes 
 before loud cheering was heard, and Christie 
 Johnstone appeared convoyed by a large de- 
 tachment of the Old Town ; she had tried to 
 slip away but they would not let her. They 
 convoyed her in triumph till they saw the 
 New Town people, and then they turned and 
 left her. 
 
 She came in amongst the groups, a changed 
 woman — her pallor and her listlessness were 
 gone — the old light was in her eye, and the 
 bright colour in her cheek, and she seemed 
 hardly to touch the earth. " I'm just droukit, 
 lasses," cried she, gaily, wringing her sleeve. 
 Every eye was upon her ; did she know, or 
 did she not know, what she had done ? 
 
 Lord Ipsdcn stepped forward ; the people
 
 310 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 tacitly accepted him as the vehicle of their 
 curiosity. 
 
 " Who was it, Christie T 
 
 " I dinna ken, for my pairt !" 
 
 Mrs. Gatty came out of the house. 
 
 " A handsome young fellow, I hope, Chris- 
 tie V resumed Lord Ipsden. 
 
 "Ye maun ask Flucker," was the reply. 
 " I could no tak muckle notice, ye ken," put- 
 ting her hand before her eye, and half 
 smiling. 
 
 " Well ! I hear he is very good looking ; 
 and I hear you think so, too." 
 
 She glided to him, and looked in his face. 
 He gave a meaning smile. The poor girl 
 looked quite perplexed. Suddenly she gave a 
 violent start. 
 
 " Christie ! where is Christie V had cried a 
 well-known voice. He had learned on the 
 pier who had saved him — he had slipped up 
 among the boats to find her — he could not 
 find his hat — he could not wait for it— his 
 dripping hair showed where he had been — it
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 311 
 
 was her love, whom she had just saved out of 
 death's very jaws. 
 
 She gave a cry of love, that went through 
 every heart, high or low, young or old, that 
 heard it. And she went to him, through the 
 air it seemed ; but quick as she was, another 
 was as quick ; the mother had seen him first, 
 and she was there. Christie saw nothing. 
 With another cry, the very key-note of her 
 great and loving heart, she flung her arms 
 
 round Mrs. Gatty, who was on the same 
 
 errand as herself. 
 
 " Hearts are not steel, and steel is bent ; 
 Hearts are not flint, and flint is rent." 
 
 The old woman felt Christie touch her. 
 She turned from her son in a moment, and 
 wept upon her neck. Her lover took her 
 hand and kissed it, and pressed it to his 
 bosom, and tried to speak to her ; but all he 
 could do, was to sob and choke —and kiss her 
 hand again. 
 
 " My daughter !" sobbed the old woman.
 
 312 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 At that word Christie clasped her quickly ; 
 and then Christie began to cry. 
 
 " I am not a stone," cried Mrs. Gatty. " I 
 gave him life ; but you have saved him from 
 death. Oh ! Charles ; never make her repent 
 what she has done for you. 
 
 She was a woman after all ; and prudence 
 and prejudice melted like snow before her 
 heart. 
 
 There were not many dry eyes — least of all 
 the heroic Lady Barbara's. 
 
 The three whom a moment had made one, 
 were becoming calmer, and taken one ano- 
 ther's hands for life, when a diabolical sound 
 arose — and what was it, but Sandy Liston, 
 who, after furious resistance, was blubbering 
 with explosive but short-lived violence. Hav- 
 ing done it, he was the first to draw every- 
 body's attention to the phenomenon ; and 
 affecting to consider it a purely physical 
 attack, like a coup de sokil, or so on, he 
 proceeded instantly to Drysel's for his 
 panacea.
 
 CHKISTIE JOHNSTONE. 313 
 
 Ladj Barbara enjoined Lord Ipsden to 
 watch these people, and not to lose a word 
 they said ; and after she had insisted upon 
 kissing Christie, she went off to her carriage. 
 And she, too, was so happy, she cried three 
 distinct times on her way to Edinburgh. 
 
 Lord Ipsden having reminded Gatty of his 
 engagement, begged him to add his mother 
 and Christie to the party, and escorted Lady 
 Barbara to her phaeton. 
 
 So then the people dispersed by degrees. 
 
 " That old lady's face seems familiar to 
 me," said Lord Ipsden, as he stood on the 
 little natural platform by the "Peacock/' " Do 
 you know who she is, Saunders V 
 
 " It is Peggy, that was cook in your Lord- 
 ship's uncle's time, my Lord. She married a 
 greengrocer," added Saunders, with an injured 
 air. 
 
 "Hech! hech!" cried Flucker, "Christie 
 has ta'en up her head wi' a cook's son." 
 
 Mrs. Gatty was ushered into the " Peacock," 
 with mock civility, by Mr. Saunders. No 
 
 p
 
 314 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 recognition took place, each being ashamed of 
 the other as an acquaintance. 
 
 The next arrival was a beautiful young 
 lady, in a black silk gown, a plain but duck- 
 like plaid shawl, who proved to be Christie 
 Johnstone, in her Sunday attire. 
 
 When they met, Mrs. Gatty gave a little 
 scream of joy, and said : " Oh ! my child ; if 
 I had seen you in that dress, I should never 
 have said a word against you." 
 
 " Pars minima est ipsa puella sui!" 
 
 His Lordship stepped up to her, took off 
 his hat, and said : " Will Mrs. Gatty take 
 from me a commission for two pictures, as big 
 as herself, and as bonny," added he, doing a 
 little Scotch. He handed her a cheque ; and 
 turning to Gatty, added, " at your convenience, 
 Sir, bien entendu." 
 
 " Hech! it's for five hundred pund, Chairles." 
 
 " Good gear gangs in little book,"* said Jean. 
 
 " Ay, does it/' replied Flucker, assuming 
 the compliment. 
 
 * Bulk.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 315 
 
 "My Lord!" said the artist, "you treat 
 art like a prince ; and she shall treat you like 
 a queen. When the sun comes out again, I 
 will work for you and fame. You shall have 
 two things painted, every stroke loyally in the 
 sunlight. In spite of gloomy winter, and 
 gloomier London, I will try if I can't hang 
 nature and summer on your walls for ever. 
 As for me, you know I must go to Gerard 
 Dow, and Cuyp, and Pierre de Hoogh, when 
 my little sand is run ; but my handwriting 
 shall warm your children's children's hearts 
 Sir, when this hand is dust." His eye turned 
 inwards, he walked to and fro, and his compa- 
 nions died out of his sight — he was in the 
 kingdom of art. 
 
 His Lordship and Jean entered the " Pea- 
 cock," followed by Flucker, who merely lingered 
 at the door to moralize as follows : 
 
 " Hech ! hech ! isna thaat lamentable 1 
 Christie's mon's as daft as a drunk weaver." 
 
 But one stayed quietly behind, and assumed 
 that moment the office of her life. 
 
 P2
 
 316 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 " Ay !" he burst out again, " the resources 
 of our art are still unfathorned 7 Pictures are 
 yet to be painted that shall refresh men's inner 
 souls, and help their hearts against the artifi- 
 cial world; and charm the fiend away, like 
 David's harp ! ! The world, after centuries of 
 lies, will give nature and truth a trial. What 
 a paradise art will be, when truths, instead of 
 lies, shall be told on paper, on marble, on 
 canvass, and on the boards ! ! ! " 
 
 " Dinner's on the boarrd," murmured Chris- 
 tie, alluding to Lord Ipsden's breakfast ; " and 
 I hae the charge o' ye," pulling his sleeve, 
 hard enough to destroy the equilibrium of a flea. 
 
 "Then don't let us waste our time here. 
 Oh, Christie !" 
 
 " What est, my laddy f 
 
 " I'm so preciously hungry ! ! ! ! " 
 
 "C-way* then!" 
 
 " Off they ran, hand in hand, sparks of 
 beauty, love, and happiness flying all about 
 them. 
 
 * Come away.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 317 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 " There is nothing but meeting and parting 
 in this world ! " and you may be sure the 
 incongruous personages of our tale could not 
 long be together. Their separate paths had 
 met for an instant, in oue focus, furnished 
 then and there the matter of an eccentric- 
 story, and then diverged for ever. 
 
 Our lives have a general current, and also 
 an episode or two ; and the episodes of a 
 common-place life are often rather startling ; 
 in like manner, this tale is not a specimen, 
 but an episode of Lord Ipsden and Lady 
 Barbara, who soon after this married and
 
 318 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 lived like the rest of the beau monde. In so 
 doing, they passed out of my hands ; such 
 as wish to know how Viscounts and Viscount- 
 esses feed, and sleep, and do the domestic 
 (so called), and the social (so called), are 
 referred to the fashionable novel. To Mr. 
 Saunders, for instance, who has in the press 
 one of those cerberus-leviathans of fiction, so 
 common now ; incredible as folio to future 
 ages. Saunders will take you by the hand, 
 and lead you over carpets two inches thick — 
 under rosy curtains — to dinner-tables. He 
 will fete you, and opera you, and dazzle your 
 young imagination with epergnes, and salvers, 
 and buhl, and ormolu. No fishwives or 
 painters shall intrude upon his polished 
 scenes ; all shall be as genteel as himself. 
 Saunders is a good authority ; he is more in 
 the society, and far more in the confidence of 
 the great, than most fashionable novelists. 
 Mr. Saunders's work will be in three volumes ; 
 nine hundred and ninety pages !!!!!! 
 
 In other words, this single work, of this
 
 CHEISTIE JOHNSTONE. 319 
 
 ingenious writer, will equal in bulk the aggre- 
 gate of all the writings extant by Moses, 
 David, Solomon, Isaiah, and St. Paul ! ! ! 
 
 I shall not venture into competition with 
 this behemoth of the salon ; I will evaporate 
 in thin generalities. 
 
 Lord Ipsden then lived very happily with 
 Lady Barbara, whose hero he straightway be- 
 came, and who nobly and poetically dotes upon 
 him. He has gone into political life to please 
 her, and will remain there — to please himself. 
 They were both very grateful to Newhaven ; 
 when they married, they vowed to visit it 
 twice a year, and mingle a fortnight's simple 
 life with its simple scenes ; but four years 
 have passed, and they have never been there 
 again, and I dare say never will ; but when 
 Viscount Ipsden falls in with a brother aristo- 
 crat, who is crushed by the fiend ennui, he 
 remembers Aberford, and condenses his famous 
 recipe into a two-edged hexameter, which will 
 make my learned reader laugh, for it is full of 
 wisdom.
 
 320 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 " Diluculo surgas ! miseris succurrere discas ! !" 
 
 Flucker Johnstone meditated during break- 
 fast upon the five hundred pounds, and 
 regretted he had not, years ago, adopted 
 Mr. Gatty's profession ; some days afterwards 
 he invited his sister to a conference. Chairs 
 being set, Mr. Flucker laid down this obser- 
 vation—that near relations should be deuced 
 careful not to cast discredit upon one another ; 
 that now his sister was to be a lady, it was 
 repugnant to his sense of right to be a fisher- 
 man and make her ladyship blush for him ; 
 on the contrary, he felt it his duty to rise to 
 such high consideration that she should be 
 proud of him. 
 
 Christie acquiesced at once in this position, 
 but professed herself embarrassed to know 
 how such a " ne'er do weel " was to be made 
 a source of pride ; then she kissed Flucker, 
 and said, in a tone somewhat inconsistent with 
 the above, " Tell me, my laamb ! " 
 
 Her lamb informed her, that the sea has 
 many paths ; some of them disgraceful, such
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 321 
 
 as line or net fishing, and the periodical 
 laying down, on rocky shoals, and taking up 
 again, of lobster -creels ; others, superior to 
 anything the dry land can offer in importance 
 and dignity and general estimation, such as 
 the command of a merchant-vessel trading to 
 the East or West Indies. Her lamb then 
 suggested that if she would be so good as 
 to launch him in the merchant-service, with 
 a good rig of clothes and money in his pocket, 
 there was that in his head which would 
 enable him to work to windward of most of 
 his contemporaries. He bade her calculate 
 upon the following results : in a year or two 
 he would be second mate — and next year, 
 first mate — and, in a few years more, skipper ! 
 Think of that, lass ! Skipper of a vessel, 
 whose rig he generously left his sister free 
 to determine ; premising that two masts were, 
 in his theory of navigation, indispensable, 
 and that three were a great deal more like 
 Cocker than two. This led to a general 
 consultation ; Flucker's ambition was dis- 
 
 P3
 
 322 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 cussed and praised. That modest young 
 gentleman, in spite of many injunctions to 
 the contrary, communicated his sister's plans 
 for him to Lord Ipsden, and affected to doubt 
 their prudence. The bait took ; Lord Ipsden 
 wrote to his man of business, and an un- 
 expected blow fell upon the ingenious Flucker. 
 He was sent to school ; there to learn a little 
 astronomy, a little navigation, a little seaman- 
 ship, a little manners, &c. ; in the mysteries 
 of reading and writing his sister had already 
 perfected him, by dint of " the taws." This 
 school was a blow ; but Flucker was no fool : 
 he saw there was no way of getting from 
 school to sea without working. So he literally 
 worked out to sea. His first voyage was 
 distinguished by the following peculiarities : 
 attempts to put tricks upon this particular 
 novice generally ended in the laugh turning 
 against the experimentors ; and instead of 
 drinking his grog, which he hates, he secreted 
 it, and sold it for various advantages. He 
 has been now four voyages; when he comes
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 323 
 
 ashore, instead of going to haunts of folly 
 and vice, he instantly bears up for his sister's 
 house — Kensington Gravel-pits — which he 
 makes in the following manner : he goes up 
 the river — Heaven knows where all — this he 
 calls running down the longitude ; then he 
 lands, and bears down upon the Gravel-pits : 
 in particular knowledge of the names of 
 streets he is deficient, but he knows the exact 
 bearings of Christie's dwelling. He tacks 
 and wears according as masonry compels him, 
 and he arrives at the gate. He hails the 
 house, in a voice that brings all the inhabi- 
 tants of the row to their windows, including 
 Christie ; he is fallen upon and dragged into 
 the house. The first thing is, he draws out 
 from his boots, and his back, and other hiding 
 places, china crape and marvellous silk hand- 
 kerchiefs for Christie ; and she takes from 
 his pocket a mass of Oriental sugar-plums, 
 with which, but for this precaution, she knows 
 by experience he would poison young Charley; 
 and soon he is to be seen, sitting with his
 
 324 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 hand in his sister's, and she looking like a 
 mother upon his handsome weather-beaten 
 face, and Gatty opposite, adoring him as a 
 specimen of male beauty, and sometimes 
 making furtive sketches of him. And then 
 the tales he always brings with him ; the 
 house is never very dull, but it is livelier than 
 ever when this inexhaustible sailor casts 
 anchor in it. 
 
 The friends (chiefly artists) who used to 
 leave at 9*30, stay till eleven : for an intelli- 
 gent sailor is better company than two 
 lawyers, two bishops, three soldiers, and four 
 writers of plays and tales, all rolled together. 
 And still he tells Christie he shall command 
 a vessel some day, and leads her to the most 
 cheering inferences from the fact of his pru- 
 dence and his general width-awake ; in par- 
 ticular he bids her contrast with him the 
 general fate of sailors, eaten up by land-sharks, 
 particularly of the female gender, whom he 
 demonstrates to be the worst enemies poor 
 Jack has ; he calls these sunken rocks, fire-
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 325 
 
 ships, and other metaphors, He concludes 
 thus : " You are all the lass I mean to have, 
 till I'm a skipper, and then I'll bear up along- 
 side some pretty decent lass, like yourself, 
 Christie, and we'll sail in company all our lives, 
 let the wind blow high or low." Such is the 
 gracious Flucker become in his twentieth 
 year. Last voyage, with Christie's aid, he 
 produced a sextant of his own, and " made it 
 twelve o'clock " (with the sun's consent, I 
 hope), and the eyes of authority fell upon 
 him. So who knows, perhaps he may one day 
 sail a ship ; and if he does, he will be prouder 
 and happier than if we made him monarch of 
 the globe. 
 
 To return to our chiefs : Mrs. Gatty gave 
 her formal consent to her son's marriage w T ith 
 Christie Johnstone. 
 
 There were examples. Aristocracy had ere 
 now condescended to wealth ; earls had mar- 
 ried women rich by tallow-importing papas ; 
 and, no doubt had these same earls been con- 
 sulted in Gatty 's case, they would have decided
 
 326 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 that Christie Johnstone, with her real and 
 funded property, was not a villanous match for 
 a greengrocer's son, without arapp ;* but Mrs. 
 Gatty did not reason so,— did not reason at all, 
 luckily, her heart ran away with her judgment, 
 and her judgment ceasing to act, she became a 
 wise woman. 
 
 The case was peculiar. Gatty was an artist 
 pur sang, — and Christie, who would not have 
 been the wife for a petit maitre, was the wife 
 of wives for him. 
 
 He wanted a beautiful wife to embellish his 
 canvass, disfigured hitherto by an injudicious 
 selection of models ; a virtuous wife, to be his 
 crown ; a prudent wife, to save him from ruin ; 
 a cheerful wife, to sustain his spirits, drooping 
 at times by virtue of his artist's temperament ; 
 an intellectual wife, to preserve his children 
 from being born dolts, and bred dunces, 
 and to keep his own mind from sharp- 
 ening to one point, and so contracting and 
 becoming monomaniacal : and he found all 
 * A diminutive German coin.
 
 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 327 
 
 these qualities, together with the sun and 
 moon of human existence — true love and true 
 religion — in Christie Johnstone. 
 
 In similar cases, foolish men have set to 
 work to make, in six months, their diamond 
 of nature, the exact cut and gloss of other 
 men's pastes, and nervously watching the pro- 
 cess, have suffered torture; luckily Charles 
 Gatty was not wise enough for this; he saw 
 nature had distinguished her he loved beyond 
 her fellows; here, as elsewhere, he had faith 
 in nature, — he believed that Christie would 
 charm every body of eye, and ear, and mind, 
 and heart, that approached her; he admired 
 her as she was, and left her to polish herself, 
 if she chose. He did well : she came to 
 London with a fine mind, a broad brogue, a 
 delicate ear; she observed how her husband's 
 friends spoke, and in a very few months she 
 had toned down her Scotch to a rich Ionic 
 colouring, which her womanly instinct will 
 never let her exchange for the thin, vinegar 
 accents that are too prevalent in English
 
 328 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 and French society ; and in other respects 
 she caught, by easy gradation, the tone of the 
 new society to which her marriage introduced 
 her, without, however, losing her charming self. 
 
 The wise dowager lodges hard by, having 
 resisted an invitation to be in the same house; 
 she comes to that house to assist the young 
 wife with her experience, and to be welcome, 
 — not to interfere every minute, and tease 
 her; she loves her daughter-in-law almost as 
 much as she does her son, and she is happy 
 because he bids fair to be an immortal painter, 
 and, above all, a gentleman, and she a wifely 
 wife, a motherly mother, and, above all, a 
 lady. 
 
 This, then, is a happy couple. Their life is 
 full of purpose and industry, yet lightened by 
 gaiety ; they go to operas, theatres, and balls, 
 for they are young. They have plenty of 
 society, real society, not the ill-assorted col- 
 lection of a predetermined number of bodies, 
 that blindly assumes that name, but the rich 
 communication of various and fertile minds;
 
 CHK1STIE JOHHfcTONE. 329 
 
 they very, very seldom consent to squat four 
 mortal hours on one chair (like old hares 
 stiffening in their hot forms), and nibbling, 
 sipping, and twaddling, in four mortal hours, 
 what could have been eaten, drunken, and 
 said, in thirty-five minutes. They are both 
 artists at heart, and it shocks their natures to 
 see folks mix so very largely the inutile with 
 the insipidum, and waste at one huge but 
 barren inclination, the soul, and the stomach, 
 and the irrevocable hours, things with which 
 so much is to be done. But they have many 
 desirable acquaintances, and not a few friends ; 
 the latter are mostly lovers of truth in their 
 several departments, and in all things : among 
 them are painters, sculptors, engineers, writers, 
 conversers, thinkers ; these acknowledging, even 
 in England, other gods besides the intes- 
 tines, meet often chez Gatty, chiefly for mental 
 intercourse ; a cup of tea with such is found, 
 by experience, to be better than a stalled 
 elk, where chit-chat reigns over the prostrate 
 hours.
 
 330 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 This, then, is a happy couple ; the very 
 pigeons and the crows need not blush for the 
 nest at Kensington Gravel-pits. There the 
 divine institution Marriage takes its natural 
 colours, and it is at once pleasant and good 
 to catch such glimpses of Heaven's design, and 
 sad to think how often this great boon, ac- 
 corded by God to man and woman, must have 
 been abused and perverted, ere it could have 
 sunk to be the standing butt of farce writers, 
 and the theme of weekly punsters. 
 
 In this pair we see the wonders a male and 
 female can do for each other in the sweet bond 
 of holy wedlock. In that blessed relation 
 alone two interests are really one, and two 
 hearts lie safe at anchor side by side. 
 
 Christie and Charles are friends, — for they 
 are man and wife. 
 
 Christie and Charles are lovers still, — for 
 they are man and wife. 
 
 Christie and Charles are one for ever, — for 
 they are man and wife. 
 
 This wife brightens the house from kitchen
 
 CHKISTIE JOHNSTONE. 331 
 
 to garret, for her husband ; this husband 
 works like a king for his wife's comfort, and 
 for his own fame, — and that fame is his wife's 
 glory. When one of these expresses or hints 
 a wish, the other's first impulse is to find the 
 means, not the objections. 
 
 They share all troubles, and by sharing, 
 halve them. 
 
 They share all pleasures, and by sharing 
 double them. 
 
 They climb the hill together now, and many 
 a canty day they shall have with one another ; 
 and when, by the inevitable law, they begin 
 to descend towards the dark valley, they will 
 still go hand in hand, smiling so tenderly, 
 and supporting each other, with a care more 
 lovely than when the arm was strong and the 
 foot firm. 
 
 On these two temperate lives old age will 
 descend lightly, gradually, gently, and late, — 
 and late upon these evergreen hearts, because 
 they are not tuned to some selfish, isolated 
 key ; these hearts beat and ring with the
 
 332 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 young hearts of their dear children, and years 
 hence papa and mamma will begin life hope- 
 fully, wishfully, warmly again with each loved 
 novice in turn. 
 
 And when old age does come, it will be no 
 calamity to these, as it is to you, poor battered 
 beau, laughed at by the fair ninnies who erst 
 laughed with you ; to your, poor follower of 
 salmon, fox, and pheasant, whose joints are 
 stiffening, whose nerve is gone, — whose Gol- 
 gotha remains ; to you, poor faded beauty, 
 who have staked all upon man's appetite, and 
 not accumulated goodness or sense for your 
 second course ; to you, poor drawing-room 
 wit, whose sarcasm has turned to venom, and 
 is turning to drivel. 
 
 What terrors has old age for this happy 
 pair \ it cannot make them ugly, for though 
 the purple light of youth recedes, a new kind 
 of tranquil beauty, the aloe-blossom of many 
 years of innocence, comes to, and sits like a 
 dove upon the aged faces, where goodness, 
 sympathy, and intelligence have harboured
 
 CHEISTIE JOHNSTONE. 333 
 
 together so long ; and where evil passions have 
 flitted (for we are all human), but found no 
 resting-place. 
 
 Old age is no calamity to them, it cannot 
 terrify them ; for ere they had been married 
 a week the woman taught the man, lover of 
 truth, to search for the highest and greatest 
 truths, in a book written for men's souls, by the 
 Author of the world, the sea, the stars, the sun, 
 the soul ; and this book, Dei gratia, will, as 
 the good bishop sings, 
 
 " Teach them to live, that they may dread 
 The grave as little as their bed. 
 
 It cannot make them sad, for ere it comes, 
 loved souls will have gone from earth, and from 
 their tender bosom, but not from their 
 memories ; and will seem to beckon them now 
 across the cold valley, to the golden land. 
 
 It cannot made them sad, for on earth the 
 happiest must drink a sorrowful cup more than 
 once in a long life, and so their brightest 
 hopes will have come to dwell habitually on 
 things beyond the grave ; and the great painter,
 
 334 CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 jam fe'enex, will chiefly meditate upon a richer 
 landscape, and brighter figures than human 
 hand has ever painted ; a scene whose glories 
 he can see from hence but by glimpses, and 
 through a glass darkly ; the great meadows on 
 the other side of Jordan, which are bright with 
 the spirits of the just that walk there, and are 
 warmed with an eternal sun, and ring with the 
 triumph of the humble and the true, and the 
 praises of God for ever.
 
 NOTE. 
 
 This story was written three years ago, and 
 one or two topics in it are Dot treated exactly 
 as they would be if written by the same hand 
 to-day. But if the Author had retouched 
 those pages with his colours of 1853, he would 
 (he thinks) have destroyed the only merit they 
 have, viz., that of containing genuine contem- 
 poraneous verdicts upon a cant that was flou- 
 rishing like a peony, and a truth that was 
 struggling for bare life, in the year of truth 
 1850. 
 
 He prefers to deal fairly with the public, 
 and with this explanation and apology, to lay 
 at its feet a faulty but genuine piece of work.
 
 PRINTED BY HARRISON AND SONS, 
 LONDON GAZETTE OFFICE, ST. MARTIN'S LANE. 
 
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