ilHlinlMilllHMHMilHHillH THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES THE YALE OF STEATHMOKE. THE VALE OF STRATHMOEE: ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS, JAMES CARGILL GUTHRIE, AUTHOR OF "VILLAGE SCENES," "ROWENA," ETC. GLiMIS CASTLE. EDINBURGH: WILLIAM PATERSOK MDCCCLXXV. " MY LIFE IS WRITTEN IN MY BOOKS." Lost Love. TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE ottnt*08 of THIS WORK IS, BY PERMISSION, RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED BY HER LADYSHIP'S OBLIGED AND FAITHFUL SERVANT, THE AUTHOR. PREFACE. THE vast valley of Strathmore proper, extends from the centre of Dumbartonshire to the sea-board of the German Ocean, from Redhead to Stonehaven. It com- prehends part of Stirlingshire, all Strathallan, the greater part of Strathearn, and all the Howe of Mearns in Kincardineshire. What is popularly known as Strathmore, however, consists only of what is flanked by the Sidlaw Hills on the south, and the braes of Angus on the north, and extends from Methven in Perthshire, to Brechin in Forfarshire. The Sidlaws are continuous of the Ochils, except for the intervention of the valley of the Tay, and form a long chain of heights rising in some parts to up- wards of 1500 feet above the level of the sea, and ex- tending from Kinnoul Hill, on the north bank of the Tay in Perthshire, to Redhead, a promontory on the east coast of Forfarsbire, and to Stonehaven in Kincar- dineshire. At the Hill of Turin, a short distance east of Forfar, the Sidlaws fork into two lines, one of which branches off through the vale of Guthrie to the sea at Redhead, while the other proceeds north-eastward to Brechin, along the side of the Howe of Kincardine to the sea at Stonehaven. Vlll PREFACE. The Howe of Strathmore is still more circumscribed in extent, stretching from the lower part of the North Esk on the east, to the western boundary of the parish of Kettins on the west. From its northern point it lies along the foot of the Forfarshire Grampians, till it forms the parish of Airlie, and the Braes of Angus, and ter- minates at Cargill, forming the continuation of Strath- more with Perthshire. This district is called the Howe or Hollow of Angus, and is thirty- three miles long, and four to six miles broad. The " Scenes and Legends " embrace principally that part of Strathmore which stretches from the sea-board at Montrose and Redhead on the east, to the parishes of Kettins and Cargill on the west, and from Blairgowrie and Craighall to Fearn and Careston on the north. With few exceptions, I have preferred to weave the Legends and Traditions, together with the Supersti- tions of the district, naturally into my Tales and Sketches, rather than to give an isolated relation of them as distinct from any human interest with which they may have become associated. In all the real or mythical scenes we may visit, I desire to take the reader with me as my confidant and friend, so that when our journey is ended, we may bid each other farewell, with the mutually cherished wish, that we may meet again. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAGE Strathmore Lochs of Feithie and Forfar Village of Glamis Castle of Glamis Reopening of the Chapel -Ancient Obelisks Original Castle of Glamis Macbeth The Raid of Ruthven The Lyons of Strathmore, ....... 1 CHAPTER II. Kinnettles Traditions of Waterkelpy The Dominie of Kinnettles TheKerbet The "Ancient Mill," .... 19 CHAPTER III. Brigton Legend of Sir David Guthrie and the Ladye of Brigton In Memoriam : Joannis Gvthrie ; Annae Dovglas, . . 27 CHAPTER IV. The Romance of Association The Hill of Denoon Legend of the First Castle of GJamis Compact between the Fairies and the Evil Spirits The Demons Demolish the Castle, ... 30 CHAPTER V. Legend of the First Lyon of Glamis Robert II. The Royal Pages Ladye Jean The Plot The Knight of France Unfolding of the Plot The King's Resolution Nuptials of Ladye Jean and Sir John de Lyon Discovery of the Plot The Lindsay's Threat Balhill Moss Death of Lyon, ..... 38 CHAPTER VT. Le/end of the Murder of Malcolm II. The King on his way to the Castle of Glamis His Assassination in the Wood of Thornton Disappearance of the Lord of Glamis Drowning of the Murderers in the Loch of Forfar The " Minstrel's Lament" King Malcolm's Gravestone Mysterious Death of Ladye Glamis, . . 54 X CONTENTS. CHAPTER VII. PAGE Legend of the Secret Chamber The Hunt The Revel Doom of Earl Beardie and his boon Companions till the Great Judgment Day Secret Room Undiscovered, . . . . .62 CHAPTER VIII. Legend of the Grove The Hunter Hill Edmund Graeme The False Lover Her Doom, ...... 66 CHAPTER IX. Legend of Ladye Glamis burned on the Castle Hill of Edinburgh The Trial The Sentence The Execution, .... 72 CHAPTER X. The Forester's Daughter First Love Spring Illness of Eliza Summer Eliza's Dream Autumn Eliza's Death, . . 80 CHAPTER XI. Will o' the Wisp The Farmer of Foffarty His absence at Market Arrival Home The Dominie The Farmer's account of his en- counters with the "Spunkies" in the Moss "My Bonnie Wee Wifie " The Dominie's Disappearance in the Kerbet The Result, 100 CHAPTER XII. The Village Club, 1830 The Dominie The Laird The Student The Miller The Smith Celebration of Auld Yule " The Bonnie Howe o' Sweet Strathmore " " The Swift Flowing Kerbet" " Glamis' Bonnie Burnie " "My Ain Bonnie Dean " "The Days o' Langsyne " When will These Five Meet Again ? . . 118 CHAPTER XIII. St Orland's Stone Traditions connected therewith The Butler's Daughter Her Coquetry and its Reward "Early Love" The Crofter's Daughter Her Two Lovers The Unlucky Funeral The Consequences, . . . . . .140 CHAPTER XIV. The Lily of the Vale Reminiscences of Kinnettles School Percy Guthrie " Rest, Love, Joy " Dark Clouds The Betrothal of the "Lily" Her "Farewell" Her Death at Sea, . . .154 CONTENTS. XI CHAPTER XV. PAG8 St Fergus' Well Cemetries and Country Burying-grounds The Ancient Monastery Joe Wighton His Ambition His Vow His Voyage to London His successful career in the Metropolis Becomes Lord Mayor of London The Civic Banquet Early Memories "My Boy does not Return," .... 173 CHAPTER XVI. The Warning Tribute to a Parent Sabbath Evening The Village Tailor The Unearthly Noise Predictions of the Tailor The Mysterious Procession The Lost Brother The Sailor's Return Predictions Falsified " Loud the Timbrel Sound !" . . 192 CHAPTER XVII. A Sabbath Day at Kinnettles Associations connected with the Sab- bath A Country Churchyard First Religious Impressions- Missions Decline of Sacred Music The Songs of Zion, . 207 CHAPTER XVIII. Lucy Johnstone PART I. : Sunshine Lucy's Girlhood Her Cottage Home Blaeberry Excursion to the Hunter Hill The Snowstorm Lucy's Song. PART II. : The Destroyer Hayston Walter Ogilvy His first appearance at Church His Resolution " The Reaper's Song." PART III. : The Victim Changed Demeanour of Lucy Walter Ogilvy's Departure Dark Clouds o'ershadow Lucy's Home. PART IV. : The Retribution Captain Vernon Search for Lucy's Grave The Stranger in Thornton Wood His Death The Discovery, ...... 222 CHAPTER XIX. Legend of the Nine Maidens Glen Ogilvy St Donivald and his Nine Daughters The Hermitage Removal to Abernethy Canonised as " The Nine Maidens," ...... 263 CHAPTER XX. Life When do Mankind begin to Live ? The Last Night at Home The Departure from Strathmore The Gift -The Farewell First Impressions of Life, ...... 267 CHAPTER XXI. Death The Weaver Poet Death on Land "In Memoriam" First Sight of the Sea Montrose The Academy Billy Dickson Death at Sea First Impressions of Death, .... 276 Xll CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXII. PAGE Kinnaird Castle Early History of the Carnegies of Kinnaird The Old Mansion House The Present Castle of Kinnaird The Carnegies of Southesk in a literary point of view Tradition of James, Second Earl of Southesk Tradition of "The Deil's Den" - -" Saskatchewan, and the Rocky Mountains" Majority of Lord Carnegie " Congratulatory Ode " " Song of Welcome." . 291 CHAPTER XXIII. Guthrie Castle The Barony of Guthrie The Family of Guthrie Feuds between the Gardynes and Guthries Roman Camp James Guthrie, the Martyr William Guthrie, Author of " The Christian's Great Interest "William Guthrie the Historian Bishop Guthrie Origin of the name of Guthrie, . . 310 CHAPTER XXIV. Aberlemno Melgund Castle Traditions connected therewith Cardinal Beaton Turin Hill Ancient Obelisks Traditions as to their Origin and Design, ..... 315 CHAPTER XXV. Finhaven Castle The " Tiger Earl "Legend of the Highland Gillie- Cardinal Beaton Marriage of his Daughter to the Master of Crawford The Vitrified Fort Roman Camp of Battledykes, 320 CHAPTER XXVI. Fearn Legend of Lady Vane Legend of the Treasure Dungeon The Waterkelpies, Brownies, and Ghaists of Fearn The Old Fortlace of Brandyden " The Ghaist o' Feme Den," . . 325 CHAPTER XXVII. Careston Castle The Noran and the South Esk The Vandalic Laird Legend of Young Donald of the Isles Antiquities of Careston, 333 CHAPTER XXVIII. Maulesden Influence of Summer Combination of the Romantic and the Beautiful Reminiscences " The Bell in the Old Brechin Tower struck One," ,...,. 338 CONTENTS. Xlll CHAPTER XXIX. PAGE The Recognition Twenty Years' Absence Reflections thereupon The Snow Storm The Open Grave The Way-side Hostelrie The Attempted Murder prevented The Explanation The Sick- Bed The Unexpected Meeting, ..... 342 CHAPTER XXX. The Miller's Daughter Squire Graham of Kincaldrum The Young Student Annie Glen The Student's Declaration of Love Affianced to Annie Their Last Meeting The Discovery Annie's Sudden and Mysterious Death The Maniac The Closing Scene, 357 CHAPTER XXXI. First and Last Love Definition of Woman's Love The Declaration The Vow The Parting Change of Scene and its Consequences India Chelsea Christmas at Brompton The Re-union Love as a passion, and Love as a deep-seated feeling of the heart, . 372 CHAPTER XXXII. A Sister's Love Realization of a Youthful Dream Marguerette Her Spiritual Surroundings Leaves Strathmore for Portobello The Sands and Bay Her Foretaste of Heaven and its Joys Her Last Wish Inveresk Churchyard Her Epitaph, . . 386 CHAPTER XXXIII. Eassie and Kinpurnie Hill The Old Church of Eassie Traditions of the Diluvian Mount and Monumental Pillar Bothy Systems of Scotland and Norway contrasted Dialects of Angus and Iceland, Sweden and Denmark Castle of Hatton Legend of the Pechts' House View from Kinpurnie Hill The Observatory Thunder- storm, ........ 395 CHAPTER XXXIV. Meigle Scotland as a Savage and Barbarous Nation Civilization progresses greatly in the reigns of James I., James IV., and James V. The Art of Printing Introduced in 1508 Ancient and Modern Names of Scotland and its Inhabitants General and Ecclesiastical History of Scotland Science of Antiquities Memorials of Macbeth Sepulchral Monument of Vanora Legends of Vanora, and King Arthur, .... 406 XIV CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXXV. PAGE The Abbey of Cupar-in-Angus Literary Genius Moral of the Rose Garden Origin of the Name Cupar Erection of the Abbey Rentals of the Abbey Benefactors of the Abbey Abbots of Cupar The Abbey, the Temporary Residence of Royalty Sir William Wallace at the Abbey Heritable Bailies and Porters of the Abbey Vicissitudes of Fortune, and Subsequent Prosperity in the time of Abbot William Destruction of the Abbey Tradition of its Solitary Remaining Arch and Secret Subter- raneous Passage to the Sidlaws, ..... 420 CHAPTER XXXVI. Kettins The Village The "Great Pitcur "Battle of'Killiecrankie Antiquities of the Parish The Churchyard Lintrose The Mysterious Cave " The Flower of Strathmore " Eventide, . 440 CHAPTER XXXVII. Cargill The Muschets and Drummonds of Cargill Roman Encamp- ment Stobhall Linn of Campsie Tradition of " Hangies Well." 446 CHAPTER XXXVIII. Bendochy Couttie Bridge Flora of the District Sessional Records Abbacy Chapels Ancient Monuments Dr. Barty, . . 450 CHAPTER XXXIX. Blairgowrie Its Lochs, Rivers, Bridges, and Old Castles Craighall The Eagle's Craig Legend of Lady Lindsay Newton Castle Tradition of " The Green Lady " Hill of Blair Morality of the District in the Seventeenth Century, .... 455 CHAPTER XL. Rattray Donald Cargill Bells Their Origin Associations connected with the " Sabbath Bells " of Scotland, . . . 464 CHAPTER XLI. Alyth The Shepherd Boy Antiquity of the Parish Mount Blair Kingseat Castle of Inverquiech Barry Hill Legend of " Queen Wander " Lord Ogilvy's " Repentance " Reflections, . 467 CONTENTS. XV CHAPTER XLII. PAGE Den of Airlie Flora of the Den Destruction of the Old Castle Castle of Forter Craig in Glenisla The Cambridge Student " The Bonnie Braes o' Airlie," ..... 473 CHAPTER XLIII. Kirriemuir The Family of Airlie The Ogilvys of Inverquharity Tradition of Muir Moss Hill of Kirriemuir View from its Sum- mit Standing and Rocking Stones Tradition of the Robbers " Weems Holes "The Den Tradition of " The King's Chamber " Reminiscences Reflections, ..... 480 CHAPTER XLIV. Castles of Forfar The Brothers Strang Forfar, firm to the cause of Episcopacy The " Sutors" of Forfar Dr. Jamieson Origin of the " Scottish Dictionary" Witchcraft The M'Comies and Far- quharsons Camlochan- Tradition of the Mermaid Death of M'Comie, . ..... 488 CHAPTER XLV. The Village Club: 1870 The Stranger Visit to his birth-place- Glen Ogilvy The Old Homestead and "Ancient Mill" Village of Glamis Cottage Home of "The Forester's Daughter" Imaginative Re-unions Visit to the Churchyard The Old Grave-digger Reminiscences The Village Hostelrie Fate of the Members of the " Village Club " Their Re-appearance "What though the Night be Stormy" "The Bonnie Bay o' Lu- nan " "The Golden Orange " " The Forsaken " " The Unseen" Dissolving of the Scene The Farew el ... 498 STKATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS, CHAPTER I. GLAMIS. Soft flow thy streams, bright bloom thy flowers, Thy birdies liltin' as of yore : The music of thy fragrant bowers, The voice of love awakes once more. Thou bonnie Howe o' sweet Strathmore, Thou bonnie Howe o' sweet Strathmore, Life's early spring I spent in thee My blessings on thee evermore. THE " Great Valley," or Howe of Strathmore, independent of its historical and classical associations, is one of the most beauti- ful and romantic vales in Scotland. Surrounded on the south by the long rugged ridge of the Sidlaw Hills, and guarded on the north by the Grampian Mountains, the " Howe " luxuri- antly nestling between, the great valley is unsurpassed in all that constitutes soft, yet rich and gorgeous landscape. Hamlet, village, vale, and hill, combine with castle, wood, and stream, to form a picture, which, once seen, can never be forgotten. Two of the finest and most striking views of this celebrated valley are obtained by the traveller ; the one from the Castle of Hatton, in the Glack of Newtyle, and the other on the road from Dundee to Coupar- Angus, when emerging from the defile A 2 STRATHMORE: ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. through the Sidlaws in the immediate proximity of Hali- burton House. When the Queen visited Scotland in the autumn of 1844, she took the latter route when proceeding to the Highlands of Perthshire. The scenery, on approaching the Sidlaws from the south, gradually becomes comparatively bleak and uninteresting ; but, once through the " glack," the scene changes as if by enchantment, when the " Howe," in all its luxuriant loveliness, bursts in an instant on the enraptured view. The Prince Consort, who was an ardent admirer of the beauties of Nature, was so captivated by the unexpected yet fully appreciated beauty of the scene, that he ordered the Royal cortege to pause on the top of the hill to afford sufficient time to the Royal visitants to master the details of such a superb and beautiful picture, chased in frame-work so lofty and sublime. Although the beautiful rivers, the North Esk and the South Esk (the Tina and Esica of the Romans) and the Isla, flow through the extreme east and western boundaries of the Strath, the Kerbet and the Dean are the only streams that diversify the landscape in Strathmore proper. The latter takes its rise in the Loch of Forfar, receiving in its course the waters of the Kerbet and falling into the Isla before its junction with the Tay at Kinclaven in Perthshire. The Lochs of Feithie and Forfar in the Howe, although not equal in point of extent or romantic scenery to those of Lintrathen or Lee, are, nevertheless, most interesting in a geological or historical aspect. In regard to the first, Sir Charles Lyell observes that it is completely surrounded by calcareous deposits, making its geological features unique, and its treasures highly valuable. Loch Feithie belongs to Mr Dempster of Dunnichen, and its banks until lately were covered with thriving forest trees, which gave the place a beautiful and romantic appearance, very different from its present bleak and cheerless aspect. This rude despoilage is the more to be regretted as this retired spot was a much-loved resort of its former proprietor, the celebrated GLAMIS. 3 politician and agriculturist George Dempster, who wrote an inscription on the grave of a favourite green-linnet, buried by the side of the loch. He quaintly hopes the epitaph may " place on the rolls of fame The bird, his master's and his mistress' name, While school-boys perches in Loch Feithie take, And the sun's shadow dances on the lake." Mr Dempster was long M.P. for the Fife and Forfar district of Burghs, and is celebrated by Burns, as "a true-blue Scot," in his address to the Scottish representatives. The Loch of Forfar, on the other hand, is full of the most stirring historical associations. In remote times there seems to have been an island in the middle, or at the northern end of the Loch, for we find that Alexander II. , by deed, dated at Kinross, 18th July 1234, provides that five merks be given for the lights at the monastery of Cupar, and ten for the support of two monks of that house, who shall abide and celebrate divine service on the island in the Loch of Forfar, to which were added, for the benefit of the officiating monks, the common pasture of the King's lands of Tyrbeg, for six cows and a horse. Subsequently, by a charter of Adam White of Forfar, the monks were constituted his heirs after his death, if he should die without issue (Brev. Eeg. de Cupro). It was also on this island, or more probably on the peninsula or inch on the north side of the Loch, called Queen Margaret's Inch, that Margaret, Queen of Malcolm Canmore, had a royal residence, the foundations of which are still visible. The assassins of Malcolm II., after committing the foul murder, endeavoured to escape, but in crossing Forfar Loch, then imperfectly frozen over, the ice gave way, and they all miserably perished. The draining of the Loch has long formed the subject of debate among the wise men in the county town and the prac- tical agriculturists of the country. It is in reference to this prolific source of dispute that the following amusing story is told of Patrick, Earl of Strathmore. After listening for some 4 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. time to an animated and scientific debate on the best means of effectually draining the Loch, in order to make it fit for agri- cultural purposes, his Lordship abruptly wound up the dis- cussion by naively observing that in his opinion the only really practical mode left open to them was to empty a few hogsheads of whisky into the Loch, for in that case he wittily added, " The writers of Forfar would not be long in draining up the Loch ! " The most prominent object on the Sidlaw range of moun- tains is an observatory on the summit of Kinpurnie Hill, to the south-east of the village of Newtyle. This building was erected by the Hon. James Mackenzie, Lord Privy Seal, who, previous to his death in 1800, resided at Belmont Castle, as proprietor of the lands of Keilor, since then become the property of Lord Wharncliffe. The walls of the Observatory still defy the blasts of time, and form a well-known landmark for the mariner voyaging on the Northern Sea or entering the estuary of the Tay. The most classical and historically interesting, as well as the grandest spot in Strathmore, is undoubtedly, however, the Castle of Glamis and its world-famed magnificent sur- roundings. I shall confine my dissertations, therefore, in these introductory chapters to the parishes of Glamis and Kinnettles, as forming the centre from which the Tales and Legends of the subsequent chapters will uniformly diverge. Strathmore being my native vale, and Airniefoul farm, in the immediate neighbourhood of Glamis, the place of my birth, the Howe having been besides the birthplace of my ancestors for many centuries, and where many of their descendants tenant the farms of their fathers to the present day, I shall ever feel surrounded by an atmosphere of song, and of deeply-cherished sunny memories, while endeavouring to open up the legendary lore, and to portray the more salient and attractive features of a district in every sense so dear to my heart, and so worthy of being commemorated by an abler though not less loving pen than mine. GLAMIS. 5 Glamis means noise or sound ; and in similar situations, where there are ravines in the district, the affix iss, yss, eis, signifying an obstruction or barrier, is common in the names of places with some descriptive appellation prefixed. The name Glamis, or Glammis, therefore, seems to be descriptive of the most striking natural features of the parish. A sweet sparkling rivulet called " Glamis Burn " flows down its centre for some miles, rushing, immediately to the south of the village, through the rugged ravine, the rush of water along its bottom producing a subdued murmuring sound. There is another derivation of the name, however, which seems more applicable to the parish in general, viz., that Glamis is probably a corruption of the Gaelic Glamhus, which means a wide open, or champaign country. It is much to be regretted that, although still retaining some of its former features, the natural beauties of this picturesque and romantic dell have been utterly destroyed by the erection of a huge structure of solid masonry which stretches across the ravine, damming up the waters of the burn to form an immense reservoir of water, which stretches away among the trees to the south nearly as far as the eye can reach. As the temporary cause for the erection of this rude obstruction of the waters of the burn and the formation of the reservoir has now passed away, it is to be hoped this lovely and romantic spot will soon be restored to its natural and pristine beauty. The hamlet or village of Glamis, apart altogether from the historical and classical associations of its neighbourhood, is one of the most beautifully-situated of our Scottish villages. Built on the banks of a mountain rivulet, and at the base of a lofty pine-clad hill, surrounded by scenery of the most beautiful and attractive description, and nestling amongst ancient and extensive woods, it presents a scene of retired and quiet seclusion from the busy world quite refreshing to the pent-up denizen of the crowded city. Standing on the bridge, beneath which pleasantly flows the 6 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. burn already noticed, the view on either side, although necessarily somewhat contracted, is very pleasing and beauti- ful. To the north appear the barley mill, the church, church- yard, and manse, the village stretching away to our left, and a beautifully wooded dell, with the water of the burn flowing fretfully through its midst, opening up its romantic beauties to our right. Southward the brook, the rocky ravine, the smithy, a few straggling cottages amidst their trim gardens and kailyards, and the ruins of a modern, unromantic factory are the principal objects which attract the eye ; while high above, the Hunter Hill, in all its luxuriant sylvan beauty, crowns the scene as with a diadem of emerald, the happy birds meanwhile comingling their thrilling notes of gladness with the merry voices of the rustic urchins at roystering play on the village green. The dens and ravines in the parish are very rich in their display of wild flowers during the season in particular of the avens, geraniums, and anemones. Among the more rare plants may be noticed the orobus sylvaticus, and in the marshes along the Dean the yellow water-lily may be seen in all its beauty. John de Logy supposed to have been the father of the Queen of David II. received the reversion of the thanedom of Glamis from that monarch in the year 1363. The reddendo was a red falcon to be delivered yearly at the feast of Pente- cost. This thanedom was afterwards given to Sir John Lyon, ancestor of the Earls of Strathmore, in dowry with his wife, Jane, daughter of Robert II. The oldest castles in Angus are undoubtedly those of Red Castle and Guthrie, both occupied in 1306, and supposed to have been built some centuries previous. It is true, Sir David Guthrie of Kincaldrum, and Treasurer to James II., acquired the Barony of Guthrie in 1465, and became the founder of the family of that ilk, but the castle, and name, and family had been in existence many centuries before that period. Although from a remote era there was a royal residence at Glamis, or in its immediate neighbourhood, first noticed in GLAMIS. 7 connection with the death of Malcolm II., in 1034, the present Castle was only begun to be built in the time of the first Earl of Kinghorn, who succeeded his father in 1578. This nobleman did not live to finish the work, the much- admired ceiling in the great hall not being completed until 1620. The chapel is a most interesting and beautiful apartment, the paintings on the walls and ceiling having been executed in 1688 by Jacob de Witt, the Dutchman, who a few years previous painted the Kings in the Picture Gallery of Holy- rood Palace. The paintings in the chapel, however, are very much superior to those of Holyrood. In the agreement between the Earl of Kinghorn and the artist, it was expressly stipulated that each of the fifteen large panels in the roof of the chapel should contain " a full and distinct storie of our Blessed Saviour, conforme to the cutts in a Bible here in the house, or the Service Booke ; " while the lesser pannels were to be filled " with the angels in the skie, and such other things as he [De Witt] shall invent and be esteemed proper for the work." The altar-piece was to be the Crucifixion, " and the doore-piece the Ascencione." Our Saviour and His Twelve Apostles were to form the subjects of the paintings in the panels around the chapel, " in als full stature as the panels will permit." For this work De Witt made a claim of 200 merks, which the Earl disputed, and wrote to the artist as follows : " I would give now, after full deliberation, for the roof of the chapel, 15 sterling; for our Saviour, the Twelve Apostles, the King's father, the two Martyrs, St Paul and St Stephen, the altar and door-pieces, 20 sterling." It is said that the chapel at Glamis is the only one besides Roslin in which the exclusive use of the Liturgy dates from a period preceding the Eevolution of 1688. Eoslin and Glamis thus link the Episcopal Church of the present with that of the past. It was first consecrated in 1688, on the eve of that Revolution which hurled the last of the Royal Stuarts 8 STKATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. from the throne and expelled the Bishops from their Dioceses. This ancient chapel, after a period of desuetude of nearly a hundred years, was re-opened for divine service on the Feast of St Michael and All Angels, 1866. The ceremonial of the day commenced with a solemn service of benediction, composed for the occasion by the Bishop of Brechin. The office con- cluded with the celebration of the holy communion, according to the old Scottish rite. The second service, or Matins, followed soon thereafter, with the Benedicite sung as a processional chant by a full and well-trained choir, among whom were the Countess of Strath- more, Lady Elizabeth Arthur, Lady Constance Hay, and other of the guests at the Castle, along with several of the domestics. The clergy in their surplices, and the Bishop in his robes closed the procession. The chants used were Gregorian, and the anthem was the Dedication Hymn " Christ is made the sure Foundation." The musical service for the Holy Communion was " Marbeck's Plain Song." The effect of the fine chant, as heard in the chapel when the procession wound slowly from the crypt, up the grand stair-case, and through the ancient hall, was strik- ingly solemn and impressive, reminding one of old times, when " No sound of busy life was heard amid the cloisters dim, Save the tinkling of the silver bell, and the sister's holy hymn." Previous to the re-opening of the hallowed shrine, great alterations had taken place in the interior arrangements and finishings of the chapel. The raised dais and box pews with all their graduated scale of rank, had disappeared, and in their stead were simple benches and chairs. In place of the old diminutive altar, there now arose a new one of large dimensions, splendidly vested in white silk, and richly embroidered in crimson and gold. On the super-altar was displayed a beautifully jewelled cross in all its symbolic signi- ficance with ornate vases of variegated flowers expressive of the GLAMIS. 9 beauty of God's great creation. The heavy black panels in which the paintings are framed have been gilt, and the pic- tures themselves cleaned and varnished without, in the least, interfering with the air of antiquity which characterises the place. The sermon by the Bishop of Brechin, from the appropriate text Joshua xxiv. 15, "But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord," was a very eloquent and impressive one concluding thus " When I look upon this church I am called back to the recollections of the past. I see here a great religious effort upon the part of that strong-willed and predominant race who have so long inhabited this venerable Castle. I see here the first effort, after the doubts and difficulties of the Scotch Ee- formation, to raise a temple in the appropriate spirit to God. I see here the results of that short-lived period of civilization of high cultivation which from the time of the accession of King James to the English throne, till the troubles about the Prayer-book, distinguished Scotland. I see here the dedication of Christian art to the services of the sanctuary not, indeed Christian art after the spiritual glories of the Italian Schools, but still they did what they could, and those who decorated the church were, at least, no puritans. I see here almost the last act of our Bishops in its consecration just before the dis-establishment of our church. And I see where, in the time of our depressed position, the litany used to be said, and prayers arose to God, till at last the French Eevolution came, and all became coldness, and the voice of prayer and praise ceased. These days, thank God, are gone for ever. I should be mis-using this place were I to use it as a vehicle for praise and flattery. We are all in the presence of Almighty God, answerable for those talents, for those powers, for those opportunities which God gives us, and when we have done all we are unprofitable servants. But, still, I do believe that this will be a day much to be remembered in the future annals of this ancient house that done in the true 10 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. spirit of religion and in the love of God, to-day's act may draw down many blessings from heaven, so that, continuing in God's fear and love this family may cast its roots deeper and spring to a more vigorous existence than ever, leavening, by its example, those around it, and impetrating fresh blessings from the Lord and God of all good things." The Castle, apart from association altogether, is the noblest and most perfect specimen of feudal architecture in the king- dom so grand and majestic as a whole, and so perfect in its every detail, that no description, however elaborate, can con- vey any just or adequate idea of its great magnitude and unique beauty. Embosomed among sombre and extensive woods, this vast pile proudly rears its castellated towers, the lowness of its situation and the level nature of the surround- ing grounds, however, preventing its being seen from any great distance. The surprise and awe, therefore, experienced is so much the greater when, entering the long and beauti- ful avenue by which it is approached from the south, the feudal pile in all its solemn grandeur bursts suddenly upon the view. Nor do these feelings lessen in intensity as we gradually approach its classical and hallowed precincts. There is such a rare combination of the various styles of the different ages of Scotch baronial architecture, harmonising strangely enough with the florid productions of the French architectural school, that our admiration intensifies and deepens the nearer we approach the imposing edifice. The great tower in the centre, upwards of 100 feet high, with its round-roofed vaults, narrow orifices, and great, thick, massy walls, is nearly of the earliest period of castellated masonry. The rich cluster of cone-topped turrets, again, with the spiral staircase in one of the angles of the building, and the wings which crouch beneath the great tower, are said to be the work of Inigo Jones. The whole of the immense pile is in fine preservation, and contains some relics of great antiquity and general interest. GLAMIS. 11 Besides the chapel, already noticed, there are some valuable historical portraits in the great hall ; several specimens of old armour ; some court dresses of the seventeenth century ; and the motley raiment of the family fool, to the cap and other parts of which the bells are still attached. The ornate and beautiful iron railing round the central tower was erected in 1682. The view obtained from this, tower is of the most magnificent and attractive description. Indeed, it is scarcely possible to conceive a prospect of greater loveliness or more luxuriant beauty. The whole Strath, in its length and breadth, lies stretched out beneath and around you, while the Sidlaws on the one hand, and the Grampians on the other, form most fitting back-grounds to the picture, adding a mystic, weird-like sublimity to the fairy scene. Here Catlaw, like a sentinel grim, Lone guards the Grampian Mountains dim, Which stretch across from sea to sea, In glorious, solemn majesty. There cleaving high ethereal air, Loom Cairn-a-Month and dark Mount Blair ; And in the glack of yonder glen, The wild woods wave in Airlie Den ; While rugged hills of dreamy hue, Dim mingle with the azure blue, And reach, in misty gloom afar, The confines dark of Lochnagar. In the surrounding grounds there were to be seen within the last fifty or sixty years a number of statues and sculptured ornaments, most of which were erected by Patrick, third Earl of Kinghorn, and first Earl of Strathmore, who did much to encourage the cultivation of a taste for the fine arts. None of these now remain, except a curious and richly- finished sun dial with its many faces to the sun, an object of great attraction to the antiquary, as, indeed, it is of general interest to all admirers of this classic spot. To the eastward of the Church of Glamis there is a large stone or obelisk of rude design erected, as is generally 12 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. supposed, to commemorate the murder of Malcolm II., King of Scotland. In the northern part of the Hunter Hill, to the south of the village, there is also an ancient obelisk, in the midst of a large cairn of stones, called King Malcolm's grave- stone. Near a place called Cossins, about a mile north-east of the Castle, there stands another obelisk, called St Orland's Stone, evidently meant to perpetuate the same event. As these suggestive and interesting memorials will be noticed more at length when we introduce the legend of Malcolm's murder in the wood near Thornton, this brief reference to them here may in the meantime suffice. Judging from the print of Glamis Castle by Slezer in Charles II. 's reign, it appears to have been anciently much more extensive, being a large quadrangular mass of buildings, with several circles of defensive boundaries, at each of which the sleepless sentinel kept watch and ward. Sir Walter Scott bitterly lamented the subsequent landscape-gardening operations, which, sweeping down all the exterior defences, left the clustered tower standing alone, in the middle of a park, unprotected, like a modern peaceful mansion. " A disciple of Kent," he says, " had the cruelty to render this splendid old mansion more parkish, as he was pleased to call it ; to raze all those external defences, and to bring his mean and paltry gravel walk up to the very door, from which, deluded by the name, we might have imagined Lady Macbeth (with the form and features of Siddons) issuing forth to receive King Duncan." Previous to the approaches being modernised, the Castle was the theme of admiring wonder of all who beheld it. The Pretender, the Chevalier St George, slept one night in the Castle, in 1715, when on his way to his coronation at Scone ; and is said to have declared this ancient residence to be the finest he had ever seen. " It is," says De Foe, " one of the finest old built palaces in Scotland, and by far the largest. When you see it at a distance, it is a pile of turrets and lofty buildings, spires and GLAMIS. 13 towers some plain, others shining with gilded tops, that it looks not like a town, but a city." Gray, the poet, visited the Castle in the autumn of 1765, a minute description of which, and its surroundings, he gives in a letter to his friend, Wharton, concluding thus : " The house, from the height of it, the greatness of its mass, the many towers a-top, the spread of its wings, has really a very singular and striking appearance like nothing I ever saw." Four years after the burgh of Forfar was pillaged by Colonel Ocky, a part of the army of the Commonwealth were quartered in Glamis Castle, during which the bakers of Forfar were bound, by order of Captain Pockley, dated from the Castle, 22d May 1654, to supply them with "fower dussen of wheate breade for each day in the week ; " and the fleshers, "beefe, mutton, or lambe, each Munday and Wedensday to serve the Garison : " the baker to receive " riddymoney " for his " breade," provided it was " full weight ; " the stipulation with the flesher being "And for such meate as shall be brought in the partys shall receive good payment for the same." The principal conspirators in the celebrated Eaid of Euthven were the Earl of Mar, Lords Oliphant, Boyd, and Lindsay, the Abbot of Dunfermline, and the Master of Glamis. The conspirators, in laying their complaints before the King, and seeking redress of their pretended grievances, used, it is said, strong and insulting language to His Majesty, who, feeling himself, however, entirely in their hands, for- bore to express his displeasure. After patiently listening to their mock supplications, and giving a general promise to give all due consideration to the wants of his beloved subjects, the King rose to leave the chamber, but the Master of Glamis rudely interposed between him and the door of the apartment, and gave him bluntly to understand he would not be permitted to leave the Castle. The King, after vainly remonstrating with his enemies, burst into a flood of tears. "It is no matter for your tears," said Glamis 14 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. fiercely, " better that bairns should weep than bearded men." These words, it is recorded, sunk deep into the King's heart, and though generally of an unrevengeful amiable dis- position, and easily appeased, the insult they contained, was never forgotten or forgiven. The tale of Macbeth was undoubtedly found by Shakespeare in the Scottish Chronicles of Holinshed, and his genius adorned it with a lustre to which it was not originally entitled. The castle of Macbeth was situated in Inverness-shire, but the tragical events so vividly and stirringly portrayed in the drama have evident reference to a castle in the neighbourhood of Glamis. The present Castle of Glamis, as already noticed, was only begun to be built in the sixteenth century, whereas the "gracious Duncan" succeeded Malcolm II. in 1033. It was in the battle of Bothgowanan, near Elgin, that Duncan was slain. His defeat ensured the accession of Macbeth to the crown of Scotland. Macbeth was slain by Macduff at Lump- hanan in Aberdeenshire. These facts in history are now known and believed, still the mind persistently retains the impression made by the creations of genius. Sir Walter Scott spent a night in Glamis in 1794 and con- cludes an interesting account of his sensations by saying: "In spite of the truth of history, the whole night scene in Macbeth's Castle rushed at once upon me, and struck my mind more forcibly than even when I have seen its terrors represented by John Kemble and his inimitable sister." Macbeth, as well as Duncan, was a grandson of Malcolm II. The Lady of Macbeth, whose real name was Gruoch, had deadly injuries to avenge on the reigning prince. Her grand- father, Kenneth IV., was killed in 1003, fighting against Malcolm II., and this with other causes for revenge, combined (as the old annalists add) with instigations of a supernatural kind, increased the influence of a vindictive woman over an ambitious husband. Macbeth, on the other hand, according to the legend, was inspired with seductive hopes by the prophetic exclamations GLAMIS. 15 of the three women who appeared to him in a dream or vision, and hailed him successively as Thane of Cromarty, Thane of Moray, and King of Scots. Scott's version is that Macbeth was the son of Finel, Thane of Glamis, and that the first woman or witch said " All hail, Macbeth ! hail to thee, Thane of Glamis ! " Macbeth, however, instead of having been the ambitious con- spirator, and cruel unscrupulous tyrant, represented by the great dramatist, was, in reality, no usurper at all, but an able, wise, and beneficent prince. He reigned seventeen years after the death of Duncan, and his reign was one of perfect tranquillity, his subjects enjoying prosperity and peace. The Chron Elog, represents fertile seasons as attendants of his reign, which Winter confirms : " If a King makes fertile seasons, it must be by promoting agriculture, and diffusing among his subjects the blessings of peace." As evidence of his religious convic- tions, as well as his general amiability of character, it is on record, that Macbeth went a pilgrimage to Eome in the time of Pope Leo the Ninth. Simeon of Durham, and Eoger Hoveden, tell us, that in the year 1050, Rex Scotice Machetad Eomce argentum spargendo distribuit. Sir David Dalrymple, it is true, endeavours to shew that Macbeth did not go himself to Eome, the passage only implying that he remitted money to Eome. But the plain obvious sense of the words points to the conclusion that he personally went to Eome at the time indicated. The practice of going to Eome was then quite common among the nobles and Kings of Europe. According to Pinkerton, Thorfin, Earl of Orkney, went to Eome about 1060 ; Haco, Earl of Orkney, visited Eome and Jerusalem in 1105; Canute, King of England, went to Eome about 1033 ; Eric King of Denmark travelled on foot to Eome about 1098 ; and to Jerusalem in 1102 ; Ingi, King of Norway, went to Jerusalem in the twelfth century ; Garcias, King of Navarre, about 1033, according to the Spanish historians. The custom being then very common, and his subjects enjoying great prosperity and the blessings of 16 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. peace, there seems no reason to distort the plain sense of the words concerning Macbeth. Winter confirms this acceptation of the passage, when he says concerning the monarch : " All his tyme was great plente, Habundande bathe on lande and se : He was in justice richt lauchful, And til his legis al awfule. Quhen Pape was Leo the nynt in Rome ; As pilgryme to the court he come ; And in his alms he sew silver Til al pur folk, that had myster. In al tyme oysit he to wyrk Profetabilly for haly Kyrk." The noble family of Strathmore is descended from an illustrious and very ancient family called De Lyon, in France, a branch whereof settled in Scotland many centuries ago, and had, by the bounty of one of our Kings, sundry lands in the shire of Perth, which were called Glen Lyon, after their own surname whose successor, Sir John Lyon, received from King David II. the baronies of Forteviot and Forgandenny in Perthshire, and the lands of Courtestown and Drumgovan in Aberdeenshire. The charter by which Eobert II. bestowed the Thane- dom of Glamis in free barony upon Sir John Lyon, Knight propter laudabile et fidela servitio el contius laborious bears date 7th January 1374. Sir John's grandson, Patrick, was created Lord Glamis in 1445. Alexander, Second Lord, had a charter from Mary, the King's mother, of the Castle of Kinghorn with the lands of Balberdie, in 1463. John, third Lord, founded a chapel at Glamis by charter dated 20th October 1487. He married Elizabeth, daughter of Sir John Scrymgeour of Dudhope. George, fifth Lord, had a charter of the lands of Balneaves, in the Barony of Kinnell, from Thomas, Lord Fraser of Lovat, 31st October 1501. John, sixth Lord, married Janet, sister of Archibald, sixth earl of Angus. This is the lady who was burned on the Castlehill of Edinburgh on the 17th December 1534, for the alleged crime of sorcery, being indicted for conspiring against the life GLAMIS. 17 of James V. Her son John, afterwards seventh lord, a mere boy, was also included in the charge. John, eighth Lord, was killed in a rencontre between his followers and those of the Earl of Crawford, at Stirling, in May 1578. Patrick, ninth Lord, was created Earl of Kinghorn, Lord Lyon and Glamis, 1606. He acquired the barony of Tanna- dice, 13th July 1610, and the dominical lands of Castle Huntly, in the parish of Longforgan, 1613. His grandson, Patrick, third Earl of Kinghorn, was created Earl of Strath- more and Kinghorn, 1677. Attached to the Stuart dynasty, at the Revolution he retired from public life, and spent his time in improving his estates and encouraging the arts, especially statuary. John, fourth Earl, was of Queen Anne's Privy Council, and at his death the uncommon circumstance occurred of four brothers succeeding each other in the family honours. Of this nobleman the following traditionary story is told : " An old man being in company with the Earl, who had his four sons with him, and in conversation with the old man, said, ' Are not these four pretty boys 1 ' To which the old man replied ' Yes, but they will be all earls, my lord, all earls.' The earl said he would be sorry if he were sure that such would be the case. The old man affirmed that it would be so, and added ' God help the poor when Thomas comes to be Earl.' " This was literally accomplished in the year 1740, when scarcity and dearth threatened famine in the land. The present Earl succeeded his brother in 1865, and is the thirteenth Earl of Strathmore, and fifteenth Earl of King- horn. He married in 1853 Frances Dora, third daughter of Oswald Smith, Esq., of Blendon Hall, Kent, and has a numerous family of sons and daughters. On the 26th October 1874, the freedom of the Burgh of Dundee was presented to the Earl of Strathmore by the Magis- trates and Town Council in honour of his having been appointed by her Majesty the Queen to the Lord Lieutenancy 18 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. of Angus, as successor to the late Earl of Dalhousie ; and in testimony of their high appreciation of his private character and public services. A brilliant company assembled in the Albert Institute on the occasion, the Countess of Strathmore, Lady Constance, Lord Glamis, the Honourable Francis Lyon, and the Honourable Ernest Lyon being present. On the lid of the elegant casket containing the Freedom of the Burgh, is engraved the following inscription : " The freedom of the Burgh of Dundee, the certificate of which is enclosed in this casket, was by the unanimous vote of the Provost, Magis- trates, and Town Council, conferred on the Right Honourable Claude, Earl of Strathmore and Kinghorn, Lord Lieutenant of the County of Forfar, in testimony of the respect enter- tained by them for his Lordship's character and public services." CHAPTER II. KINNETTLES. Sweet were the days by the swift-flowing Kerbet, When I trudged to Kinnettles' wee school. THE name of the parish is doubtless derived from the Gaelic word Kinnettles, signifying " the head of the bog." The oldest forms in which the name appears are Kynettles, Kynathes, and Kynnedes. The ancient church of Kinnettles occupied a much more elevated position than the present structure on the banks of the Kerbet ; and was one of the churches which was given by King James VI. to the Archbishop of St Andrews. Laurence of Montealt, a supposed kinsman of the old Lords of Feme, was rector of the church in 1226 ; and Matthew was the name of the rector in 1364. In 1567 Inverarity, Meathie, and Kinnettles formed one parish, under the ministrations of James Fotheringham, to which was joined in 1574 those of Forfar, Rostinoth, and Tannadice, of all which Ninian Clement was minister, and Alexander Nevay was reader at Kinnettles. The last Episcopal clergyman was Alexander Taylor, author of a serio-comic poem entitled "The Tempest." Taylor and several of his brethren, when crossing in a boat from Burntisland to Leith, on 26th November 1681, en- countered a terrific storm, and his description of the angry waves buffeting against the frail bark though quaint is very expressive : " Each kept his time and place, As if they meant to drown us with a grace ; 20 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. The first came tumbling on our boat's side, And knockt us twice her breadth and more beside ; But vext that it had wrought's no more disgrace, It spits on us spits on its follower's face. " On the south bank of the Kerbet, opposite Brigton, is a conically shaped rising ground, called from time immemorial, Kirkhill, and which is supposed to have been at some remote period, the site of a religious house. It is matter of history that the proprietor of Foffarty built a popish chapel on his property after the Keformation, and appointed a priest to conduct the popish service, but the site of this chapel is said to have been on the margin of a den at the foot of Kincaldrum Hill. It was burnt by a party of Eoyal Dragoons in 1745 ; and so late as 1816, the ruins were dug up from the very foundation, and carried away to fill up drains ! The lands of Foffarty were sold in 1758 to the Earl of Strathmore, and although they belong quoad civilia to the parish of Caputh, the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland annexed them quoad sacra in 1773, to the parish of Kinnettles. The Wisharts of that Ilk were proprietors of Kinnettles before and during the year 1612, since which period the lands have passed into the hands of various proprietors. One of the more recent of these was Col. William Patterson, an eminent botanist, and sometime Lieutenant-G overnor of New South Wales. He was the son of a humble gardener at Brigton, immediately adjoining Kinnettles. His parents being poor, he had the good fortune to receive the patron- age of Lady Mary Lyon, second daughter of John, fourth Earl of Strathmore, by whom he was educated. Long residence abroad having impaired his health, he resolved to return to Great Britain, but died on the voyage, 21st June 1810. An elegant monument, on which are recorded his services and acquirements, was afterwards erected in the churchyard of his native parish. Mr John Inglis Harvey was another distinguished native of the parish. He left Kinnettles at a very early age, and KINNETTLES. 21 after the completion of his studies at one of the English Universities, entered the service of the Hon. East India Company, and became a civil judge in India. The estate of Kinnettles was purchased in 1864 by its present proprietor, Mr James Paterson of Heathfield, Dundee, from the representatives of the late Mrs Harvey. The estate of Kinnettles occupies the whole of the south slope of Brigton Hill, with the tablelands to the north, down to the Kerbet water. It has, therefore, a beautiful exposure to the south, while it is sheltered from the north and east, by the woodland on the summit of the hill. A fine new mansion has been recently erected on a preferable site to that on which the old house stood, and somewhat higher up the hill, from elaborate designs by Messrs Peddie and Kinnear of Edinburgh. The building is in the old Scotch baronial style, and the broken, irregular outline of its walls and roofs, with their numerous turrets, towers, and battle- ments, arrest the attention, and challenge the admiration of the beholder, not less for their own beautiful proportions, than for the graceful manner in which they harmonise with the sloping ground in front, and the steep cliffs and over- hanging woods behind. The total length of frontage to the south, including the north-east wing and conservatory, is 1 60 feet. The principal entrance is in the base of a massive square tower, at the south-east angle of the building. The front of the building to the west of the tower is most effectively treated, by being divided into two gabled pro- jections, one at each end with recessed wall space between. In the front of the building is a spacious terrace, laid out in keeping with the style of the building, retained by low ornamental walls of Gothic character, and flanked at the angles by circular turrets, like miniature shot towers. Altogether the new mansionhouse of Kiunettles is one of the most elegant mansionhouses for its size, in the county of Forfar. The handsome village of Kinnettles is prettily situated on 22 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. the banks of the Kerbet, a few miles to the east of Glamis, with whose history it is closely associated. Lying very low in the valley, it is ofttimes flooded by the waters of the Kerbet, which, during a spate in winter, frequently overflow its level banks. Hence its other name, "The Bog," by which it was equally well known as by that of its more aristocratic title, Kinnettles. The North Esk, has from time immemorial been the resort of the water-kelpies, and the Castle of Murphy being in the vicinity of that part of the river where he was most frequently seen, he afforded, tradition saith, most material service in its erection. In the Minstrelsy of the Border, Dr Jamieson refers to the circumstance thus : When Murphy's laird his biggin rear'd I carry t aw the stanes, And mony a chiel has heard me squeal, For sair birz'd back and banes. In a note the writer says " the water-kelpy celebrated the event of carrying stones for the building of the castle in rhyme ; and that for a long time after, he was heard to cry with a doleful voice " Sair back and sair banes, Carrying the Laird o' Murphy's stanes." to which a later edition of the history has added " The Laird o' Murphy will never thrive, So long as Kelpy is alive." As the extensive peat mosses in the neighbourhood, before they were drained, became the prolific nurseries of the " spunkies," so the Kerbet, like the North Esk, in a flood was also the favourite resort of the " water-kelpies " both races of mythical spirits being now, alas ! extinct. With earnest voice, yet full of fire, I've heard my venerable sire, Enthusiastic tell, How Spunkie danced in sportive glee Along the marshy peat moss free An awful sight on earth to see, Blue lighting all the dell KINNETTLES. And how, by Brigton's spreading woods, When Kerbet tumbled down his floods, He's heard the well known splash Of Waterkelpie's ponderous weight, Enough an Indiaman to freight, And all the old wives mad affright So terrible the smash. And then to hear him lauchin' fast, As wildly roared the stormy blast, And plashing fell the rain ; Twas like to shake the very earth, And woe to that doomed household hearth, Which check'd not revelry and mirth In waterkelpie's reign ! The large rivulet, or stream, called Kerbet, takes its rise in Dilty Moss, in the parish of Carmylie, seven miles to the eastward of Kinnettles and falls into the Dean, as already noticed, before its junction with the Isla. In summer it flows gently on in its placid course, but after a thaw in a winter storm, it swells to an almost incredible extent, the low-lying fields and meadow-land being inundated by its impetuous torrent. The Hill of Kinnettles, rising to the height of 356 feet above the level of the sea, adds greatly to the beauty of the parish. The view from the top is extensive, and very beautiful. This hill is one of the detached Sidlaw Hills, and is also sometimes called the Hill of Brigton. Brigton, immediately adjoining the village, with its rich haughs and meadows, and beautifully-clustering sylvan woods, and the winding Kerbet sweetly flowing through its midst, is a deeply-interesting and lovely spot. Many a day, in the bright and gladsome days of youth, have I rambled among its sheltered glades, listening with ecstatic joy to the gushing melody of the happy birds, combined in softest harmony with the low, quiet song of the gently-flowing river. These are sunny memories, which no cloud, however dark, in after-life, can ever obliterate or obscure. Kinnettles, during the life-time of its late parochial school- 24 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. master, Mr Daniel Robertson, enjoyed a wide-spread reputa- tion for the high-class education of its " wee school," many of his pupils becoming in after-life eminently successful, and some achieving fame in the several arenas of science, com- merce, and literature. Modern innovations have, however, swept away the sacred landmarks so dear to his heart, and so fondly cherished by his pupils. The schoolhouse and school have been ruthlessly levelled to the ground, but the associa- tions thereof cannot be extinguished ; and the place where once the humble seminary stood is ever eloquent to us the same. Poor Daniel ! all is over now, At last at rest in peace art thou Death on thee sets his seal ; And o'er God's acre, lone, below, Where Kerbet's waters whispering flow, They bear thee grieving, silent, slow, To the land o' the leal. All is over now ! the pawky smile, The simpering laugh, persuasive wile, The energy and zeal. Desire of excellence, pride of lore, Exciting labour, joys of yore These follow not beyond the shore Of the land o' the leal. There are several very old grave-stones in the churchyard, the dates on which go back to an early period. Some of these were erected to the memory of the writer's ancestors several centuries ago. The more recently erected monuments are very handsome. The " ancient mill," immediately to the east of the village, is probably, however, the oldest relic of antiquity in the parish, it having been built sometime in the fifteenth century. In the year 1478, Andrew Guthrie of that Ilk was charged before the Lords of Council " anent a mylne biggit on the landis of Kyncaldrum, and holding on the multers of the corns of the samyn." (Acta. Dom. Con. 5 ; And. 69.) The barony of Kincaldrum adjoins the lands of Kinnettles, the Guthries being at that period apparently proprietors of both. There is KINNETTLES. 25 every reason to believe the above allusion to the " mylne biggit on the landis of Kincaldrum" refers to the old mill on theKerbet, immediately to the east of Kinnettles. Doubtless the building has received many alterations and repairs, and, in consequence, little of the original structure may remain. To the writer espe- cially, however, it is still an object of the most absorbing and affectionate interest, as it and the adjoining farm were for many generations tenanted by his ancestors, as neighbouring home- steads are occupied by their descendants to the present day. An antiquarian relic of great value, however, dug up by the plough in a grass field in the parish, in 1833, carries us back beyond the Christian era. This was an " upper millstone of a hand mill, supposed to be about two thousand years old.' It is, says the Rev. Mr Lunan, formerly minister of the parish, 2^ inches in diameter, 1| inch thick, nearly quite circular, neatly hewn with the chisel, and displays the nicest workman- ship around the small circular opening in the centre. The stone of which it is composed is mica-schist, has a leaden colour, contains a mixture of silicious spar, and is thickly studded with small garnets. The earliest instrument in combination with the pestle, for grinding corn, appears to have been the mortar, which, in process of time, was super- seded by the mold manuaiia, or handmill, first worked by bondmen and bondwomen, and afterwards by oxen and horses. Strabo, Vitruvius and other classic writers inform us, that water-mills were introduced in the reign of Julius Caesar; so that hand-mills had probably been laid aside sometime before the Christian era, thus proving this ancient relic to be of the age already stated. Surrounded rich by hill and dale, Midway in Brigton's bonnie vale, By Kerbet's water's still, Outside the little village street, Near by the manse, and garden neat, Is seated cosily and sweet, Khmettles' ancient mill. 26 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. very quaint it is, and old ; A pedant he, and very bold, Who dared its age to tell ; For, grey and hoary though it be, And sad its battered state to see, The mill-wheel goes so steadily, And does its work so well, That antiquarian, seer, or sage Could neither guess nor tell its age, With an approach to truth ; So while the peasant wondering stares, Judicious bit -by-bit repairs Transform its aspect unawares, And oft renews its youth. Ah ! ancient mill, though far from thee, Still very dear art thou to me, Nay, never art forgot ; For thou our name in days of yore, For ma.ny generations bore ; 'Tis known there now, alas ! no more, Still sacred, blessed spot. My sire's and grandsire's birth-place dear, Accept the tributary tear, Which far from thee I shed. Recalling scenes, narrations rare, Of eldrich visions in the air, Sepulchral warnings to beware, And visits from the dead. So thus, like April hopes and fears There cometh sunshine with our tears, From thee, ancient mill : Good luck attend thee evermore, Have melders plenty oft in store, The miller thrive as aye before, My blessing with thee still. CHAPTER III. BRIGTON. Fair are the lawns and the fields of sweet Brigton, Surrounded by woodlands so green, The sheep feeding rich in the haughs and the meadows, The river meandering between. OF Brigton, which has already been noticed, and which will be frequently alluded to in the subsequent chapters, more particularly in the " Lily of The Vale," it may suffice only to allude further, in this place, to the strong feelings of high regard and reciprocal attachment which had always been entertained by the members of the Douglas family, and those of the ancient house of Guthrie ; culminating in the legend of the cruel betrayal of the Chief of the latter house, by Miss Douglas of Brigton. The members of the Douglas family, both male and female, have always been distinguished for their love of field sports, as well as of warlike deeds. Sir David Guthrie of Kincal- drum, Treasurer to the king, and their near neighbour, after he had purchased the lands of Guthrie, as well as the barony of Lour, laid siege to the heart of Miss Douglas of Brigton, resolved to become the victor, or perish in the attempt. Sir David was more of a statesman than a warrior, his mission lying more in the planning and directing of aggressive or defensive wars in the cabinet, than in actual deeds of heroism on the field of battle. Miss Douglas, on the contrary, inheriting all the warlike genius of her race, revelled with unbounded enthusiasm in the glowing descrip- tions of military prowess, of which historians wrote and poets sung, the bravest of the brave fondly winning her 28 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. sweetest and most approving smiles, and coming the nearest to the sensitive outworks of her impulsive heart. Although of very different temperaments, the chief of the Guthries effectually wooed and won the beautiful and accomplished Lady of Brigton ; and every preparation had been made for the fitting celebration of the approaching nuptials of the happy pair. Alas ! the course of true love seldom, if ever, runs always smooth. Sir David, on his way to a distant tournament, rode up one fine summer morning to Brigton's hospitable gates, to bid his ladye-love a temporary adieu. Either from her impulsive mind having otherwise undergone a change, or stung with contempt at the pusilanimous conduct of her carpet lover, in preferring the childish sport of the tournament, and the smiles of the Queen of Beauty, to the manlier warfare of the battle-field, and the ringing shouts of well-earned victory, she cruelly taunted Sir David with his effeminate conduct, and indirectly charged him with lack of courage and patriotism in that the day of Scotland's sorest trial. Be that as it may, her censure had the immediate effect of changing the purposes of her lover, and so effectually, that instead of proceeding to the tournament, he buckled on his armour, and hastened to give proof of his courage and valour in the field of battle ; returning from the wars, however, only to find his affianced bride the wife of another ! : CASTLE GUTHEIE. In plume and doublet rides the knight, On a summer morning early, Of noble bearing, comely face, His steed cap'risoned rarely. And loud he knocks at Brigton's gates, The warder asking sternly : " From whence come you?" Sir David cries " I come from Castle Guthrie. " Go quickly, tell your Ladye fair, I would her see thus early, I to the tournament away, And cannot longer tarry. " BRIGTON. 29 The Ladye looks from her lattice high, Her lover gazing fondly " The Guthrie would the Douglas wed ? Back hie to Castle Guthrie. " Aside your tilting trappings throw, Your armour buckle fairly, The wars ! the wars ! haste to the fray, Then, having suffered sairly, " And won your spurs by noble deeds, You ever fighting bravely, Come back and claim your willing bride Then, ho ! for Castle Guthrie !" Forth to the wars Sir David went, His pride and love taxed sorely, The foremost ever in the fight, His spurs he won right bravely. Now homeward speeds he proud in haste, To claim his bride, right fairly, Upon her own conditions won All hail to Castle Guthrie ! " What sounds are these in Brigton's halls, Of revelry thus early ?" " 'Tis e'en our Ladye's nuptial day, " Leer'd the warder very glibly. In haste again Sir David sped To the wars now raging fiercely In battle slain, ne'er saw again His own loved Castle Guthrie ! Centuries afterwards, however, the two houses were united in marriage, in the persons of the late laird of Guthrie, and Miss Anne Douglas ; who, both living to a great age, died within a few weeks of each other, and might be said conse- quently, to have been buried in one grave : lovely in their lives, in their deaths they were not divided. The new Episcopal Church, Forfar, contains a fine stained glass window, put up at the expense of, and thus inscribed by, the present laird of Guthrie : "In Honorem Dei, et Memoriam Joannis Gvthrie, de Gvthrie, Arm: Qui Obiit, 12 Nov. 1845. ^Etatis svse 82. Atqve in Memoriam Annse Dovglas, Conjvgis ejvs, Qvae Obiit, 2 Dec. 1845. ^Etatis svse 75." CHAPTEK IV. LEGEND OF THE FIRST CASTLE OF CLAMIS. How rich with legends is our land ! Its hills and dales and rock-girt strand Each doth its dread, mysterious tale, Low ominous whisper in the gale : The scowling loop-holed donjon keep, The frowning walls that round it sweep, The mouldering castle, grey and grim, All chant some sad funereal hymn. How varied, and antagonistic to each other, are the impres- sions produced on differently constituted minds by the out- ward aspects of nature, or by the historical traditions of an ancient, classical land like our own ! Some expatiate on the richness of the fields, their high state of cultivation, and the comparative produce they yield in return for the diligent labours of the scientific and skilful husbandman. Others exult in the splendid garniture of the straths and valleys, aglow with the golden tints of autumnal fruitage, without one passing thought as to the probable yield per acre of barley, oats, or wheat. Many, while gazing on the far-stretching forests, or on the heath and grass-covered hills, only calculate on the capabilities of the one for the building of so many ships, or speculate on the capacities of the other to rear and fatten so many sheep ; while the poetical few luxuriate only in the loveliness of the waving woodlands, ringing out their joyous chimes to fill the soul with melody, or, in a wild transport of luxurious rapture, enjoy with a passionate delight the beauty of the landscape, in all its variety of hill, and dale, and breezy upland, alive with the bleeting of lambs, and LEGEND OF THE FIRST CASTLE OF GLAMIS. 31 vocal with the songs of children and of birds. Some regard with holy reverence the traditionary lore of our country, and are more engrossed with the mere romance of the legend than with its strict historical accuracy. Others, not content with ransacking musty, moth-eaten parchments and chronicles, and grubbing laboriously amongst the debris of decaying anti- quarian relics, must needs throw doubts, if not direct discredit, on every startling and romantic incident which does not square with their prosaic ideas, or strictly harmonise with the dry and literal interpretation of history. What is it that constitutes the grand difference between the scenery of the Western Hemisphere and that of our own beloved land ? Is it not the associations, historical and other- wise, that encompass the land at every point, like a starry atmosphere of refulgent, unfading glory 1 ? The prairies of America may be more vast ; her forests may cover, in all their primeval grandeur, an immeasurably greater extent and variety of space ; her mountains may soar to a loftier altitude, approaching nearer the gates of the Celestial City, and the throne of the Great Eternal ; her rivers may flow on in their stately course in mightier volume, and with greater majesty of power ; her lakes may be more capacious, and her cataracts more ravishingly sublime. What of that 1 There is not a valley, forest, mountain, or glen ; there is not a river, a lake, a cascade, or a burn throughout the length and breadth of the Highlands and Lowlands of Scotland but hath each its separ- ate history its tale of love, of war, romance, or song con- necting the present with the past in a mystic, weird-like chain, whose golden links stretch far away in traditionary indistinctness to the remote and fabulous ages of antiquity. Nay, there is not a moss-covered stone in the plain, a rugged cairn upon the hill, a willowed or birch-shaded streamlet in the glen, or a lonely tarn in the bosom of the mist-enshrouded mountain but tell us, as in a Jdream, some wondrous legend of imaginative mystery or thrillingly-bewitching story of chase, foray, or daring, gallant deeds of wild, romantic chivalry. 32 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. And what of the old, grey ivy-mantled castles which stud the lovely glens, and perch, like the eyry of the eagle, on the rugged slopes of the rocky hills, or on the surf-beaten lofty cliffs by the ever-surging sea ? What of the mouldering ruins still beautiful in their premature decay of the abbeys, the monasteries, the ancient houses of God, which throw around their holy shrines a rainbow instructive radiance of the never-to-be-forgotten past? What of the still existing magnificent cathedrals, with their noble proportions of transept, nave, and pillared aisle; their delicate tracery of sculptured choir and frescoed dome ; their internal garniture of matchless splendour, and their external surroundings of majestic tower and lofty spire 1 Each hath its intensely interesting associations; each hath its authentic, undying history. From the weird old castles, hoary with age from the depths of their donjon keeps, from the heights of their battlemented towers still come the rolling peals of martial music, the fitful strains of the minstrel harp, and the loud wassail roar of the midnight revel, all softly blent with the low-whispered roundelay issuing sweetly from the boudoirs of ladyes fair in the witching twilight of summer eves. From the mouldering abbeys, as well as from the existent cathedrals, arise alike the thunder-notes of the organ, and the softly-chanted songs of the white-robed choir. The aromatic incense still fragrantly perfumes the morning air, and the rolling anthems re-echo back, as of old, from the distant sky. The associations 1 They remain for ever ! Gold will not buy them ; time cannot destroy them ; new places cannot bribe them. From the old they never can be separated. Ye Goths and Vandals, do your worst 1 ? Uproot each sacred vestige to faithful memory's eye most dear ; raze, raze the well-remembered walls ; waft, scatter rude to merciless, devastating blasts each palace hall and hospitable roof! Associations mock, defy your power; the heart's affections laugh your wrath to scorn ! Ye cannot still the echoes of the LEGEND OF THE FIRST CASTLE OF GLAMIS. 33 past gag, silence memory's hallowed voice rude hush the heavenly music of these holy, cherished songs ! In accompanying me, therefore, through the classical and traditional region of Strathmore, I wish the reader not to be too exacting in regard to places and dates, nor too rigidly examine into, and prosaically compare the startling legendary incidents narrated with the pretended revelations of un- authenticated history. It is essential ever to bear in mind, while descanting on events so remote, that the earlier period of the history of Scotland is involved in great obscurity; that the first historical chronicles were compiled by the unlettered monks, chiefly from oral tradition ; and that the oldest history of Scotland extant is of a comparatively recent date. John Fordoun, a canon of Aberdeen, who flourished in the four- teenth century, was the writer of the first history of Scotland ; and, although Hailes and Chalmers have somewhat dispelled, the darkness which had so long overhung the early period of Scottish history, their discoveries must necessarily be still received with extreme caution, if not with pardonable doubt. It may be assumed, therefore, that I have no sympathy with those who would obscure the golden radiance of our legendary lore, or sacrilegiously attempt to obliterate the landmarks of poetry and song. In the hurry and excitement of this tumultuous and practically progressive age, let us admire and reverence the more the sacred impositions of genius, and cling with the greater fondness and tenacity to the loved and hal- lowed associations of the past. Premonitions are not awant- ing that the termination of the waning era of romance too assuredly draweth nigh. Let us not unfeelingly hasten pre- maturely the bitter end. Although record shows that the present Castle of Glamis was not begun to be built until the time of the first Earl of Kinghorn in 1578, yet for ages before the existence of written records, and claiming remote antiquity, there was a castle and royal residence of considerable extent within the C 34 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. parish. It is quite certain there was a hill fort upon an isolated rocky eminence in the Glen of Denoon, in the Sidlaw district of the parish. This glen, altogether, is a very lovely and romantic spot, reposing calmly among the bleak and barren hills, and forming a pleasant contrast to the gorgeous luxuriance of the " Great Valley." A sunny nook of Highland glen Peeps out behind yon mossy den. Lone spot ! enshrined 'mong heather hills, And watered fresh by mountain rills, In modest loveliness afar, Thou shinest bright, like distant star, The rosy morning glad to greet, In all thy loneliness how sweet ! The Hill of Denoon is steep, and of considerable height, one side of the rock being nearly perpendicular, while the other sides are of tolerably easy ascent. A stone wall, eight or nine feet in thickness, is carried obliquely round the Hill, encircling a space of 340 or 350 yards in circumference. Within this semi-circular and extensive rampart, there are scattered vestiges of the foundations of an immense castel- lated edifice, with traces of several entrances in the external walls. It is to this Castle, therefore, the following short legend refers. Eight hundred years have rolled away since the erection of the first Castle of Glamis ; yet from the darkness, turmoil, and strife of that early time comes, weird-like, a legend's muffled chime. The Hill of Denoon was at that remote period accounted sacred or haunted ground. It was the mythical abode of the elfins and fairies, and formerly a fitting haunt for their midnight revelries. When the silvery moonbeams lovingly slept in dreamy beauty on the green slopes of the enchanted Hill, and the blue bells and the purple heather were wet with the dew of angels' tears, arrayed in gossamer robes of bespangled gold, with wands of dazzling sheen and lances of magical bright- LEGEND OF THE FIRST CASTLE OF GLAMIS. 35 ness, would the troops of elfins flauntingly dance to the music of the zephyrs, until the shrill cry of the chanticleer put an end for the time to their mystical enchantments. Suddenly, as in blue clouds of vapour, they noiselessly vanished away, no sound remaining to break the oppressive stillness, save that of the mountain rivulet, as it fretfully leapt from crag to crag, as if piteously regretting the mysterious departure of its ethereal visitors. Having forsworn the presence and companionship of the terrestrial inhabitants of earth, it was a sacred dictum in the code of the fairies that no habitation for human beings should be permitted to be built within the hallowed precincts of the enchanted ground. Unable of themselves to guard against such sacrilegious encroachment, they had recourse to the aid of, and formed a secret compact with the demons, or evil spirits, whose sole avocation consisted in doing mischief, and bringing trouble and misfortune on those under the ban of their displeasure. By this compact these evil spirits became solemnly bound to prevent any human habitation whatever from being erected on the hill, and to blast in the bud any attempts whensoever and by whomsoever made to break this implacable, unalterable decree. It was about this time the alarm-note was sounded, as the Queen of the Fairies, who, with an eye more observant than the rest of her compeers, observed one evening in the moon- light, certain indications of the commencement of a human habitation. Horror and dismay were instantly pictured on the fair countenances of the masquerading troops of merry dancers as the awful truth was ominously revealed to them by the recent workmanship of human hands. A council of war was immediately held, when it was determined to summon at once the guardian spirits to their aid and protection. " By our sacred compact," cried the Queen, " I command the immediate attendance of all the demons and evil spirits of the air, to avenge the insult now offered to the legions of 36 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. Fairyland, and to punish the sacrilegious usurpers who dare infringe the sanctity of their mystical domains." These demons instantly obeyed the haughty summons, and, in the presence of those they had sworn to protect, they in a twinkling demolished the structure, hurling the well-propor- tioned foundations over the steep rock into the vale beneath ! The builder, doubtless very much surprised and chagrined when he returned to his work in the early dawn of the following morning, was sorely puzzled to account for the entire disappearance of the solid foundations of the great castle he intended to be erected on the Hill. He did not, however, waste much time, or use much philosophic argument, on the matter, and gave orders to prepare new foundations of even a more durable character. The demons, to show their invincible power, and for the sake of more effect, allowed the new foundations to rise a degree higher than the former, before they gave out their fiat of destruction. In an instant, however, they were again demolished, and the builder this time gravely assigning some fatal shock of Nature as the cause of the catastrophe quietly resolved to repair the damage by instantly preparing new and still more solid foundations. Additional and more highly skilled workmen were engaged, and everything for a time went favourably on, the walls of the castle rising grandly to view in all the solidity and beauty of the favourite architecture of the period. Biding their time, the demons again ruthlessly swept away as with a whirlwind every vestige of the spacious halls, razing the solid massy foundations so effectually that not one stone was left upon another ! Things were now assuming a rather serious aspect for the poor builder, who, thinking that he had at last hit upon the true cause of these successive disasters, attributed his mis- fortunes to the influence of evil spirits. A man of courage and a match, as he imagined, for all the evil spirits of Pandemonium, supposing they were let loose at once against LEGEND OF THE FIRST CASTLE OF GLAMIS. 37 him by the Prince of Darkness, he unhesitatingly resolved to keep watch and ward on the following night, and to defy all the hosts of hell to prevent him rebuilding the projected edifice. The night expected came ; but, alas, alas ! His courage failed when on the blast A demon swift came howling past, Loud screeching wild and fearfully, This ominous, dark, prophetic cry " Build not on this enchanted ground ! 'Tis sacred all these hills around ; Go build the castle in a bog, Where it will neither shake nor shog ! " CHAPTER V. LEGEND OF THE FIRST LYON OF GLAMIS. The clans and chiefs allegiance bring, For Robert Stuart is Scotland's king, Who, by his cousin, Rowallan fair Had daughters famed for beauty rare ; But ne'er was comelier maiden seen, More graceful, fair, than Ladye Jean. THE genealogy of the Stuart family, though the theme of many a fable, has by late antiquarians been distinctly traced to the great Anglo-Norman family of Fitz-Allan, in England. Walter Fitz-Allan in David the First's time, held the high office of Seneschal or Steward of "the King's household. This title was afterwards converted into a surname, and used as such by his descendants. It was the sixth High-Steward in succes- sion who married Marjory, the daughter of Robert the Bruce ; and to their only child, the seventh Lord High-Steward, the Crown of Scotland descended, on the extinction of the Bruce's line in his only son, David II. This monarch's reign was in- augurated at Scone, 27th March 1371, and it is to him the legend of the First Lyon of Glamis refers. The coronation of Robert II. having been celebrated with great pomp and magnificence at Scone, the Court proceeded to the Castle of Stirling then the favourite residence of royalty to keep high holiday in commemoration of the event. On receiving the hand of the Princess Euphemia in marriage, the Earl of Douglas at once abandoned his claim to the throne, and the clans and their warrior chiefs, as well as the lowland nobles, flocked in great numbers to the Castle to pay their willing allegiance to their lawful king. Tourneys and feasting LEGEND OF THE FIRST LYON OF GLAMIS. 39 were, for a time, the order of the day, the flower of the Scottish nobility, with many a titled dame of high degree, gaily mingling in the gorgeous and happy throng. The six daughters of the King by his first marriage with his cousin of Rowallan, famed for their grace and comely beauty, received by universal acclaim the spontaneous homage as the most beautiful in all that beautiful and courtly assemblage. Ladye Jean, the youngest of the Princesses, by her graceful deportment, winning manners, and peculiarly Scottish type of expression, was, however, par excellence the Queen of Beauty. The two principal State pages who waited on the Court were Sir James Lindsay and Sir John de Lyon. Sir James was of stern, cold, haughty demeanour, which somewhat detracted from the grace of his soldierly and handsome person, De Lyon was a youth of a very graceful and comely person courteous and complaisant in his manner, and a great favourite with the King, to whom he acted also in the capacity of private secretary. These two royal pages were, unknown to each other, both passionately in love with Ladye Jean. So carefully, however, had they concealed their thoughts each from the other, that no jealous rivalry had ever entered their breasts; so they kept no watch or ward on each other's movements, which otherwise they would have done, to an extent, perhaps, sufficient to endanger their mutual friendship and esteem. Queen Euphemia kept so strict surveillance over the Princesses that they seldom went beyond the Castle walls ; and even in the palace the ever-watchful eye of the Queen was constantly upon them, their slightest movement escaping not her notice. De Lyon, who was yet in ignorance of the real feelings of Ladye Jean towards him, naturally chafed under the restraint to which the Princesses were subjected, because he was thereby deprived of any opportunity to make a declar- ation of his love. The page, therefore, took a sudden resolution, beneath which was artfully concealed the real purpose he had in view. 40 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. Full of his deceptive mission, De Lyon one evening took his thoughtful yet solitary way along the gloomy corridors of the Castle, and having reached the Armoury Tower, the favourite resort of the Lindsay, he gently knocked for admis- sion. The ponderous door was instantly opened by Sir James who courteously greeted his unexpected visitor. " Thou oughtst to have been an Abbot, Sir James," said Lyon, playfully, " delighting thus in monkish solitude. The gloomy cloisters of a monastery would be a more appropriate residence for thee than the stately halls of a royal palace. Is not the bracing mountain air more lusciously sweet than the tainted atmosphere of courtly boudoirs, where royal dames, held captive, can only sigh, and mourn, and weep, protesting by their tears against such monastic surveillance 1 " " What means this jesting, John de Lyon 1 Knowest thou not the difference in rank there is between us 1 While thou art but an obscure scion of an obscure house, the blue blood of royalty flows in my veins. The King is my kinsman, and as yestreen I mingled in the gay and brilliant assembly in the banquet hall, I knew the Princesses were my near rela- tions my cousins, if thou wouldst have the truth told thee again to remind thee of thy inferior rank." The proud, disdainful manner of Lindsay, and the haughty, scornful tone in which these words were uttered, brought the blood to Lyon's cheek, and sunk deep into his heart the first feeling called up in his soul being that of resentment for the undeserved, contemptuous insult. This feeling, however, speedily vanished when he remembered Ladye Jean ; and, earnestly intent on his unsuspected mission, he broke the ominous silence thus " 'Tis of the Princesses I would speak with thee. Nay, brave Lindsay, be not uncourteous even to thy inferior in rank, and listen calmly to what I have to reveal." " Eeveal ? Then at thy peril keep nothing back. Thou to have anything to reveal in regard to the Princesses is, indeed, LEGEND OF THE FIRST LYON OF GLAMIS. 41 to me a mystery. Proceed, Lyon ; I am all impatient to hear thy pretended revelation." " Yes, Sir James, it is of thy royal cousins I would speak," De Lyon boldly replied. " The surveillance which the Queen so strictly exercises over the Princesses must have been noticed and deplored by one so deeply interested in their welfare and happiness as the brave Lindsay, from whose society they are even debarred, as well as from that of all frequenters of the Court. So strict, you must be aware, is their captive seclusion, that not the smallest courtesy can be paid to them by any about the Court." " What purpose, Lyon, hast thou in view ? " emphatically interrupted the Lindsay. " That the royal dames should have more liberty, and not thus pine in solitary seclusion, like sisters of mercy in a sainted nunnery," Lyon quickly replied. "The Princesses are young, and should not youthful hearts be gay ? Instead of this forced seclusion from the outer world, why should not they be free as the mountain winds to roam, wherever they may list, in all the joyous ecstacy of the hey-day of their exist- ence 1 Thou art their kinsman ; to the King make this petition : " The Princesses are unhappy, sire, in the strict seclusion in which they are kept in their palace home their wish is to have more freedom of access to the world without. Grant them graciously, my King, their heart's desire, to roam at will among these royal halls, and over the sunny slopes and breezy hills of this fair region of romance and song, and thus bring health, and strength, and gladness to their grateful, loving hearts." De Lyon had struck a kindred chord in the unsuspecting heart of his unknown rival, who, throwing off his partly assumed haughtiness of manner, very courteously and kindly replied "What assurance hast thou, Lyon, that Ladye Jean I mean the princesses, my cousins, themselves desire this 42 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. liberty 1 Art thou their trusty confidant in such matters 1 did they express their wishes secretly to thee 1 " Without noticing the deep searching glance of Lindsay's eye as he eagerly made the important inquiry, and pursuing the advantage he had gained, the page, half-confusedly, half- blushingly, replied " I am not the confidant of the Princesses, brave Lindsay, in this or in any other matter ; but I can truthfully penetrate their thoughts, and, without any communication with them personally, can prophetically express their wishes. To the King, Lindsay his Majesty will doubtless most willingly listen to thy plaint, and graciously grant the prayer of thy petition/' " I faithfully promise, De Lyon," warmly replied Sir James, whose lynx eyes failed to detect aught of deceit or treachery, " and I feel that His Majesty's love for the happiness of his children will constrain him to grant the coveted boon." The page, overjoyed and proud he had played his first desperate card in the game so well, with ill-suppressed gaiety most obsequiously proffered his respectful thanks for the courtesy extended to him by the now mollified and gracious Lindsay. They parted both firmly resolved to push unremittingly their suit with Ladye Jean ! His heart and interest being in the matter, Sir James most faithfully, and with a right good will, kept his promise to Lyon. and embraced the first opportunity to lay his petition before the King ; and so well and powerfully did he plead their cause, that His Majesty, to the great joy of his kinsman, most graciously agreed that the Princesses should be at once freed from their bondage, and allowed to roam wherever they listed, taking blame at the sametime to himself for having so long allowed the Queen to keep his daughters in the durance vile of a convent cell. This was just what Lyon in his inmost heart desired, and as his duties as domestic page brought him oftener into the LEGEND OF THE FIRST LYON OF GLAMIS. 43 presence of the royal dames than Lindsay, he had determined within himself that he would take advantage of every oppor- tunity to prosecute his suit with Ladye Jean. In the fond dreamings of youthful passion there is infinitely more conveyed by the glance of the eye or the pressure of the hand than in all the formal declarations of mutual feeling, however impassioned or sincere ; or in all the heaven-registered vows of unalter- able affection and undying love in which the doubtful and mistrustful so fatally indulge. Lyon therefore knew, before any formal declaration of his love had been made to Ladye Jean, that his passion was reciprocated by the Princess, but he still anxiously waited for a fitting opportunity to receive her willing assent to his suit. Ladye Jean was alone one evening in her favourite boudoir, to which De Lyon stealthily repaired, and on bended knee made the customary obeisance. He slowly raised his eyes to those of the Princess, and felt that his passionate love was read and returned. One moment more and they were fervently locked in each- other's embrace, avowing their mutual love, and declaring unalterable constancy and fidelity in whatever circumstances might intervene before the full fruition of their hopes. Strange as it may seem, however, no sooner was the conquest gained than dark foreboding fears usurped the cruel mastery in De Lyon's mind ; for how could he, an obscure page, successfully aspire to the hand of a Princess, and willingly be allowed to wed the favourite child of a proud and royal race 1 True, inter-marriages had frequently taken place between sons and daughters of Scottish Kings and the representatives of ancient and powerful families, but John De Lyon had neither houses nor lands, not even a rood of ground he could call his own. The arrival at this juncture, however, of a polished stranger from the Court of France gave a new and darker current to the thoughts of the sorrowful page. This courtier was none other than the brave Sir Maurice De Charoll^s, famous as well 44 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. for his conquests amongst the fair as for his prodigies of valour in the field of battle. His stately person, courtly mien, and high intellectual attainments made him a general favourite with all, but especially so with the Princesses and ladyes of the Court. At the stirring chase, as well as in the banquet hall, he was equally successful by his refined and captivating manner in winning the good graces of the fair. Then, at evening's witching hour, when the ladyes assembled in their tapestry-adorned boudoirs, would the practised and polished Frenchman sing to the accompaniment of the harp the stir- ring songs of love and chivalry While bosoms heaved the stifled sigh, And ladyes drooped the languid eye. And none seemed so charmed with his presence and courtly demeanour, and to none, apparently, did he devote so much of his fascinating attentions as Ladye Jean ! All the movements of the gallant cavalier had been closely watched by Lyon, as well as those of his ladye-love, but just as his feelings of jealousy had assumed the determination to seek an interview with Lad^e Jean on the subject, the announcement was made in the palace that previous to the departure of the French knight he had desired to paint not only the portraits of all the Princesses, but to take them with him to the French Court. This openly avowed intention of De Charolles confirmed the page's suspicions, and intensified his fears lest, under this device, he might the more securely carry out his covert design to spirit off the Ladye Jean herself to France. Exasperated by the apparent artful stratagems of the gallant knight, and writhing under the pangs of almost hope- less despair, he sought in haste his ladye-love, and in Avild and passionate language poured into her ear his tale of jealous rivalry and gloomy, dark forebodings as to their future destiny. The Princess ignorant of any intrigue or deceit on her part in wild amazement confidingly exclaimed " Is there no hope, De Lyon no hope 1 " LEGEND OF THE FIRST LYON OF GLAMIS. 45 " Yes, there is hope," the page replied ; " a plan have I matured which, if properly put in execution, will not only avert from us the threatened danger, and happily result in our loving betrothal, but upon you more than on myself, will depend its final and successful issue." " On me, more than on yourself, will depend the successful issue 1 ?" rejoined the Princess. "Some ruse or artful stratagem, I fear. Unfold at once your scheme, De Lyon, that I may judge of its fitness to promote the end in view." With deep and bated brqath, as on the issue hung his future fate, did Lyon, with the warmest protestations of undying love, effectually pave the way for the expected revelation of Tiis self-lauded plan, and then, lowering his thick and husky voice to its lowest hollow notes, he whispered in the lady's ear some words of ominous import for, quickly and proudly raising her indignant head, the Princess hastily replied " No ! such foul disgrace shall never stain the unsullied honour of our kingly race. Lyon, I love thee but we must part now for ever. Such impure thoughts would break my bursting heart. Farewell ! " " But 'tis the semblance, love, of crime not crime itself," entreatingly replied the page, seizing affectionately at the same time the hand of the Princess to prevent her escape, while he passionately continued " Time, assuredly, in the end, will bring our coveted reward, and to the Court and all the world most clearly and effectually prove your innocence." " Never, never ! " replied the Princess disdainfully, thrusting away his hand. "There's not a dame in all the land, however lowly or meanly born, but would scorn such a treacherous, villanous scheme, and indignantly spurn a plan so full of shame and dire disgrace." " Thou dost not love me, Ladye Jean, " in a highly assumed, offended tone, the page rejoined. "By treachery and stealth some other knight hath gained thy love, and now, forsooth, thou art glad to rid thee of my presence." 46 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. " 'Tis false, 'tis false ! Thy daring scheme in all its most minute details unfold, and though it may require the heart of a lion to crown it with victory, that bitter taunt I'll prove was to me most cruel and undeserved." Lyon, skilled in all the phases of the human heart, now dexterously pursued the advantage he had gained, and in passionate and eloquent terms strove to reach the point he had hitherto attempted in vain, when, to his great joy, the Princess gradually relented, until at last she gave her willing consent to the mysterious compact. A bold scheme assuredly it was which Lyon had conceived and now unfolded to the Princess. The dark proposal, so full of risk and danger, he had made to the spotless maiden, was none other than this that at the fit season she should permit the slanderous rumour that the French knight, by wily, flattering tongue, had gained the mastery over her young and inexperienced heart, and that the intrigue would disgrace the hitherto unimpeachable honour of her stainless race. " But art thou sure," abashed and doubtingly inquired the Princess, " that when the dark report shall reach the ear of my father the King, he will listen to thy proffered plea, and willingly give my hand to thee ? " " Yes, yes ! " impetuously replied the page, " although thou dost not fully comprehend, the end will be in reality what we wish. Act thou thy part. Farewell ! " " 'Tis well," rejoined the Princess, sadly, " yet how in my virgin heart of innocence I loathe the despicable plot. Farewell ! " The time fixed upon for the departure of De Charolles had now arrived, when, in courtly terms to the Court, and gallant adieux to the ladyes fair, the cavalier took his leave, and, attended by a splendid retinue, he disappeared in as gay and stately a manner as he had arrived. The knight had not been long gone when some strange, undefined sickness confined the Ladye Jean to her own LEGEND OF THE FIRST LYON OF GLAMIS. 47 apartments in the Castle, which circumstance coming to the expectant ears of Lyon, he saw the time for action had come, and that not a moment was to be lost. " Another desperate card to play," thought the artful page, as he anxiously bent his devious way through the tortuous corridors of the Castle to the distant tower on the ramparts, where the Lindsay spent his evening hours in solitary musings on camp and field. He was admitted right courteously by Sir James, who, however, could not help wondering what the motive might be which had induced this midnight visit, and the more so on observing the sad and downcast mien of the page, so different from his usual happy and joyous temperament. De Lyon still continuing silent, the Lindsay, amazed at his reticence, very kindly asked the nature of his errand. The dissembling page, with trembling tongue and down- cast face, at once confessed the dire and foul disgrace which he by his guilty amour had brought on the Royal house. " Nay thou art dreaming, Lyon," tenderly the Lindsay said. "Rest thee awhile upon this silken couch, and sing, as thou wert wont in ladye's bower some of those soft and pensive songs of chase and love and beauty, more congenial to thy nature than the morose orisons of the cloister or the nunnery. " The page still downward cast his troubled eyes, crimsoned and blushed, and solemnly averred that all he had confessed was true. Then, as if terrified at the sound his fatal words had made, he shrunk abashed from his interrogator's presence. The astonishment and rage of Lindsay was so great and overwhelming for the moment, that his words were hoarsely choked in his throat on their fiery way to his lips ; so, drawing his trusty sword, he was about wreaking instant vengeance, when De Lyon exclaimed " Hold ! hold ! thy sword return to its scabbard listen to me calmly for a moment, and I will show thee a way 48 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. whereby thou mayest mercifully screen and protect the guilty, and bring showers of gratitude on thyself as the instrument thereof." De Lyon then proposed that Lindsay, early on the morrow should seek a private audience of the King, and in sorrowful and downcast mood, charge with guilt the Ladye Jean, yet not to reveal the whole truth, adroitly concealing the page as an actor in the scene, and, pointing with earnest look and meaning glance to the gallant Knight of France, endeavour to persuade His Majesty that his unholy intrigues had stained with crime the unsullied reputation of his favourite daughter. Then make this proposal humbly to the King that, to prevent the inevitable exposure of the intrigue, the Ladye Jean be given in marriage to John de Lyon, who, doubtless, would only be too glad to comply with His Majesty's command. The breast of the proud Lindsay now heaved with inde- scribable agony, boiling passion, and choking rage, and nothing would assuage his deeply-injured feelings, intensified as they were with such a sudden and bitter disappointment to all his most valued and cherished hopes. De Lyon, seeing the intensity of his grief, with great tact and knowledge of human nature, calmly allowed its wrath to expend itself when, quickly seizing the opportune moment to resume the game, he boldly told the sorrow-stricken Lindsay that nothing less than what he had proposed, would wipe away the disgrace from the escutcheon of the Eoyal House. Scarcely yet comprehending the full extent of his degrada- tion and misery, the Lindsay retired to an oriel recess in his chamber, to ruminate on the apparently hopeless condition of his prospects and love, and to take counsel with himself as to his future course under the circumstances. He thus reasoned : De Lyon had never seen aught between himself and Ladye Jean to create the slightest suspicion of his real feelings towards the Princess ; there could, therefore, be no jealousy or rivalry in the matter. If LEGEND OF THE FIRST LYON OF GLAMIS. 49 the confession now made by Lyon be true, could he in his heart of hearts really love the woman who could not bring him honour ? As to the first, he felt shut up, however reluctantly, to give credence to the page's confession ; as to the second, he could not, as a man of honour himself, not only not have any affection or love for the guilty, but must spurn the very thought of such a feeling remaining in his breast. Love, he felt, must now give place to pity, and by this feeling his future actions in the case would be regulated. Approaching the disconsolate page, the Lindsay, with the graceful air of generous chivalry, most fervently promised that on the early morrow he would not only see the King, but plead Lyon's cause in the disguise he had himself proposed, and with all the entreative earnestness of a mutual and trusty friend. " To-morrow, then, De Lyon," said the Lindsay, " we meet again ; meantime, farewell." "Another card," thought Lyon, "well played ;" and as he bent his way in the midnight silence and gloom of the palace halls, most fervently did he invoke the aid of angels, and of saints to guide the last bold throw in the desperate game to a successful issue, for on this depended the future fame or dis- grace of his eventful life. Next day when the Lindsay was admitted to the presence of the King, he found his Majesty arrayed and equipped for the Koyal hunt, who in an unusual flow of good spirits, received his kinsman with the most familiar condescension, and gracious courtesy. Lindsay, however, came to the point, and explained his errand at once, withholding nothing of the compact between him and the page. Who can depict the sudden and awful revulsion of feeling experienced by the grief-stricken King ? Up and down upon bis seat he swung with the most intense and bitter agony. The grey old castle rung like thunder with his threat of vengeance on the guilty head of his debased, undutiful daughter, renouncing her for ever as unworthy any more of D 50 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. his protection and paternal love. The climax of his ungovern- able rage was reached when, with a fearful damning oath, he swore that within the sacred precincts of his Court no gay French cavalier would ever be admitted more ! Lindsay, who felt that his mission was only yet half fulfilled, now, with wily, persuasive tongue, proposed that John de Lyon should wed the Ladye Jean, thus screening the guilty conduct of his daughter, and averting the inevitable disgrace which must otherwise fall on the Royal house. Not knowing of the artful plot, the King, in another sudden revulsion of feeling, forgot both his shame and his wrath, for this proposal of Lindsay entirely changed the current of his thoughts. Like a drowning man, he caught the straw ; for he at once perceived that to save his name and lineage from infamy, immediate marriage must take place. Dismissing Lindsay, John de Lyon was instantly summoned to the presence of the King. Not wishing that the page should suppose the thought had suddenly entered his mind, the King had quickly thrown aside his hunting habiliments, so that when the page appeared in his presence he had assumed his ordinary costume, and sat in the Royal chair as if nothing had occurred to disturb the general equanimity of his temper and demeanour. Uncertain whether Lindsay had been true or false, De Lyon stood before the monarch in a blushing, doubtful mood, not daring even to ask his royal pleasure. The King himself broke the painful silence, and thus kindly addressed the trembling page " A trusty and obedient servant long hast thou been, De Lyon, and I am wishful to reward thy faithfulness, yet feel somewhat at a loss what shape thy recompense may assume. Approach John Lyon melancholy and sad, I ween ! Come, raise thy blushing, drooping head, and picture a bright and sunny future. Listen for thy great clerkly skill and faithful servitude, I will bestow upon thee this reward thy dearest wish ; thy heart's desire will I grant thee. How high, De Lyon, dost thou aspire 1 " LEGEND OF THE FIRST LYON OF GLAMIS. 51 Inwardly congratulating himself on his success, in strange, bewildered amazement he raised his eyes to those of the King to assure, himself the scene was real, and not a wild dream of his heated imagination. Not reading the thoughts nor com- prehending the real feelings of the page, the King continued " All my daughters are now affianced excepting one the Ladye Jean and for thy worth and services, De Lyon, I would on thee bestow her hand." The artful page could scarce conceal his inward emotion, and deeply blushing even at his own success, replied in broken sentences how much he prized the unexpected boon, conclud- ing his confused expression of thanks by passionately exclaim- ing in the height of his joy " You have indeed, sire, granted to me the fulfilment of my dearest wishes, my fondest heart's desire ; for I have ever most truly, affectionately loved the Ladye Jean ! " " 'Tis well 'tis well ; then be it so," rejoined the King; and, as the page was leaving the Royal presence, his Majesty kindly beckoned him back again, called him a mulish, love- sick swain, and, as he could brook no delay in the matter, enjoined him to fix at once his nuptial day : " To-morrow if thou wilt at noon." The news of the approaching Royal wedding was hailed by the Court with the greatest satisfaction and delight, all approv- ing highly of the monarch s choice De Lyon having always been a marked favourite with every one, from the lowest to the highest in rank, ever since he became a courtier and a Royal page. Meanwhile the lovers, with their secret pent up in their own breasts, longed for the time to give full vent to their triumphant, blissful joy, their very caution lest they should betray their real feelings being, strange as it may seem, the subtlest, most hazardous card they had to play ! At length, with great pomp and splendour, and high regal magnificence, the nuptials of the happy pair were duly cele- brated, and all save one rejoiced in the budding joy, and 52 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. showered their best wishes and richest blessings on the loving hearts which had that day been united in the holy bonds of wedlock. The one who formed the solitary exception was Sir James Lindsay, who, pale and downcast, mingled not in the gay and glittering throng, but mused apart as in deepest solitude, apparently unconscious of any other presence save his own. Alas ! no wonder the brave Lindsay is sad despondingly sad for his early, only love, she once so pricelessly dear to his manly heart, hath now been given to another. Next day, De Lyon, impatient of restraint, and unable longer to conceal the victory he had gained, repaired to Lindsay's chamber, and as he entered stood confused, and sighed and blushed, and at last unfolded the deceitful tale, laying strength and emphasis on the cunning device, and con- fessing triumphantly the whole details of the artful plot, not omitting the emphatic declaration of the pure and perfect innocence of himself and the Princess ! Unaware of his attachment to the Princess, Lyon was con- founded at the fierce and fiendish glare of the Lindsay's eye, and the terribly knit and scowling brow, as the wild, tumultuous heaving of his manly breast foreshadowed the corning storm. "Thou hast deceived me," hoarsely and savagely he said at length, " vile wretch !" then paused in his paroxysm of rage. " A villanous traitor hast thou been dog miscreant the Princess was my bride I loved, most dearly loved the Ladye Jean ! Enjoy your stolen bliss, deceitful, treacherous boy, but when we meet again beware !" De Lyon, by his courteous demeanour and exemplary con- duct, ingratiated himself into the good graces of his Royal father-in-law, who raised him to the high office of Grand Chamberlain of Scotland, and as a fitting dowry to his daughter, the Ladye Jean, bestowed on him the Castle and broad lands of Glamis, in whose family they have ever since remained. LEGEND OF THE FIRST LYON OF GLAMIS. 53 Many long years had rolled away since the nuptials of Lyon and Ladye Jean were celebrated in the Castle of Stirling, yet, although actively engaged in the stirring scenes of that eventful period, and victorious in many a hard-fought conflict on the field of battle, the Lindsay never forgot the scene, the plot, the threat, nor Ladye Jean ! The day of vengeance came at last. On the moss of Bal- hill, to the eastward of Glamis, the Lindsay and De Lyon once more, and for the last time, met. Each had brought his own retainers to the deadly combat, and long and fierce did the furious conflict rage. With ponderous battle-axe and shivering spear, midst hellish shoutings of the savage hordes, the combatants were stricken down upon the plain, while along the ridges like the rushing rain ran the crimson blood of the doughty warriors, till the battle-field was thickly strewn with the ghastly heaps of the dying and the dead. "Hold!" cried the Lindsay; "cease the strife, spill no more precious blood; to single combat, Lyon thy life or mine shall now decide the day." Paralysed by the fierceness and determination of his adver- sary, and, doubtless, feeling that now indeed his hour was come, De Lyon lost all presence of mind, advancing to meet his deadly enemy as if in a trance or mystic dream. Not so the Lindsay ! On, on impetuously he rushed and with one true and deadly blow, low laid the suppliant Lyon at his feet. "Take that," he fiercely cried, as he thrust at Lyon's heart his bloody sword. " 'Twill be some time ere thou embrace again thy Ladye Jean ! " And thus in bloody combat fell, On Balhill Moss there, mark it well The first that name of Lyon bore, Who owned the Barony of Strathmore. CHAPTER VI. THE LEGEND OF THE MURDER OF MALCOLM II. Strange, we should meet thus drear and lone Beside King Malcolm's sculptured stone : 'Tis well we come not to this shrine To plight in fear your faith and mine An evil omen hovers round This curs'd, mysterious, fatal ground. ROBERT CHAMBERS, in his "Memoir of Burns," with refer- ence to the vision seen at Alloway Kirk by Tarn o' Shanter, makes the prosaic yet not altogether surprising observation that the witches must have had very little room in which to dance he and others of like sort and compass of mind en- tirely ignoring the truism that he who created the witches could also have created space. Applying generally this rule and plummet kind of criticism, what would become of all our fondly-cherished associations, our venerated legendary rom- ance, our ancient love and vivid ^realisation of the creations of poetic genius 1 What distinguishes Homer as the greatest of all poets is his invention. It is this amazing and unequalled trait of his unrivalled genius that hurries on his verses " Like a fire that sweeps the whole earth before it." It is this invention that places the Iliad of Homer so far above the jEneas of Virgil, and stamps the author thereof as the highest in rank of any writer that ever lived. In the vivid- ness of his descriptions ; in the animation of his battles ; in the unfolding of the workings of the tender passions ; in the force and delineation of character, everything lives, and moves, LEGEND OF THE MURDER OF MALCOLM II. 55 and has a being, and this to such an intense degree, that we forget we are reading a magnificent fable, and see only as a realised reality the matchless beauty of Helen, the insatiable wrath of Achilles, the generalship of Agamemnon, the bravery of Hector, the galleys of Crocylia, the ships of Athens, and the barks of Crete ; the glittering spires of Ilion, the im- perial towers of Corinth, and the lofty guarded walls and spear-crowned battlements of Troy ! Coming down to the remote events of our own country, notwithstanding that modern historians now generally assert that Malcolm II. died a peaceable death, we still obstinately cling to the mystical tradition which represents him as hav- ing been barbarously murdered by some of the adherents of Kenneth V., in the wood of Thornton, while on his way to the Castle of Glamis. The wood of Thornton, it may be re- marked, takes its designation from the hamlet of that name, situated immediately to the eastward, in the parish of Kin- nettles. In reality, however, it is not a distinct wood by itself, being merely the northern shoulder of the Hunter Hill already noticed, and to which frequent allusion will be made in the future. It was winter night in the year of our Lord 1033 ; the snow lay deep upon the ground ; wild, dreary desolation reigned throughout the great Howe of Strathmore. As an invited and ever-welcome guest, King Malcolm was on his way to the ancient Castle of Glamis. His gallant and gaily- caparisoned steed bore him with fearless haste along the hard, crisp snow, until, having passed lone Kerbet Bridge, the lights of the battlemented castle appeared in the distance to gladden the heart of the royal traveller. His journey was nearly ended ; and, bidding adieu to the cares and anxieties of State, he slowly reined in his impetuous steed, and, dream- ing not of danger, he gave himself up to the full enjoyment of the hour. Alas ! these walls no more again Shall echo glad his joyous strain ; 56 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. No more shall he in court or hall Gay maiden's yielding hearts enthral, Nor softly sing in Ladye's bowers, At ev'ning's sweet and stilly hours ; Nor in the forest, or the hill, When early morn her dews distil, At thrilling sound of hunter's horn, Shall chase the deer through brake and thorn ; Soon shall the song in Glamis' hall Be changed to wailing, and o'er all Be hung, in dark funereal gloom, The sable mantle of the tomb ! The king had now reached the middle of the dark, thickly- planted wood of Thornton, when, rushing out from a clump of waving pine, three stalwart assassins, armed with sword and battleaxe, confronted the unsuspecting monarch. In a twinkling they unhorsed the King, and before he could draw his sword in self-defence, he was felled to the earth by his cowardly murderers, his gushing heart's blood dyeing with crimson gore the white and virgin snow all around where he fell. His warrior steed, who had often before borne his royal master to the princely Castle of Glamis, with strange instinct, almost amounting to reason, careered away to Glamis the moment the monarch fell. Besmeared with the crimson blood of his master, he stood neighing at the gates of the Castle until admitted by the astonished and horror-stricken warder, who immediately gave the^alarm to the inmates of the Castle. In a moment the revels ceased. Save those of vengeance, no sounds were now heard in the princely Castle. The banquet hall resounded with the wild shrieks of agony, and fear and horror filled the minds of all. The lawn in front of the Castle was soon thronged by doughty warriors and armed retainers, determined to unravel the mystery, for that the King had been basely murdered there could be no shadow of doubt. They waited long and patiently for the Lord of Glamis to give the word, and lead LEGEND OF THE MURDER OF MALCOLM II. 57 them on to vengeance with his trusty sword, but they waited in vain. With a deep and ominous sound it was whispered hoarsely that he had mysteriously disappeared ! The chief warder of the Castle, however, now manfully put himself at their head ; and, tracing the horse's bloody hoof- prints on the frozen snow, they soon reached the wood at Thornton, where, to their grief and horror, in a dark clump of mountain pine, they found the mangled remains of the barbarously murdered King. Wild and deep now loudly arose the coronach's ringing wail, striking terror into the hearts of the cowardly assassins, who still hovered round the scene of the murder. But, guided by their bloody track, their fierce avengers were soon on the pursuit. Following close on their heels, they gave instant chase, pursuing the assassins o'er the snowy moonlit plain. Almost overtaken, they betook themselves to the lake of Forfar, which being but imperfectly frozen over, the ice gave way, and they miserably perished in sight of their avengers, but not until the spirit of their murdered King had appeared unto them, wielding the sword of vengeance o'er their guilty heads as they sank to rise no more. To the keen eye of the warder, two only seemed to die in the lake, whereas all along the vale the bloody footprints of three different persons were distinctly traceable on the snow, until, having reached the lonely pine wood on the shore, the imprints of one had disappeared ! The absence of their noble host from the Castle when the blood-smeared steed appeared at its gates did to him seem mysterious and unaccountable. He kept these dark thoughts, however, within his own breast, trusting to time to unravel the mystery. The avengers now retraced their footsteps to the wood of Thornton, where they had left one of their number in charge of the body of the King. Clad in a flowing robe of Kendal green, the Bard of Glamis, grey and hoary with years, walked with stately and measured tread before the royal corpse, which, amidst profound grief, was now borne to the silent halls of the 58 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. Castle. On approaching the gates, where still stood the faithful steed of the murdered monarch, the aged minstrel strung his jewelled harp, and thus, in solemn accents, sung : THE MINSTREL'S LAMENT. Oh ! dark was the hour, Remorseless the power, That laid our young King Malcolm low ; No harm reck'd he, Or black treachery, Or vile and dark assassins' blow. In gladsome mood He reach'd the dark wood, His steed dashing cheerily ; No time to repent, Quick as lightning was sent His soul to eternity ! Now shed the salt tear O'er his blood-red bier, And heave the sigh deep of sorrow ; Reign no more will he, Ne'er on earth shall he see Tho dawn of the beautiful morrow. Jehovah is nigh ; Though th' assassins may fly, 'Tis time of their sins they were shriven, For now we call down The Almighty's frown, And the swift awful vengeance of Heaven ! In the wood of Thornton, to the eastward of the village of Glamis, and on the spot where the murder was committed, there is a large cairn of stones surrounding an ancient obelisk, which is called King Malcolm's gravestone. The obelisk stands at a short distance from the road, in the most gloomy part of the wood, realising to the fullest extent all our high and weird imaginings of the dark and bloody scene. On this gravestone are rudely sculptured the figures of two men who are represented as forming the bloody conspiracy. A lion and a centaur on the upper part seem to be emblematical of the cowardly nature and horrible barbarity of the crime. Several LEGEND OF THE MURDER OF MALCOLM II. 59 kinds of fishes are also represented on the stone as symbolical of the loch in which the murderers unexpectedly met a watery grave. For long years after the assassination of Malcolm, the Lord of Glamis often took his sad and solitary way to the dark and lonely wood of Thornton, and lowly bowed his weary head over the spot where the tragical event occurred. This strange conduct did not escape the keen and ever-watchful eye of the warder, who, not unjustly, thought he had now detected suffi- cient to unveil the mystery already alluded to. A stronger confirmation of his dark suspicions, however, was soon to be afforded to him. About this time the proud Earl of Angus, with his fair daughter Finella, arrived on a visit to Glamis Castle. The Lord of Glamis was instantly smitten with the matchless beauty of the fascinating maiden. His love being apparently returned, he boldly asked her hand in marriage from her lordly father, which priceless boon was most courteously and graciously granted. By a strange fascination or infatuation, the Lord of Glamis, one morning of quiet summer beauty, led his affianced bride to the lonely wood of Thornton, and there, bound by a holy oath, they solemnly plighted their troth to each other. Not content with this mutual compact, the Lord of Glamis called aloud for the spirit of the murdered King to appear and be wit- ness of their solemn engagement. Sad, fatal wish ! Wrapped in his shroud of clotted gore, the monarch appeared to the terror-stricken maiden, and, casting on them both a withering frown of revengeful scorn, slowly disappeared again among the silent dead ! And yet at length these two were wed, and a family of three sons grew up in beauty around them ; but a curse seemed to have settled upon them, each .striving for the mastery. So they led a very unhappy, wretched life. One morn, with ominous foreboding, it was hoarsely whispered their hopeful heir could not be found, and the 60 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. Lord of Glamis immediately ordered strict search to be made for the missing boy. " On, on with me, o'er glen and hill," he excitedly ex- claimed. " Some scour the wood and some the plain, and return not from the search until your young lord you have found, and placed him safe within my loving arms, and then throughout the Castle halls shall mirth and song abound to celebrate his restoration to his father and his friends," But ah ! the dawning of the following morn still saw them sad pursue their search in vain, till, having reached the troubled lake, their worst fears were realised ; for there upon the crested waves was sleeping his last sleep the heir to all those wide domains the hope and joy of the proud Lord of Strathmore ! Soon again was heard the bitter wail of lamentation and sorrow, for one of their other sons had with youthful curiosity, crept his devious way to where the loftiest towers in grim array frowned sternly o'er the donjon keep of the Castle, and looking over the deep chasm, his little head grew giddy, and down into the gulf below he fell, and before the eyes of his father was dashed to pieces on the ground. Their other child, a lovely and amiable boy, was now tended and caressed with the most anxious care and filial love. All in vain ! Watched by a father's loving eye, the sportive boy one summer morn was joyously bounding o'er the green- sward in front of the Castle, when, swift and suddenly as the lightning's flash, a wild and heavily-antlered stag, with one furious, fatal stroke, laid the lovely prattler dead at his father's feet. Full oft, though revelling in sumptuous, almost regal mag- nificence, would Grlamis and his proud ladye mourn their sad and bitter fate, and inwardly curse that fatal morn they pledged their love and plighted their troth at the gravestone of the murdered King. It was a wild and stormy winter's eve. The old grey towers and battlements of the Castle shook to their foundations as LEGEND OF THE MURDER OF MALCOLM II. 61 the blustering tempest expended its demoniac wrath on the grand old feudal pile. Guests and retainers were alike awe- struck with terror when now there mingled with and rose above the fury of the gale the long, loud, wailing shrieks of mortal agony, as if from one imploring help from the attacks of some deadly enemy. The host had not been seen since the storm began ! Appre- hensive of some fearful catastrophe, all excepting Ladye Glamis now frantically rushed to the private chamber of the Lord of Glamis, situate in one of the gloomiest battlements of the Castle. The shrieks of agony and implorations for mercy had ceased, and there, on the cold oaken floor, lay the dead body of Glamis, the contorted features of the corpse vividly indica- tive of some fearful struggle with the Prince of Darkness, or his avenging legions from Pandemonium's innermost hell ! With great expressions of grief, the Ladye Glamis gave her Lord a sumptuous funeral, but none believed her professions of sorrow ; and when in Thornton Wood she was shortly after- wards found by some of her menials weltering in her blood, no tears were shed over her, nor vespers sung or said they buried her in silence where she fell, no priest or minstrel breaking by bead or harp the stillness of the scene : And to this day no voice of song Is ever heard these woods among ' Tis there the ravens croaking fly, And owl and bat hold revelry. CHAPTEE VII. LEGEND OF THE SECRET CHAMBER. The Castle now again behold, Then mark yon lofty turret bold, Which frowns above the western wing, Its grim walls darkly shadowing. There is a room within that tower No mortal dare approach ; the power Of an avenging God is there, Dread, awfully display'd beware ! And enter not that dreaded room, Else yours may be a fearful doom ! To hunt the wild boar of the forest, as well as the red deer of the hill, was the great and favourite pastime of the grim cavaliers and warriors of old. The far-famed, richly-wooded, and romantic " Hunter Hill " rears its umbrageous, lofty head immediately to the south of the village of Glamis, and within a short distance of the hoary old Castle. It is sometimes not very easy satisfactorily to trace the etymology of places which have become historically famous. There can be little doubt, however, but that the name of this hill, in some way or other, refers to the chase, which from a very remote period, was the national amusement of Scotland. In such high estimation was this favourite pastime held by the nobility and gentry, that, by the forest laws of Canute the Great, " no person under the rank of a gentleman was allowed to keep a grey- hound." This hill, therefore, being of very considerable ex- tent, and abounding in game, might on this account have been selected as the favourite arena of the chase, and been distinguished by the pre-eminent title of the " Hunter Hill." The " meet " at Glamis on the morning of the hunt presented LEGEND OF THE SECRET CHAMBER. 63 one of the most stirring and picturesque scenes, therefore, that could either by painter or poet be imagined. On a grey, crisp morning in early spring there congregated on the undulating greensward in front of the Castle as gay and brilliant a throng as had ever heretofore assembled in martial array for the chase. Here, the stalwart swarthy mountaineers, attended by their grim and faithful henchmen, rode majestically along in the rear, and under the guidance of the doughty, steel-clad chief- tains of each Highland clan, all cheered by the stirring sounds of the pibroch they loved so well. There, the flower of Lowland chivalry, with nodding plume and glancing spear, bestrode their fiery and impatient steeds in all the lordly state of cavaliers of high degree. Yonder, more intensely interesting and beautiful than all besides, on richly caparisoned palfreys, rode sweet lovely groups of ladyes fair, attended and adored by their obsequious courtiers, whose chief delight and duty it was to gratify and obey. The bugle sounds ! To join the hunt they hie away, fast as their gallant steeds can carry them, to the Hunter Hill and Glen of Ogilvy, the favourite resort of the wild boar, the red deer, and the buck. Like arrows shot from the bent bow of the archer, they dart on their several ways some scouring the pine-clad lofty hills, and some the heath-covered, bleak, uncultivated plains ; each by some valiant, chivalrous deed, striving unceasingly to win the coveted trophies of the slain as practical proofs of their daring prowess in the hunt, as well as in the battlefield ; these trophies to be presented, as their wont, to the ladyes fair and gay, who in the one case accom- panied them in their Kendal livery of green, and in the other, who either in bower or hall awaited anxiously and lovingly their long-loo ked-f or return. As the result of this unceasing activity, many a noble deer lay dead upon the hill, and many a grizly boar dyed with his heart's blood the rivers of the plain. The day drew near its close, and the sturdy ghillies having collected together the spoils of the chase, and slung them on the horses appointed 64 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. for the purpose, the wearied and exhausted huntsmen with their fair attendants returned, 'midst the sounds of martial music and the low whispered roundelays of the ladyes, victorious to the Castle. Then, at the high behest of Glamis, was rudely yet richly spread in the old baronial dining-hall the sumptuous and savoury feast. Venison and reeking game, rich smoked ham and savoury roe, flanked by the wild boar's head, and viands and pasties without name, blent profusely on the hospitable board, while jewelled and capacious goblets, filled with ruby wine, were lavishly handed round to the admiring guests. The banquet over, the minstrel strung his ancient harp, and charmed the company with his martial songs. And then they tripped it lightly on the oaken floar till the rafters rang with the merry sounds of their midnight revelry. At break of day -exhausted languor crept unconsciously over the numerous guests, and chieftains grim and ladyes gay retired to their several chambers to seek repose ; and silence reigned over the vast old feudal pile, erewhile so full of mirth- ful revelry. For three days and nights the hunt and the feast continued, varied with tilt and tournament on the lawn in front of the Castle. The third day of the revelries drew at last to a close, and cavaliers and retainers again retired to seek repose. The waning lights waxed faint and dim. Yet still four dark chieftains remained in an inner chamber of the Castle, and sang and drank, and shouted right merrilie. The day broke, yet louder rang the wassail roar ; the goblets were over and over again replenished, and the terrible oaths and ribald songs continued, and the dice rattled, and the revelry became louder still, till the massy walls of the old Castle shook and rever- berated with the awful sounds of debauchery, blasphemy, and crime. At length their wild, ungovernable frenzy reached its climax. They had drunk until their eyes had grown dim, and their hands could scarcely throw the hellish dice, when driven LEGEND OF THE SECRET CHAMBER. 65 by expiring fury, with fiendish glee they defiantly gnashed their teeth and cursed the God of heaven ! Then, with returning strength, and exhausting its last and fitful energies in still louder imprecations and more fearful yells, they deliberately, and with unanimous voice, consigned their guilty souls to the nethermost hell ! Fatal words ! In a bright, broad sheet of lurid and sulphur- ous flame the Prince of Darkness appeared in their midst, and struck not the shaft of death, but the vitality of eternal life and there to this day in that dreaded room they sit, trans- fixed in all their hideous expression of ghastly terror and dismay the cups of wine spread o'er their bacchanalian shrine, and the dice clattering and rattling as of yore terribly, yet justly, doomed to drink the wine-cup and throw the dice till the dawning of the GREAT JUDGMENT DAY ! This legend is founded on an incident which is said to have occurred during one of the carousals of the Earl of Crawford, otherwise styled " Earl Beardie," or the " Tiger Earl," in what is now calledjthe " Secret Eoom " of the Castle. This room has often been sought for, and while every other part of the Castle has been satisfactorily explored, the search for this celebrated and historic chamber has been in vain. It is said that this room is only known to two, or at most three, individuals at the same time, who are bound not to reveal it unless to their successors in the secret. CHAPTER VIII. LEGEND OF THE GROVE. We cannot pass this shady grove, For o'er it hangs a tale of love, So tender I must tell it thee, Though full of awe and mystery : You see these lofty beechen trees, Which, moaning, sigh upon the breeze An alcove deep of darksome gloom, O'erhung with shadows of the tomb : Within that ghostly, gloomy shade, There lies a broken-hearted maid, Whose sad and melancholy tale Is whispered by the passing gale, Startling with horror and affright The poor benighted luckless wight. The Hunter Hill of Glamis, as has already been noted, is one of the most beautifully romantic and historically interesting spots in Scotland. It is of vast extent and great height. The wood of Thornton, in which the bloody tragedy recorded in the legend of the murder of Malcolm II. took place, is in reality part of the Hunter Hill, and not a distinct and separ- ate wood as is generally supposed. In this hill and the Castle, therefore, centre nearly all the tales of chivalry and legends of romance which appertain to the district. The Castle in all its unique grandeur and feudal magnifi- cence I have already attempted to describe. The visits of the tourist and traveller to Glamis embrace often little else than the old hoary pile and its interesting and beautiful surround- ings. They, therefore, know comparatively little of the general character of the far-stretching scenery beyond, vieing as it does in bold and rugged outline and quiet nestling LEGEND OF THE GROVE. 67 scenes of soft and sylvan beauty with those of any country in Europe. From the gates of the Castle pathways the most beautiful and attractive stretch away in every direction, overshadowed with the umbrageous branches of the beech and oak, and vocal with the thrilling music of the gay and happy birds. Now passing through a sheltered and bosky dell, with the slow rolling Dean flowing musically through its midst ; anon pur- suing our devious way over an open, flower-gemmed, breezy common, gazing in rapture at the lofty battlements and towers of the Castle, as an occasional opening in the distant wood reveals them suddenly to our view ; we find ourselves among shady, dreamy groves of overhanging trees, their green, interlacing leaves intermingled with the golden blossoms of the beautiful laburnum, hanging in rich luxuriance from the pendant boughs ; and still proceeding westward, we reach with delightful joy the much-loved, solemn forest paths, as lovely and beautiful as any of the justly celebrated " green lanes" of England, and while roaming among the waving woodlands, may muse and dream away a long, long summer's day in all the mental luxuriance of aspiring thought and spiritual repose. But our present destination being the Hunter Hill, our route must be in another direction. We shall, therefore, pro- ceed through the village, turning to the right at the bridge ; and, passing on our way the village green, we cross the rustic bridge, and bend our course up the wooded ravine, which now silently invites us to view its wild and sylvan beauty. After crossing the bridge at the reservoir, we can either proceed to the summit of the hill by the direct road to which this leads, or we may have a delightful zig-zag ramble in the waving and beautiful woodland, until we come within sight of the village ; and then, turning eastward, pass through bosky dells, and over gently sloping hillocks, covered with the green and beautiful bushes of the blaeberry, purpled richly in summer with prolific clusters of mellow fruit, the coveted 68 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. prize of the village urchins, who resort in eager and happy groups from far and near to fill their burnished and capacious flagons with the coveted berries. The star-like and beautiful anemone flourishes in great abundance all around ; and the varied display of ferns which everywhere meets the eye forms of itself a most interesting and instructive study to the botanist. The grove alluded to in the following legend is about mid- way up the hill, proceeding eastward. It presents this remark- able appearance, that it is composed entirely of beech, while all around grow the birch and the mountain pine. Edmund Graeme, the only son of a neighbouring proprietor on the other side of the hill, was as fair and handsome a youth as could be seen or admired in the whole Howe of Strathmore. His form well-knit and manly, complexion clear and ruddy, dreamy eyes of cerulean blue, and luxuriant tresses of wavy gold, he presented and became the very beau ideal, to the maidens of his native strath, of all that constitutes the exter- nals of the real cavalier, gently and finely blended with the true and loving tenderness of a genuine human heart. Of a happy and enthusiastic temperament, his ringing voice and winning smile might have beguiled the heart of any damsel, whether of low or high degree. Yet, although many a long- ing eye would gaze on him with the deepest, fondest love, these glances of affectionate feeling failed to reaph his inner heart ; and at the banquet hall, or beneath the greenwood tree, his smile continued as fascinating and sweet, and his song as captivating and joyous as ever. At length his countenance grew shrunk and pale the bloom of youth had faded from his cheek, and the lustre of gladsome joy had departed from his eye. No melting strains of impassioned song were wafted on the passing gale from his now trembling, ashy lips, but a weird and ominous silence rested in the chamber of death, where, on his couch of darkness, they had laid him down to die ! Some stood in grief around his lowly bed, while others LEGEND OF THE GROVE. 69 affectionately held his hot and aching head ; all silently wondering what dark and poisonous sorrow it could be that in so brief a space had mysteriously wrought a change so heart-rending and unaccountable. As they gazed, still sharper and sharper grew his shrunken, death-like features ; his bosom heaved like the swelling billows of a dark and troubled sea ; and his lips gave forth tortured and fitful expression to stifled groans of deep, unutterable agony ! All wishing he would speak and solve the dreadful mystery, he wildly yet coherently uttered, in shrih 1 affecting tones that pierced every heart, the well known name of one he had loved. Scarcely were the words uttered, when a rustling noise was suddenly heard in the now dimly-lighted chamber of the dying youth. The attendants in amazement looked around whence the sound proceeded. Before them stood, in robes of flowing white, and with a sad, dejected air, a form of queenly and majestic beauty. Waving her jewelled hand on high, she, like a restless spirit from the other world, quickly passed them by, and stood for a moment in silence beside the dying bed of Edmund Grseme. Then weeping like a sobbing child, she gently raised his drooping head, and gazed on his dim, glazed eyes with agonising and hopeless sadness, for the vital spark had fled for ever, and the dead body of her lover lay cold and helpless in her arms ! Embracing the cold, cold clay, she wildly implored Almighty God to bereave her at once of life, and lay her in silence beside the slumbering dead. Then in the hushed and awful stillness that once more prevailed, she shriekingly thus gave full vent to her torturing agony " Oh, Edmund ! Edmund ! My own my well-beloved ! I wish I had died for thee ! Pure as an angel's, changeless and unstained, the love you bore to me." Then with a wild, unearthly, high authoritative air, her hand uplifted, and her bright, keen eyes piercing the innermost recesses of the soul, she conjured the watchers with witching power to meet her on the Hunter Hill that evening as the 70 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. knell of the midnight hour was solemnly sounded from the convent bell of St Fergus, that she might give them instructions as to the burial of the dead ! The muffled chime of St Fergus' bell now struck the witching hour of twelve, and the attendants of Edmund Graeme, in obedience to the strange summons of the apparition, now slowly wended their moon-lit way up the rugged, heath-clad Hunter Hill, to receive instructions as to the mysterious burial. The night oppressively calm and still, they had reached in silence a lonely hollow of the hill, when suddenly the same weird- like rustling noise they had previously heard in the chamber of death struck upon their listening ears with a harsh and ominous sound. Begemmed with the silvery radiance of the moon, before them trembling stood the strange, unearthly being they had seen in the early part of the evening at the bedside of their young master, Edmund Graeme. "With the same majestic wave of her jewelled hand, she beckoned them to approach, and thus, in the sad and thrilling accents of grief, solemnly and measuredly addressed them : " In all the spring flush of life's young bloom and radiant beauty, we here for the first time met ; and here now must be our lonely, isolated tomb. 'Twas here I broke his trusting, loving heart, and here beside my own must that heart rest, till disinterred to life at the Great Assize on the Resurrection morn. A hell I feel without a hell within Great God ! my treachery and sin forgive oh ! cast me not away from thy sight and presence for evermore from hope that comes to all, debar not utterly my guilty, yet repentant soul. List ! Make thou the coffin fit for two, and lay us . gently and tenderly beneath this bleak and heathy turf, planting afterwards around a shady beechen grove, dark yet fitting emblem of our ill-fated love, and of the DOUBLE BIER ! " Watching again beside the dead, the attendants, in alarm, see noiselessly approach the expected spiritual visitor. Her countenance is pale yet comely, and her eye brightly intellect- LEGEND OF THE GROVE. 71 ual and clear ; but she comes not in flowing robes of glistening sheen, but clothed in a ghastly linen shroud ! Noiselessly she steps to where the double coffin lies, rapt gazing lovingly and long on the dead youth sleeping silently his last sleep. Un- veiling, then, her snowy bosom, she brings forth flowers of the richest perfume and jewels of the costliest workmanship. These she solemnly lays on his cold, cold breast, with many a fervent prayer for the repose of his departed soul. Taking a last fond look of the dead, she gathers round her in flowing folds her long white shroud, and lays herself gently down beside her unconscious victim ; to both a dark and unexpected doom- to her a martyr's crown ! Awed by the dread, terrific scene, and when all again was calm and still, the attendants furtively and quickly shut the coffin-lid, and solemnly bent their solitary way to bury its occupants in the Hunter Hill, ere the morning broke in streaks of grey, cold light o'er the desolate and mysterious scene. Many long years have passed away since then, and the young saplings of beech have grown into high, umbrageous trees, grimly guarding those who sleep below, for whom yet blooming maidens weep, and pitying tears are shed, when in the long winter evenings their sad and sorrowful tale is tremblingly told by the blazing hearths of the happy cottagers of Strathmore. 'Tis said, when all is calm and still in the moon-lit winter eves, the spirit of the departed hovers mysteriously over the enchanted grove ; and when a maiden passes underneath its bare and weird-like boughs she utters an entreating cry, kind beckoning her to visit the living tomb, and conjuring her never to deceive a faithful, trusting heart, nor grieve by coquetry or crime him whose affections she has unalterably and affection- ately won ; and when beside the lonely mountain grave, she, shrieking, wildly cries : " Young maiden, oh, beware ! And ne'er by love's deceitful smile Confiding, truthful hearts beguile Beware Beware Beware ! " CHAPTER IX. LEGEND OF JANE DOUGLAS, LADY GLAMIS, BURNED ON THE CASTLE HILL OF EDINBURGH. King James, for former wrongs, long bore To Angus' house a grudge, and swore, While he the crown of Scotland wore, f No Douglas e'er should refuge find In castle, cot, with serf or hind ; And banished exiles did they roam, Far from their much-loved mountain home. We are now getting gradually out of the hazy atmosphere of ancient and historical tradition, and after this tale of witch- craft is ended, we shall bask in the more congenial and sunnier region of the heart and the affections. As has already been observed, while descanting on events so remote as those hitherto alluded to, it is necessary to bear in mind that the earlier period of the history of Scotland is involved in great obscurity ; and that, notwithstanding the fact that Chalmers and Hailes have dispelled to a great extent the darkness in which the earlier period of Scottish history had hitherto been enveloped, even their explanatory statements must still be received with some degree of caution, if not with distrust. The barbarous execution, however, of Lady Glamis on the Castle Hill of Edinburgh, on the 17th July 1537, in the reign of James V., for an alleged attempt to hasten the King's death by the imaginary crime of withcraft, and thereby to restore the expatriated house of Angus, is incontrovertible matter of LEGEND OF JANE DOUGLAS AND LADY GLAMIS. 73 history. It does appear singular, however, that, while all the Scottish historians declare their belief in the innocence of Lady Glamis, Sir Walter Scott should express a contrary opinion, and darkly hint that the effect of these unhallowed rites was often accelerated by the administration of poison. He ex- culpates James also, by saying that " the cruelty was that of the age, not of the sovereign." In almost the next sentence, however, he virtually resigns the question, by saying " The license which he (the King) gave to the vindictive persecution of the Protestants seems to have originated in that personal severity of temper already noticed. His inexorable hatred of the Douglases partakes of the same character. No recollection of early familiarity, no degree of personal merit, would enduce him to extend any favour to an individual of that detested name." This hatred of the Douglases by King James being at the root, and doubtless, the real cause of the criminal accusation against Lady Glamis, let us glance for a moment at the origin of this vindictive spirit displayed by the King to the house of Angus. It occurred in this wise : When Lennox and his host arrived in the neighbourhood of Kirkliston, previous to the battle of that name, Angus rushed out of Edinburgh to support Arran. Sir George Douglas followed immediately thereafter, bringing with him the young King, and a goodly number of the citizens of Edinburgh. The conflict was hotly and pretty equally maintained, and the noise of the artillery on both sides waxed louder and louder. The King, by no means naturally courage- ous, betrayed great unwillingness to remain, which "Sir George observing, addressed his Koyal master in these memor- able words "I read you' ; Majesty's thoughts," said the stern Douglas ; " but do not deceive yourself. If your enemies had hold of you on one side, and we on the other, we would tear you asunder rather than quit our hold' 1 rash, fatal words, which the King never forgave. Although the Earl of Angus subsequently, and in many ways, by acts of moderation and 74 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. clemency to the Royal army when they besieged his garrisoned Castle of Tantallon, endeavoured to mollify the King's resent- ment, James bitterly remembered the wrongs which he had re- ceived, and felt no gratitude for this forbearance and mercy on the part of his subject. On the contrary, he solemnly swore, in his anger, that no Douglas should, while he lived and reigned, find favour or countenance in Scotland. Henry VIII. used all the intercession he could in the Earl's favour ; but it was not until the death of James that the Douglases were re- tored to their native country of Scotland. In the following legend I have assumed, as I am entitled to do, that Lady Glamis was innocent of the crimes, imaginary or otherwise, which were laid to her charge and, in accordance with this view, have depicted her character, trial and cruel and unjust puishment. An extorted confession was in those days of little avail to the unfortunate prisoner accused of witchcraft, for, whether she confessed or not, a cruel and ignominious death was her certain doom. The assumed con- fession, therefore, of Lady Glamis must not be taken as any indication or proof of her guilt. She was arraigned on the double charge of witchcraft and conspiracy ; and, from the well-known inexorable hatred of the King to her family, she knew no mercy would ever be extended to her, far less an honourable acquital. To have prolonged the sufferings of Lord Glamis would have had the effect of sacrificing his life as well as her own. She is therefore represented as making the exclamation "Guilty !" that she might thereby save the life of her son, as fall a sacrifice she must herself, whether she made the confession or not. A family union had again been consummated between the two noble Houses of Angus and Strathmore. Lady Jane Douglas became the bride and happy wife of Lord Glamis. Her wedded happiness, however, was not of long duration. Soon after the birth of their first-born, the Lord Glamis, after a lingering illness, was summoned to give in his final account, and died much lamented by his family and dependants. LEGEND OF JANE DOUGLAS AND LADY GLAMIS. 75 The Lady Glamis, his widow, not only proved a truly enlightened and affectionate mother, but earned ,the highest encomiums from all the dwellers in Strathmore for her many unostentatious deeds of mercy and compassionate love. With- out the family haughty pride of her race, and disdaining the chivalric amusements of the day, she found, and delighted to have found, a wide-spread field for the exercise of her amiable virtues in ministering to the wants and necessities, not only of those belonging to her own household, but of all who came within the wide scope of her benign influence. Hence, not only in lowly cot and courtly hall were her praises sung in every household, but her fame spontaneously spread through the length and breadth of the land as one who, by her deeds of benevolence, and philanthropic interest in all that pertains and ministers to the welfare and happiness of mankind, had raised her name to a pinnacle of renown which crowned and mitred heads might envy, but which, in all their ambitious strivings, they could never reach, far less surpass. The fame of Lady Glamis, universal as it was, could not be long in penetrating to the Court of James, and from the implacable hatred of the King to all, whether male or female, who bore the detested name of Douglas, it required little persuasion on the part of his servile courtiers to poison the Royal mind against the sister of Angus, against whose house the fatal proscription pronounced was only waiting its practical fulfilment. In that age of foul superstition and gross moral darkness, every benevolent action, every good deed of mercy, and every lofty philanthropic aspiration, were maliciously traced to im- aginary witchcraft, in conjunction with, and at the instigation of, the Evil One. Thus noiselessly around the Lady Glamis did the clouds of evil omen gather, and the meshes of envy and revenge encircle themselves in an impenetrable labyrinth. With artful skill the hellish plot was laid, and soon carried out with a ready and fiendish will. Accused of harbouring against the King designs to poison his Majesty, and of 76 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. exercising her power of witchcraft to restore the expatriated House of Angus, Lady Glamis was rudely seized, while occupied in deeds of mercy in the village, and carried off a prisoner to Edinburgh. Her youthful son, Lord Glamis, was also ignominiously and forcibly bound ; and one of his own kin was found so base as to guide the cavalcade, and to guard with mock pride the ill-fated prisoners to the capital. It was an awful, solemn, impressive scene ! There, on an elevated bench in the ancient Parliament House, sat high in state the bewigged and crimson-robed Judges, with the mild and gracious Argyll as their President ; while the crowded Court was composed not only of the worthy burgesses and sightseers of the city, but of the high and noble of every rank in the land. The fair prisoner is now placed at the bar. Every voice is silent, every sound is hushed, every eye is searchingly directed to the beautiful creature, calm and resigned in conscious innocence, arraigned before her country on the double charge of witchcraft and conspiracy. Notwithstanding the powerful influence which superstition and the actual belief in witchcraft exercised over the minds of the people in general, there was not one in all that crowded Court who could look on the lovely form and angelic mien of the accused without from the heart commiserating her unhappy fate. This marked ex- pression of pity contrasted strangely, yet forcibly, with the fierce, revengeful looks, and savage, restless demeanour of her persecutors, who inwardly thirsted for her precious blood, and eagerly longed to see the blazing faggots consume with merciless rage her majestic yet trembling frame, and cloud with guilt and shame her fair, unsullied brow. There was now a dread and ominous pause ; for the wiry, sinister-looking doomsters triumphantly brought into the Court the dreaded thumbkins, the boot, and the screw precursors of excruciating anguish and agonising torture. The youthful Lord Glamis was then rudely led into the presence of the Judges, guarded, like a malefactor, by a body LEGEND OF JANE DOUGLAS AND LADY GLAMIS. 77 of armed soldiers. His eye, for a moment, restlessly wandered o'er the august and solemn scene, and he felt dejected and oppressed. At last, through his sorrowful tears, he, en- raptured, caught sight of the prisoner, and from his ashy lips there burst the thrilling cry, " My Mother ! " Then, by strong impulse borne along, and dashing aside the arms of the soldiery, he rushed among the wondering crowd, and strove, with fondest affection, to embrace her who was dearer to him than life itself. But the officers of the Court overpowered him, and forcibly placed him face to face with the enraged Judges, who lost no time in commencing their interrogatories. He was then solemnly asked if ever he had seen that sorceress at the bar at any time plying her wicked incantations, and if he knew that King James was doomed to die by her invoked conspiracy 1 The Lord of Glamis not only passionately denied these charges against his mother, but, to end the sad suspense, declared aloud his firm, unalterable belief in her innocence. The Judges looked incredulous ; and the prosecutor could not brook to lose his victim, the latter thus fiercely giving vent to his ungovernable rage and bitter disappointment "Though all these charges have been denied, escape she shall not ; for soon, yea, on the early morrow, like the vilest of malefactors, shall she be bound to the stake or gallows-tree, burnt by the blazing, crackling flames, and dogs be left to lick her blood ! " This brutal speech changed in an instant the feelings of the savage throng, superstition's mystic power regaining com- pletely the mastery over them. They even chid the passing hour, so impatient had they become to glut their eye on the expectant, fearful tragedy. Addressing the prisoner, the Judges fiercely exclaimed " Confess thy crime." " Oh ! innocent ! " she firm replied. The instruments of torture were, dark and grim, again displayed, and the vile doomsters, with a ready will, at once 78 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. proceeded to the exercise of their nefarious skill. Seizing young Glands who, meanwhile, had calmly viewed the dread preparations of death they rudely and fiercely tortured him with savage glee, and mocked, with hitter irony, his writhing and excruciating agony, while, ever between his wild and piercing cries, the prisoner still firmly replied to all entreaties to confess " Oh ! cease to torture one so dear to my heart. No agonising grief, no slavish fear, can ever compel me, in my own defence, vilely to disprove my innocence." Enraged at the coolness of Lady Glamis, and her declarations of conscious innocence, the brutal Judges frowned the more savagely on the fair prisoner, and, ordering Glamis to be more firmly bound, and other means of torture to be tried to make him testify against his mother, they leaned back in their chairs, assured of a hopeful and successful result. The sensitive flesh of the young witness was now savagely torn by formidable pinchers, prepared and sharpened for the occasion ; his bones, full of sap and marrow, were broken on the wheel ; and, shorn of all his pristine strength he helplessly lay a bleeding mass of shapeless, almost insensate clay ! Still, other instruments of torture were gleefully brought by the cruel and merciless doomsters, and these were successfully plied with hellish energy, till from his ghastly, reeking wounds the blood gushed forth in purple streams, and from his tortured bosom there fitfully and mournfully came at intervals the stifled groans of deepest agony. Hush ! what wild and thrilling shriek was that ] Awe- struck, and dumb with terror, the crowd sways to and fro in eager, keen expectancy of some weird, unearthly revelation ! The prosecutor is effectually cowed into silence, and the stricken judges, for the moment like the leaves of the aspen, shake and tremble with visible emotion. All eyes are directed to the dock, for it was from thence the shriek proceeded : " Guilty ! guilty ! " Lady Glamis energetically exclaimed LEGEND OF JANE DOUGLAS AND LADY GLAMIS. 79 " Save ! oh, save my son ! Dishonoured be my name, if so be his be left spotless and unstained ! For him my son, my only son I give up life ; for him I give up hope ; for him I give up all." That very night the impatient, bloodthirsty throng with blazing torches sped along to the Castle Hill, where Lady Glamis was summarily doomed to die. And there, resigned and cheerful, bound to the blazing stake she stood ; her lovely form arrayed in the white robes of purity, her hands clasped firm upon her spotless breast, and her bright, longing eye upturned and rapturously fixed upon the star-lit far off sky ! So heaven-like, so spiritual and ethereal, and yet so intensely human did she seem, that a revulsion of feeling was caused thereby in the heart of everyone who beheld her ; and when the burning faggots crackling, and mercilessly fierce, roared and rioted in their furious rage around their resigned and silent victim, all, from the heart, deplored that one so bright in beauty's bloom should meet with a doom so very fearful and so very sad ! Dread silence reigned over that great living sea of waving heads, which luridly shone in the dark, sulphureous gloom, until, like the dread, dark shadows of the tomb, the whirling and ever-thickening murky smoke cast its funereal mantle over the dismal scene, and the winds, aroused from their ominous repose, howled sweeping past in eerie cadence, like damned spirits in their throes of hopeless agony ! Soon, however, the tempest ceased as suddenly as it arose ; and in the intervening calm the stifling canopy of smoke cleared gradually away, and the bright red flames lit up, as before, the angel form of the fair sufferer ; but- The fire had scorch'd her bosom fair, Dishevelled hung her raven hair ; And yet, with sweet, angelic air, Still to the blazing pile she clung, While to her God high praise she sung ; And when her voice grew faint and low, Soft music sweet was heard to flow, And then, by angels' chariots driven, She wing'd her flight to God and heaven ! CHAPTER X. THE FORESTER'S DAUGHTER. " "Tis sad to see the eye forget its ray, And sorrow sit where smiles were wont to play ; 'Tis sad, when youth is fair, and fresh, and warm, And life is fraught with every sweeter charm, To see it close the lips and droop the head, Wane from the earth, and mingle with the dead. " Montgomery. Many and strong are the emotions awakened in the minds of these who are removed to a distance from the scenes of their youth by the soul-stirring yet simple words, the "village green !" What delightful visions of innocent enjoyments and happy meetings, and loud and hearty merriment, and ringing laughter, and shouts of gladsome joy, float in welcome vision before the jaded mind, oft vibrating anew its tuneless chords, and ministering a sad and melancholy joy, which dispels for a time the clouds of sorrow and disappointment which darken the present and obscure the future from the view ! Beauti- ful vision of the past ! How often in the lonely midnight hour, when all around was hushed in quiet and refreshing sleep, hast thou come to me with thy soft and silvery voices, as from a far-off land, and with thy retrospective scenes of innocence, and purity, and love, soothing, like some angel of the sky, my wearied and troubled spirit to calm and peaceful repose ! Beloved vision of the past ! though thou bringest pain as well as joy, still, 0, hover o'er my chequered path with thy golden sunny wings, and whisper in gentlest tone the tales of other years when life itself was young ; and cease not thy welcome visits till I sleep with the mouldering dead THE FORESTER'S DAUGHTER. 81 in the lone churchyard of my fathers, where at last the world will cease from troubling, and where the weary will be at rest. Standing on the bridge at Glamis and looking southward towards the Hunter Hill, there was not a more joyous sight to be seen in the days of yore than that of the youngsters of the parish disporting themselves, after the weary hours with participles and verbs in the small, ill-ventilated school, in all the joyous and boisterous ecstasy of pure and happy hearts, at foot-ball, racing, or leap-the-frog, and then, exhausted with their frolicsome play, wending each his several way to his home in the strath or the glen. Strange as it may seem, how- ever, there are comparatively few of those who romped and walked, in apparently soul-knit and loving friendship together, in the morning of life, who, after the lapse of years, retain the slightest remembrance of each other, far less the cherished friendships of their youth, at one time thought to be so lasting and sincere. After the roystering play of the village green, and before wending my way along the base of the Hunter Hill to my home in the glen, it was my custom to rest for a while in the sweet cottage of the forester, Hector Wood, whose eldest daughter, Eliza, my playmate and companion at school, always brought me on these occasions, enriched with her sunniest and sweet- est smiles, a basin of whey or sweet milk, as a welcome refresher after my victories or mishaps in the mimic field of battle. Sometimes Eliza would laughingly accompany me a short way on my return to watch with me the quick and graceful motions of the pretty minnows disporting themselves in the quiet shady pools of the burn ; to pull the purple bells, the graceful ferns, and starlike anemones, which lined and beauti- fied our woodland path ; or to gather, in their season, the wild raspberries, small, yet lusciously sweet, which grew in abundance on the sunny slopes of the far-stretching hill. On these occasions my young companion arrayed herself in neither bonnet nor cloak, but romped about in all the F 82 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. graceful neglige of unadorned, sweet, artless beauty. Apart from her sylph-like comely form, her pure and delicate com- plexion, her sparklingly expressive eyes, and her flowing tresses of sunny brown, her voice, in its ringing laughter, as well as in its moods of pensive sadness, had in it an indescrib- able thrill of spiritual feeling and magical sweetness. In the spring-time of youth, in the summer of manhood, in the winter of old age, how irresistibly powerful, how preciously sweet, the hallowed, blessed tones of woman's voice ! As she flitted like a sunbeam among the shrubs and flowers, or intently gazed at intervals on the harping pines high over- head on the hill, I thought Eliza indeed very beautiful, although my boyish thoughts could not as yet express them- selves in words. Sometimes in the bursting exuberance of my passionate feelings, I awkwardly, and it must be confessed, very bashfully, essayed to speak, but she intuitively compre- hending my meaning, much to my chagrin and disapointment, was gone in an instant ! Once, when years had rolled on, and we were becoming shyer and more distant to each other, she brought me a bunch of blaeberries from the hill, and seating herself at my request beside me on the bank of the stream, instead of taking the fruit, I gently took her lily-white hand in mine, the momentary pressure of which sent a new, strange, tumultuous thrill through my trembling frame, and a sweet, holy, indescribable joy to my beating heart which have never come again ! No words would come to my relief, and in the confused half sad, half joyful, abstraction of the moment, the dove had fled I was alone ! Hector Wood, the forester at Glamis, was in many re- spects the chosen friend of my youth. Intelligent, kind- hearted, shrewd, with an education above his rank in life, and a thorough practical knowledge of his profession, he was much esteemed and generally respected throughout the Howe. It was one of my greatest delights to accompany the worthy forester in his official inspection of the woods on the summer holiday afternoons, and to hear him describe the THE FORESTER'S DAUGHTER. 83 several varieties and qualities of the various trees that grew in rich luxuriance on the Hunter Hill, or spread their um- brageous branches on the stately lawns that stretched in sylvan beauty around the ancient Castle of Glamis. I thus in the most delightful manner acquired that theoretical knowledge of landscape gardening, which not only proved a source of intense delight in my youth, but a precious mine of inexhaustible wealth in after-years. Previously the wooded glades and pine-clad hills were to me a rich yet undefined mass of luxuriant foliage. Now, their several undulating lines of ever-changing beauty analysed, individualised, I could name every tree of the forest, every bush in the thicket, and every wildflower that blushed in virgin beauty on the brow of the lonely hills. Had every lover of Nature even a limited knowledge of botany, zoology, geology, and the other kindred sciences, how much increased and intensified would his interest and delight be in the far-stretching landscape of hill and dale, in the bloom of the wayside flower, in the beasts of the field and the fowls of the air, in the strata and formation of the rocks, and in the antediluvian deposits and remains embedded in the bowels and innermost recesses of the earth ! In like manner, with a knowledge of architecture, be it Gothic or classic, how much more instructive and interesting to us the sight of a beautiful palatial city, with its gorgeous temples and castellated towers, than to him who knows not the difference between a Doric and Corinthian, an Ionic or Tuscan pillar, and cannot, for the life of him, distinguish the nave of a cathedral from its transept or choir. Ascending higher in the scale of intellectual enjoyment, how much more glorious and magnificent the midnight heaven of worlds and starry firmament above, when, by astronomical science, we can familiarly name every revolving planet and distant star, and calculate with the greatest exactness, their unvarying revolutions around the great centre of attraction in universal space, than when simply viewed through the telescope of 84 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. ordinary observation, as a mere celestial blush of ethereal splendour, a spangled gewgaw of fretted, burnished workman- ship, or a gilded childish spectacle of atmospheric effulgence of undefined, unmeaning beauty ? Having exhausted the curriculum of the parish school, the time had now arrived when I must quit my native strath to pursue elsewhere my necessary studies preparatory to launching out on the great sea of life. On the evening previous to my departure, I had walked to the village for the purpose of bidding farewell to my schoolmates and numerous acquaintances, which I found to be a more difficult and affecting task than I had anticipated. , It were needless to recount the many sorrowful adieus, the many expressions of good wishes, the many kindly shakings of the hand, that I gratefully received and affectionately returned. Suffice it to say that, while I 'felt the parting scene very deeply, I consoled myself with the comforting thought that the separation was not final, but temporary, and that I would yet have opportunities of paying occasional visits to my much-loved Howe, and renewing for a time those first sweet friendships which I so much valued, and which I should ever cherish in fond remembrance of my early youth. Having purposely reserved my adieus to the inmates of the forester's cottage to the last, I now approached the little domicile by the well-known pathway up the side of the burn. I thought it strange I don't so now that the nearer I approached the cottage, I felt the greater hesitancy to enter it, my speed becoming every footfall more measured and slow, and my heart beating the quicker the more I lingered by the way. To my great relief, however, Mrs Wood now appeared at the open door in anticipation of my visit, and soon ushered me into the parlour, where I engaged for a few minutes in conversation with my good friend the forester, and the other members of the family, and then bade them all individually farewell. But where was Eliza t She was not amongst the family THE FORESTER'S DAUGHTER. 85 group that had assembled in the forester's cottage to bid her youthful companion farewell ! As I slowly and thoughtfully went on my homeward way, the even-song of the happy birds above, resounded through the silent woods, like the requiem for departed spirits, and the sweet silvery song of the rushing burn below had in it, for the first time to me, a plaintive sound of sadness, akin to poignant pain, as if it mourned in hopeless grief for the absent and the lost. Full of such new and strangely depressing thoughts, I had reached a sudden turning of my woodland path, when, to my great surprise and infinite delight, I beheld Eliza sitting on a mossy bank, arranging carefully a bunch of wild flowers she had apparently gathered on the hill. Seeing me approach, she rose to meet me, when, without uttering a word of greeting, or bidding me a formal farewell, she presented me with the beautiful bouquet, and then suddenly turned her face homewards : But first love knowing no alarms, I round her threw my trembling arms, Gazed in her eyes of bonnie blue, And thought at least I would be true ; Then, rapturously to crown my bliss, I took a long, long parting kiss : Strange, in all scenes with changes rife, I've felt that virgin kiss through life ! Two years passed away, during which time I had not seen, and heard but little, of my native Howe. How eagerly, therefore, I embraced the opportunity of returning home during the summer vacation of my third year at college ! On the afternoon of the day succeeding that of my return, I took my way through the ancient wood to the cottage of the forester's daughter. With a mind full of doubt and anxiety, I hastily entered the well-known room in which I had been so often received as an ever-welcome guest. Eliza, now grown into a fine comely woman, received me with her usual kindness, yet with an apparent reserve and slight embarrass- ment of manner, for which I then was sorely puzzled to 86 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. account. While her father and mother and other members of the family seated themselves beside me, and engaged in earnest conversation on topics of mutual interest, Eliza con- tinued incessantly the performance of her household duties : indeed her assiduity seemed to increase in proportion to the length of time I remained in the cottage. Her finely-propor- tioned figure and graceful movements, the spring flush of delicate beauty on her cheek, and the clear bright lustre of intelligence in her sparkling eye, did not, however, escape my notice, or fail to draw out my silent admiration of the lovely creature before me, in all the fascinating bloom of bursting womanhood, surrounded by a halo of virgin innocence and youthful love. I was in the act of attempting to draw the bashful maiden into conversation, when a horseman rode rapidly up to the door of the cottage, and delivered a startling message from my father, to the effect that my brother Charles had got himself entangled amongst the machinery of the mill, and that the injuries he had received in consequence, were of such a serious nature, that my presence was demanded at home without delay. While the horseman continued his journey to Forfar to fetch the medical attendant of the family, I hastily bade adieu for the present to my kind friends in the forester's cottage, and, as in duty bound, hastened with all speed to obey my father's summons home. As had been foreshadowed, the accident to my brother had well nigh proved fatal to him, and his recovery was, in consequence, exceedingly tedious and slow. Some consider- able time elapsed before he could be pronounced out of danger, and when that period came round my vacation holidays had expired. Anxious to pursue my classical studies, without delay I bade a hasty adieu to my rural home, without having had the opportunity of paying a visit to the forester's cottage, and of bidding all my friends there, another temporary farewell. My studies being now completed, I returned home after THE FORESTER'S DAUGHTER. 87 other two years' absence, delighted to see once more "the old familiar faces," and the lonely glen and lovely strath I loved so well. My first visit was spontaneously paid to the forester's cottage, picturing to myself as I went on my way the charms of her who was indeed the delight and sunshine of that village home. It was early spring, and as I walked by the side of the burn, on the well-known footpath skirting the Hunter Hill, the wel- come voice of the cuckoo resounded through the bursting woods, and the wooing love-songs of the happy birds gushed forth in richest melody from every budding spray. The stately elm was clothing herself with her feathery leaves, and the drooping willow with her silver palms ; the poplar and the linden, the chestnut and the birch, were bursting into new life in every spreading bough ; and the hawthorn, the laburnum, and the fir were loading the balmy air with the sweet virgin incense of a new and joyous life. In the pauses of their thrilling songs, the little finches, green and grey and gold, busied themselves in picking the sweetest buds from off the bursting boughs, while the mavis and the merle flitted rest- lessly among the thickets before attuning their richly toned notes to the far-resounding key-note of Nature's resurrection morn. Around me blushed in virgin purity the primrose and the snow- drop, first welcome flowerets of the year. Beyond in the glen the young wheat was upspringing green in the furrows, the morning dew upon its tender leaflets, like the tears of angels to fructify and bless the God-sent vegetation of the awakening earth for the joy and maintenance and well- being of man. In the distance, while the diligent husband- man guided the ploughshare on the uplands, the rooks following in his wake to catch the early worm, the no less diligent sower scattered with a plentiful hand the hopeful seed along the ridges of the plain, the harrows succeeding to level the uneven ground and distribute the seed into the long, straight lines of formal beauty, so pleasing to the eye before the luxuriance of summer has hidden by her rich effulgence 88 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. the virgin footsteps of early spring. The silver cloudlets overhead moved gently, almost imperceptibly, in their sweet unrest, across the ethereal blue, revealing occasional glimpses of the upper firmament in all its celestial purity and beauty. How like to the spring of nature the early morn of the life of man ! How akin to the new, ecstatic life of hill and dale, and the wild mad joy of beast and bird, to the fresh exuber- ant feelings of youthful passion, and the exultant tumultuous revelry which holds high carnival in the audience-chambers of the virgin heart, untainted by deceit, impurity, or crime ! In our early dreams of honourable ambition, in our high resolves to win a place and name among the great and good, how have these pleasant dreams been sweetened, how have these high resolves been strengthened and matured into practical action, by the grand supporting thought that there was in this great and mighty world at least one heart that beat in unison with ours, around which all our hopes and wishes centred, and for which we would toil, and work, and pray, and suffer, and sacrifice, and endure, if so be we could win the prize, and wear as the jewel of our heart the unfading, priceless gem of a first, unselfish, pure, unchangeable love ! Thrice happy those who have realised this consummation of their hopes. Blessed, surely, must be the ripe fruition of pristine affection ; the holy, hallowed joy, the sweet, unfading bloom of wedded love ! The distant voices of children now breaking sweetly on the ear reminded me I was nearing the village, and in a few minutes more, on emerging from the wood, the secluded hamlet, with the forester's cottage on the right, and nearest to the bridge, appeared in all its sylvan, quiet beauty. No one was stirring about the cottage, and when I entered the little porch, contrary to my usual practice, I tremblingly knocked for admittance. The door was gently opened by the forester himself, who kindly led the way to the sitting- room with more reserve and greater quietude of manner than his wont. Not anticipating any change, however, my sur- THE FORESTER'S DAUGHTER. 89 prise and grief were the greater when I beheld Eliza leaning on an easy-couch, wrapped carefully around with the warm covering of the invalid ! When I took her thin white hand in mine, and hurriedly made some incoherent inquiries in regard to her health, I long remembered, and do still remember, how damp and chilly- cold was the returning pressure of silent welcome. Yet the bloom on her cheek was so blushingly bright, and the lustre of her eye so brilliant and unusually clear, and her voice so strong in its silvery sweetness, that it was difficult for me to believe that she was otherwise than in perfect health. Alas ! the very symptoms which to me appeared so indicative of health and hope spoke to the more experienced as only fore- shadowing a time of suffering and an early grave ! "You did not expect to see me ill on your return," Eliza softly said at last ; " but you have been so long away at least / have thought the time long that you must expect to see changes of some kind or another, and I daresay you have found them where you least expected them." " But tell me, Eliza," I doubtingly rejoined, " if you are really ilL To my eye, you look as healthful as when I saw you two long years ago." " Do not deceive yourself," she solemnly replied, " if I were not ill, 1 would not be lying here;" and then, as if regretting what she had said, she continued in a more cheerful tone "The spring has again returned, the time of the singing of the birds has come, I feel my strength returning, and in a short time I trust to be able to be abroad again among the scenes I love so well. I have just been reading in the Revelation of the new heavens and the new earth ; of the holy city, the new Jerusalem. Will you read a little to me of these heavenly scenes, for, notwithstanding my desire to live, I begin to think I am gradually becoming more akin to heaven than earth ? " Wondering at the style and fervour of her language, I mechanically took the Bible she had presented to me, and 90 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. read as I had never read before, of the pure river of the water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb ; of the great city, the holy Jerusalem descending out of heaven from God ; of the great multitude that no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues ; and of the angels that stood round about the throne, and of the elders who answered, saying "These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb." When I had finished, Eliza regretfully whispered " I fain now would rest " then extending her hand to bid me adieu, she warmly, yet enquiringly continued " You will come to see me soon again ?" " I will, Eliza, very soon," I replied, and bade her for the time an affectionate adieu. Her sorrowful mother and the other members of the family had all this time been in the other room, but as I was departing Mrs "Wood followed me to the porch, kindly asking me to come soon again to see her daughter. In answer to my inquiries, she informed me that Eliza had first complained of illness in the autumn of the previous year, and that during the succeeding winter she had been closely confined to her room, and, although she did not complain of much pain, she was apprehensive of a fatal issue to her continued illness. My heart was too full to say much, but what I did say seemed hopeful and reassuring, for the fond mother faintly smiled through her blinding tears, and while expressing her gratitude for my good wishes, most fervently prayed they might in God's good time be happily realised. During the spring I was a frequent visitor at the forester's cottage, and on every occasion, while all others saw too plainly that Eliza was slowly losing ground, I confidently imagined she was as surely gaining strength. In one respect, however, I could not but mark a great and decided change. Her style of conversation had gradually become more elevated THE FORESTER'S DAUGHTER. 9 1 and refined ; her language, in strength and beauty of expres- sion, warmth and fervour of devotional feeling, partaking more of heaven than of earth, and encompassing her ever, to me at least, with an ethereal halo of celestial glory. It was now summer, and as I leisurely pursued my way to the village by the side of the winding burn, listening grate- fully to its lapping, silver sound, I thought the burden of its evening song was health and peace to the forester's daughter. Catching up the joyous theme, the jubilant birds among the spreading boughs in the woodland beyond exultingly blent their melodious notes in a full diapason of triumphant song. What a beauteous, lovely, delicious month is " leafy June ! " There is in it such a prodigal effulgence of luxuriant beauty, such life, and hope, and joy ; such gorgeous broadcast of fair and beautiful colours, such luscious fragrance of ambrosial sweets, such hallowed combinations of melodious sounds ! The umbrageous oak and graceful ash have leafed themselves at last in green ; the heather hath assumed its purple robe, and the wild rose its rich vermillion blush of virgin beauty ; the briar and hawthorn scent the evening gale, and the finch and linnet sing together on the topmost boughs, the merle and thrush answering each other lovingly in the den. Then there is such ever-changing variety of light and shade, such echoing bursts of rural sounds, such joyous shouts of happy children in the glens, such plaintive bleatings from motherless lambs on the hills, such cawing of rooks over their new-fledged young, such dreamy music sweet of distant village bells, that the heart feels all aglow in a wild transport of voluptuous joy, and the soul is stirred to its inmost depths with the deep emotions of holy rapture, gushing forth in the joyous strains of gratitude and love. As I neared the forester's cottage, the " Defiance " coach, with its splendid team of spotted greys, and driven by its aristocratic owner, Mr Barclay of Ury, dashed at a rattling pace along the bridge on its way to Aberdeen, the merry sounds of the bugle re-echoing through the woods in unison 92 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. with man's expanding heart, and Nature's song of universal joy. As if to complete the picture of general happiness without, I found Eliza on this summer evening looking very much better, and altogether more cheerful and happy than I had seen her since my return. Reclining on her couch, arrayed in spotless white, her countenance lighted up by the reflection of some inward joy, and her long bright tresses bedropt with spangled gold from the dazzling rays of the setting sun, and gently stirred by the evening breeze which came in softly at the open window, I thought that surely no human being could look more saint-like, more spiritually lovely, more divinely beautiful ! Around the little window which looked out to the churchyard and the church the fragrant honeysuckle entwined its beautiful blossoms, while in at the open casement to the west the roses, nodding with the breeze, peeped in like blushing maidens sly, not to be caught yet, but coquettely to tease awhile, so timid were they and so shy. " You see that wooded height in the churchyard above St Fergus' Well 1 " said Eliza softly, now breaking the sweet silence of the hour. " I should wish to be buried there when I die nay, startle not ; we must all die, and I feel my time has nearly come. Often in your long absences have I wandered by our favourite pathways o'er the Hunter Hill, but oftener I lingered in the twilight eves I cannot tell how it was by lone St Fergus' Well, and in the quiet secluded burying- ground above and around that romantic spot. You will come sometimes and visit my last resting-place will you not 1 " " Eliza," I replied, " such thoughts would break my heart " Listen," said she, interruptingly, and without noticing my remark. " When I am dying and I feel assured I will die in calmness and in peace I would wish to enter heaven with the songs of earth vibrating in my ear, thus sweetly carrying me THE FORESTER'S DAUGHTER. 93 imperceptibly over that undefined, mysterious line which separ- ates eternity from time. It is said the dying carry on the retina of the eye to the other world the features and expression of those on whom they have last gazed on earth. So would I wish to carry with me also to the abodes of glory the cherished voices of those I love. But," she excitedly con- tinued, as if recollecting at the moment something that had escaped her memory, " I have had such a strange and beauti- ful dream. Listen, and I will tell it thee. Stay ; lift]me up, my mother ; pile these pillows high ; my head I fain would raise once more and look around on each familiar thing, then gaze abroad to mark the blossoms of my favourite flowers, inhale the sweetness of the balmy air, and list the cheering melody of birds ; I yet may gather the blaeberries on the hill and eat the ripe autumnal fruit. Hush ! soul, this cannot be ; these are the expressions of my other nature still unweaned from the things of earth and time." " Your dream, Eliza 1 " I inquiringly said ; " was it pleas- ing or otherwise 1 " " My dream ] " she delightedly replied. " Oh, it was so strange, so pleasing, so very beautiful ! Methought, swift borne above the abyssmal air, I floated noiselessly away among the palmy isles, the breezes redolent of sweetest odours softly wafted o'er the undulating waves like honied breath of violets, in rich festoons, the flowering climbing plants profusedly hang- ing from the shelving cliffs in never-fading bloom. The cities were of rubies, and the hills were richly gemmed with ame- thysts and sapphires ; the amber streams all pebbled bright with diamonds, and agates, and all kinds of precious stones, and the woods ablaze with gorgeous foliage, crowned bright with fragrant flowers of every hue and form. The groves of palm were vocal with the flute-like tones of clear-voiced arioles, commingled sweetly with the bulbul's plaintive notes at noon, sublimed at night by vesper hymns of humming birds and sacred songs of paradise ! " Anon I wandered midst the dazzling throngs which 94 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. crowd the matchless Place St. Mark, in lovely Venice, City of the Sea ! 'Twas night ; the sun had disappeared in glory be- hind the Friulian mountains, and softly came from the Adriatic Sea the sweet refreshing evening breeze, stirring with ^olean music rich my long dishevelled curls, soft kissing me with balmy, honied lips, as if in expectancy, I silent stood on the marble steps of an ancient palace, beside the waveless Grand Canal. Softly the moonbeams now jewelled bright the clear blue waters, rich with diamond gems, all glistering tremulous innumerable. The hearse-like gondolas swift glided past to strains of richest music, the song of nearing gondoliers, as on they came from distant Molo, soft breaking on the ear with pensive sweetness, swelling as they passed to loud, melodious notes, then faintly dying away in tremulously lessening echoes beneath the one-arched high Rialto. " Among the gondolas one floating came more beautiful, more stately, than the rest. Her timbers of burnished amber, her awnings white and golden fringed, her prow all brightly gemmed with precious stones, without either sail or oar, onward gliding noiselessly like a swan majestically it came. " As it approached, distinguish could I clearly those on board tall, white-draped figures, with faces like the dawn, and angelic in expression, all gathered round one statelier than they on dais, raised high elevated in the midst ; a hum of soft low voices stirring sweet the air, then slowly dying away among the golden clouds, like angel-whispers floating tremulous in mystic fields of ether. " On, on it came to where I stood. The prow just touched the marble pier, when, like a bridal train without the bride, its white-robed occupants debarked, and, noiseless, formed a living avenue between me and the ship, a form familiar walk- ing up the midst, her face becoming as I gazed pale, rigid, sharp, and ghastly, changing in a moment grand to pure celestial beauty, spirit-like, a luminous vapour rainbowed bright around her beaming features like the blushing morn THE FORESTER'S DAUGHTER. 95 rich pnrpling in the east, her attitude now rapt adoring, all her stately frame inspired with spiritual emotion deep, high quivering with an ecstasy of joy ! Her hands clasped firm upon her breast, her lips apart, her head in fond sweet longing lovingly upraised, glad listening to some coming sound ; a song of soft celestial music bursting rich high over head from out the golden sky; bright cloud-borne angels winging quick their way amidst melodious anthems to our earth. As nearer they approached, beheld I one more glorious than the rest in triumph bearing quick a golden crown to where the rapt expectant stood, which on her radiant brow she midst hosannahs placed, the long white robes of her surrounding mates transformed to down, pure, soft, and glistering, which, outstretched, became angelic wings, and as they strung their jewelled lyres in harmony seraphically sweet, all bright ascended in one glorious, mystic throng, majestic to the sky ! In the sainted one thus crowned with glory and triumphantly borne aloft on angels' wings I recognised MYSELF and I awoke !" The animated recital of her extraordinary dream had so exhausted Eliza that she fell back upon her pillow in a state of great prostration, amounting almost to unconsciousness. When she had somewhat recovered, I commended her to the affectionate care of her mother, and on retiring felt more depressed and sad than I had ever done before. The descrip- tion of the dream, and the prophetic train of thought to which it naturally gave rise, formed the one absorbing subject of contemplation on my way homeward, the solution to which I arrived being, as may be imagined, the one most satisfactory to myself viz., that it was a dream. Having to repair for a time to Edinburgh immediately after this visit to the forester's daughter, I did not return home until the middle of October, fully three months having elapsed in the interval. Full of anxious thoughts about Eliza, which grew more intense and painful the nearer I approached her father's 96 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. cottage on the following day after my return, when I silently took my accustomed way along the well-known winding path- way by the base of the Hunter Hill. It was a lovely autumnal day, and most unusually warm for the season of the year. The sun shone forth o'er hill and dale in all the bright effulgence of summer, the happy midges dancing in wild, mad revelry in his sparkling beams, and the pugnacious robin singing in flute-like notes from the topmost boughs the sweetly plaintive requiem of the fast decaying year. The ash and the oak, still green and beautiful, contrasted finely with the deep bronze of the beech and the golden yellow of the elm, while the stately mountain pine upreared high up above them all her dark and sombre diadem of everlasting green. The dull rustling noise of the falling leaves, otherwise so sadden- ing to the mind, and so painfully suggestive of the decay of the life of man, was on this glad day of sunny brightness and joy more pensively solemn than sad, more soothing and com- forting than a gloomy foreshadowing of the dark river, or an ominous foreboding of the unseen world beyond. Far up in the golden sky the beautiful clouds bright tinged with a rain- bow softness of colour and richly fringed with a delicate saffron of matchless splendour, seemed like guardian angels reposing in the lap of the Great Eternal and gazing with intense interest on some attractive object on earth, as if waiting, with their chariots of glory, to convey some sainted loved one to the far-off land of blessedness and peace ! I had now entered the deep ravine through which the waters of the burn rush with great velocity, until abruptly divided by a little grass-covered island, on either side of which they dash down the shelving rocks like mimic waterfalls of pleasing sweetness and picturesque beauty. Often, in the rich blush of summer, had I solitary stood on this lonely island admiring the sharp outlines of the beautiful picture which stretched itself out before me in all its light and shade of romantic, ever-changing loveliness the rugged banks around rich clothed with luxuriant foliage, the wooded hill beyond THE FORESTER'S DAUGHTER. 97 all sweetly vocal with the songs of birds, the church spire towering high between, with the distant Grampians, in all their grim and lofty grandeur, forming a noble and fitting background to such an enchanting scene. Emerging slowly from the ravine, I unexpectedly me,t Dr Steele, of Forfar, returning from a professional visit to the forester's daughter. After the usual greeting, the good, kind doctor, gently putting his arm in mine, turned with me in the direction of the cottage, inquiringly saying, as he did so " You are much interested in the welfare of the forester's daughter 1 " " Very much interested indeed," I frankly replied. " How did you find your patient to-day, doctor, for I have not seen her myself for several months ? I sincerely hope she may be getting better, and that you entertain good hopes of her ultimate recovery." "She is better in one respect," he quietly replied, "for she is getting nearer heaven every day she survives. As to her ultimate recovery, I dare not hold out any hope whatever ; if I did, I should belie, as a professional man, my own convic- tions." " You surprise me much, doctor," I hurriedly rejoined. "To me, on the contrary, Eliza appears to be gradually gaining strength. Her eye is as bright and her countenance as blooming as ever." "These are just the symptoms, my young friend," the doctor replied, "which to the experienced eye lead to the very opposite conclusion. To be candid with you, the trembling tenement, which still so tenaciously retains its feeble hold of her up-soaring spirit, is so worn and fragile in its texture, that the silver cord may be loosed and the golden bowl be broken in the twinkling of an eye. She will pass away so peacefully that, if not watched by night and by day, her purf and gentle soul may wing its silent flight above before any per- ceptible change be observed or anticipated. Take this in good part, and you may remember afterwards my parting words." 98 STEATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. My trembling lips could not articulate a reply, and the forester's cottage being now in sight, the tender-hearted doctor bade me an affectionate adieu, and went on his way to the glen. To my great surprise, and as if falsifying the predictions of the good physician, instead of finding Eliza on the couch of sickness, she was seated at the door of the cottage, where she received me with her sweetest smiles of welcome, gently chiding me at the same time for my long absence from the cottage. "Eliza expected you to-day," said her mother, who sat beside her daughter, intently watching her every movement with the tenderest solicitude. "No one had informed her of your arrival, and yet she heard your footsteps, she said, in the tangled brushwood long before you came in sight, and seemed to feel your presence beside her while you were yet a far way off. ' Array me, mother,' she joyfully exclaimed in the morning, ' in my long white robe and let my tresses fall full and carelessly adown my shoulders in the way he likes to see them best, and lead me out among the sunshine and the flowers as a bride to meet the bridegroom.'" " Mother should not have told you that," Eliza blushingly said, at the same time beckoning me to be seated in the empty chair beside her. " The beautiful morning blent in the more beautiful day," she continued, " I felt so cheerful and so happy, as if inhaling the very atmosphere of heaven, my exulting spirit bounding in gladness in fond anticipation of some coming joy, that I longed to breathe again the soft sweet air of the hills, and to listen to the last long plaintive song of the dying year. You will read again to me, will you not, of the celestial city and the river of God, of the new song of the redeemed, and the harpings of the angels on the hills of heaven? You remember my last wish ? " On presenting me with the same Bible from which I had formerly read, and which I had given her many years before, she fixed her clear blue eye with such a spiritual intensity of THE FORESTER'S DAUGHTER. 99 gaze on mine that I felt as if I were in heaven itself, or rather that one of its celestial inhabitants had become my companion on earth. Seeing me hesitate, Eliza softly said " Much as I love this fair and beautiful earth my spirit longs to breathe a purer atmosphere of bliss, to roam in glorious sunshine on the mountain tops of the empyrean heavens, and, grandest thing of all grand things, to walk with Christ in white amid the Father's smiles. Read : I long yet once again to hear from loving lips the sweet notes of that triumphal song, 'Alleluia; the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth! Let us be glad and rejoice, and give honour to Him ; for the marriage of the Lamb is come, and His wife hath made her- self ready. And to her was granted that she should be arrayed in fine linen, clean and white : for the fine linen is the righteousness of saints ! ' " Catching now her intensity of joy, I rapturously read of the holy city, with its gates of pearl inwrought with burnished gold, its dazzling walls of jasper, amethyst, and emerald ; the rainbow round about the Throne, the crowns and sceptres, robes of white and palms of victory; the thousand times ten thousand voices thundering loud like sound of many waters, and harpers harping with their harps the song, "Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and He will dwell with them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself shall be with them and be their God. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes ; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain : for the former things are passed away." Hearing no response, I looked up from the book on which I was reading, but, alas ! the brightness of Eliza's eye was quenching fast in darkness ; the snow of death was already gathering on her brow, and her pure and gentle spirit was peacefully passing away to God who gave it ! I gently took her cold and clammy hand in mine. The pressure was re- turned, and with a faint, sweet smile on her ashy lips, Eliza Wood, the forester's daughter, entered into her rest ! CHAPTER XL WILL-O'-THE-WISP. " What else but evil could betide, With that cursed Palmer for our guide ? Better we had through mire and bush Been lantern-led by Friar Rush." Marmion. Will-o' -the- Wisp, according to Scott, is " a strolling demon, or esprit follet, who once upon a time got admittance into a monastery as a scullion and played the monks many pranks." He is sometimes called Jack-o'-Lanthern, and as such is familiar to our southern neighbours. The followers of Marmion attri- buted the mysterious disasters that befell them at Gifford Castle to the guidance of the assumed ecclesiastic " the cursed Palmer " and expressed the belief that it had been better for them they had been lantern-led by Friar Eush. Milton also makes the same allusion through his clown "She was pinched and pulled, she said, And he by Friar's Lanthoru led." This wandering demon, however, was universally known throughout the " Howe " by the more familiar name of Spunkie, whose freaks and pranks in that amusing and mischievous character might form the subject-matter of a lengthened tale or stirring romance. Many a poor benighted wight hath this uncannie warlock driven to his wits' -end by his uncouth gambols and deceptive light, and many a bold and valiant knight hath he laid hors de combat on the marshy plain. Some fifty or sixty years ago, nearly one half of the parish of Kinnettles was one continued marsh or bog, arising, WILL-O'-THE-WISP. 101 doubtless, from the circumstance that the northern part had formed, at some remote period, the bed of a large river or lake. At that time, and before the great drain was opened through the Howe from the Loch of Forfar, peat mosses and stagnant marshes occupied the whole tract of level land which stretches for some miles between the Castle of Glamis and the Loch. It was in this low, marshy region that Spunkie reigned supreme, and where he held his dreaded midnight revels with sovereign and undisputed sway. On a dreary night in the latter end of December, 1822, the inmates of the farm-house of Foffarty were assembled in the cozy kitchen around a blazing wood fire, which cast its cheerful light around the no less cheerful room. A tidy, couthie kitchen was that of Foffarty ; and a contented, happy household withal. The lasses were spinning busily, and sing- ing while they span ; the young men were seated by the ingle, with the Dominie of Kinnettles in their midst ; while the gudewife was busily engaged preparing the evening meal. The old arm-chair of the gudeman stood in its accustomed place, however, unoccupied. The worthy farmer had gone to attend the Kirriemuir market, but was expected home every moment. Intending to take the shortest road through the marsh and peat moss, instead of going round by the turnpike, he was obliged to go a-foot, and, consequently, to trust to his own resources in the case of any emergency. The table was spread, and all awaited his coming. The clock struck nine a long hour after his usual time of returning from market and still he did not appear. The gudewife, after looking out to the cold, dark night for the sixth or seventh time, to descry, if she could, any signs of his coming, returned to the kitchen in a state of increased anxiety and fear ; the spinning wheels were silent, and the general buzz of the conversation was hushed into ominous whispers of dread import and prophetic meaning. Amidst the silence and general consternation that prevailed, the door suddenly opened, and the farmer staggered across the 102 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. floor, and sunk, like a stricken deer, into the chair by the fire. His broad-brimmed hat was slouched over his eyes, his great- coat and topboots were bespattered with mire and peat, and, altogether, he was in a most woeful and sorry plight. " Fat's come owre ye, gudeman ? " exclaimed his affectionate helpmate, while trying to unbutton his greatcoat at the same time. " Has Spunkie or the waterkelpies been meddlin' wi' ye this dark and dreary nicht ? " A long drawn sigh and stifled groan were the only response to these well-meant and anxious enquiries. " Leave him to himself for a few minutes," solemnly said the Dominie. " If there have been any manifestations of a supernatural character vouchsafed to him on his journey, he will the better reveal them when his mind has become calm and unclouded, and reason resumed her throne on the judgment- seat." A long deep silence ensued. At last the farmer slowly raised his hat, and instead of the well-known ruddy, cheerful face, a pale, sad, bewildered countenance met their gaze. "Am I in my ain hoose at last?" faintly gasped the half-demented gudeman. " Deed are ye, Robert," rejoined his wife. " Dinna look sae bewildered-like. Do you no ken your ain hoose, gudeman ? There's a' your ain' laddies and lassies aroond you ; and here's Maister Robertson, frae Kinnettles, come tae welcome ye hame, and there's the supper ready waitin' you on the table, Robert." " Give him a dram out of your own bottle, goodwife," said the Dominie ; " the smell and taste of the aquavitae will soon bring him round, I'll warrant ye." The dram had the desired effect. The rosy colour returned to his cheeks, and the kindly twinkle to his eye ; and collecting his scattered thoughts for a few minutes, he quietly said " I am glad I'm in my ain hoose again, after the trials and troubles o' this awfu' nicht. Sic a time o' warslin' an' fechtin WILL-O'-THE-WISP. 103 an' fa'in' I hae' haen sin' I left Kirry ! Ye may be glad an' thankfu', gudewife, that the Lord, in His great mercy, has spared me to meet you and the weans again, for mony a time this nicht o' nichts I had gien up a' houps o' ever seein' you in the flesh again." " Losh me, gudeman," rejoined his wife, " ye set my blude a' creepin', and my puir heart gaes pitty-patty in sic a manner as I never kent afore. Noo, Robert," she coaxingly continued, at the same time easing him of his greatcoat, " tell's far ye've been, and if thae mischievous spunkies hae dune ony evil tae you on your way hame ? " " Spunkies and fiddlesticks," interrupted the Dominie. " It's all imagination a mere chimera." " Fat dis the body say ? " hastily interposed the farmer in his turn, and who was now " himself again." " I'll tell you what it is, Maister Dominie ye ken naething aboot it ava. Wi' a' your buke learnin' an' ye're a gey learned body, I maun admit ye canna explain the antics and mischievous doings o' thae spunkies an' fairlies an' witchies an' waterkelpies. I wish ye had only been wi' me this winter nicht, an' ye wad hae seen wi' yer ain een if it was a mere keemera or no. But, gudewife, lat's hae our supper. Na, na, nane o' yer slops for me the nicht. . Tak' awa' thae tea dishes, and fry some nice bacon and eggs ; and, lassies, assist yer mither, and bring forrit the bannocks, and the flour scones, and the sweetest butter ye hae in the dairy, for I canna begin to argue thae matters wi' Maister Robertson on an empty stamach." "Well thought of, and well said," quietly remarked the worthy Dominie to the obedient gudewife. " It is a laudible and wise precaution to line well the inner man with substan- tial realities before commencing a learned discussion on visionary topics of imaginative theories which evade the grasp of solid judgment and common sense, even as the gossamer mists on the hills evaporate and collapse when the golden beams of the god of day break forth in all their splendour to diffuse light, purity, and joy over the fair face 104 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. of Nature, and the remoter recesses of the sympathetic heart of man." Whether the plain, honest gudewife sufficiently caught in her perplexity the full meaning of this grandiloquent speech, I am not quite certain. All I know is, that she looked as if she understood every word of it, which comes, I daresay, pretty much to the same thing. The table was profusely spread, in a wonderfully short space of time, with all the substantial viands so heartily commanded by our warm-hearted host ; and, after grace had been solemnly said by the Dominie, the serious work of mastication and demolition commenced in right earnest, during which process, except the clatter of knives and forks, no other sound was heard but a faint monosyllable now and then, pronounced as if ashamed of itself for causing any interruption to such a thoroughly enjoyable feast. " Bring the bottle, gudewife," at last said mine host, wiping off at the same time with his spotted handkerchief the big drops of perspiration that stood conspicuous on his brow; "we'll be a' the better o' a dram aifter the bacon and the eggs ; but, Martha, ye've forgotten the cheese, lassie. Bring the - kebbit oot o' the pantry the mooldy ane, made frae sweet milk, I mean and Kitty, put on the kettle on the sway, and bring the auld punch-bowl that's claspit a' owre wi' silver to keep it thaegither for the use o' future generations, for I intend to fill it ance the nicht, at ony rate. Ye ken, gudewife, it's no ilka nicht we hae Maister Robertson o' Kinnettles under the auld roof o' Faffarty." While the necessary preparations for the bowl of punch are proceeding, we may take a passing glance at the physique of the two principal characters in the little domestic scene we are now describing. To begin with mine host. The tenant of Foffarty was a hale, hearty yeoman of sixty ; strong and well formed, of middle size ; of a ruddy cheerful countenance, and a warm and generous nature withal. Superstitious he was to an intense degree, and as fully believed in the veritable existence WILL-O'-THE-WISP. 105 of Will-o'-the-wisps, waterkelpies, brownies, and fairies, as lie did of the being of his own boys and girls, or of the sheep and cattle which browsed on the hill-sides of his farm. He was careful, if not proud, of his personal appearance, wearing always at kirk and market a full dress suit of dark brown ; knee-breeches corded, but somewhat of a lighter colour ; with bright polished top-boots, of the true hunting size and type. The Dominie, again, seemed to be considerably younger, and of a form and type entirely different from that of the worthy farmer. Although rather below the middle size, his carriage and bearing were so erect and dignified that his small stature was not so observable as it otherwise would have been. His countenance was pale and colourless/ as became the scholar and philosopher ; and his brow capacious and high, betokening the possession of faculties of no common order ; while his small, grey, twinkling eye glistened brightly with kindly feeling and benevolent affection. Like the silver lin- ing to the ebon cloud, his dark raven hair was being whitened thickly o'er with grey, deepening the expressive contour of his thoughtful yet congenial face. He had a warm and couthy way of speaking to his old pupils, but in general his manner was somewhat formal and pedantic, and his speech* slow, measured, and pompous withal. " Now for our bowl of punch, Maister Robertson," kindly said mine host. " I'll just mix it the auld way naething but the pure Glenlivet, the lump sugar, an' the boilin' water. I dinna like your new-fangled mixtures ava, ava. I really think, Maister Daniel do ye mind, by the by, what a skirmish ye kicket up at the examination o' your schule, in presence o' a' the Presbytery and the big folks, when I ca'ad ye Maister Donald eh ! eh ! eh !" and the jolly farmer laughed, and laughed until the tears stood in his twinkling, mirth-provoking eyes ; his self-created merriment causing him completely to forget the termination of his sentence, whatever that might have been. 106 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. "A few thin slices of lemon," observed the Dominie, entirely ignoring the latter remark of our host, "I am of opinion, very much improves the punch, at least to my taste. Besides, the rancid acidity of the fruit serves in a great measure to counteract the evil consequences of the inflammable alcohol." " But it destroys the flavour, man," impetuously rejoined the farmer. "I widna gie the gran' smell o' the peat reek for a' your furrin scents ; and as for taste, commend me, Maister Eobertson, to the pure, unadulterated, sma' still mountain dew." "But you are forgettin', Eobert, to tell us the story o' your mishaps on your way frae Kirry," gently interrupted his better half, who had now cozily seated herself beside him. " "We're a' waitin' to hear fu' ye got through a' thae clamjam- fries i' the moss, an' fa' it was that bedraggled a' your claes i' that awfu' fashion, gudeman." "Very pertinent remark," chimed in the Dominie; "we are all impatience to hear the particulars of this, to you, eventful night, Mr Guthrie." The very natural reminder by his wife of the indirect promise he had given to recount the circumstances of his somewhat erratic and mysterious journey that night from Kirry produced at once a strange effect on mine host. All his glee and hilarity had, in an instant, vanished, and his hitherto cheerful countenance assumed a sad thoughtful expression. Throwing back his coat on his shoulders, plant- ing firmly his two thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, and thrusting out his legs with great force towards the blazing fire, he looked with a furtive, enquiring glance around the room, taking, apparently, particular notice that the door was properly shut, and that there was none in the house except those on whom he could with all confidence thoroughly rely. He gave at last some ominous "hems," followed in quick succession by several rather suspicious coughs, which certainly did not strengthen the belief of his hearers in the truth of the WILL-O'-THE-WISP. 107 revelations he had indirectly promised to make, and which lie was now about to give. Evidently he had failed to bring his courage " to the sticking place ; " and so, after desperately snuffing the only candle on the table, and taking off another glass of punch, he fixed his eyes for a few moments on the smoke-begrimed wooden rafters above, as if invoking the aid of his good angel to come to the rescue. Then, as if nothing unusual had occurred, he filled himself another glass from the punch-bowl, politely handing one, at the same time, to the wondering dominie, and thus began the long-expected narration : " Aifter finishin' a' my business i' the market, Benshie, and Glassell, and Bedford, and Dragonha', and mysel' adjourned to the inn aff the cross to get a snack and some refreshment afore takin' the road bame. Aifter we had had our dinner, we had a glass or twa to keep oot the cauld there micht hae been ane, maybee twa mair, but that's neither here nor there, for Benshie and Glassell had selt a' their knout, an', bein' michty big ower their pouchfu's o' siller, they were uncommon leeberal wi' their drink, payin' a' the lawin' atween their twa selves. By this time is was gettin' gey dark, and no onywise oot o' fear, ye ken I began to think o' the lang road I had to gae hame, an' o' the dangerous spunkies and waterkelpies that micht beset my path fan threadin' my way through the peat mosses and swampy marshes that lay atween me an' Faffarty. Whether my freends read my thochts or no, I couldna be quite certain ; but, at a' events, they a' wi' ane accord, began to ragg and banter me aboot the spunkies i' the moss, and insinuated, rather undeservedly, as I thocht, that I was nae match for thae warlocks, bein' somewhat deficient in. the bravery necessar' for a successfu' encounter wi' them. So, by way o' keepin' up my coorage, as far as that was possible, I ordered in some mair Glenlivet, to drink ' Deuchan doris ' afore we took our several ways hame. This bein' dune, we each rose, as sober an' weel-conduckit as ony o' his Majesty's judges o' the land. 108 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. " Havin' parted wi' Glassell on the High Street, as his road hame lay to the eastert, I and my three other freends proceeded steadily doon the Farfar Eoad. It was pitch dark ; but, comin' oot a' of a sudden frae the inn wi' its blazin' lichts, it wasna muckle winder although we staichered sometimes frae side to side, and didna just keep the proper equil equil ye ken weel eneuch what I mean, Maister Daniel " " Equilibrium," solemnly rejoined the Dominie. "That's it," continued mine host. "We're never at a loss for a lang-nebbit wird when you're beside us, Maister Robertson. Weel, as I was sayin', we trudged alang the road as weel as could reasonably be expeckit, and that's just as near the real truth as, 'tween oorsel's, I could venture to gae. Benshie now bade us gude-nicht, an' as he did so, he wickedly cried owre his shouther 'Tak care, Faffarty ; mind the warlocks and the spunkies. If ye shou'd fraegather wi' them, and get the warst o't, ye'll gie us a' the particulars when we neist meet again at Kirry. Ha ! ha ! ' And then, as if his conscience had suddenly smitten him, he exclaimed in a few minutes afterwards ' I wish ye safe hame for a' that, Faffarty,' and disappeared behind the fir plantin' to the east. "We had now reached the junction of the roads," con- tinued the farmer, "and after shakin' hands, and biddin' each other gude-nicht, Bedford took his way up to his farm- toun, which stands, as you ken, only a hundred yards to the north ; and Dragonha', keepin' on the Farfar road, would be in his hoose also in a few minutes afterwards. " My road hame struck aff to the south, immediately op- posite Redford, and a rough, lanely, uncannie road it is, as I found to my cost. Havin' naebody beside me .noo to speak to and converse wi', I for the first time that nicht began tae feel a wee queerish a little eerie-ways and my speerits fell sae low, and my heart beat sae quickly, that I felt somewhat like Tom o' Shanter in similar circumstances : " ' Whiles holding fast his guid blue bonnet, Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scot's sonnet ; WILL-O'-THE-WISP. 109 Whiles glow'ring round wi' prudent cares, Lest bogles catch him unawares. " "Distressed beyond measure, I lookit for relief tae the cairnie aboon me ; an' 0, how beautifu' the sicht ! Thae use- less creatures they ca' poets say the bonnie mornin' glisterin' dew is composed o' angels' tears ; but as I gazed an' gazed on " The spangled firmament on high, With all the blue ethereal sky, " the thocht cam' unbidden into my reelin' head- "What if 11' thae stars were angels' een lookin' doon upon me in my loneliness an' kindly biddin' me 'God speed' on my weary way 1 Wisna that a gran' thocht to come into my head, Maister Robertson wisna it no ? " "A grand thought indeed," impatiently observed the Dominie, in reply ; "but you are long in coming to the point. We are not in the mood at the present moment either to enter into dry metaphysical disquisitions, or to listen to poetic raptures or fanciful comparisons on Nature's phenomena, but to hear your plain, unvarnished narrative of what befell you this night on your way from market. " "To state it shorter," said his equally impatient wife, taking hold of his arm at the same time ; "we're a' wearyin' to hear the partic'lars o' the awfu' fecht ye said ye had wi' the Spunkie i' the moss. " " You're just as bad's the Dominie, gudewife, " testily re- joined mine host, thrusting away her hand, and replenishing his glass from the now nearly emptied punch-bowl ; "how, in the nature o' things, can I tell you aboot the fecht i' the moss, fin I hav'na got that length yet ? I'm no oot o' the road wi' the leafless trees an' the dark hedges ; an' was just takin' a glint o' the cairnie to while awa' the lonesomeness of the journey afore I cam' to the peat moss whaur the protracted yet bluidless engagement, alas ! took place. But I'm comin' on tae it noo," taking off his glass, and turning up his little finger in a scornful, triumphant manner, "an' will bravely 110 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. fecht ' my battles ower again, ' in defiance o' a' your priggish taunts and silly interruptions. " "I got tae the end o' that lang, dreary road at last," resumed mine host, " an' havin' passed Lochty, at the foot o' the brae, I at once entered on the marshy moss. Not a hundred yards had I gane when I was surrounded by a count- less troop o' haggard demons, dancin' an' grinnin' awa, wi' the maist hellish-lookin' grimaces an' threatenin' gestures I had ever seen. When I moved, they followed me ; but observin' they leapt aside as I approached, I held on my way until I reached a grass-covered mound aboot the middle o' the moss. " Frae this spot I took a survey o' the strange scene afore an' around me. Near at hand, an' as far as my een could reach, the hale moss was thickly covered ower wi' warlocks an' hobgoblins, grinnin', caperin', an' makin' the awfulest antics that ever was seen by mortal man. There were blue deevils an' red deevils an' white deevils an' green deevils; some wi' lang shanks and some wi' short shanks ; some wi' straicht an' lythsome bodies, an' some wi' shapeless, distorted bodies ; mony wi' countenances lang and lantern-like, een like furnaces, and noses as sharp as scythes new frae the grind- stane ; and mair wi' faces without flesh, een as hollow as a scoupit neep, and noses as big an' crookit as a Heeland ram's horns when three years auld ; while the feck o' them were just a mere rackle o ; banes, which shook an' rattled i' the winter wind like as mony craw-mills aifter the fair. Faith, sirs, it was an awfu' sicht ! An' when they ogled an' skippit an' cleekit like sae mony thoosand evil speerits lat loose frae the brimstone regions o' the bottomless pit, what could I think but that the Prince o' Darkness had in reality sur- rounded me wi' a' his legions o' deevils, wi' the underhand intention of sweepin' me aff wi' the beesom o' destruction to the abodes o' the damned, whaur naething is for ever heard but ' weepin' and wailin' an' gnashin' o' teeth. ' But, becomin' bolder as my trials increased, an' recollectin' for a moment that other passage o' Scripture which says, that in that awfu' WILL-O'-THE-WISP. Ill place 'the worm dieth not, an' the fire is not quenched,' I resolved that I would endeavour to checkmate auld 'Cloutie' if I could, or perish in the attempt. So, takin' firm hold o' my gude, sturdy ash stick, an' flourishin' it high in the air to show them I was not to be tampered with, I strode courage- ously doon the hillock, charging as I went in grand style, but yearnin' to get a hit at what appeared to be the leader o' the band, I struck out wi' a' my micht, and was in the very act o' annihilating him, when, as bad luck would have it, my foot struck against some peats, and whack doon I tumbled into a mossy hole, wi' a' the deevils an' their leader on my back. Fa's that lauchin' there 1" thundered mine host, while looking savagely round to the farther corner of the kitchen, where the lads and lasses had snugly ensconsed themselves to hear the awful news. "We wisna misdootin' your word, maister," at last replied one of the group, " we were only wonderin' fat the weight o' the deevils had been that you were able to bear them a' on your back." The lasses tittered, the Dominie grinned, the gudewife laughed, and the forgiving host, after several ineffectual attempts, to keep his gravity, at last joined in the general laughter himself, to the no small amusement of his wondering household. "Go on with your narrative," said the Dominie, when the laughter had somewhat subsided ; " you must surely be near the grand finale now." " Finale, or no finale, " continued mine host, " I only wish I were safely through the bog, that I micht hae time, to mak' up anither bowl o' punch, for fechtin' wi' the spunkies is gey dry wark. Weel, notwithstanding a' their efforts to keep me doon, I got the better at last o' the mischievous imps, and, managin' to get out o' the miry puddle into which I had fallen, I warstled through the hale pack o' them, brandishin' my heavy stick i' their faces ; and whether they were feart 112 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. or no, it lookit gey like it, for they retreated as quickly as did the French afore Wellington at Waterloo ! " Thinkin' I had dune weel, I paused a little to tak' breath ; but I had no sooner stopped than a' the legions o' the bottom- less pit were aroond me again, mair numerous and mair threatenin' than ever. Wishin' to see whether they wid really meddle wi' me or no, I remained for a few minutes quite motionless, during which time they danced, an' capered, an' cleekit, an' grinned ; noo peerin' wi' their fiery een into my very face, an' then retreatin' like lichtnin' tae the ither end o' the moss ; their places, meanwhile, supplied by ither imps as wild an' uncannie as themselves, wha sprang, as it were, out o' the very earth, like sae mony emissaries o' the Evil One, bent on errands o' wrath an' destruction an' death ! " I could stand it nae langer, an' determined to fecht my way hame, although, like Samson, I should slay my thoosands an' tens o' thoosands, I strode manfully forward, strikin' richt an' left wi' a' my vengeance ; and, though tumblin' noo an' then among the peat-holes, I was nae sooner doon than I was up again, wrastlin' an' fechtin' on, till I reached the road to Glamis at last ; an' the warlocks, keepin' strictly to the moss, didna farther molest me, though I saw them fine, caperin' an' dancin' awa' i' the distance, until the hedges o' Brigton con- cealed them from my sicht ! " "Losh me, gudeman," said his wife, "but did you really fecht wi' the warlocks ?" " Fecht wi' the warlocks 1" exclaimed mine host, rising at the same time, and seizing with a firm grasp his faithful ash stick which stood by the fire " Fecht wi' the warlocks ! I would like to see the imp, be it warlock, or hobgoblin, or will-o'-the- wisp, that I widna, wi' the aid o' this stick, fecht wi' an' over- come ! Notwithstandin' the great odds against me this nicht, I struck at them wi' my sturdy ash in this way " suiting the action to the word "sae effectually, an' wi' sic uncommon power an' vengeance, that this goblin's head was severed frae his body, and that Jack-o'-the-lanthorn's body frae his legs, in WILL-O'-THE-WISP. 113 less time than it tak's tae tell ye. Fat are ye gickerin' at, lassies ? " The fact is, the expression of mine host was so fierce, and his actions so animated and comical, that the whole assemb- lage bnrst out into a loud, uncontrollable fit of laughter, during which he walked to the still blazing ingle, laid down his staff in its accustomed place, seated himself in his arm-chair, and, covering his face with his handkerchief, laughed as long and heartily as any of them. " Esther !" at last cried our host, uncovering his face once more, " Esther, put on the kettle again, my lassie ; we maun hae an eik afore Maister Eobertson tak's the road to Kinnettles ; it's no every nicht he honours us wi' his company." Then, lowering his voice to a whisper, and looking straight in the Dominie's face, he inquiringly said, " You seem to doubt the narration o' this nicht's adventures'?" "A mere phenomenon of nature," loudly and scornfully replied the Dominie. " Phenominum o' natur' or no, Maister Robertson," rejoined mine host, in a still louder voice, " tak' care as ye gae name to Kinnettles the nicht that nae 'keemeera' or 'phenominum,' as ye ca' them, disna turn up your heels in a way ye wot not of." Then, turning with a couthy look to his wife, to whom he was much attached, and by way of changing the current of the conversation, he sang with great feeling and tenderness : My boimie wee wifie, in life's early morn, When sweet as the linnet that sings on the thorn, You sang, and I listened, till that song of thine Tuned all my young heart-strings to music divine. And aye it grew sweeter, like song of the thrush, Which, mellow, melodious, makes vocal each bush, All nature rejoicing in blossoms so rare, You each day becoming more charmingly fair. Till in my nights' dreaming, like lark poised on high, You tang, while ascending far up in the sky ; H 114 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. Alas ! in proportion the farther you flew, My heart the more lonely, more desolate grew. So, from a heart broken, the voice of true love Came rushing, swift gushing, ' Be thou a sweet dove, And dwell in my bosom, there nestle through life, Thee ever I'll cherish, my bonnie wee wife.' My bonnie wee wine, long, long thou hast lain Next my heart, the bright sunshine, in sorrow and pain ; Still dwell in my bosom, there nestle through life, Aye the more will I love thee, my bonnie wee wife. " Noo, Maister Robertson," continued mine host, " we'll hae an eik to drink the stirrup cup, and a safe lanclin' tae you at Kinnettles ;" and while handing him his glass of punch, and another to the gudewife, he wickedly observed, " I hope the waterkelpies are no abroad the nicht, Mr Daniel." "Mere myths," courageously rejoined the Dominie. "Weel, weel," replied mine host, "we'll see what we'll see ; that's all I'll say for the present ; tak' aff yer glass." " Bring the lantern, Peter," said the gudewife ; " an' ye maun licht Maister Robertson hame, for it's a dark eerie nicht." " I'm to gie Maister Robertson a convoy hame the nicht mysel'," said mine host, rising at the same time and putting on his hat and overcoat, and grasping firmly in his hand his great ash cudgel, as if preparing for another mysterious en- counter with the weird-like denizens of the bog. "Jamie," said the farmer, "you're a gey whin stronger than Peter; tak' you the lantern, an' I'll lift the stiles mysel'." " But are ye no feart, aifter what ye've come through this awfu' nicht ? " timidly enquired his better-half. " Feart 1 gudewife," defiantly replied mine host " feart ! I'm ready for anither fecht whenever the time comes, for " Wi' tippeny we fear nae evil, Wi' usquebae we'll face the " " Fie ! for shame, gudeman," interrupted his wife, " an' WILL-O'-THE-WISP. 115 Maister Robertson, a rulin' elder o 1 the kirk, standin' an' hearin' ye a' the time !" " But I didna say the word," quietly observed the gudeman in reply, taking the credit to himself for his circumspection. " Are ye ready, Jamie 1 Come awa', Maister Robertson. Button up yer coat, and tie yer comforter round yer neck for it's a gey cauld winter's nicht." And away the trio went out into the darkness, mine host on the one side and his stalwart son on the other, with the phlegmatic and censorious Dominie in the midst. A little bewildered at first, they soon got accustomed to the darkness, and strode down the hill with as steady steps as, under the circumstances, could with a good grace have been anticipated Jamie keeping the lantern as much in front of the Dominie as possible, and his father lifting the stiles at the end of each park with due care and attention to their pro- gress and comfort. It was a beautiful night, the ground crisp and hard with the whitening frost ; the air clear, sharp and exhilarating, with just enough of wind as gently to stir the leafless branches with a deep, hollow, weird-like sadness. Overhead the stars shone out in all their quiet, subdued loveliness, looking calmly down upon the wayfarers like so many guardian angels overshadowing their midnight path. " Yonder's the spunkies i' the moss," burst out the farmer, when they had gone about mid-way down the hill. "Do ye no see them, Maister Robertson, kickin' an' flingin' and caperin' like sae mony warlocks frae the ither warld ? " "I see," replied the Dominie, "what might properly be termed the inevitable and natural exhaltations of a marsh or moss, phenomena of Nature explainable and clear in the light of science and philosophic research. The wonder would be, not that there should be phenomena of the kind, but why such should not appear in all similar circumstances." "Ye're aff the subject a'thegither," pettishly rejoined his 116 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. companion. " Do you really mean to tell me, Maister Daniel Robertson, that thae warlocks I encoontered and slew this very nicht i' the bog yonder are no leevin' creatur's, wi' flesh an' bluid an' banes like ourselves 1" " Wisht ! " said Jamie, interrupting. " Did you no hear yon lauch 1 I doot the waterkelpies are abroad the nicht ! " " What man of ordinary comprehension, or sound judg- ment," sneeringly retorted the Dominie, " could for a moment believe in such imaginary nondescripts as waterkelpies, far less give credence to the absurd and ridiculous idea that articulate sounds of laughter could, by any possibility, proceed from that which has no existence 1 Pshaw !" The travellers had now reached the margin of the Kerbet, which, very much swollen by the recent rains, had overflowed its banks, its dark and drumly waters stretching far and near in the hollow, like a vast inland lake. As good, or ill fortune would have it, the rickety wooden bridge was still left intact. The courageous Dominie now declared that, as the frail structure could not bear the weight of more than one indi- vidual at the same time, he would go across it alone, and bidding his good guardians farewell, he boldly proceeded to put his brave purpose into execution. Brave Daniel reached, without a word, The middle of the trembling ford, When guffaw from the bank, A laugh arose his fate deplore A cry of terror reached the shore " I'll never see my ' laddies' more" And 'tween the planks he sank ! " Whaur are ye ?" cried mine host behind, " For I the bodie canna find, I'll tell't to a' the clachan : Ou, there ye are, wat, drucket hen, Half-drooned ; I wot ye'll no again Mak' sport wi' ony in the glen, 0' waterkelpy's lauchin ! The crestfallen, sadly-troubled, and discomfited Dominie was duly escorted to the door of his house in Kinnettles, where WILL-O'-THE-WISP. 117 his companions bade him a kind adieu, with sincerely-expressed wishes that no bad effects would follow his sudden and mysterious immersion in the haunted Kerbet. The farmer and his son reached home in safety, very much to the delight and relief of the ever-watchful gudewife, who kindly welcomed them at its threshhold, with as much warmth of affection and kindly feeling as if they had just returned from a long and perilous journey. The worthy farmer, and the no less worthy Dominie, now sleep side by side in the quiet, secluded churchyard of Kinnettles, undisturbed in their slumbers by the rush of their native river, in whose now unruffled waters no demons or waterkelpies riot or roar ; but where all is serenity and peace in the smiling and fertile valley of the Kerbet. The marshes and mosses have long since been drained and brought under productive cultivation ; will-o'-the-wisps, the brownies, and the fairies have all disappeared ; eldrich screams and weird-like sounds have given place to the songs of the reapers and the melody of birds ; and green fields wave and wild flowers bloom on the once haunted and desolate Bos:. CHAPTER XTI. THE VILLAGE CLUB 1830. "Ye powers wha mak' mankind yer care, An' dish them oot their bill o' fare, Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware, That jaups in luggies ; But if ye wish her gratefu' pray'r Gie her a haggis ! " Bums. In the days of which I write there were no daily news- papers published. out of London, public libraries were few and far between, and reading-rooms in the country were entirely unknown. Hence the establishment of " Village Clubs," at whose periodical meetings were reciprocated the general and political news of the week. I do not mean it to be understood that every hamlet or village had its literary or political Club ; on the contrary, very few of the country parishes in Scotland could boast of having anything even approaching to the semblance of such institutions. People then were either content with the perusal of the weekly paper of the district at their own individual expense, or shared the coveted pleasure with others, each in his turn transmitting the precious treasure throughout its prescribed and charmed circle. The village Club of Glamis was neither wholly literary nor wholly political. True, it partook somewhat of both in its compound elements, but essentially its objects and aims were of an entirely different character. In a word, the tie that bound the members of this little village Club together was THE VILLAGE CLUB. 119 trusty friendship, and the end they had in view the cultiva- tion of good brotherhood. " As iron sharpeneth iron, so a man sharpeneth the- coun- tenance of his friend." Acting on this principle, the subjects discussed at the meetings of this small and rather select society embraced the literature, politics, and current news of the day, together with every social and Christian topic which might have a tendency to amuse and instruct. Fettered by no creed of faith, guided by no rules of debate, the conver- sation flowed on in an easy, off-hand manner, with a sense of intellectual freedom quite exhilarating and delightful. Re- moved on the one hand from the prim-starched, hypocritical, " unco gude," and on the other from the openly licentious, 'profane, or ribald winebibber, the happy, versatile members occupied an enviable position between, enjoying in this vantage-ground a thorough appreciation, if not of lofty con- verse or elevated thought, at least of candour, truthfulness, straightforward independency of purpose, and intuitively inhaling an innate horror of all that was mean and selfish, artful or untrue. Delighting in odd numbers, the Club was composed of five members only viz, the dominie, the laird, the student, the miller, and the smith. Another odd feature in connection with the Club was that the blanks which might be occasioned by change of residence or death were never to be filled up on any pretence whatever, and that when four were removed by death the surviving member was bound to visit the Club- room in the village hostelrie every Auld Yule evening thereafter so long as he was able, and drink a bumper in solemn silence to the memory of those who were gone. I shall now attempt to sketch the portraitures of the members of the Club, premising that there was such diversity in their moral and physical features, so much of that change- ful light and shade so tantalising to the painter that it need not excite surprise if I should comparatively fail in bringing them fully in propria persona before my indulgent readers. 120 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. At the outset of my sketch I feel considerably relieved in regard to the first, and in many respects the most important member of the Club, having already in chapter xi., entitled " Will o' the wisp," given a portraiture of the " Dominie ; " for, be it observed, it was he of Kinnettles, and not the dominie of the parish, that was the leading member in the Club of Glamis. When Daniel, however, sat last for his por- trait, under the roof-tree of Foffarty, he was getting stricken in years, and considerably past the prime of life, whereas at this time he was in the full vigour of manhood, and at the height of his fame as a popular and successful teacher. Not a hair of grey yet silvered his raven locks, not a wrinkle had furrowed his colourless cheek. His air was light and jaunty, and his little, trig figure full of pompous agility. Always particular as to his dress, he was peculiarly sensitive as to the adornment of his person in this the heyday of his life. His quiet elegance was never more persuasive nor his pawky smile more potent and powerful. Yet with all his eccentricities and peculiarities there lay beneath a pedantic exterior .a warm and generous heart, to the ripe fruitage of which, clustering around the future pathways of his favourite pupils, I have elsewhere and more than once most cheerfully and gratefully borne the most ample testimony. The Laird of Rochel-hill was of an entirely different character, being in every respect the very antipodes of the worthy Dominie of Kinnettles. Tall, muscular, and firmly- knit, his iron frame seemed to have been formed in a Herculean mould. If the faculties of his mind did not bear the same proportion to the gigantic powers of his body that might have been wished, the difference between the two was considerably modified by a quiet, pawky humour peculiarly his own, and an enviable gift of repartee, which stood him in good stead when opposed to the merciless fire of his opponents more lavishly gifted with the faculty of speech than himself. Like the small lairds of Fife, he wore the gude auld blue bonnet, in preference to the modern beaver, then coming into THE VILLAGE CLUB. 121 general use ; his hodden grey coat, corduroy knee-breeches, strong wide-ribbed hose, and steel-heeled, tackety brogues be- ing all in perfect keeping the one with the other. Farming his own land, the Laird was a practical agriculturist of the old school, admitting no. novelty of any kind on his lands, until forced by the greater gain or ridicule of his more pro- gressive neighbours to adopt it, which he would do quietly, and "under the rose," and so gradually as scarcely to be per- ceptible, except in the results that prospectively might follow. Exposed to all weathers, his complexion was as brown as a nut, which set forth in greater relief his small, twinkling hazel eyes, certainly by far the most intelligent part of the external physique of the Laird. To sketch the Student is a much more difficult task. I do not mean that there was anything so peculiar or extraordinary in his external appearance that the art of the limner would be thoroughly baffled in its attempt to pourtray his features, and catch his expression, and give the general contour of his presence. The youth was fair to look upon ; and, with a deeply-benevolent and contemplative expression in his eye, a fresh spring- flush of bloom on his delicate cheek, and a winning smile playing ever around his coral lips, would, had there been nothing else to attract and absorb the attention, have presented little difficulty to the experienced sketcher of the "human face divine." But like the puzzled painter in a wood full of ever-changing light and shade, the limner here no sooner caught the expression of the moment than it vanished in an instant, to give place to an entirely different expression, and so on, ad infinitum, until, bewildered and per- plexed beyond the possibility of escape, he had to throw away his otherwise faithful pencil in despair. Doubtless the reason of this ever-changing light and shade was the inward workings of the soul developing themselves outwardly, in alternate night, alternate day ; now, golden sunshine, rife with beauty and melodious sounds ; anon, dark tempests sweeping harsh the mountain pines, in weird-like music wild ; this moment, 122 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. the sobbing rain beating mournfully on the window-panes ; the next, the rainbow breaking through the murky clouds in all the gorgeous colours of animating hope, and holy, peaceful love ! The Miller was a jolly-looking, portly, broad-shouldered personage, of middle height, of a sonsie, florid complexion, with a sleek smile on his cheek, and a waggish expression in his eye, which betokened extreme contentment and good fellowship. Indeed, you could scarcely ever see him in the mill, at market, in the field, or seated at his cottage door on a fine summer evening without imagining he was singing, like his great prototype, the Miller o' Dee " I care for nobody no, not I, If nobody cares for me ! " A well-to-do farmer's son in the glen, the Miller had received a liberal education, and, being well posted up in the current literature of the day, he was a formidable antagonist for any village disputant who had the temerity to break a lance with him in vain-glorious rivalry. Amongst his many good qualities, that of the piety of a learned and douce divine most certainly did not constitute one of the brightest For if my mind be spoken true, He slept each diet the sermon through, And once fierce roused a drowsy elder, By roaring for another melder ! The Smith, stalwart, lank, sallow in complexion, with a thoughtful countenance and keen, black, piercing eye, formed a marked contrast to the Miller. Unlike the latter, he could not boast of having received a very liberal education, but in lieu of which he had inherited acute powers of observation, a considerable fund of mother wit, indomitable industry and perseverance, and a large amount of good, unvarnished common sense. An advanced Liberal of the extreme Radical type, he was the oracle of the village on all political subjects ; and while delivering his ultimatum on the estates of the realm, or on things in general, he exhibited considerable knowledge THE VILLAGE CLUB. 123 of the subjects on which he dilated, and showed not only a power of will and strength of purpose, but a certain rugged, clenching, slashing kind of Doric eloquence that seldom failed to arouse, if it did not convince, those whom he addressed. Divinity, however, was his chief and ever favourite topic. He could split hairs on Arianism and Calvinism, free-will and election, on the covenants of works and the covenants of grace, with the most astute and subtle debater of the day. Instead of going off, like the Miller, into a state of somnambulism dur- ing the delivery of the village sermon, he kept the eyes of his mind and body awake even more keenly than on other days, if perchance some slip of the tongue, or false stated proposition, might afford him subject-matter of discussion during the ensuing week. Yet the Smith had strong natural affections, a fine perception of the true and the beautiful, elevated aspira- tions and aims, and a good, kind, generous heart withal. The smithy was the centre from which radiated all the current news of politics and literature, as well as the silly gossip and scandal of the parish. There, amidst the showers of crackling sparks which flew upwards and around, and the swift, sharp cracks of the ever-descending hammer on the ponderous anvil, would the brawny, giant Smith propound the mysteries of Calvinism, the political creeds of Charles James Fox and William Pitt, or the newly fledged principles of Politi- cal Economy of Adam Smith. While this high converse proceeded in the inner sanctum, would brainless hinds and clownish gossips of the village lounge lazily around the door, indulging in all the tittle-tattle of the parish, prying into the secrets of the domestic hearth, exposing with boisterous gusto the sins and failures of their unsuspecting neighbours, and rejoicing with a deeper relish in the downfall or punishment of supposed delinquents, or abettors of crime, till, having reached their pitiful climax, they rejoicingly sang in chorus : How fop Tarn Langlands jilted clean Baith handsome Bess and bonnie Jean, And took the dochter o' the miller, Who'd neither beauty, sense, nor siller ! 124 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. So much for the dramatis personce of the village club of Glamis. There is just one other oddity to be noticed before the reader's formal introduction to the Club, which in many respects, is certainly the oddest feature of all. Strange to say, the members all fancied themselves to be poets. To test their individual excellences, or pretensions rather, it had, therefore, been resolved at the last assembly of the Club, that, as their next meeting would fall to be held on the evening of Auld Yule, each member should compose, and bring with him to the gathering, an original song or poem on subjects connected specially with the Howe of Strathmore, which he would be required to sing or recite for the benefit and decision of the meeting. The appointed evening had at last come round. Auld Yule once so dear to, and so heartily celebrated by, every dweller in the Howe, again appeared in appropriate costume, attended by his satellites of frost and snow and hail, and heralded as was his wont by the sweet, soft notes of robin red-breast, who on that day welcomed himself into every household, hopping and twittering in the porch or on the floor, wishing all a merry Christmas and many returns of the season, and picking gratefully in return the numerous dainty crumbs which were lavishingly showered around him. For three days previous a severe and blinding snow-storm had ruthlessly swept over the Strath, obscuring every familiar landmark, and foreboding a long continued " feeding " storm. To the intense delight of every one in the Howe, however, the morning of Auld Yule broke out bright and beautiful, the cheering rays of the sun tinging with a satfron and orange radiance the summits of the Sidlaw and Grampian Hills, and crowning with a jewelled diadem of purple and gold the far- off snow-capped Cairn-a-Month and Mount Blair, scattering with prodigal beauty around the upheaving lofty peak of the still more remote Schiehallion the concentrated effulgence of their united glory and splendour. Many a fat brose breakfast was cheerfully, yet speedily discussed that morning in the THE VILLAGE CLUB. 125 Strath and Glen, and many a happy group of lads and lasses erewhile went on their several ways to spend a happy Christmas with their distant friends forming truly a red- letter day in, to them, the calendar of life. Towards afternoon, however, unmistakable symptoms appeared in the heavens of a fresh outbreak of the storm. The sky grew troubled and gloomy ; dark, murky, leaden clouds obscured the lustre of the sun's cold yet genial rays ; and the feathery snowflakes began silently and steadily to fall, until the whole Strath was again enveloped in winter's livery of spotless white. As evening advanced the mysterious winds, erewhile asleep in their unknown caves, suddenly awoke in all their howling wrath, whirling the snow-wreathes with maddening strength along the plain, and fiercely drifting the thickly -falling snow in blinding eddies of resistless fury. " A terrible storm, Mrs Hendry," said our friend the Smith, who was the first to arrive at the village hostelrie. " I'm thinkin' the Dominie will hae a gey warsall wi' the drift atween the hedges o' Brigton afore he tastes your haggis the nicht." " An awfu' storm, indeed," replied our buxom hostess ; "but I've nae fear o' Maister Robertson gettin' safely through the drift, for " " For what 1" cried the Miller, who next abruptly entered, shaking off the snow from his brawny shoulders, for he scorned to wear a greatcoat, be the storm however severe " for what?" he repeated, as he whirled his north-wester to its usual nag in the lobby. " For he's sae very wee," pawkilly replied our hostess. "Little bodies are the teuchest at ony time, but teuchest ava in a storm." "My certie !" laughingly rejoined the miller, "it's just as weel for ye Maister Daniel's no here for naething offends his dignity so much as to be ca'd leetle. But here come our friends from the glen the laird and the young minister as white as if they'd been smoored in ane o' my sacks o' flour." "You're aye sae white wi' meal yoursel', Miller," quietly 126 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. retorted the laird, " that ye think it odd fin ither folk appear in your favourite livery eh V "Come now," coaxingly said the miller to the bashful student, " lat me help you aff wi' that Puritan-lookin' cloak o' yours ; and when you're a minister, I chap to be the minister s man, for in that case I wid hae nae fear, o' you acquittin' yoursel' to my entire satisfaction." " Did ye ever here sic vanity 1 " interruptingly cried the smith. " Man" addressing the miller -" ye ken nae mair about prechin' than daft Geordie, that never darkens a kirk door ; and as for predestination " Stop, stop," said the student, smilingly ; " it is quite out of place to debate such knotty points of divinity on Old Christmas night. This is the season of innocent amusement and good cheer, and the learned debate must for once give way to the generous sentiment and cheerful song." "Capital, Maister Student!" exultingly said the miller. " That's my mind to a hair ; and until the dominie mak's his appearance, we'll carry out the suggestion in a practical manner. Mrs Hendry, this is Auld Yule nicht, ye ken, an' we'll just tak' a dram oot o' yer ain bottle to begin wi' for the praise-worthy purpose, as the Glasgow bodies would say, of sharpening oor appetites a wee bit for the proper enjoyment o' yer excellent haggis." "That's not exactly what I meant, however," said the student, quietly, aside to the laird ; " but the miller must have his own way for one night at least. " " When I spoke of predestination, " chimed in the smith, " I didna at a' mean to pursue the subject to its logical and legitimate conclusion ; but the allusion to the Puritan cloak went richt into my very heart, just as if I'd seen the black banner o' the Covenant flutterin' i' the breeze at the battle o' Bothwell Brig. The fac' is, there are very few divines even in our day who really ken the difference, if any, atween pre- destination, free will, or election, or " I wish you all a merry Christmas, my friends, and many THE VILLAGE CLUB. 127 happy returns of the season," shiveringly exclaimed a voice, issuing from what at first sight appeared to be a round living snow-ball, which, like a ghostly apparition, noiselessly ap- peared in their midst. "It's Maister Eobertson, upon my word !" excitedly cried the miller, and in a twinkling he had eased him of his hat and greatcoat, unfolding in propria persona the veritable dominie of Kinnettles, who, pleased to see the attention and deference paid to him, smiled one of his pawkiest smiles, and conde- scendingly shook them all very heartily by the hand, express- ing at the same time his high appreciation of, and grateful thanks for, their kindly greeting. " Supper's ready, gentlemen, " said the worthy hostess, and immediately led the way to the principal room upstairs, where, on the hospitable board, already smoked the favourite national haggis, flanked by some dainty barnyard fowls and reaming bickers of Edinburgh ale. The dominie, as President of the Club, took the chair amidst loud applause, and, after he had said grace the demolish - ment of the tempting viands was begun in good earnest, each helping the other with the utmost cordiality and good feel- ing. " What a fine haggis, though, " at last breaking the silence of speech, half-chokingly, said the miller. "I think our national bard was never more richt than when he christened the haggis, ' chieftain o' the puddin' race "- " ' His knife see rustic labour dight, And cut you up wi" ready slight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright Like ony ditch ; And then, oh, what a glorious sight, Warm, reekin', rich ! ' " A leg o' that chuckie, laird, if you please " adding, after a good long swill at the bicker " and you may send me a wee bit o' that nice ham beside you, Maister Robertson. Thank ye, that will do," immediately resuming his masticating 128 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. powers, which, to do them justice, seemed to be of a rare order indeed. "I trust you are all enjoying your Auld Yule supper 1 ?" quietly enquired the worthy President. " For my part, taking example from the English, I say as little as possible during my meals, reserving the ' feast of reason and the flow of soul' for the wine and desert. Any more haggis, laird 1" " Nae mair, thank you ; but I think I've a wee bit corner for a slice o' that fine tongue a commodity I'm no over- burthened wi'. Will you tak' a slice, too, Maister Student 1 I thocht I saw ye lookin' wi' a sheep's e'e in that direction eh?" " You have kindly anticipated my wishes, " politely rejoined the student ; " and I will trouble you, Mr Smith, for a wing of that fowl before you, also, when you are disengaged." " Wi' great pleasure," said the smith. "As for mysel', I'll stick to the haggis the nicht, it bein' mair in keepin wi' the national holiday o' Auld Christmas. Our puir ancestors, the Covenanters, would hae been glad to hae tasted a bit o' it when wandering o'er the mountains and hidin' in dens an' caves o' the earth." " Aff on the wrang tack again," said the miller; "but the best way is to lat ye rin the length o' yer tether ; and I'm thinkin' afore it's run oot in a nicht like this, ye'll be s\\e chokit i' the snaw, ye'll be unco glad to get safe back again amon' kent folk at the keepin' o' Auld Yule, wi' a' the happy comforts o' a cozy fireside ha, ha, ha !" Thanks having been returned by the student, the cloth and d ceteras were removed from the table, leaving its well- polished mahogany exposed to view, as a fitting testimony to the care and tidiness of our excellent hostess. While the punch-bowl and necessary adjuncts are being brought in I may as well explain that the table at which our worthies sat was of a shape perfectly round, and as Knights of the Round table, except the arm-chair on which the presid- THE VILLAGE CLUB. 129 ent sat, there was no other mark visible to distinguish one member from another. " Are your glasses all charged, gentlemen 1 " enquired the Chairman. " You are aware we only drink to two toasts at our meetings, viz. 'The King and Constitution,' and ' Our noble Selves.' Let them be given at once, that we may proceed to the more important business of the evening. ' To the King and Constitution, ' gentlemen. " The toast having been duly honoured, theJVTiller was called upon to give " Our Xoble Selves, " which he did in almost as brief terms as the President had given the previous toast, with this difference, however, that the former insisted that his toast should be drunk to with all the honours, together with a tremendous "hip, hip, hurrah," as a necessary and suitable conclusion to his speech. All having resumed their seats, the Student proposed that, as the night was fast wearing away, the real business of the evening should now be proceeded with. " Ye'll be sittin' on heckle-pins," satirically said the Laird, "till ye get quit o' the burthen o' your sang, Maister Student, eh?" "It will come to your ain turn by-and-by, Laird," quietly said the Smith. " Ye'll nae doot astonish us a' the nicht wi' your learnin'. " " Well then, gentlemen, " said the President, glad to change at once the current of conversation, " to encourage you in your poetical efforts, I will, without the least hesitation, give you the trifle I have composed for this evening's entertainment." The Dominie then, in a fine clear, musical voice, sang THE BONNIE HOWE o' SWEET STRATHMORE. Air " Bonnie Wood o' Craigie Lee. " Soft flow thy streams, bright bloom thy flowers, Thy birdies liltin' as of yore, The music of thy fragrant bowers The voice of love awakes once more. Thou bonnie Howe o' sweet Strathmore, Thou bounie Howe o' sweet Strathmore, Life's early spring-time spent in thee, My blessings on thee evermore. I 130 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. And must I leave thee, bonnie Howe, To brave the broad Atlantic's roar, By gowand lea and broomy knowe, Are all my youthful ramblings o'er ? Thou bonnie Howe o' sweet Strathmore, Thou bonnie Howe o' sweet Strathmore, Life's joyous summer spent in thee, And must I leave thee evermore ! Far from thy vocal woods and streams, My fate I weeping sad deplore, Yet oft my sunny golden dreams, Do all thy charms to me restore. Thou bonnie Howe o' sweet Strathmore, Thou bonnie Howe o' sweet Strathmore, Life's autumn spend I far from thee, Oh ! shall I never see thee more ? Years fled enraptured now I see My own loved native Strath again, Hail ! bonnie Howe ! shout I with glee, Hark ! love re-echoes back the strain. Thou bonnie Howe o' sweet Strathmore, Thou bonnie Howe o' sweet Strathmore, Life's closing eve I'll spend in thee, And never, never leave thee more ! " Excellent ! " said all the members, as with one voice they cordially pronounced their verdict. "I wish I could sing like you, Maister Robertson," quietly said the Smith ; " but my feeble voice, never very gude, is noo a little cracket, an' I dinna hae the same heart to lilt awa' as I used to do in my young days. " "Come awa' wi' your sang," impatiently rejoined the Miller, " We a' ken vera weell you're juist like a win'bag at the burstin' ha, ha, ha ! " " Order, gentlemen, " indignantly said the President. " No insinuations, Mr Miller. Your song, Mr Smith. " "Belangin' as I do, to Douglastown, " said the Smith, "I've made up a wee bit sangie aboot my native Kerbet, which I'll sing the best way I can. " Sings THE VILLAGE CLUB. 131 THE SWIFT FLOWING KERBET. Air "Saw ye my Father. " Sweet were the days by the swift flowing Kerbet, When I trudged to Kinnettles' wee school ; Or fond wi' young Jessie oft willingly linger'd To gaze in the deep minnow pool. Fair were the lawns and the fields of sweet Brigton, Surrounded by woodlands so green ; The sheep feeding rich in the haughs and the meadows, 1'he river meaud'ring between. Wild were our pranks with the kind-hearted miller, As o'er the lade waters we swam ; Or sly stopp'd the voice of the noisy loud happer, By shutting the sluice of the dam. Loud, long our glad shoutings on holiday mornings, As we play'd on the sunny bright knowes ; Or piled the ripe fruit in our burnish'd white flagons, As we lay 'mong the blackberry boughs. I've drank of the waters of many strange rivers, And gaz'd on fair maidens divine, But my heart turns to thee, my own native Kerbet, The sights and the sounds o' langsyne. "A very sweet song, indeed," approvingly said the Chair- man. "An' weel sung, too," chimed in the Laird, betraying at the same time considerable uneasiness as the time approached for him to give tangible evidence of his poetical powers. "Nae shirkin', noo," authoritatively said the Miller. "If ye canna sing, Laird, ye maun juist get up upon your feet an' mak' a speech as lang's my airm ; an' if so, it'll no be short, I'm thinkin'." "We are all impatiently waiting for your song, Laird," said the President, respectfully, " and I feel our expectations in regard to your mental and vocal powers will be more than realised. " In obedience to the fiat of his chief, the Laird with great emotion sang 132 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. GLAMIS' BONNIE BUBNIE. Air " Katherine Ogie. " From springs on Sidlaw's highest hills Flows Glamis' bonnie burnie ; And down the glen it murmurs sweet, Wi' mony a jinkin' turnie. It laves the meadows bright and green, Where lasses soft are singing, And wild woods with the melody Of happy birds are ringing. All Nature sang fair Isa's charms, Heav'u's smiles in bliss revealing, As to mine own her lips I prest, And nought from her concealing. She vowed her heart was wholly mine, Forsake me would she never ; Believing then her words sincere, My love I gave for ever. On still thou flow'st, my bonnie burn, But thy voice is wild and dreary ; Birds' dowie songs attune no more My heart so faint and weary. Woes me ! the sunshine of my soul With her hath all departed : No longer mine, yet from my heart, Oh ! never to be parted. The Laird's song had apparently astonished them all, for, instead of instant applause following, as in the case of the others, the members seemed to be struck dumb with amaze- ment, as if they had not expected so fine marble out of such an unpromising quarry. "That's fine, though," patronisingly said the Miller, at length. " Ye'd surely been jilted, Laird, i' your youth, else ye widnae kent sae weel aboot it. " " We will compare it with your own by-and-by," quizzingly remarked the Chairman. " Now, Mr Miller, we are all atten- tion, sir, expecting you will astonish us by as gratifying an exhibition of the muse's inspirations as those to which we have just listened with so much pleasure. " " What a terrible nicht that is, though, " said the Miller, THE VILLAGE CLUB. 1 33 looking in the direction of the window, and apparently quite unheeding the satirical remarks of the worthy Chairman. " The wind's roarin' amon' the trees as if a' the demons an' evil speerits o' the air had been let loose at ance by the Prince o' Darkness to terrify us puir bodies wi' their screechin' din an' eldrich screams ; an' the snaw-flakes are flappin' an' dashin' against the shiverin' window-panes juist like a heart-broken lover in sorrow an' in pain, left alane to his hopeless fate by his cruel false one, noo left him for ever " " Very good, " interrupted the Chairman ; " but we want your song, Mr Miller." " Juist like him," said the Smith, with a triumphant leer in his waggish eye. "Nane kens better than himsel' what we're a' waitin' for. It's time his win'-bag was burst, at onyrate.' 1 A peal of laughter followed this well-timed repartee of the Smith, which, having somewhat subsided, the Miller indig- nantly rejoined "I'll match my ain native Dean wi' the drumley Kerbet ony day ; " and immediately, in a fine tenor voice, very tenderly sang MY AIN BONNIE DEAN. Air " Mrs Admiral Gordon's Strathspey." Of a' the streams that gently flow By moorland, strath, or den, I love the Dean, meand'ring slow Where dwells sweet Lizzie Glen. She's dear to me as aiie can be, Love sparkles in her een ; Her voice sae sweet oft mingles meet Wi' my ain bonnie Dean. Sing by her cot, my bonnie stream, Her charms sae rich and rare ; Gay deck, wi' diamond jewels bright, Her gowden tresses fair. Then ou thy bosom tenderly Bring safe my bridal queen, By gow'ny howe and broomy knowe, Come thou, my bonnie Dean. 134 STHATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. I carena for the winsome swains, Nor each admiring e'e ; No a' their art, wi' dextrous dart, Can wile her heart frae me. Wi' lav'rocks liltin' in the lift, An' linties by the green, True, constant both, we'll pledge our troth, By thee, my bonnie Dean. In after days, when bairnies play Upon thy hazel braes, And Lizzie sings o' wedded joys, While spreading out her claes, The burden o' her sang will be, While fond I listen keen " 0, blessings rest the sweetest, best, On thee, my bonnie Dean ! " A long ringing burst of general applause followed the singing of " Bonnie Dean, " which having been suitably acknowledged by the Miller, the Student was next called upon for his anxiously-expected contribution to the evening's enjoyment. "We'll get something noo," said the Laird, "that'll be worth the listenin' to, for as he and I cam' alang frae the glen thegither to the meetin' o' the Club the nicht, he wad scarce speak a single word, but keepit strummin' and hummin' awa' to himsel', as if he was either demented, or in a deep broon study wi 1 which nae ordinar' mortal was fit to enter- meddle." "But he's maistly aye that way," rejoined the Miller; " aye think, thinkin' awa' to himsel' fin he should be engaged in the conversation that may be goin' on, or else he juist runs in a minute to the other extreme. He's a perfect cameleon he's never half an hour after the same thing. " " Grantin' yer premises are richt," said the more observant Smith, "yonr deductions are no soond. It by no means follows that because our young friend is reticent at one time and loquacious at anither, that he should therefore, or neces- THE VILLAGE CLUB. 135 sarily, be devoid either of high intellectual thought, or of a steady persevering will to carry his thoughts, whatever these may be to a definite and practical conclusion," " I agree entirely with our good friend the Smith, " remarked the Chairman, " who has stated the case with his usual clearness and good sense "The forester tells me, too," interruptingly persisted the Miller, " that if a wee bit birdie happens to gie a bit liltie, that nae ither body wid tak' the least notice o', the electrified Student will listen to it in rapture, as if it were an angel fae Heaven that sang upon the tree " You do me by far too much honour ," said the Student, quietly interrupting the Miller in his turn. " The light and shade of which you speak are the result of inward emotions implanted by the great Creator, doubtless to serve some useful and beneficent purpose hereafter. If I sometimes revel in a visionary land of golden dreams, surrounded by an atmos- phere of melodious song, it is equally my delight to dwell with my fellow-men upon this fair and beautiful earth, and to exhibit as far as I can all the traits and feelings of an intensely human, tender, loving heart. But, dismissing this subject, as too personal for the present, permit me to say that I have noticed with great interest that the sentiments expressed in the songs you have so creditably sung to-night refer almost exclusively to the past : and, strange to say, I have uncon- sciously struck the same key-note in the verses which, with your leave, brother members, I will now read to you." Eeads.) THE DAYS o' LANGSYNE. As in the gloaming's eerie calm, 'Midst fancies fleeting fast, Our thoughts in unison revert All fondly to the past, So in the evening soft of life, The scenes that brightest shine Within our inmost heart of hearts Are the days o' langsyne. 136 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. Now, as beside the fire I sit, In my old rocking-chair, Before the lighted tapers gleam, Disclosing beauties fair, How vivid come the visions blest, Like sweet celestial dreams, Of my own native valley list ! The music of its streams. The gowans, whins, the buttercups, In all their beauty bloom, The gowdies and the linties sing Among the yellow broom. Again I wander by the burn That skirts the homestead dear My own loved home ! can I conceal The tributary tear ? No ! gem with liquid silvery pearls This roughly wrinkled cheek, All fondly gushing from the heart, Of life's bright morn they speak. My father's manly form I see, I hear my mother's voice, And the rhymes of some old melody Do now my heart rejoice. How fresh the sough of wild-woods green Plays round my raptured ear, Recalling whisperings from afar Of memories ever dear ! How clear the bleating of the sheep, The lowing of the kine ! Alas ! how dear, how very dear The days o' langsyne. The mill-wheel dashes round and round, The miller spruce and gay, The lads and lasses lilting loud, I e'en as glad as they ; As, on the sunny knowe, beside The tufts of golden broom, 'Midst songs of birds, soft hymns of streams Wild flowers of richest bloom I sit and read the ancient lays Of classic Greece and Rome, Or sing with abbot, monk, and nun Beneath cathedral dome ; THE VILLAGE CLUB. 137 My young soul stirred to ecstacy By deeds of the olden time, My thoughts, unconscious, moulding slow, In strains of flowing rhyme. Or wandering on the Hunter Hill, The dreamy poet boy, My youthful bosom heaving wild With strange tumultuous joy, As round me stretch the mountain groves, Like dim cathedral aisles, While sunbeams flash athwart the gloom, Like God's own holy smiles. And she I loved but feelings rise That are akin to pain, For, oh, the joys of early love, They never come again ! Yet still in sunshine, radiant, pure, Within my heart she dwells, Her voice vibrating sweet its chords, Like chime of silver bells. Again the exulting soul is full Of early memories, All revelling blissful in the strains Of ancient melodies. The cherished odour of the fir, Perfumes the mountain air, The same glad hymn the lav'rock sings, The uplands bloom as fair. The ripening grain, so golden bright, Is waving all around, The brook runs lapping o'er the stones With its ancient silver sound. Lo ! there in corner of the glen, Beneath the shadow cool Of hanging woods on Hunter Hill, My own loved Airniefoul. And here old Rover wags his tail, In welcome at the style, As from my pony I dismount, And pat his head the while. Or when from distant village school, I come at eve's decline, I hear his joyous bark as in The days o' langsyne. 138 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. The blessed Sabbath peaceful dawns In all its sacred calm ; Hark ! sweet arise the morning prayer, The holy altar psalm. Again within the village church My pastor's voice I hear ; " Devizes' " notes in plaintive swell, Oft bringing fond the tear. The breezes fresh from heather hills Come fragrant as of yore, My throbbing pulses bounding beat Yes, I am young once more ; And all is fair and beautiful, Each sound, each sight divine ; Alas ! how dear, how very dear, The days o' langsyne ! No response coming from his friends, the Student, while folding up his manuscript, looked inquiringly around the table to ascertain the cause of the strange silence. To his surprise the several members were in tears. Tears are sympathetic, and in the eyes of the amazed and bewildered Student, the tears came quickly and unbidden, although he yet could scarcely tell the reason why. All at once this thought struck him with startling effect "Have I through my imaginary hero given, by anticipation, expression to the feelings which I may experience in after-life, after having passed through the storms of sixty winters, and suffered all the ills which flesh is heir to 1 and are these the calm, yet melancholy reflections, which will, at that decade of rny existence, occupy my mind when about to gird up my loins for the passage across the dark river, to the unknown world beyond 1 " The Student, overcome with his emotions, covered his face with his hands, and wept long and bitterly, as one who would not be comforted. " I think we've been a' greetin' thegither," at last said the Miller, at the same time wiping, with his coat-sleeve, the big tears that still stood in his humid eyes. " That was very aft'ectin', though, Maister Student ; it cam' to the heart at THE VILLAGE CLUB. 139 ance, an' although I strove hard to hide my feelin's, I was fairly overcome at the last." "It is such touches of Nature," solemnly remarked the President, " ' that makes the whole world kin.' " "It's ten minutes ayont the twal," resumed the Miller. " We'll just hae deuchin doris, then, ' Auld Langsyne,' an' syne we'll part happy to meet, sorry to part, and happy to meet again." The stirrup-cup was duly handed round, the worthy Chairman remarking during its progress that he hoped they would have many more such happy and profitable meetings in the days that were to come. All now rose to their feet, and, led by the stentorian voice of the Miller, sung with fine effect, and with considerably greater feeling than their wont, the grand old national anthem, so dear to the heart of every Scotchman, whether at home or abroad. Descending to the lobby, they found the worthy hostess ready to hand them their greatcoats and mufflers ; and the process of wrapping up having been completed to their entire satisfaction, they issued forth from the comfortable hostelrie into the cold air of a frosty winter night. The winds were now hushed into a calm, the snow had ceased to fall, and the stars shone out in all their brilliancy and splendour. In the little square in front of the inn, the members of the Club bade each other an affectionate adieu, with many good and heart-felt wishes for their future welfare ; and with another warm shake of the hand, they reluctantly separated, and went on their several ways home- wards a raven in his flight over them ominously whispering in the air " WHEN WILL THESE FIVE MEET AGAIN ? " CHAPTER XIII. ST ORLAND'S STONE. "Sweet the hum Of bees, the voice of girls, the song of birds, The lisp of children, and their earliest words. . And dear the schoolboy spot We ne'er forget, though there we are forgot. But sweeter still, than this, than these, than all, Is first and passionate love it stands alone, Like Adam's recollection of his fall." Byron. BESIDES the ancient obelisk already noticed in the Legend of the Murder of Malcolm II., in 1034, there is another obelisk of more elaborate design in the immediate vicinity of the manse at Glamis. The former although Malcolm was actually buried at lona may probably mark the spot where, tradition saith, the King fell, and the latter may have been erected to his memory. This supposition is strengthened by the symbolical figures represented on the stone at the manse two men in the apparent attitude of forming some secret conspiracy, with a lion and a centaur overhead, exhibiting the bloody nature of the crime ; the several kinds of fishes engraven on the reverse of the monument representing the loch in which the assassins were drowned. St Orland's Stone stands about a mile north-east of the castle of Glamis, near the small hamlet of Cossins. With all due deference to those who have supposed that this obelisk is also a memorial of the murdered King, I am of opinion that it was erected at a period long antecedent to the death of Malcolm II., and records, in consequence, a totally different ST. ORLAND'S STONE. 141 event, or events. Indeed, the flowered cross so rudely yet sharply chiselled on this stone classifies it, in my humble judgment, with the less-known sculptured stone that stands near to the old church at Eassie, or the more celebrated pillars at Meigle and Aberlemno. If this view be the correct one, it would necessarily fix the date of erection some time between the seventh and ninth centuries. It was early in the fifth century, when the Romans abandoned Britain, that the inhabitants of the south of Scotland were converted to Christianity ; but those in the north did not embrace it until the close of the sixth or the beginning of the seventh century. The pillars with crosses and other Christian sym- bols engraven on them must therefore have been erected sub- sequent to the conversion of the inhabitants to Christianity, and before the close of the Pictish period of 843. A monumental pillar was called in the olden time " Amad," a Hebrew word signifying the lips or words of the people, meaning thereby that the people of former ages spoke through those symbolic pictures to the generations that came after them. Hence the popular traditions transmitted to posterity in connection with these "Speaking Stones," such as that they called out when a dead body was placed upon them, or contradicted a person who swore falsely by them common tradition, indeed, regarding them as once animated beings. Commencing with the mystic and fabulous ages of remote antiquity, the traditions of Strathmore existed in scarcely less strength and influence in the popular superstitions of the last or even in the beginning of the present century. Death lights, warnings, second sights, mysterious forebodings of evil ; not to speak of ghosts, hobgoblins, brownies, and fairies, were just as veritably believed in by our fathers and grandfathers of the Howe as they were by their rude progenitors of any former age. The popular tradition connected with St Orland's Stone was that, either by speech or sign from itself, or inward response felt by those who invoked its aid, the events of the 142 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. future were prophetically revealed. Maidens, therefore, repaired to its hallowed shrine at the midnight's 'witching hour to consult the holy oracle as to their future destiny ; and lovers plighted, with bated breath, their solemn troth, and vowed to heaven their unchanged and unchangeable love. Mary Armstrong, the butler's daughter, was as pretty and coquettish a blonde as there was in all the Howe of Strath- more. Her dress, though plain, as became her station, was always neat and becoming, and the simple drapery so artfully arranged that her graceful and handsome figure was always displayed to the best advantage. No one, however, of even ordinary perception but could detect in the pouting lip and roguish eye the confirmed trifler, and coquettish Love, accord- ing to the ordinary acceptation of his infirmities, being " blind," could not in consequence perceive these flagrant defects in her character ; and so .her numerous and ardent wooers went round and round the charmed circle in which she moved as if drawn unresistingly by the potent magnet of her magical influence. This hollow device could not, however, last long, for, although the jilted seldom confess their discomfiture in words, yet their dejected appearance betrays their chagrin, and their actions evince either their disappointment or passive disgust. Misfortunes, it is said, make one acquainted with strange bed- fellows ; and so it turned out in this case. The powerful loadstone of sympathy had, from the same cause, mysteriously attracted two apparently very opposite characters together. The miller's son had been an enthusiastic and constant wooer of the butler's daughter ; but he, in his turn, had been cruelly cast off by the versatile maiden, when she became tired of his importunate addresses. Thereafter her cap was set to catch higher game, and her affections, such as they were, without the least hesitation or compunction, were immediately transferred to the eldest son of the worthy minister an equally ardent admirer of Mary, whose reign over her heart, however, comprehended even a briefer space ST. ORLAND'S STONE. 143 than that enjoyed by his more lowly, yet not less passionate and persistent rival. The two cast-off wooers having accidentally met one autumn evening at the Market Muir, they proceeded homewards to the village together. " You seem very dull to-day, Jamie," said the minister's son, after the two friends had walked a considerable distance in company, without exchanging any words, except the mere formal compliments of the day. "What is the matter with you, my man ? You are not like yourself at all, Jamie." "I think there's a pair o' us." replied Jamie. "You havena spoken a word yoursel,' Maister Alfred, for the last twenty minutes. This is no your usual way you are sae hearty and cheerfu' wi' high and low, rich and poor." " When did you see the butler's daughter 1 " quietly re- joined Alfred, unheeding the remarks regarding himself. " No for some time," said Jamie, blushing. " Fan did ye see her yersel', Maister Alfred ] It's said you are the favourite noo in that quarter; but, depend upon it, she'll jilt you some o' these days in as cruel a manner as " She has jilted you," interrupted Alfred. " The fact is, Jamie," he continued, " we are two great fools to be imposed upon as we have been by such a gay, giddy, heartless imp ; and I am resolved firmly resolved to be revenged," con- cluded Alfred, in a semi-comic, theatrical manner, his voice rising ominously at the same time several octaves above its natural compass. " Fat's that you say, Maister Alfred 1 " quickly replied his companion. " You're no to bring the lassie to ony harm, surely 1 Wranged me sair as she has dune, I widna allow a single hair o' her head to be touched wi' ill intent, if I could help it, for, to tell the honest truth, Maister Alfred " wiping at the same time away with his sleeve the tale-telling tear that was gathering "I hae a soft place in my heart for Mary yet." " You have quite mistaken my meaning," said Alfred, 144 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. half-laughing at the comical appearance assumed by his partner in distress. " I would not lift a finger to injure her personally. The revenge I spoke of is of a different kind. Instead of harm, I wish the maiden, good, Jamie, and still have my revenge in a way you wot not of." The ice being now fairly broken, like ships in distress, they sympathetically bore away to the nearest friendly port for the necessary repairs to enable them to continue their voyage. During their cruise homewards, Alfred confided to his shipwrecked ally a scheme he had deliberately formed with the object, at the same time, to avenge their mutual wrongs, and to bring about the reformation of the offending maiden the well-known and confessed cause of all their mis- fortunes. The scheme partook somewhat of those practical yet questionable frolics indulged in by Alfred and his fellow- students at the University of St Andrews ; but as the parties most interested in carrying out its execution were perfectly satisfied of its capabilities to ensure success, it is certainly no business of ours to question its propriety. Alfred was not long in meeting Mary Armstrong, and as she did not in reality wish to cast eventually off such a coveted prize as the minister's son, she willingly permitted Alfred to accompany her home. During their walk to the Castle, Alfred, pretending to forget his defeat, like a skilful general endeavoured to make the most of his present oppor- tunity, and began the siege anew. With this view, he renewed his "rejected addresses" skilfully cautious, how- ever, not to betray himself by promises he really never meant to fulfil. The consequence was that Mary, still coy and coquettish as her wont, was cleverly drawn by Alfred into making a solemn promise to refer the matter of her destiny to the oracle at St Orland's Stone. Jamie, having been duly apprised of the engagement, lay down, with some trepidation and misgiving, in a neighbour- ing hollow on the appointed night, to await the mysterious issue, while Alfred busied himself in covering the Stone with ST. ORLAND'S STONE. 145 a large linen sheet, seating himself, when he had draped it in white, on the side of the pillar opposite to that by which the maiden would approach the Stone. It was a gusty, moonlight night, at the witching hour when spirits haunt the air, and demons roam abroad on the earth. The Queen of Night rode ominously on her silver chariot in a troubled and changing sky, and the fitful winds chimed sad and mournfully among the leafless trees. Mary had almost approached the stone unobserved by the watchers, when the moon, suddenly bursting through a black, driving cloud, disclosed her beautiful form in the suppliant attitude of a devout worshipper, solemnly invoking the assistance and presence of the Oracle of St Orland. Awaiting the expected response, she wistfully raised her eyes, when, instead of the well-known sculptured pillar, she wildly shrieked on behold- ing what to her excited imagination, appeared to be a denizen in reality of the other world. Her fears of the future augmented, as a hoarse, unearthly voice prophetically exclaimed " Beware ! Beware ! Beware ! " This warning of the Oracle might doubtless be interpreted in many ways, according to the phase of thought indulged in, or the complexion of retrospective feeling passing through the mind at the time. Though equally superstitious as her compeers, Mary Armstrong, with all her thoughtless frivolity, being of a practical turn of mind, applied, after due reflection, the prophetic warning, not only personally to herself, but to that particular besetting sin which she now remorsefully felt had hitherto characterised her restless and unsettled life. As Alfred had anticipated, the happy result was that the butler's daughter became a staid and reflective maiden, and in a short time was comfortably married to the douce, swarthy smith of the village, to whom she proved a contented, faith- ful, and affectionate wife. . Jamie, although he never forgot his first love, in course of time became the industrious and cheerful tenant of the "auld meal mill," and Alfred gradually attained by his learning and K 1 46 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. genius to the very highest place among the celebrated preachers of the day. To their sound judgment and delicacy of feeling be it further recorded to their credit that not until after the death of Mary, did they disclose the story of the white sheet on St Orland's Stone, or reveal the author of that terrible yet well-meant warning which changed in a moment her whole character, and turned into another channel the wayward current of her existence. Although the miller apparently seemed resigned to his fate, and went about his ordinary business so diligently that everything went well and prosperously with him, still there was an under-current of unrest beneath the calm unruffled surface above, a deep-seated, corroding grief, which, unknown to the world, exercised over his mind a painful, yet pleasing influence, solemnising, if not saddening, every action of his otherwise uneventful life. This was his never-changing, undying affection for his first love. So true is it in real life, in every rank and station, whatever cold, unfeeling men of the world may assert to the contrary, that true heart love never knows decay. Circumstances may intervene to pre- vent the visible union of two loving, devoted hearts, but they will ever remain united in reality all the same. Other family ties may be formed, and the duties of husband and wife, father and mother, religiously, nay, affectionately dis- charged, but the old old feeling is still there, not, I verily believe, for the purpose of disquieting and making unhappy God never intended that but rather to hallow and temper the bursting exuberance of domestic joys. There is this difference, however, between love as a passion, and love as a deep-rooted feeling of the heart, that whereas the former may change to hatred, the latter never ! Every good and loving wish surrounds the object of a first affection, these wishes culminating in the fervent hope that wedded love may be ever happy, the children rising up to call their parents blessed. The miller had a fine ear for music, and was an excellent ST. ORLAND'S STONE. 147 player on the violin, but after this, his first and greatest disappointment in life, he hung his harp upon the willows, where it ever afterwards remained uncared for and unstrung. He also sung well, but now his musical powers were concen- trated on one solitary song. Not that he ever audibly sung this song, but mentally brooded over it through life. Not only did its melody come spontaneously and unbidden when he feverishly awoke at early morn, and when he gently fell asleep at eventide, but without interfering with his ordinary avocations, it constantly occupied 'his thoughts, whether in the workshop, at market, or in the field, in the solitary lane, or in the crowded city. Time, instead of blunting the fine edge of this pristine feeling, only deepened and intensified its pleasing sadness : and, like the wounded dove which instinctively covers with its fluttering wings the poisoned arrow which is slowly doing its deadly work, so the poor deserted lover hugged the more tenderly and to the last, the fatal shaft which surely, though unseen, was gradually draining to the last dregs the ebbing stream of life : EARLY LOVE. Dear early love ! these beauteous scenes No charms Lave now for me, ' How cruel thus to break the tie That bound my soul to thee. how I loved with thee to roam By woodland, stream, and bower, And whisper all my inmost thoughts With hope's electric power ! How soft on golden wings was borne The wild-flower's rich perfume, As glad we roamed o'er hazel braes, Fringed bright with yellow broom ! How sweetly blushed the dewy rose, How glad the linnets sang, When with thy thrilling, silvery strains, The greenwood echoes rang ! And when at evening's twilight hour, Thee to my heart I prest, We wept, we vowed, O ! surely then, Were we supremely blest ! 148 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. And now, when all is over, love, And I'm no longer thine, Not heaven itself will disapprove A love so pure as mine. ! bid me not then e'er forget Those hours of rapturous joy, When free from care I roamed with thee, The blithsome artless boy. For, Oh ! this heart can never cease To beat, first love, for thee, My love can never die though thou Hast torn thyself from me. Love, deep, eternal, changeless love, Will not thus cast away, When firm implanted in the breast, It never knows decay ! Another incident in connection with St Orland's Stone, occurred a short time afterwards. Helen Lindsay, the younger daughter of a well-to-do crofter in the immediate neighbourhood of Cossins, was as pretty a brunette, as Mary Armstrong had been a beautiful and fascinating blonde. There was this difference in their character and feelings, however, that, whereas the latter was volatile and changeable, the former was unswerving and constant in her love. Yet with all this fixity and steadiness of purpose, strange to say in one remarkable instance she proved herself at fault. Amongst her numerous admirers in the Strath, the most prominent by common consent were the young carpenter of the village, and the elder son of the aged farmer of Drumgley. Either, irrespective of their excellent character, and good looks, would in point of social position have been a most suitable and eligible match for the rich crofter's daughter. It so happened, however, that the young maiden's heart was equally divided between the two lovers. This untoward state of her feelings she frankly and unequivocally confided to both, affirming at the same time that she would be quite happy and contented with either of them. ST. ORLAND'S STONE. 149 What was to be done ? A busy cleansing out of old horse- pistols, and an anxious furbishing up of rusty claymores of course. Nothing of the kind. The mill-wright and the farmer were men of common sense, with cool heads, and unexciteable feelings withal. At a mutual and amicable conference it was solemnly agreed that the choice of the maiden should be referred simpliciter to the Oracle of St Orland's Stone. A certain night was accordingly fixed when Helen and her two lovers were to appear in company at the shrine of the Oracle, whose decision was to be received as final. The only other condition attached to the compact was, as it turned out to be, a very necessary and important one. The proviso was this : In the event of either of the lovers not putting in appearance at the time appointed, the compact to be held as irrevocably dissolved, and the one who fulfilled his promise, to be declared the accepted suitor of Mary Armstrong. It so happened that the honest millwright received intel- ligence on the following day of the sudden death of an old friend, and an invitation to attend his funeral. The day of the interment was the same as that on the evening of which it had been agreed to meet at St Orland's Stone. Not in the least doubting but that he would be quite able to keep both appointments, especially as the interment was to take place at Glamis, and anxiously desirous to pay his last respects to the remains of his friend, he started early for the Murroes, where his friend had died, to attend his funeral. It was the universal custom then, as I know from experi- ence it still is, that the friends and acquaintances of the deceased who attended these country funerals came from great distances, and necessarily required, as they liberally received, a bountiful supply of all kinds of substantial viands and native liquors. It is just possible that sometimes there may have been an excess of the latter over the former. Be that as it may, the funeral procession started at last, on its road to Glamis. There being no hearse in the parish, the 150 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. remains of the deceased were put into a cart, and the coffin carefully covered over with the ancient and well-worn mortcloth. Amidst the sobs and tears of sorrowing women, and heart-felt sighs of aged, grey-haired men, the lowly, unpretending funeral car proceeded slowly on its rugged and circuitous route. As the irregular and highly characteristic procession moved on by the dark woods of Ballumbie, the attendants gradually dropped off until at Powrie Brae, where the road joins the Forfar highway, the number had been gradually reduced to about a dozen of the stronger and younger men including, of course, our good friend the millwright. On and on, amidst the sweltering heat, they slowly toiled, until they had reached the well-known divergence of the road at Tealing that to the left leading to Glamis by Lumleyden, and that to the right to Forfar by Fotheringhame. The weather being excessively warm, and feeling fatigued by their long journey, they unanimously agreed to adjourn to the then way-side inn for refreshment, leaving the cart with the corpse in a recess a little way off from the junction of the three roads. Bicker followed bicker, and stoup followed stoup, until the extent of their potations began gradually, yet visibly, to tell both upon their physical and mental condition. One thing was quite certain it was now far on in the afternoon, and that they took no note of time, whatever reckoning they kept of their cups. All at once, like a flash of lightning, the startling remembrance of the important meeting that evening at St Orland's Stone, which was to decide irrevoc- ably his future destiny, penetrated the half-muddled, alarmed brain of the conscience-stricken millwright, who, rising in a moment from his seat, declared he would drink no more, and firmly insisted that they should immediately proceed to the place of interment. From the authoritative and determined manner of the speaker, his companions saw at once the futility of resistance ; ST. ORLAND'S STONE. 151 so, submitting with the best grace they could, they, in a some- what unbecomingly irregular manner, proceeded to the spot where they had left the cart with the corpse. What was their unutterable surprise and amazement when neither cart, nor horse, nor corpse was to be seen ! In vain they eagerly searched every cranny, shed, and outhouse the cart, with its precious contents, was nowhere to be found ! In their present plight of dreamy half-unconsciousness, it would have been certainly unexpectedly remarkable if they had satisfactorily solved the mysterious enigma. So, without attempting any rational or logical solution feeling, doubtless, their utter incapacity for so doing they jumped at once to the conclusion, that as their dead friend was " no very canny " while he lived, the Devil had taken the body to himself when he died. "But the De'il, if he had wished to tak' him to himsel'," said one of the most thoughtful of the group, " could hae dune that without plaguing us takin' him a' this length." " Besides," said another, " he needna ta'en the cart and the horse, although he micht hae ta'en the corp. He's nae use for the cart, and as for the bit beastie, it never did him ony harm, I'm sure. " These acute and sensible remarks might, if followed up, have led to some feasible, if not satisfactory solution of the circumstance ; but the general opinion decidedly being that no explanation could by any possibility prevail other than that already given, and not being otherwise in the mood for weighing seeming probabilities and drawing logical deductions, they turned their faces homewards. What was the poor millwright to do 1 To go on to Glamis and meet the company invited there, without the body of the deceased, would, he reasoned, be simply a mockery. His safest course, he concluded, would be to follow the multitude, whether to good or evil. Accordingly he joined issue with his fellow mourners, and moodily proceeded with them on the road he had come, not knowing what might betide them 152 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. on the way, or what would be the result at their journey's end. As may be supposed, their heads became somewhat clearer as they proceeded. Still no other feasible explanation pre- sented itself to their minds than that the Evil One was the dreaded cause of the dire catastrophe, and the millwright, fully as superstitious as themselves, not being able either to solve the mystery or propound any rational interpretation, the matter became a settled point without any further contro- versy. They at last reached the point from whence they had started. Judge of their amazement when on entering the courtyard of the farm they stumbled upon the veritable cart and horse of their dead friend, with the coffin and mortcloth untouched where they had been so solemnly laid in the morning ! The simple fact was, that while they cared for their own creature comforts, they had forgotten to provide any provender for the horse, and the poor beastie, after wait- ing a reasonable time, and doubtless feeling aggrieved by their neglect, quietly turned its head homewards in search of more hospitable quarters ! It is easy to haloo when one is out of the wood, and to become courageous when the danger is past ; and so in this case it ludicrously turned out. " The horse and cart, with the coffin," 'twas naively said, " were left where three roads met. The horse could not have been expected to take either the one to Forfar or that to Glamis, for the simple reason that the beastie had never been there at all." "Of course not," chimed in, interruptedly, another wise- acre of the group, " and therefore the sensible animal took the road homewards, which it knew." The whole affair having been thus satisfactorily settled to their own entire satisfaction, and having arranged for the interrupted funeral to take place on the morrow, they ad- journed in a body to the farmhouse, to join the female ST. ORLAND'S STONE. 153 relations and acquaintances of the deceased, who had assem- bled to drink tea on their departure, and who were all in total ignorance of the ludicrous mishap which had taken place. What occurred on the evening of that eventful day beside St. Orland's Stone may be more easily imagined than de- scribed. A merry wedding took place shortly afterwards in the Howe when Helen Lindsay and young Drumgley were united in the holy bonds of matrimonial love. The mill- wright, though suffering acutely under his sore disappoint- ment, had the good sense to accept the kindly-sent invitation to the marriage ; but no allusion, we may rest assured, was made on the festive occasion either to the unlucky funeral, or to the equally unfortunate tryst at ST ORLAND'S STONE ! CHAPTER XIV. THE LILY OF THE VALE. " Gone are the heads of the silvery hair And the young that were have a brow of care , And the place is hush'd where the children play'd, Nought looks the same save the nest we made." Mrs Hemans. THAN the Milton, there was not a pleasanter, cozier, or happier homestead in all the wide valley of Strathmore. It has seen many changes, however, since the time of which I write. None the least of these was its change of tenancy, when Arthur Cargill bade it forever farewell when he left with his household to seek a new home in the backwoods of Canada. The broad acres of the Milton, although not uniformly of the same high quality, never failed to yield a rich and profit- able return to the practical agriculturist who farmed it so scientifically, and so well ; for Arthur Cargill was accounted amongst his compeers as the best educated and foremost tiller of the soil in his day. To this home he had brought his blushing and happy bride, the eldest daughter of a neighbour- ing farmer in the Howe, who had in every respect proved a worthy and willing helpmate to him in all the vicissitudes of his joys and sorrows. In course of time seven lovely boys were born to him, who grew up in quiet beauty like so many olive plants around his hospitable and happy hearth. Still the measure of his earthly happiness was not yet full, for both he and Mary, his wife, yearued in secret for a girl, to crown, as with a diadem of glory, their connubial bliss. The eighth addition to the family circle was now expected ; and when the child was born THE LILY OF THE VALE. 155 the joyful news was heard that the young stranger was really and in very deed a lassie. All things continued to thrive with the worthy farmer, un- til the Milton became the very beau ideal of a Scottish home- stead in the nineteenth century. His well-reared cattle browsed on the fruitful plains around ; his numerous flocks of sheep fed on the rich haughs and meadows, or whitened with their fleecy brightness the neighbouring Sidlaw Hills ; while his merry reapers among the golden harvest fields sung in the blithest strains the songs of contentment and peace. A decade of years had now rapidly passed away since the birth of Arthur's daughter, and Jeanie Cargill's charms were gradually bursting into the full matured bloom of womanhood. She was a model type of the true Scotch beauty, with this exception that, while she had in perfection the. aquiline, delicately-cut features ; the soft, blue, dreamy eyes ; the ring- lets of golden yellow, and the silvery voice of ringing sweet- ness, her cheeks had not the blushing richness of the rose, but the pale and subdued, though lovely hue of the lily. Hence, by general consent, she was endearingly known throughout Strathmore as the " Lily of the vale." But she had other and higher charms than these. Her mind was richly endowed, not only with the more solid acquirements of a liberal education, but with all that was amiable in disposi- tion, gentle in spirit, beautiful and true in heart. Her man- ners were as void of affectation 'as her actions were destitute of interested motives. Thoroughly unselfish in her nature, she wished all with whom she came into contact to share the common joys and mental pleasures she experienced herself. A halo of goodness and beauty encompassing her wherever she went, she was indeed the charm and delight of her rural home, the sunshine and joy of the lovely strath in which she dwelt. Admirers of every station she had many. The bashful swain and the purse-proud squire, alike assiduously strove to win her regards, and bask in her smiles. To one only had 156 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. she given any encouragement. This was Percy Guthrie, son and heir to the rich and worthy farmer of Scroggerfield, and one in every respect worthy of such a maiden's love. Percy and Jeanie had attended Kinnettles parish school together, and had, unconsciously, become warmly attached to each other from their youth upwards. Many a happy ramble they had had in the sylvan woods of Brigton, and along the rich haughs and meadows that fringe with emerald beauty the banks of the swift-running Kerbet. Hand-in- hand would they joyously wander on ; now stopping their march for a brief moment to listen to the merry songs of the happy birds, or to pull a primrose or gowan from the lovely greensward on which they trod ; anon to watch the speckled trout and gambolling minnow, as they sported in their own wild joy in the shady pools of the beautiful river ; or to pat with affectionate gentleness, the pretty heads of the new-born lambs, as they quietly lay in some flowery hollow, basking in safety their brief hours of happiness in the sultry rays of the summer's sun. In going or returning by the bonny hedges of Brigton to Kinnettles "wee school," while his other schoolmates were roystering away in their joyous mirth, and roughly indulging in practical jokes at his expense, Percy was ever silently by the side of Jeanie Cargill ; not that without his guardianship she would ever receive insult or come to harm, but feeling intuitively it was not only his duty, but his right to stand between her and all danger, imaginary or otherwise. On one of these occasions, while returning from school, and when Percy had become a stout lad of fourteen, the practical joking had, in his estimation, taken such an offensive turn, that, purposely walking on with Jeanie before his schoolmates, at a quicker pace than was his wont, he abruptly bade her adieu as she entered Douglastown, and, returning the way he had come, bent on avenging the insult he imagined he had received, he met in proud defiance his roystering schoolmates, and challenging any one of them to THE LILY OF THE VALE. 157 single combat to settle the quarrel, calmly awaited their decision. Great was the consternation in the enemy's camp, and, a council of war having been held, it was wisely determined that the biggest boy in the group should be selected as their champion. Now, the biggest boy Davie Gray was a veritable big boy indeed, and, as far as size and strength were concerned, shewed a marked contrast to the slender stripling with whom he was to measure his martial prowess. Although Davie afterwards became an esteemed minister in a rural parish not far from his native Howe, his appearance at this time was far from being clerical or prepossessing. Stalwart and swarthy, big-boned, and long-legged ; with a great black, bushy, burly head, surmounted by a very small Glengarry bonnet ; a pair of piercing black eyes, and a Roman beak, as bent and sharp as that of a hawk ; with hodden -grey clothes by far too small for the growing body they encased, and great tackety, home-made brogues, as heavy as a ploughshare, the figure presented by the embryo minister was anything but savouring of the manse. " Tak' aff your coat, Davie tak' aff your coat," cried the excited urchins, eager for the fray ; " ye canna feicht wi' your coat on, man," forming a wide living ring, at the same time, rcund the expected combatants, just in front of the gateway leading to the home farm of Brigton. Percy's jacket was off in an instant, which act Davie per- ceiving with the tail of his eye, obliged him to follow suit, and to appear at least courageous, although, if the truth must be told, the little courage he had was now beginning, like that of another personage in similar circumstances, to ooze out rather quickly from his finger ends. " Tak' your time, my lad," Davie growled at length ; " I'll be at you in a jiffey." But, somehow or other, Davie's homespun coat would not be persuaded to come off even, with the zealous assistance of several boys, who, after many fruitless attempts at co-operation, gave it up in despair, not, 158 STRATHMORE: ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. however, without quietly insinuating that " Davie was naething but a coo'rd." " Davie's feart," cried the other boys in the ring. " Davie's feart, and winna feight." "Fa says I'm feart?" wildly shouted Davie, now fairly put upon his mettle ; and, casting his hitherto unyielding coat from him with the utmost ease, he again defiantly exclaimed, " Fa says I'm fear't ? " at the same time somewhat retreating from, rather than advancing to meet the foe. Something again had evidently gone wrong, and the more eager of the group of boys surrounded their champion in the utmost consternation. Still Davie showed no signs of immediate action, far less any intention of dying game. " Come awa' name," said a little fellow, more observant than the others. " Lat him pech, and pech awa' ; he's feart I tell ye, and winna feight." " Fa says I'm feart and winna feicht ?" for the third time roared the valiant Davie, brandishing his brawny arms in the air, and rushing headlong into the ring, as if to annihilate at one fell swoop his brave, yet comparatively puny antagon- ist. Percy, to avoid the apparently coming blow, dexterously stepped aside to prevent the awful consequences thereof, when his ferocious antagonist, by the sheer force of the impetus he had given himself, went bounding like a Jove- shot thunderbolt to the other side of the road, where, tripped by an unfriendly boulder, over and over again he rolled, until, amidst the jeers and laughter of all, he sprawled and floundered in the miry ditch ! While the preparations for the fight were going forward, and unknown to his schoolmates, a little spy in the camp had quietly slipped away to Kinnettles, and informed the worthy schoolmaster of the expected battle, exaggerating, doubtless, every little detail, and extending the affair into the largest dimensions he possibly could. Scarcely had the untoward event above referred to occurred, when " Daniel " was descried in the distance half-walking, half-running, to the THE LILY OF THE VALE. 159 scene of action. When he reached the battle-field, the boys had just managed to drag the almost inert body of Davie to the middle of the road, when, mistaking the red clay with which he was bespattered for veritable human blood, and interpreting his silence as the silence of death, the stricken schoolmaster piteously exclaimed " My laddies ! Oh ! what's this you've dune 1 Killed poor Davie Gray ! Wha's brain planned the plot 1 Wha's hand did the deed ? Wae's me ! that I should hae lived to see this day ! Ane o' my ain laddies murdered killed by ane o' my ane bairns ! " To the surprise and delight of the grey-haired, weeping schoolmaster, Davie slowly rose to his feet, and after Daniel had fully satisfied and convinced himself of the reality of his existence, Davie explained in a few words the begin- ning and the ending of the laughable fracas, right generously exonerating Percy Guthrie from all blame in his ludicrous discomfiture. Grateful for the happy turn events had so unexpectedly taken, and overjoyed at the safety of his " laddies," Daniel made Percy and Davie join their willing hands in forgiving brotherhood together ; gave them all his parting benediction, and returned to his home in Kinnettles with a firmer step and a lighter heart than he had left it on his errand of justice and mercy. The practical result of the evening's encounter was, that Percy Guthrie had never afterwards reason to complain of taunt or jeer while he continued the acknowledged and admitted guardian of Jeanie Cargill. The time had now arrived when Jeanie had either to be sent to a boarding-school to finish her education, or learn the higher branches from a governess at home. Unwilling to deprive themselves of the society of their beloved daughter, Jeanie's father and mother wisely decided on the latter course, and the eldest daughter of a city clergyman was, after due in- quiry, selected as the future instructress of the young maiden. 160 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. By natural ability, and dint of patient industry, Percy Guthrie had also exhausted the intellectual resources of the parish school, so that it became absolutely necessary to send him to some seminary of eminence, to complete the education so well and profitably begun by Daniel Robertson. The far- famed Academy of Montrose was deemed the most eligible for this purpose, and the day was fixed for Percy's departure for that ancient and still renowned seat of learning. It was a chill, gusty afternoon in the latter end of October, when, at the "skailing" of the school, Percy and Jeanie, instead of going home as usual by the hedgerows of Brigton, walked unconsciously along by the banks of the Kerbet, in the direction of the pretty bridge which spans the river at Douglastown. The autumn winds were sighing in mournful cadence among the overshadowing groves, and the dry withered leaves of the forest trees were falling in plentiful showers upon the still verdant meadows, or circling in rustling eddies in the partially sheltered holms and hollows of the glen. No sound of joy or gladness intermingled with the sad, funereal obsequies of expiring Nature, save the measured and mournful ripplings of the swift-flowing river, as it rushed unceasingly on its winding, circuitous route to the far distant sea. Wandering silently on, they reached at last the extremity of the wood, when Jeanie, in faint and tremulous tones, strange and altogether new to her, bade, almost inarticulately, her attached companion "Good-bye," and moved reluctantly away from his presence. "Not yet," kindly said Percy. "Not yet, Jeanie," taking hold of her willing hand as he spoke, and gazing tenderly in her soft blue, speaking eyes, which instinctively returned his rapturous gaze, though scarcely comprehending its full, yet partially hidden import. "This is our last night at school together," rejoined Percy, " and I feel so sad, so very sad. Do you also feel sad, Jeanie?" THE LILY OF THE VALE. 161 " I feel, " said Jeanie " but I cannot tell you what I feel, Percy," raising her eyes again in youthful innocence, as if fondly seeking for a solution of the strange enigma. " We will meet again, Jeanie ] " Percy hesitatingly and inquiringly replied ; and while her hand, trembling in his, sent by its gentle touch a new, luxurious glow throughout his sympathetic frame, kindling at the same time a strange, indefinable joy in her own, he took and she returned the first kiss of Love ? The first kiss of love ! Dearly as Percy loved, he little knew how tenderly, how deeply he was loved in return. That night his affianced bride on laying her lovely head on the snowy pillow of her couch of innocence, thus gave ex- pression to her feelings of REST, LOVE, JOY. 0, joyful sounds ! methinks I hear An angel softly singing, Heave not that sigh, dry up that tear, Faith, hope to me are clinging. And far above yon golden cloud, In melifluous harmony, Celestial notes break swelling loud, How glorious the symphony ! Rest, love, joy ! sweet sounds divine ! Dwell within this heart of mine. Now calm, serene in tranquil rest, While my heart-strings fondly quiver, I lean upon my lover's breast, By the moon-lit flowing river. And ! his words to me, how sweet ! The silvery beams soft streaming, With dew-drops bright on my fairy feet, I lie and muse half -dreaming. Rest, love, joy ! sweet notes divine ! Dwell within this heart of mine. Deep in my rapt entranced soul, And nought from me concealing, My loved one's strains in music roll, Extatic joy revealing. L 162 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. Meet for immortal tuneful ears, These sweetest sounds are ringing, No sorrow, pain, no sighs, no tears, When my love to me is singing. Rest, love, joy ! sweet sounds divine ! Dwell within this heart of mine. t Sing on, my love, that joyous strain, Throned in my mind for ever, Its echoes thrill my heart again, Forget it ? 0, no, never ! Again, again at eventide, The witching tones shall quiver My raptured soul with thee beside, By the moon-lit flowing river. Rest, love, joy ! sweet sounds divine ! Dwell within this heart of mine. While Percy and Jeanie were pursuing apart their respec- tive studies to fit them for the duties and business of life, dark and dreary clouds of misfortune were gathering slowly yet surely around the hitherto prosperous and happy Milton. At the time of which I write, the larger class of farmers were extensive dealers in horses as well as stock the horse-couping, indeed, in most instances, forming by far the largest share of their multifarious transactions. Arthur Cargill, irrespective of his acknowledged merits as a farmer and agriculturist, had also the reputation of being the most extensive and successful horse-dealer in the district. Prudent and far-seeing in everything he undertook, it was unaccountably strange how he allowed himself to become imprudent even in one transaction. Yet so, alas ! it was. A reputed wealthy farmer and horse-dealer in the south had made several very heavy purchases of cattle and horses in succession, and meeting Mr Cargill, to whom he was in- timately known, in Trinity Muir market, where to his know- ledge he had completed his immense transactions for the time, he persuaded his friend to become security for the amount, on the understanding that the profits of the sales were to be equally divided between them. THE LILY OF THE VALE. 163 Scorning to benefit by what he deemed at the time an un- due advantage in the circumstances, Arthur generously and unconditionally came at once to the rescue of his friend, in whom he placed the most unbounded confidence, subscribed the bond, and went home congratulating himself on having done a highly praiseworthy act in furtherance of the interests of such a deserving friend. Alas ! scarcely had a month run its rapid course when the unexpected intelligence spread rapidly over the Strath that the great southern dealer had been gazetted a bankrupt ! The blow fell with crushing effect on the head and heart of Arthur Cargill, the more so that in his pride he unwisely determined to keep the circumstances of the bond a secret, at least for a time, from his wife and family. Time wore on, and Arthur Cargill might have recovered himself, even from the effect of such a heavy loss ; but his concealment of the fact from those who, of all others, should have been the first to know of it, ground him, soul and body, to the very earth ; so that gradually, by inattention and want of proper supervision on his part, his affairs were hopelessly drifting into confusion and insolvency. Even yet, had he taken counsel with his own household, and steadily and bravely looked his affairs in the face, the impending ruin of his fortunes might have been prevented. How sad the consequences often of a First False Step ! And these the hitherto happy household; of Milton were now doomed to feel in their utmost severity and rigour. Loss followed loss crash followed crash until the bitter end was reached. And a bitter end, in every sense of the term, it was ! Misfortunes, proverbially, seldom come alone ; but here they burst in such quick succession that, triumphing in the miserable wreck they had made, they left not a single oasis in the desert on which the eye or foot could rest in peace. Assuredly I have no heart to dwell on the desolate, heart- rending picture. Suffice it to say that the ruin was. so com- plete that Arthur Cargill determined, in something like his 164 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. manly spirit and heroic energy of old, to retrieve his fallen fortunes by seeking a new home in the far West, where, by his own exertions and those of his attached and numerous family, he might regain in another land the position he had lost in this. And how did Jeanie Cargill, the far-famed " Lily of the Vale" deport herself under this change of circumstances] Educated to the highest degree in the pure and sunny atmos- phere of home, she united to the more showy accomplishments of the day, the fixed principles of religious rectitude and truth, and these, acting in happy combination with a well regulated mind and a warm and generous human heart, bore her triumphantly over a succession of trials and withering disap- pointments which would have crushed and blighted for ever a spirit less prepared effectually to resist their terrible conse- quences. "Are you aware, Jeanie," quietly said her father, one summer's eve, as they were both seated in the shady arbour of their little garden/ " that I have at last fully made up my mind to seek a new home in the far West 1 " Jeanie dropt in an instant the needlework on which she had been engaged, and, gazing on her father's sad and sorrowful countenance, softly replied, while the big tears were gathering in her troubled eyes, " Why should you, dear father, determine on leaving your native landl Is it really necessary that you should do so ? Nursed though I have been in the lap of luxury, every advantage of birth, position, and education will I willingly and cheerfully, for your sake, resign, and with a brave heart perform the duties which our change of circumstances now necessarily and imperatively demand, assured that all our sor- rows and trials will be sanctified and blessed to us in the end." "I could endure anything," quickly rejoined her father; " loss of wealth, loss of health, loss of caste oh ! everything in the shape of trials, afflictions, scorn, and contumely could I willingly and resignedly endure ; but there is one thing to which I can never submit. " THE LILY OF THE VALE. 165 "What is that, father?" interruptingly said Jeanie. " To be an object of pity, " replied her father, in scornful accents, quite foreign to his nature. " Men may hate me ; men may despise me ; men may turn their heel against me, passing by in their pride on the other side ; but as for pity, I will have none of it. No, Jeanie ; amidst the wreck and ruin there is still left to me the unchanged and unchangeable love of your mother ; and this, combined with my own firm deter- mination to retrieve my fallen fortunes, and the reverential affection and indomitable industry of my seven manly boys, will achieve, under God, the ultimate success at which I aim, though that success will be realised in another land than this. " " But, my dear father," said Jeanie, her voice trembling, and her bosom heaving with the deepest emotion, " amidst the desolating wreck and ruin has there not also nobly survived a daughter's dutiful obedience and undying love ?" " True, true, dear Jeanie," quickly replied her father ; " I am just coming to that. Listen, my daughter Percy Guthrie has just confided to myself and your mother his prospects in life, and the devoted affection he bears to you ; and, without in plain terms saying so, hinted, if I have not mistaken his meaning, that, as in the course of nature he would succeed his father as tenant of Scroggerfield, it might be better that a certain member of the family were not exposed to the perilous dangers of the sea, but remain"- " Enough, my father," said Jeanie, interrupting him before he could finish the sentence ; " the wish must, in this instance, have been with you father to the thought, for Percy Guthrie would never, never demand from any one such a heavy such a cruel sacrifice." She rose, and taking her father's arm, they proceeded slowly and silently through the garden to the house together. When they had reached the ivied porch, Jeanie could contain her pent-up feelings no longer, and, throwing her arms around her father's neck, she tearfully and passionately exclaimed 166 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. " No, my dear father, we cannot be parted, at least for the present. ' Whither thou goest, I will go ; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge ; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.' " The harvest moon profusely shed her silvery radiance over the bonnie woods of Brigton, when, at the accustomed place, Jeanie Cargill and. Percy Guthrie met, for the last time. Along the haughs, and by the banks of their much-loved Kerbet, arm in arm the two lovers wandered, their hearts too big for words, their eyes too full for tears. At last, they in- stinctively stood in silence beneath the far-spreading branches of a venerable elm, the rustling bronze-tinted leaves falling thickly, as they did at their first parting, in melancholy cadence all around ; the autumn winds in dirge-like music low chant- ing measured requiems of moaning sadness for the unforgotten dead, and the stately flowing river subduedly singing on with greater solemnity of tone than its wont the well-known and never-to-be-forgotten evening hymn. Jeanie, in all the flush and bloom of womanly beauty, \vas still, in every respect, the "Lily of the Vale." Percy, to a highly intelligent, richly cultivated, and well-balanced mind, added all the charms of a graceful person, and the winning endear- ments of refined and gentlemanly manners. Standing in the clear moonlight, beneath the sheltering branches of the friendly elm, with his fine Roman features, ruddy complexion, and clustering ringlets of darkest brown, he presented a type of beauty the very opposite to that of the delicate and gentle " Lily." " This is our last meeting, Jeanie," softly, at last, said Percy, tenderly taking her willing hand in his, and gazing on her beautiful countenance, now dreamily lighted up by the unclouded radiance of the harvest moon into more than its usval spiritual, indescribable loveliness. " I trust not, Percy," Jeanie gently replied ; "and yet but I must not make you sad I have a strange presentiment that it may, alas ! be our last meeting.'' THE LILY OF THE VALE. 167 " You mean, dearest Jeanie," Percy rejoined, " that this may be our last meeting until I rejoin you in your new home 1" " No, that is not my meaning, Percy ; you may probably know by and by." " You have seen a wraith or heard a warning ? " tremblingly enquired Percy. " Yestreen," Jeanie quietly replied, " I stood on my favourite knoll at the Milton, admiring the gorgeous sunset on the western hills. The sun had just disappeared in all his regal magnificence, the saffron and purple clouds, golden and silver-fringed, suffusing their expiring radiance over the Howe, when a bright fleecy cloudlet in the midst assumed to my wondering gaze the vividly life-like form of a white-robed saint reclining calmly as on a couch of down, and borne mysteriously away by what seemed the white-crested waves of a tempestuous sea. Then a dark murky cloud suddenly obscured my vision, and although far away from it I distinctly heard the distant moaning of the ocean, and the dashing crushing sound of its angry billows as if they swept the reeling deck of some tempest-tost ship in the mid sea-way of the mighty Atlantic. You have seen my father ] " "I have," said Percy, blushingly; "and he and your mother most heartily approve of our betrothal, Jeanie ; and, were it not for the strength of that dutiful love which I know you bear to your parents, I would have given full expression to the wishes of my heart that you would not expose yourself to the perilous dangers of a sea voyage at this season of the year, but at once become my bride and wedded wife. Strong, pure, and unchangeable though my love for you be, I felt that, under the circumstances I could not ask from you such a heavy sacrifice, especially as my proposals to .this end might admit of being misconstrued, and motives be attributed to me the very opposite of those which in reality regulated my conduct. Do you understand me, Jeanie ? " " I understand you perfectly," Jeanie replied. " Your un- selfish and noble resolution only the more deeply confirms 168 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. the high estimation I have ever formed of your character, and of the sterling qualities of your mind and heart, Percy." " That is rather a cold way of putting it, is it not Jeanie 1 " said Percy inquiringly. " But you know my meaning, and you can put it in any shape or form you like. I am sure I will agree with you, Percy, if so be you are satisfied yourself." " Oh, yes ; I know that," Percy quickly replied. " I am so glad you approve of my plans, as your father also, doubtless, will do when he sees them in their proper light. Twelve- months hence, then, dearest Jeanie, I will cross the seas and rejoin you in the country of your father's adoption. Consulting the happiness and comfort of her, the dearest to me on earth, I will be guided, Jeanie, then entirely by your wishes, and either bring you to the 'Howe,' my loving, wedded wife, or remain in the backwoods, your guardian and protector for life." " Noble Percy ! " said Jeanie : " the more I know you, the more I esteem you and " Love me," quickly interrupted Percy ; and the two lovers were locked in each other's embrace, in all the blissful enjoy- ment of true, pure, unchangeable love ! A few minutes more, and they had parted their low- breathed farewell sympathetically blending with the mournful ripplings of the moon-lit river, which had striven in vain to calm its heaving, troubled bosom, or to sing itself to sweet and peaceful rest. As I am not writing a work of fiction, but of fact, I may be allowed to remark, en passant, especially for the benefit of my fair readers, that neither in the parting scene between the two lovers, narrated above, nor in any of their previous interviews, is there any breakings of pieces of silver or gold, exactings of promises, declarations of constancy, or vowings before high heaven to fulfil extorted engagements, or suffer the most condign punishments both in this world and the next, if they failed to fulfil their high-flown promises or impious vows. THE LILY OF THE VALE. 169 No ; their attachment to each other was of a nature so pure, undoubting, and true, that it required no unhallowed artificial support to nurse its growth or promote its after-existence. With all your raving vows away, Your lisping speeches bland ; Give me the language of the eye, The pressure of the hand. Their last day at the Milton had now arrived, and the stricken, yet undismayed household were early astir to complete the preparations for their long and perilous journey. Jeanie went out, unobserved, by the garden gate, and, ascending a little broomy knowe where she could see at a glance the whole of her much-loved and beautiful Howe, she thus, in plaintive accents, sung her last farewell : THE ' LILT'S ' FAREWELL. Farewell, my own sweet Highland glen, Away from thee I roam ; Afar from scenes and haunts of men I seek a distant home. No more I'll see thy bonnie broom, Thy daisies on the lea, Nor yet the waving blue-bell's bloom Beneath the greenwood tree. No more I'll hear the lav'rock's strains, Breathed sweet at early morn, Nor, ringing glad the happy plains, The linnet on the thorn. No more I'll hear the blackbird's song At evening's silent hour ; Nor yet the thrush the notes prolong, In woodland leafy bower. No more shall children's voices cheer, When they sing merrilie ; Nor shepherds charm my raptured ear, When they pipe bonnilie. But though afar from thee I roam, No more my glen to see, My heart will bless my Highland home, My thoughts shall be of thee. 170 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. And though the billows swift may bear The ship across the sea, And balmy gales may waft despair, My heart shall beat for thee. And when afar from haunts of men, My future home I see, Oh ! then, my own sweet Highland glen, My heart shall turn to thee ! The good ship Lady Kinnaird, well-manned and found, sailed from Dundee to New York in the autumn of 1837. The vessel had been a week at sea. The weather continued agreeable and pleasant, and everything tended to strengthen the hope and belief that the sorrowing emigrants would make a rapid and successful voyage. It was a beautiful afternoon, the sun shining in all his splendour, cresting with sparkling silver the gently undulating billows, and diffusing throughout the mind a tranquil feeling of serenity and peace. With pardonable pride the merry-hearted crew leant over the sides of their noble barque, admiring the unprecedented speed with which she bravely cleaved for herself a triumphant highway over the apparently shoreless deep. Enjoying the beauty and calm tranquillity of the scene, Arthur Cargill, with his wife and daughter, and seven manly boys, were standing a thoughtful, yet picturesque group, on the large and roomy deck, listening in deep earnestness to the sweet, soft voice of Jeanie, as in gentle and tender accents she pictured to them their distant home in the far West, where, by steady, united, persevering industry, health, peace, and plenty might yet be their blest and happy destiny. They were now joined by a young lady who, with her family, had also emigrated from Strathmore. Jeanie put her arm into that of her friend, and after pacing the deck in lov- ing converse for a few minutes together, Jeanie complained that the strange, undulating motion of the ship still continued to cause that swimming giddiness in her head which had so much pained and discouraged her from the commencement of the voyage. By her friend's advice they retired to their little THE LILY OF THE VALE. 171 cabin on the poop, and hastily undressing, she lay down to seek repose and rest on her fragile, yet airy couch. " Lizzie," said Jeanie, addressing her friend, " no sooner is my aching head laid upon this friendly pillow than I get better. Read to me, dear Lizzie, my favourite Paraphrase, beginning with " Take comfort, Christians, when your friends In Jesus fall asleep ; Their better being never ends ; Why, then, dejected weep ? " Her sympathising companion, taking out the time-honoured "Ha' Bible" from amongst the few household gods which they had been able to save from the wreck and ruin of their Scottish home, commenced softly to read the plaintively beautiful fifty-third Paraphrase as requested so beseechingly by her dear and much- loved friend. A great and rapid change had now come over the peaceful scene. Dark thunder-charged clouds lowered ominously in the changing, murky sky ; alternate fitful gusts piped harsh and shrill among the flapping sails and creaking shrouds ; a long, black, troublous ripple broke over the rolling, threaten- ing waves ; and a heavy, far-stretching, scowling swell struck swiftly with giant strength against the reeling ship. Wave followed wave, and fiercer grew the elemental war, until the mountain billows broke at last with thundering crash over the unprotected deck, sweeping the fragile poop-cabin and one of its saintly inmates into the dark and troubled sea ! There swiftly borne away upon the angry waves still lying resigned upon her little bed, with her hands firm clasped across her breast, and her dreamy eyes upraised to heaven, is Jeanie Cargill, the "Lily of the Vale," like a white-robed angel, peaceful amidst the storm, calm hastening on to her eternal rest ! The sad and startling news came upon Percy Guthrie with the most crushing and overwhelming effect. Recovering after a time from the shock, he betrayed no unmanly or sentimental 172 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. grief -the wound was too deep for that but quietly and industriously went about his work as usual, performing every incumbent duty with even greater diligence and zeal. In course of time his good old parents were gathered to their fathers, and he succeeded to the lease of Scroggerfield, where he long dwelt in comparative affluence and peace. He never married, and when his unobtrusive, useful life came to its close, he died, as he had lived, a sincere Christian, and was buried amongst his kindred in the quiet churchyard of Kin- nettles, around which flow the hymning waters of the Kerbet, which he and ANOTHER had loved so well. [ give the real name of the vessel and the time of her sail- ing from Dundee to New York, for the " Lily " was my cousin, and I made all the necessary arrangements for her comfort during the voyage with my esteemed friend Mr Alexander Martin, Shipowner, Dundee, the respected owner of the ship. This was the first voyage of the " Lady Kinnaird." The poop- cabins of those days, it may be stated, instead of forming part of the hull of the ship, as at present, were merely erections constructed on, and subjoined to the deck. I shall never forget the interview I had with Captain Martin, when I communicated to him from the British consul's letter to me, the mournful intelligence of my cousin's sad and singular end, which affected the good old man almost to tears. " This, my young friend," he emphatically said, " is the first poop-cabin I have ever had in any of my vessels, and it shall be the last" a determination which I believe he con- scientiously carried into practice ever afterwards. CHAPTER XV. ST FERGUS' WELL. No longer sounds the convent bell, No nuns flit round St Fergus' Well, And hush'd is sound of choral hymn, And vesper song from cloister grim, And dying nuns' wild, wailing tone, And morning song and orison, And whisp'ring voices all are gone ! AMONG all the classical and interesting spots in and around Glamis, none is so full of the mystic associations of the past as St Fergus' Well. Though less known to the cursory visitant than those other places more loudly celebrated in story and song, it is, nevertheless, a most interesting spot, and worthy of its quiet fame as the romantic site of some ancient and almost forgotten monastery. A pathway immediately to the north of the churchyard, leads to the wood-shaded dell in which the well is situated. Winding pleasantly around its base, the waters of the burn flow peacefully onward to their junction with the Dean. Above and around, the silent dead of many a grade and generation sleep quietly, and undisturbed, their last, long sleep. When you sit by the well, you may hear in the sweet summer time, the subdued and muffled voices of the youthful villagers at play on the village green, and the plaintively mellow notes of the happy birds as they sing their even-song unseen among the green spreading boughs of the surrounding woods ; but the voices and songs, spiritualised and softened by distance, seem to come from afar, and pensively fall upon the ear like the distant sounds of music of another world than ours. 1 74 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. When I last sat by the well now a good many years ago I thought I had never till then so fully realised the touching sentiment of the beautifully expressive line " How still and peaceful is the grave ! " All was so silent, so solemn, and the woodland surroundings so appropriate to the quiet resting-places of the dead ! A grey linnet perched itself on the overhanging boughs immedi- ately above where I musingly sat, and chanted very sweetly its summer song ; but not being joined by any other of the songsters of the grove, and not wishing to intrude, as I imagined, on my then overwhelming grief, it soon ceased its flute-like warblings, and flew quickly away across the burn to the waving woodland beyond Birdie ! hie thee on thy way, Fill up thy time of gladness, HEREAFTER bringeth not to thee Aught e'er of joy or gladness. Merrily revel in thy joy. Each bursting joyous morrow, Nor come thou near my breaking heart To drink its bitter sorrow. Ornamental cemeteries are new and not unimposing features in our Scottish landscape. Is it not to be feared, however, that, while these statued burying-grounds give full scope for the display of taste, they may at the same time serve gradually to uproot the reverential and solemn feelings universally experienced by our countrymen, even at the sight of a single grave 1 We enter a Pere la Chaise, or Necropolis, not with the feelings of those who are entering the " place of graves," but with the intention and desire of beholding works of art ; and while we admiringly gaze on the monu- mental pillars and sculptured tombs which surround us, the slumbering dead who lie mouldering beneath are not in all our thoughts. I love the quiet, secluded burying-ground, with its little green hillocks and rudely-sculptured tombstones, surrounded ST FERGUS' WELL. 175 with the solemn grove of lofty oaks or wide-spreading elms ; beautified, it may be, by some tiny, murmuring rivulet, and overlooked by the modest, yet venerable house of God. All these characteristics are in the highest degree combined in the churchyard of Glamis, than which a sweeter or more romantic " resting place " is not to be found among all the beautiful scenes of our beautiful land. Full of such thoughts, as I sat on the occasion alluded to beside St Fergus' Well, beneath the dark shadow of the rock from which it springs, and encompassed by a deeper shadow of the heart crushed and broken under its great sorrow, I could not refrain from exclaiming with Bernard Barton : " Then be our burial grounds as should become A simple, but a not unfeeling race ; Let them appear, to outward semblance, dumb, As best befits the quiet resting place Appointed for the prisoners of grace, Who wait the promise by the gospel given When the last trump shall sound, the trembling base Of tombs, of temples, pyramids be riven, And all the dead arise before the hosts of heaven ! " Although no authentic history is on record, and no vestiges of any buildings remain, it has, with every probabil- ity, been supposed that the name of this romantic well had its origin in some ancient monastery, of which St Fergus was the patron saint and chief. No site for an Abbey or a Monastery could have been finer, or more appropriate ; and the imagination is left free and unfettered to fill up the picture as best it may. We can thus wing our thoughts away at our own free will to that dark-shadowed, remote age, when this romantic sylvan den was rife with friars and monks and nuns, and vocal with the choral hymns and orisons and vesper songs of the cloistered Abbey, with all its splendid garniture of sculptured nave and pillared aisle ; the crosier, mitre, jewelled cross ; the marble altars in the dimly-lighted choir, at whose holy shrines the shaven priests do minister in their variegated robes, from 176 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. the sober hues of mottled grey, to the royal purple aglow with precious stones, and bedight with glittering trappings of burnished gold. As is my wont, however, I wish to surround St. Fergus' Well with some living, human interest, and to connect its hallowed precincts with the present as well as with the past. About the middle of the last century there was born in the neighbourhood of Glamis, of humble, yet industrious and re- spectable parents, the seventh son of the family. Joe Wight- man, although an ailing and sickly child, grew up apace, and by the time he went to the village school he had grown into a fine, stout, healthy boy. After mastering the rudiments, he pursued his studies, such as they were, with the greatest appli- cation and industry. He excelled in arithmetic, his great de- light being in the successful manipulation of figures. The climax to him was reached at last when he was taught a smat- tering of algebra and mathematics, and had fairly mastered all the other branches of education then common to his class. It was now that the golden dreams of the future flitted fit- fully across the mind of the adventurous and aspiring boy. He had high ambition, but his ambition was to be great and rich. While his youthful brain was teeming with these gilded visions of power and renown, he used to retire every evening to the shady quietude of St Fergus' Well to " build his castles in the air," and ruminate on the steps to be taken to secure the reality of his fondly cherished dreams. Of this truth he became early and thoroughly convinced, viz., that if he would be great and rich, he must work to attain these ends. Being of a practical turn of mind, he duly balanced and weighed the probabilities and improbabilities of his ever being so successful in life as to reach the summit of his ambitious hopes. Feeling persuaded in his own mind that he had sufficient energy, nerve, and perseverance to achieve success, if he only knew how to set about it, he resolved to make himself acquainted with the histories of those who had, by their own unaided exertions, become great and good. ST FERGUS' WELL. 177 Books and libraries not being so plentiful in those days, the only volume pertaining to the subject he could obtain was the " Life and Career of Whittington," who, from a poor friend- less boy, became thrice Lord Mayor of London. This was sufficient for young Wightman ; he had read enough ; his re- solution was unalterably taken ; he would go to England and strive by every means in his power to reach the summit of his ambition. Like all persons, man or boy, who are of a resolute, deter- mined turn of mind, our hero was very reticent as to his future plans and purposes, concealing his high aims even from his nearest and dearest relations, unburthening his mind and the projects by which it was filled to none but himself and God. This is scarcely, however, literally correct. He had a " familiar," and that familiar was St Fergus' Well ! Strange as it may seem, this ancient well and classical sur- roundings had from the first been the recipients of his thoughts, and with whom he had taken counsel as with animate intelligent beings. Not that the young aspirant was of a dreamy, poetical temperament. He had not the most in- finitesimal particle of that in his composition. If he had had, he would never have achieved success as a plodding, money- making man of business. Before advancing further in his career, his parents had now to be consulted. This he did with all the fervour of emotional feeling, yet with due respect and affection to those who had done well their part to him, and whom he most tenderly and reverentially loved. To his inexpressible delight, his father encouragingly approved of his plans, while his mother did not object, although it was apparent her negative consent was given reservedly and with great reluctance. It having been arranged that Joe was to sail for London from Dundee, he paid his last visit to St Fergus' Well on the evening previous to his departure, to bid a final adieu to scenes which had become incorporated with his very nature. It was a beautiful summer evening, but Joe saw not its beauty ; the M 178 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. birds were twittering among the branches, but he heard them not ; the bonnie burn was sweetly singing its low, quiet even- song, but he heeded it not. Sipping for the last time the cool, refreshing waters of the well, he vowed before high heaven he would not return to his native village until he was Lord Mayor of London ! The next morning at early dawn, Joe, with his ash sapling in his hand and his little bundle o'er his arm, was ready for his journey. His father's farewell was tender and affecting ; but the parting with his mother was, on her part, overwhelm- ingly sad. As she for the last time strained her favourite boy to her bosom, the only expression to which she could give utterance were these simple words " Dear Joe." " Farewell," responded Joe. " Weep not, my mother ; your boy will soon return." Footsore and weary with his journey, Joe arrived in Dun- dee in the afternoon, and proceeded at once to the office of the Dundee and London Shipping Company, where he engaged a berth in the steerage of the good smack Bridport, Captain Wishart. He then proceeded to the harbour, and deposited his bundle and stick in the little crib in the forecastle which he had selected as his berth. Finding the vessel was to sail, wind and weather permitting, at two o'clock on the following morning, Joe was permitted to remain on board, which saved him some expense, a matter of great importance to him in the then rather low state of his scanty exchequer. These were the good old days of the trim sailing clipper smacks, which took from ten days to two or three weeks to make the passage when there was no certain time for their sailing, far less any fixed period for their return. So accus- tomed, however, had the voyageurs to and from the Metropolis become to this means of transit, that many of them, long after the steamers had commenced to run the passage with the greatest regularity, and in a twentieth part less of time, still preferred the "old way" in the trig sailing smacks. Major Guthrie, a well-known and highly respected ST FERGUS' WELL. 179 citizen of Dundee, took a trip once every year to London, but to the last he gave the preference to his favourite smack, the Sovereign, over the fast-sailing and splendidly equipped steamers then on the passage. When seriously asked the reason, 'one day, for this strange preference, he jocularly replied, " I always invest my money where I can get the best return!" Captain Wishart, of the Bridport, was the real veritable type of the old " salt " brusque, genial, kind-hearted, brave always rough and ready for his work, and whose delight it was to encounter the tempest and the storm, and to guide his weather-beaten ship all safely and true amongst and over the roaring billows to her destined haven. Long afterwards, when the Captain's son was appointed to the command of the steamship London, the late Lord Pan- mure was a passenger in that vessel in one of her trips from London to Dundee. The weather, after she had left the Thames, became very tempestuous and stormy, but so bravely and well did the Captain do his duty that the genial and appreciative peer proclaimed him to be " the prince of sailors," and, in the fulness of his gratitude, bestowed upon him a piece of ground at the West Ferry, on which he afterwards erected a cottage as a refuge from the storms of life, and which the old sailor very thankfully enjoyed when no longer able to contend with the warring elements on the sea, and from under the roof-tree of which his brave spirit at last departed in peace to the quiet haven of eternal rest. Everything was strange and new to Joe, who had never seen the sea or a ship before. " A rough lot these sailors, " said Joe to himself, " but I am determined to take nothing amiss, but to rough it with the best of them, deeming the performance of no duty menial or beneath me, if by the doing of it I can honestly and effectually advance my own interest," an axiom which afterwards proved to be the real cause of his success in life. The tide was full, and the hour appointed for sailing had 180 STRATHMORE: ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. arrived, but the wind had suddenly chopped round to the east, and Captain Wishart was reluctantly compelled to delay the ship's departure till the following tide. When the tide again was full the wind had become more favourable, and the impatient captain gave the expected fiat to make ready for sea. All now was bustle and excitement on board the good ship Bridport, the cabin passengers were all on deck, and the crew, all told, were running hither and thither, shouting " Aye, aye, sir," and unfurling the huge mainsail to the piping breeze, while the sonorous voice of the captain rose hoarsely and high above all in authoritative tones of high command, which to hear was to obey. "Lend us a hand, young chap," jocularly cried one of the sailors to Joe, who, nothing loth, obeyed the summons with the utmost alacrity by pulling the ropes as the sailors pulled, and with a right good will otherwise assisting in their duties to the best of his ability. " That's a good lad, " encouragingly said the captain ; "you'll be Lord Mayor of London yet." Away down the beautiful river proud and swan-like the Bridport went, passing Broughty Castle and the Lights of Tay with a proud, majestic sweep, that bore her on triumphantly to the bar, o'er which the white-crested breakers ominously broke with a crashing, growling sound, which went to Joe's innermost heart of hearts, for the land of his fathers was fast receding from his view, and he now realised for the first time that he was literally and emphatically alone on life's dark and troubled sea, with none to guide the helm save He who alone can still the stormy wave, and bring the tempest-tossed voyager to the havens of earthly and everlasting rest. The sailors prophesied it would be a "nasty" night, and Joe, feeling somewhat squeamish, and sick at heart to boot, retired below to his crib in the forecastle, ostensibly to sleep, but in reality to ruminate on the perilous future that lay in all its indistinctive outlines before him. The ship had now ST FERGUS' WELL. 181 cleared the Tay, and was tossing amongst the troubled billows of St Andrews Bay, her sails flapping in fitful thuds on the creaking masts, and her cordage, lashed by the roaring waves, groaning in agony like the vengeful demon of the brooding storm. Now down in the trough of the swelling sea, anon riding out the tempest on the crest of the mountain wave, with the sea-mews screaming ominously o'erhead, and the sleety rain falling in copious showers around, away went the little smack, right bravely clearing for herself a pathway safe and clear over the stormy deep. Joe could not sleep ; Joe could not think. Such was the fury of the storm, that for three long days and nights the hatches had to be fastened down, leaving the forecastle during all that dreary time in total darkness. Fortunately for our young hero, he was so miserably sea-sick all that terrible time, that he had ceased to think of life and its prospects at all, or if occasionally he did so, it was only to wish himself and all his ambitious hopes at the bottom of the sea. " A rough beginning means a good ending," encouragingly shouted the captain, as young Wightman appeared on the deck on the morning of the fourth day, pale and sickly from recent illness, and ravenously hungry by reason of his long fast. The swell of the sea was still considerable, but the sun was shining bright and unclouded overhead, begemming the troubled waves with a silvery radiance very beautiful and exhilarating, coming after such a dark and fearful storm. " That is Scarborough," kindly said our captain to Joe, as he leant over the vessel's side, evidently delighted he had seen the land and human habitations once more. " When shall we reach London ? " responded Joe, appar- ently unheeding the remark of the captain. " In three days at farthest," replied Captain Wishart ; " but, dear me, my lad, he added, " your gills are as white as a well-bleached spelding. Come down and breakfast with me in the cabin, you require some nourishing food after your long fast." 182 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. On the second day thereafter, the Bridport was dashing through Yarmouth Koads, in which there was the usual display of shipping, a scene which never fails to call forth exclamations of wonder and delight as one of the most beautiful and animating sights a seaman or landsman can behold. On the following day she entered the Thames. "There is the land of plenty now, my lad," gaily said the captain to our young hero, whose heart beat quickly with new and indescribable emotions, as the vessel swept swiftly on her course with the flowing tide up the renowned and beautiful river. Under the pilot's directions she soon passed Sheerness on the one hand, and Southend on the other, till Gravesend and Greenwich reached and passed, she slowly made her way through the forests of shipping in the Pool, until the Bridge of London coming suddenly in sight, made her passengers and crew aware their voyage was ended. Having learned somewhat of young Wightman's history and aims during the voyage, Captain Wishart kindly gave Joe the address of a lodging-house-keeper in Wapping, where he knew he would not only be comfortably provided for, but safe from all attempts at imposition and fraud. " Good-bye, my lad," said the kind-hearted captain. " We shall lie here for a week or ten days. Come down to the wharf before we sail and let me know how you get on. This boy will pilot you safely. Good-bye. God bless you ! " Joe was up betimes next morning, and, looking out from his bed-room window, the high brick walls of St Katherine's Dock too truly told him he was indeed far away from his native village and the breezy fields of Strathmore ! From a cage hung out beneath, there came at that instant, the sweet, well-known song of the lark, which, while it carried his thoughts on the wings of love, in joyous ecstasy to the scenes of his childhood home, served, at the same time, to cheer his spirits and nerve his heart, to achieve success in the perilous enterprise on which he had embarked. ST FERGUS' WELL. 183 After a hasty breakfast, Joe eagerly set out for the City. He passed along Tower Hill, scarcely noticing the grim castellated Tower on his left, with the Beef-eaters, in their quaint yet picturesque costumes, lounging at its gates. Through the narrow and tortuous defiles of Great Tower Street he went, turning to the right at London Bridge, until he stood paralysed and bewildered amidst the crowd on the pavement in front of the Old Royal Exchange. He knew, as if by instinct, that the heavily-porticoed palatial building before him to the west was the Mansion House, the City residence of the Lord Mayor, on which he gazed long and anxiously, in a reverie of strange, inexpressible delight. Threading his way amongst the innumerable vehicles and pedestrians as best he could, he crossed over to Lothbury, from which he passed to Old Broad Street, and from thence into Bishopgate Street, all the while keeping a sharp eye about him, lest any chance should be lost of advancing in the slightest degree his own personal interest, amidst the thousands of interests that everywhere manifested themselves around him. When he reached the London Tavern, with Cornhill on his right, Leadenhall Street on his left, and Fenchurch Street immediately opposite, he felt quite puzzled which route to take next. A "block," as it is familiarly called in the City, having occurred at the moment in the first-named thoroughfares, Joe darted like an arrow down Fenchurch Street, and, turning into Lombard Street for a moment to be somewhat out of the crowd, he stood at the entrance to Abchurch Lane, quite exhausted with his morning's peregrinations in the great City. While dolefully musing as to his future proceedings, an elderly gentleman, with all the air of a " City man," rode up the street on horseback; and, dismounting where Joe in such dubiety stood, he abruptly asked him to hold his horse for a few minutes while he went up the lane to his counting-house. Joe most readily and cheerfully assented, and when his 184 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. employer re-appeared, he kindly gave him a shilling the first money he had ever gained in his life. " Thank you, sir," very gratefully said Joe, and the gentle- man sprang into the saddle with all the agility of one accustomed to such exercise. Before he started, however, he turned round enquiringly to Joe, and asked if he was from Scotland. Joe proudly answered that he was from Forfar- shire. " I thought so," rejoined the horseman, " from the manner in which you so broadly pronounced the word ' Thank.' A very small, and somewhat similar circumstance, was the turning point in my own life, and this may, perhaps, be the turning point in yours. Take this card, and while I am at Guild Hall await in my office my return." Reading from the card aloud as he went up the lane in search of the office, the dingy thoroughfare re-echoed the words "Alderman Pirie, Abchurch Lane." With a beating heart Joe entered the counting-house, delivered his message, and sat down, as desired, beside the porter in the outer office. Left alone to his own reflections, Joe inwardly pondered very fondly and hopefully on the kind stranger's prophetic words, recalling to his recollection the simple circumstance that became the turning-point in the youthful career of his favourite Whittington, " thrice Lord Mayor of London." As is usual, however, with young or old, suspense he felt to be the most painful sensation he had ever yet experienced, so pleasurably tantalizing and yet so poignantly wringing the tender chords of his young and sensitive heart. How trivial and unexpected ofttimes are the circumstances which change and fix our destinies ! When the great Napoleon was dictating a despatch on the head of a drum at the siege of Toulin in 1794, to an unknown sergeant of artil- lery, a cannon ball came close to them and threw a quantity of dust on the paper. " That is lucky," exclaimed the sergeant, " we shall not require sand for this paper." " What can I do ST FERGUS' WELL. 185 for you," said Napoleon, " to evince my regard ? " " Every- thing," said the sergeant, "you can convert my worsted shoulder-knot into an epaulette." Napoleon recommended him for promotion, and he got his commission. His name was JUNOT, and he became Duke of Abrantes, and one of the most distinguished marshalls of France. In an hour and a half, which to the expectant boy seemed an age, the worthy Alderman returned, and Joe being ushered into his private room, his worship put several searching questions to the young adventurer, whose straightforward and candid answers seemed to the merchant so satisfactory that he offered to take him at once into his employment. " You must begin at the lowest step of the ladder, as I did," said the Alderman, " when I came from Aberdeen to London, a poor and friendless lad, some five-and-thirty years ago. The world is pretty much as we make it ourselves. It is not by any miracle or trick of legerdemain that men generally achieve success. On the contrary, it is only by integrity, unwearied industry, and steady perseverance, that any one can attain to eminence, be his profession what it may. You seem to have got a fair education, and this, united to solid religious principles, which is the pride and birthright of every Scotsman, combined with the indispensable requisites already mentioned, should enable you to make your mark on the age in which you live. With these few words of advice I dismiss you to your duties. Take this youngster into the counting- house," continued the merchant, addressing his chief clerk, who had noiselessly appeared at the summons of his master. " We need some little assistance at present ; and tell me in a month what you can make of him." Remembering his promise to Captain Wishart, Joe rushed down to the Dundee Wharf on the following morning, before he went to the city, to communicate to his kind-hearted friend the good news of his success. " Right glad to hear it, my lad," rejoined the Captain, after listening to his young prottgtfs recital of the events of the 186 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. previous day. " I felt certain, somehow or other, you would succeed. I always have a good opinion of a youth at your age who lends a hand to assist in anything that comes in his way. I took notice of your willingness to make yourself useful in our upward voyage, and said in jest you would be Lord Mayor of London yet. I may not live to see it, but I am much mistaken if you don't weather the storm and make that port at last. Away to your duty, my boy. Come and see me when you know that I am at the Wharf. Good-bye ; God bless you." The report given at the end of the month by the principal clerk to his superior must have been, on the whole, highly satisfactory, for Joe was installed as a junior apprentice at a small advancing salary per annum, sufficient to keep him, by the exercise of care and economy, in comparative respectability and comfort. The three years of his apprenticeship soon passed away, and young Wightman, at eighteen years of age, found himself in the receipt of a very liberal salary, which enabled him to be of some assistance to his parents, who were ever duly advised of all his proceedings and prospects. He now removed from Wapping to Islington, the favourite residence then and still of the Scotch, in as remarkable a degree as Chelsea is the chosen paradise of old Indians. Wightman now a smart, well dressed youth might be seen every morning walking with a proud and firm step down the City Eoad to Lombard Street, where he earnestly and industriously pursued his commercial studies, and assiduously and ungrudgingly performed his daily duties. As the result of his early religious training, he regularly attended Divine worship in the Presbyterian Church at London- Wall, then the only Scotch church in the east of London. The congregation having within the last ten or twelve years removed to a handsome new church in De Beauvoir Town, Kingsland, the site of the old building in the City is now occupied by extensive general warehouses, ST FERGUS' WELL. 187 thus obliterating for ever one of the old landmarks so dear to every Scotsman's heart. As years rolled on, the tide of good fortune and prosperity still flowed in rich abundance to the worthy Alderman's pro- tegd, who, by his activity, shrewdness, and untiring industry, had raised himself to a high position in the office, and com- pletely succeeded in gaining the entire confidence of his appreciative employer. The chief clerk, who had grown grey in the service of his master, having retired at this time from active duty in the enjoyment of a handsome annuity generously bestowed upon him by Mr Pirie, Mr Wightman was at once promoted to the important post, the duties of which were so efficiently discharged by him, that at the termination of three years he was taken into partnership with the worthy Alderman, whose time being now much engrossed with Corporation affairs, the whole responsibility of his ex- tensive business devolved in consequence upon the shoulders of the junior partner, who proved himself in every way equal to the task, and worthy of the confidence reposed in him by his chief. As a proof o the high esteem in which he was held by his employer, young Wightman was now a frequent guest at the Alderman's beautiful residence at Twickenham, on the banks of the winding Thames, on which occasions his early educa- tion and Christian training stood him in good stead in the superior and intelligent society which congregated around the hospitable table of the great and popular magnate of the City. Mr Wightman had occasionally been a visitor there during the years of his clerkship, but the distance between himself and his master he invariably felt to be so great, that a necessary diffidence of manner restrained the full play of his natural abilities, and checked the current of his powers of conversation. Now all was changed ; and as an equal with the best of them, he worthily sustained, without hindrance from within or from without, the important part that was ex- 188 STRA.THMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. pected of him as the partner of one of the most intelligent and richest merchants of the City. Alderman Pirie had an only child the sunshine of his luxurious and happy home. His heart was centred in his amiable and beautiful daughter Evangeline, who had lost her mother several years before, to the great regret and grief of all who had known her. From the first, a deep-rooted affection had sprung up, unknown to each other, in the breasts of Evangeline and young Wightman ; but the feeling never found expression until the latter had established himself in a position worthy of the daughter of such a father, and of her own superior excellences as a lovely and accomplished woman. It was the prospect, indeed, of her becoming at some distant day his own that had upheld his heart and cheered his spirit amidst the dangers and difficulties through which he had passed, and which had nerved and encouraged his unceasing efforts and umvearying labours to make his mark in the world, and to raise himself to the high and enviable position to which he had now most gratefully attained. His highest hopes, his dearest wishes, were at last realised. Evangeline became the happy wife of Mr Joseph Wightman the happy pair receiving on their wedding day the joyful congratulations and good wishes of all who had the honour and pleasure of their acquaintance. The fruition of the first and only love of each, and a union of the purest and sweetest affection, no wonder that, under God, their after-life became progressively prosperous and supremely happy. Alas ! alas ! if it had been fated to have been united in the bonds of first affection, how different, in its aims and results, might many a life have been ! Still true to his early ambition, Joe forgot not the goal to which all his restless hopes tended, and lost no opportunity to advance his personal interests in that direction. Keeping this object steadily in view, he became a Liveryman, by join- ing the Merchant Tailors' Company, one of the most ancient and richest Guilds of the City. He was soon afterwards ST FERGUS' WELL. 189 elected a Common Councilman the next step to an Alder- man's gown and assiduously devoted himself to the acquire- ment of the requisite knowledge of Corporation affairs to enable him satisfactorily to perform his varied duties. At this time, " like a shock of corn fully ripe," the good old Alderman Pirie was gathered to his fathers, leaving behind him an untarnished reputation as a man and a Christian, and bequeathing to those who were to follow him in the race of life the example of his good deeds, as an incentive to imitate those virtues and perform those duties which alone can enable them effectually to reach the goal. By the unanimous voice of the Ward, Councillor "Wightman was elected Alderman of Bishopgate-Without, as successor to his father-in-law, Alderman Pirie. Assuming his official robes, the young aspirant, at the next Court of Aldermen in Guild Hall, was duly sworn into office, and took his place amongst the City magnates amidst the warmest congratula- tions of his brother magistrates. The Aldermen of London are elected to the office for life, and, as Magistrates and Justices of the Peace, enjoy a source of professional training befitting their high office, and effectu- ally preparing them for their higher duties when they in due rotation become Lord Mayor. There being seven Aldermen who had not passed the chair when Mr Wightman was elected to the office, it followed that seven years must elapse ere he could wield the sceptre of the City. Another honour, however, awaited him before the final consummation of his hopes. In two years after assuming the aldermanic gown he was elected by the Livery to fill the honourable office of one of the Sheriffs of London, the onerous duties of which high position he performed with great zeal and becoming dignity. At the termination of other five years he rode forth, on the morning of the 9th November, from Guild Hall to Westmin- ster in his chariot of state, in all the pomp and circumstance of Lord Mayor of London, and Chief Magistrate of the greatest 190 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. City of the world. In the evening were gathered round him in the banquet hall several members of the Royal Family, the great Officers and Ministers of State, the Foreign Ambas- sadors, many Members of the two Houses of Parliament ; men of science, art, and literature ; the first merchants in the city, and the greatest men in the country. And so it came to pass that the once poor and friendless boy from the Howe of Strath- more not only sat as an equal with the princes, and nobles, and great ones of the earth, but entertained them as guests at his own table. When the great civic feast was ended, and the numerous guests were slowly departing, the Right Honourable Joseph Wightman, Lord Mayor of London, turned aside to speak with a friend from Scotland, whom he had especially invited to be present. " I have carefully preserved," said his Lordship, "the spotted handkerchief in which my mother wrapped my scanty wardrobe on the morning of my departure from home, and also the sapling ash stick I carried in my hand on my journey to Dundee when I embarked for London, and these I value more than my official robes, this brightly begemmed massy circlet of gold, or the silver-gilt mace, and sword of state. I have now only one wish left ungratified the longing, yearn- ing wish to see my mother and St Fergus Well. Mr Wightman's father had died many years before, and his aged mother was now on her death-bed. When informed of her son's elevation, and the great splendour with which the event had been celebrated, instead of indulging in expressions of grateful joy, her thoughts reverted to the days of his youth, and to her sad parting with her darling boy on the morning he left his native vale; and turning her face to the wall, she quietly passed away, repeating in mournful accents the refrain she had so often and grievingly sung since his departure " My boy does not return ! " Joe, sad now leaves his native village, His bundle o'er his arm ; ST FERGUS' WELL. 191 He's ta'en the last look of the cottage, The last look of the farm. His mother clasps him to her bosom, Beside the bonnie burn " Dear Joe ; " " Farewell, weep not, my mother, Your boy will soon return, Your boy will soon return." The summer time oft glad revolving, Brought sunshine, fruit, and flowers ; And winter's blasts oft wildly roaring, Howl'd through the leafless bowers. The young grew old, the aged passing, Each to his silent urn ; The widowed mother lone repining " My boy does not return, My boy does not return ! " To that bright vale swift flew an angel, With trumpet blast of fame, Proclaiming to the dying mother Her son's now honoured name. But of his youth e'er fondly dreaming, For him she still doth yearn ; Her last words faintly low and broken " My boy does not return, My boy does not return ! " CHAPTER XVI. THE WARNING. " The night has been unruly ; where we lay, Our chimneys were blown down ; and as they say, Lamentings heard i' the air ; strange screams of death, And prophesying with accents terrible, Of dire combustion and confused events, New hatch'd to the woeful time." MACBETH. THE dwellers in the Howe, like the generality of their countrymen, were, at the time of which I write, not only firm believers in the existence of brownies, fairies, spunkies, and waterkelpies, but also in the prophetic surroundings of dreams, mysterious noises, death-lights, warnings, &c., which exercised no inconsiderable influence on their lives and destinies. I shall confine myself in the present chapter, however, to the influence mysterious sounds, heard in certain circumstances, had upon the minds, generally, of those who heard them. I have in "Village Scenes" attempted to draw the por- traiture, and record the many virtues of a revered and beloved parent, whose name is still honoured and venerated in the district of the Howe where he lived. With a well- cultured mind, he was of a courteous and benevolent disposi- tion, although prudent and cautious withal. Though strictly formal, in every way, so that each thing about the farm and mill stood in its proper place, and each performed his or her allotted duty within the specified time, his sway, from his God-fearing nature, was felt to be neither irksome nor severe. Everything did he so nicely and strictly poise, that no rude bustle or unseemly noise was ever seen or heard THE WARNING. 193 about the farm ; and nothing that could be done at once, was left to be accomplished on the morrow. The conse- quence was that the Sabbath was a day of holy and peaceful rest ; not a day of gloomy austerity, but of cheerful, religious repose. softly on the breeze was borne The incense sweet of Sabbath morn ; And in the evening's peaceful calm, How sweet arose the holy psalm, The thrilling, heartfelt, solemn prayer, Which he, with patriarchal air, Did at the throne on bended knee, Present with deep humility ! No venal song to him I bring, Nor hollow praise unfeeling sing, Nor an ideal shadow forth, While I pay tribute to his worth. Ah, no ! see here the mountain stream, By which in childhood's sunny dream, The good man wandered with his boy, In blissful, sweet, untroubled joy ; And there, the flowery braes so fair, On which did he his gambols share, And here the wood, and there the mill, The fondly-cherished murmuring rill ; And there beside the spreading thorn, Sweet stands the house where I was born. Village Scenes. It was the evening of a sweet autumnal Sabbath day. My father, servants, and all the household of Airniefoul, had been to the church of Glamis, and listened with deep rever- ence to the stirring expositions of Scripture, and solemn devotional exercises of the venerable Dr. Lyon, then in the full zenith of his well-earned reputation as a faithful and zealous parochial minister. As was then the custom in Strathmore, all were assembled in the kitchen for family worship. Besides the members of our own household, there was, in addition, the tailor of the district, whose form and bearing did not, certainly, belie his profession. This im- portant functionary was quite an institution in the parish. N 194 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. When there was sufficient work for him to do, he sometimes abode at the different farms for days, and even weeks together. He was always well lodged, and well fed, as became his station. Generally well informed of all domestic matters amongst his neighbours, he might, very appropriately have been termed gossip-general of the Strath. And so well did he maintain his reputation, that it was generally reported of him that he knew the public and private affairs of all in the Howe and the Glen, very much better than they did themselves. As the tailor here alluded to, is, undoubtedly, the pivot around which the incidents to be described in this chapter will naturally turn, it may be interesting, as well as necessary, that I should rapidly sketch the outlines of the corporeal tabernacle of the man on whose shoulders such momentous events and their consequences have been thrown. Sandy Alison, the tailor-in-chief of the Howe, was a dapper, priggish, little active body. His age might be fifty- five or sixty, less or more ; his height somewhere between five feet five, and five feet seven. His figure was slim and somewhat bent, his features small and sharp, his complexion sallow, and his twinkling grey eyes of that restless mis- chievous description which boded no good to any body to whom he had taken a dislike. When he sat with his legs twisted beneath him on the work- board, he looked a very insignificant specimen of humanity indeed. When he walked, his legs carried him along at such a rate, that it seemed as if they had run off with him, like the man with the new cork leg, who could not unwind its springs to stop its never-ending velocity. His voice, always pitched in a high key, was sharp, harsh, and dis- agreeable to the ear. He seldom laughed, but his chuckle was fiendish-like and ominously malicious. The chief delight of his being seemed to be to riot in the woes and misfortunes of others, and darkly to prophesy from the apparently mysterious incidents occurring around him, those bitter THE WARNING. 195 trials and bereavements, whose dark shadow generally pre- cedes the reality itself. Sandy, be it further observed, was of a very sensitive nature, and extremely superstitious withal. A firm believer in warnings in particular, he had studied the subject with all the ardour of an enthusiast, and had become the admitted Oracle of the Howe to unravel their weird-like mystic meaning. When I add that his dress consisted of white corduroy knee breeches, bright red plush waistcoat, long swallow-tailed blue coat, with brass buttons, and party-coloured neckerchief; that his hair was brackish grey, and that when at work he wore, very far down on the nose, a pair of large pinchbeck, round globed spectacles, you will have a pretty accurate idea of Sandy Alison, the village tailor. " Let us worship God," solemnly said my father ; and reverently opening the Ha' bible, he read in measured tones, first a chapter from the Old Testament, and afterwards a chapter from the New. Closing the bible, he was in the act of turning over the leaves of the venerated psalm book, for the purpose of selecting a suitable psalm to be sung by the worshippers, when a strange, unearthly noise, proceeding from the " Ben-house," at once startled us all, striking terror and dismay into every heart. The sound resembled a muffled thud, as if some heavy body had fallen with violence on the oaken floor. My father, the least superstitious of any one I ever knew, dropped the book instinctively on the table, and appeared the very personification of amazement and fear. All seemed terror-struck, as if some ominous summons had come to them from the unseen world. The tailor was the first to break the oppressive silence. "A warnin','' gudeman, to prepare for some great change, trial, or misfortune ; " and lowering his -voice to a hissing, husky whisper, he savagely added " In the coorse o' the neist week, three things will happen tae this hoose which it had better been without." 196 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. A long and painful silence succeeded this fatal, unexpected prophecy. At last my father with great presence of mind, rose from his seat, took a candle from the table, and slowly walked towards the parlour to ascertain, if possible, the cause of the alarming noise which had so much distressed us. Cautiously entering the room, he looked enquiringly and anxiously around, but could not see or hear anything which might explain the mystery. There was no disarrangement of the furniture, no appearance of any one having been in the room, everything remained the same as they had been during the day. The search was given up in despair ! There was no resumption of the family worship, and all retired ostensibly to rest, but in reality to muse on the ominous warning, and the three events which had been so solemnly predicted to happen during the ensuing fatal week. Monday and Tuesday passed over pretty much as usual, with this difference, that a settled gloom seemed to have overshadowed the farm and all its surroundings ; and while the indoor and field work were assiduously performed, there was less life exhibited by the workers than was their wont, their thoughts being apparently occupied otherwise. Even in the mill, where generally the utmost hilarity prevailed, the work of the day was gone about in comparative silence ; not a lilt was sung by the lasses, not a joke was cracked by the millers. The only lively person about the farm was the itinerant tailor, who exhibited all that anxious feverishness, and nervous excitement characteristic of those who impati- ently await the fulfilment of their malicious predictions. My elder brother, David, who had just received the ap- pointment of Land Steward to the Earl of De Vesci in Queen's County, Ireland, had invited some young friends to a day's shooting in the glen, previous to his departure. The time appointed being Wednesday, the little party assembled at Airniefoul farm on the early morning of that day, and soon THE WARNING. 197 thereafter were on their way with their guns and dogs, to the Glen of Ogilvy and the Sidlaw Hills. Looking out in the evening to welcome the sportsmen home, I thought I could descry in the distance, coming along the white dusty road, a dark group of people huddled together in a manner such as I had never seen before. My father coming out of the house at the same time, I called his attention to the circumstance. As we intently gazed, the strangely grouped living mass gradually approached until we could distinctly discern what appeared to be a bier covered with a white sheet, supported on the shoulders of several men who seemed to stagger under their heavy burden. " Something has happened to David," wildly exclaimed my mother who had come behind us unobserved. This exclama- tion brought the whole household to the garden gate, from which the road through the glen could, for some distance, be distinctly seen. It was an anxious group that which looked out in affec- tionate longing to the glen, the most tender solicitude being strongly marked in every countenance, save that of the tailor, on which was depicted that sinister, eager expression which desired anything but good news. Nearer and nearer the mysterious procession came slowly along the rugged, winding road. At the junction of the turnpike with the bye-road leading to Airniefoul, the west shoulder of the Hunter-Hill with its dark and sombre wood, hid it for a time from our sight. Soon, however, it emerged again with awful distinctness. There was no mistaking the nature of that ominous procession now ! Amidst the most oppressive, death-like silence, the sad assemblage with their white-covered bier, slowly, and measuredly approach the farm. One of the group is seen to disengage himself from his fellows, and advance with a quicker pace to the place where we stood in the most painful state of suspense and expectancy. My father, unable to move, 198 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. remains rivetted to the spot. All eyes are bent, all hearts are turned to the coming messenger. Hush ! we hear the ominous sound of his fast approaching footsteps ! A moment more, and my father and he are in earnest converse. "David shot!" huskily screeched the tailor, who had, with his usual cunning, contrived to hear every word that had passed between the messenger and my father. True it was, my brother was shot, and that was his body now borne on a shutter into the house of mourning on the shoulders of his youthful and sorrowing comrades. Eager in pursuit of game, he was somewhat carelessly carrying his loaded gun, yet keeping it in a position to fire at a moment's notice, when a rut in the hill caught his foot, and on falling heavily, the charge went off, lodging as it was supposed in his left side. "When laid upon the bed, the first thing that my father did was to feel his pulse, while my mother clasped his brow. A moment of dread suspense and the joyful words are heard alternately from their lips " He lives ! " " He lives ! " Tenderly undressing him, we soon discovered the rugged wound, all clotted with crimson gore. " Staunch the wound," calmly said my father " Bathe his brow with water be guided by circumstances what to do un- til my return." A few minutes more, and he was on his swift-footed horse on the road to Forfar, to fetch with all speed the family doctor. Fortunately he found Dr Steele at home ; who, in an almost incredibly short space of time was at the bedside of his patient. The ugly wound was thoroughly examined by the doctor, and to our great relief, pronounced, emphatically, not to be dangerous. " The ball has passed," said Dr Steele, " clean through the fleshy part of the thigh, leaving only a rather serious flesh- wound to receive my attention and care. With the probing and dressing it has now got, should the patient keep free from fever, I have no fear of the result." THE WARNING. 199 All now breathed more freely, and a deep sense of gratitude to the Almighty Preserver, with one exception, pervaded every heart. I was at this time but a stripling, and not much given to serious reflection. It did not, however, escape my notice, that whereas all others seemed overjoyed at the happy turn the untoward event had taken, a shadow of disappointment rested darkly on the cadaverous countenance of the tailor. My brother passed a good night without exhibiting any symptoms of fever, and when the worthy doctor paid his visit next afternoon, his patient, though weak from the loss of so much blood, was able to converse with him as to the particulars of the accident, and how he now felt as giving good hopes of his recovery. The day following being the market day, my father wishing to superintend some rather particular drainage operations himself, despatched my brother John to Dundee to transact the necessary business there ; remaining at home to meet the factor and land-surveyor before commencing the work which was then quite new, and almost unknown in the glen or Howe. The day had throughout been oppressively sultry and warm ; and towards afternoon, dark, murky thunder-clouds swept ominously across the troubled sky. Darker and darker grew the lurid heavens, the lightning flashes momentarily lighting up the deepening gloom ; and the rattling thunder bellowing in its wrath among the hills, startlingly breaking the awful silence of the scene, and shaking, so as to be felt, the very depths of the now trembling foundations of the rocky glen. The rain now fell in torrents, and wildly swept along by the howling winds, every glack and runnel in the Sidlaws became a leaping cataract, or a rushing stream. The storm abated not. The shadows of evening overspread the troubled glen and my brother came not. The deep darkness of the dismal night succeeded but he came not. The midnight hour had passed yet he came not ! " The second part of my prediction fulfilled " triumph- 200 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. antly whispered the ever- watchful tailor. The remark fortun- ately was not overheard by my father or mother whose minds were too much occupied to bandy words with such a base disturber of their peace. At day-break my father was on his way to Lumleyden to endeavour to gather some tidings of his missing son at the hostelry in the pass which romantically unites the glen of Ogilvy to the lowland region beyond. The storm had now spent its fury, and calmness reigned again throughout the glen. To my father's anxious enquiries, the reply at the toll-gate was, that my brother had not passed on his way home. He had not been seen by any of the inmates since the previous morning when he rode past on his way to market ! Anxiously awaiting my father's return, we heard from his lips, with dismay and grief, the unwelcome tidings. My father, however, being a man of action, his horse was kept ready saddled at the gate ; and after having partaken of an early and hurried breakfast, he was soon thereafter on his way to Forfar. The day passed without any tidings having reached us as to the lost brother. Towards evening the tailor who had finished his work at the farm, and gone to Hayston that morning, to commence an engagement there, was, to the surprise of everyone, observed, coming at a rapid rate down the road to Airniefoul. His visit, it was universally surmised, boded no good, and every one was prepared for the reception of evil tidings. " Read that, lassie " hurriedly exclaimed the tailor to Annie Glen, one of the servant-maids, as he advanced to the middle of the kitchen where she stood amongst the eager, expectant group of domestics, holding out to her at the same time, a tattered and well-thumbed copy of a local newspaper, more than a fortnight old. Annie, as was to be expected, eagerly perused the paragraph pointed out to her. She uttered a wild, hysteric scream, and fell senseless on the floor ! THE WARNING. 201 Unheeding the piteous state of poor Annie, the tailor snatched the paper which she still held firmly in her grasp, and read aloud as follows " Wreck of the Ocean Queen. This vessel was totally wrecked on the 5th instant, on a coral reef in the South Seas, and it is feared that all on board have perished." Jamie Langlands, the betrothed sweetheart of Annie Glen, was a sailor on board the 'Ocean Queen/ and this circumstance conclusively accounts for the sudden and distressing effect which the unexpected intelligence had upon her sensitive nature and feeling heart. The stricken maiden, was not long, however in recovering consciousness. Staggering to the open window, which looked out upon the garden, she gazed long and anxiously, her attention apparently rivetted and fixed upon some object in the far distance. Another scream, but of a different kind, escaped from her pallid lips. It was a scream of joy- -pure, unmiti- gated, triumphant joy ! " There's either Jamie Langlands or his ghaist " she cried " It is it is himsel' my ain dear Jamie ! " And, sure enough, as we eagerly gazed, there, on the road to the farm, came rocking along the well known form of Jamie Langlands. A few minutes more, and he and Annie Glen were clasped in true sailor-like fashion, iu each other's warm and tender embrace ! The unreflecting tailor, in his eager anxiety to be the mes- senger of ill news, had apparently forgotten, that there might be more than one ' Ocean Queen ' amongst the mercantile navy of Britain ; and that, sometimes, good news travels with as great rapidity as bad ! Notwithstanding the uncertainty of my brother's fate, and the consequent gloom still brooding over our spirits, we could not refrain from sharing in the general joy, and joining with that of other's, our congratulations to the happy lovers with the most fervent wishes for their future welfare. Scarcely had these expressions of kindness and good will 202 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. escaped our lips, when the clattering of horses' hoofs was heard, and two horsemen were seen trotting briskly up the lane. There was no mistaking their identity. It was my father, and my lost brother ! Except the invalid, the whole household rushed out to greet them. " Forgive the fright I have given you" eagerly yet joyously exclaimed my brother,- addressing my mother. "It is the first time I have ever disobeyed the orders of my father, and it shall be the last. The explanation is shortly this Dryburns, Little Lour, and Mickle Lour, and I, had all met in Morren's to dine together after the business of the day, and prepare for our homeward journey. Scarcely, however, had we taken our seats at the table, when the most tremendous storm of thunder and lightning broke over the town that we had ever witnessed. The rain came down like a cataract, flooding the streets as if it had been a deluge. Hours passed, and the storm raged Avith unabated fury. Darkness set in, and the feeble lamps began to twinkle and glimmer in the rain- flooded, deserted streets. What was to be done 1 By unani- mous consent we judged discretion to be, at such a juncture, infinitely the better part of valour. And so we agreed to remain where we were for the night, with the fixed determin- ation of returning home as early as we possibly could on the following morning. We kept our promise, but on the way remembering of some pressing business that required immediate attention at the market to-day in Forfar, I parted from my friends at the junction of the roads, at Tealing, and proceeded on my way to the county town. Proceeding along the High Street, in a few minutes I met my father. He was, as you may well believe, overjoyed to see me ; and so after a short paternal lecture on his part, and a solemn promise on mine, never to disobey orders again, we transacted the necessary business of the day ; and here I am in the old house again David, I am glad to hear, is better but who is this 1 What! Jamie Langlands 1" and the t\vo friends most cordially joined hands, and warmly congratulated each other on the THE WARNING. 203 manly appearance each had assumed since they sat in their boyhood days, on the same form, at Daniel Robertson's wee school in the Bog. The artful conduct of the tailor, and the non-fulfilment of his prediction in regard to the sailor, having been communi- cated to my father, he led the way to the house, gratefully exclaiming at the same time, " To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven. A time, to kill, and a time to heal ; a time to break down, and a time to build up ; a time to weep, and a time to laugh ; a time to mourn, and a time to dance ; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embrac- ing ; a time to love, and a time to hate ; a time of war, and a time of peace." " There is still the awfu' soond to be accounted for " maliciously persisted the crest-fallen tailor ; a remark Avhich in the happy throng assembled in the kitchen, passed unheeded by all except my father, who merely said in reply '' God will bring every secret thing to judgment, whether it be for good, or whether it be for evil." The hilarity in the house became sympathetic in a high degree, so much so, that the convalescent invalid expressed an earnest wish to share in the general joy. For this purpose, and in opposition to the gentle remonstrances of my mother, he insisted on being partially dressed, and placed in the old arm-chair by the cheerful fire which burned so brightly in the cozy parlour. His wishes were complied Avith, and as one from the dead, his heart was lifted up to the throne on high, in silent yet heart-felt gratitude to the great Preserver for his merciful deliverance. " Now, good wife," coaxingly said my father, "this is a night among nights ; and I would like the whole household to assemble in the parlour, and that you, yourself should superintend the happy feast." " I'll do that with a right good will, goodman " emphati- cally replied my mother "and all shall be seated at the table alike ; no sitting above or below the salt ; but all as 204 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. one happy family met to rejoice together in each other's happiness." The damask table-cloth was accordingly laid, and the ample repast profusely spread. Doubt, and gloom, and grief had given way to confidence, and light, and joy. Peace and happiness rested lovingly together under the ancient roof- tree of Airniefoul. My father, regular and methodical in all his actions, took down the key from its accustomed place, and proceeded as was his wont every Saturday evening at the same hour, to wind up the old clock which stood at the east end of the sitting-room, in which we had all now assembled. Gently opening the door, he gazed for a moment in much surprise. Taking a candle from the table, he peered intently down to the bottom of the case, from which he lifted, in apparent wonderment, one of the heavy weights of the clock. Placing the weight on the table in full view of every one present, he thus solemnly addressed the assembled guests " Last Sabbath evening in the midst of the services of our family worship, a loud, strange, unearthly sound was suddenly heard, as if proceeding from this room. The mystery has remained unexplained until now. The rusty and worn-out wire, unable longer to sustain the weight, had, in a moment, given way, and down the heavy body came on the oaken floor with that supernatural weird-like sound, which so terribly paralyzed us all. The cause of the mysterious noise is now satisfactorily explained, thus severing in a moment the trying events of the by-gone week, with any superstitious agency whatever. Supposing, however, the cause had forever remained undiscovered, that was no reason why we, puny and insignificant mortals, that we are, should dare to interpret the mind of the Great Eternal ; far less to prophesy either good or evil from mysteries in Nature or Providence, which we can neither unravel nor comprehend." All felt relieved as if some heavy burden had suddenly been removed from their oppressed spirits, for while the painful THE WARNING. 205 incidents of the week had all terminated happily, the " Warning " had, until now, remained an unexplained mystery. All eyes were now turned to the crest-fallen, disappointed tailor. He sat motionless and speechless, crouched and doubled up to half his usual size, in a further corner of the room, evidently smarting under the indirect yet well-merited rebuke just administered to him, and ashamed to look in the face those whose peace of mind he had intended to destroy, and by whom he was now so thoroughly despised. The homely, yet substantial, feast was now heartily par- taken of, and thoroughly appreciated ; and the happy en- joyment of the evening reached its culminating point, when the worthy host burst forth into song with all the energy and enthusiasm of his youth : Loud the timbrel sound, Clash the cymbals high ; Taber, sackbut, harp, Swell the minstrelsy. Beat the martial drum, Blow, ye trumpets, blow ; Cornet, viol, and lute, Hearts set all aglow. Kill the fatted calf ; Shoes, the golden ring, Eichest jewelled robes, Haste thee to me bring. Music fill the air, Mirth and song abound ; Lo ! my lov'd ones lost, Smile on all around. Clouds have passed away, Storms and sobbing rain, On my faithful breast Rest in peace again. To my heart they come Bliss without alloy ; Chime of silver bells, Never-ending joy ! 206 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. Loud the timbrel sound, Clash the cymbals high ; Earth and Heaven is biest, Lov'd ones now are nigh ! During the hilarity that prevailed, the poor tailor had slunk away unobserved. Whether the rebuke administered to him had had the effect of curbing his propensity to pro- claim warnings, and prophesy evil tidings, the records of the parish say not. One thing, however, is certain, that while he peregrinated the Glen as usual, he never again ventured within the precincts of Airniefoul ! CHAPTER XVII. A SABBATH DAY AT KINNETLES. " Hail Sabbath ! thee I hail, the poor man's day, The pale mechanic now has leave to breathe The morning air, pure from the city's smoke, While wandering slowly up the river's side, He meditates on Him, whose power he marks In each green tree that proudly spreads the bough, As in the tiny dew-bent flowers that bloom Around its roots ; and while he thus surveys, With elevated joy, each rural charm, He hopes, yet fears, presumption in the hope, That Heaven may be one Sabbath without end. " Grahame. LAST Sabbath day I spent in a neighbouring city. How different the throng of its streets, the chime of its bells, and the holiday appearance of its people, with the sacred quietness and holy serenity which now reign around this peaceful glen ! Some scenes when they become too common pall and cloy the appetite, and the wisest of men's sayings lose by repetition half their value. But who ever wearies by gazing on the cherished scenes of their youth, or of listening to the hallowed sound of the sabbath bell ? O how precious is the rest of the holy Sabbath ; sweet earnest and foretaste of that serene and everlasting rest, which remaineth for the people of God in the Zion that is above. May the day never come when its blessed calm shall be broken by the chariot wheels of commerce or of pleasure, or its holy worship exchanged for the shout of merriment and revelry. Avert, God of nations, from our beloved country, that heinous neglect of the Sabbath and its duties, which, like the 208 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. ever-increasing waves of the stormy sea, threaten to obliterate the landmarks of our fathers, and overwhelm the people in its black and scowling waters. You have often, dear reader, in the quietude of your closet, perused with a holy delight, the glowing and extatic raptures of the poet, descriptive of Sabbath morning in the country. Try now definitely to realize them. Look abroad on the beautiful scenes of Nature, and then inwards to your own exulting soul, and say if you do not feel the truth of the description. There is indeed throughout the domains of Nature, a universal and spiritual-like repose. Not only are the sounds of rural labour hushed into silence, but a softer hymn cometh from the golden tinted woods, and a lower and less fretful song from the bonnie burn as it flows quietly and sweetly by. In the low grassy holms, and in the flower-begemmed meadows, the kine are quietly feeding, and on the upland lea, fragrant with its white and purple clover, the horse enjoys his much prized freedom, rolling himself on the grass in all the playful enjoyment of his liberty. A faint bleating now and then from the hills, does not disturb, but is in fine keeping with the general picture of repose and happi- ness. But much of this quiet loveliness is owing to your own feel- ings of sacred reverence for the holy day. Without these, even though the whistle of the ploughboy, and the song of the milkmaid be mute, the scenes of Nature would ever continue the same. It is not Nature that changes, but man. It is man, who, under divine influence, invests her on this day, with these holy and sweet associations, and attunes her harp of ten thousands strings to the solemn minstrelsy of heaven. It is the mind that throws a charm, or otherwise, on everything around us. The man whose broken heart is over-burthened with grief and poignant sorrow, experiences no pleasure and sees no beauty in the richest scenes of Nature, but let the load of grief be removed, and everything is changed into beauty, and joy, and gladness. So it is with regard to the Sabbath. A SABBATH DAY AT KINNETLES. 209 With a heart dead to all holy affections and spiritual influ- ences, we see Nature on this day, just the same as Ave do on any other day, and behold her with no higher, or more rever- ential feelings of emotion; but let a live coal from off the holy altar touch the heart, and the soul be strung to the music of heaven, and everything assumes a new aspect, what was dark becoming light as the noon-day sun, and every object sur- rounded as with a halo of seraphic glory. Hush ! there is my father quietly reading his bible in the arbour come, we shall not disturb him, and as we go, I may relate to you the simple routine of our Sabbath day at Airnie- foul, the description of one day applying to the first day of the week, with scarcely any variation, throughout the year. The household at the farm and mill all rise just about as early as they do on other days ; but no noise or bustle is observable ; a hushed stillness sweetly pervades all their move- ments. My father, when the weather is fine, reads for some- time in the little summerhouse ; or if otherwise, he seats him- self for the same purpose by the large kitchen ingle till the breakfast hour, when the whole inmates assemble together as one family under one patriarchal head. A chapter is then read, with an appropriate psalm, or hymn, when a prayer is fervently offered up, embodying confession of sin, gratitude for by-past mercies, and supplication for the guidance and direction of the Most High, during the services of the holy day. After church service and a quiet walk in the garden, or by the daisied meadow which skirts the murmuring burn, and an hour or two devoted to the perusal and study of some favourite tome of divinity, the evening is closed in the same devout and solemn manner, with this exception, that the psalm or paraphrase is sung to the plaintive airs of Martyrdom, or Dundee, or of some other old and favourite tune ; and though the cadence be rude and unmelodious, it is, doubtless, sweet to the ears of the God of Sabaoth, who requires not orchestral symphonies but the homage of devout and believing hearts. Eeligion is not, as some would have us believe, a cold 210 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. and gloomy thing. Eminently practical, it enters into all the scenes of life, sweetening our enjoyments, deepening our affections, hallowing our thoughts, elevating our desires, soothing our sorrows, and lightening our cares. It was in this cheerful light that my revered father regarded our holy religion and its every -day duties, and hence, instead of dark and troubled clouds of ominous gloom ever brooding mysteri- ously over his sequestered home, a halo of sweet and silvery brightness, ever encircled with celestial radiance the blessed spot on which he, and his happy household, dwelt. I know not, dear reader, to what distant lands in future years my footsteps may lead me, nor to what sublime Cathedral services I may listen, but of this I am persuaded, that no clime on earth, however gorgeously beautiful, no pompous ritual however attractive and fascinating, shall ever erase from my heart the cherished altar-scene of my happy childhood home, or hush the rude music of its holy songs. What heart does not glow with the deepest emotion at the scene described by the unfortunate Pringle, when in the wild solitudes of an African valley, with the wild beasts of the forest as listeners, his little family group offered up praise and prayer as they were wont in the peaceful glens of Scotland ? But what heart can fully enter into the feelings of the lonely emigrants, when for the first time in that savage wilderness, the plaintive melody of the songs of Zion was borne upon the pestilential breeze ; what tongue can tell their poignant grief when their troubled thoughts wandered to the homes they had left, in a land whose every association and remembrance entwined themselves around their heart-strings the firmer and the closer the further their feet wandered from its much loved shores ! And by a natural transition, remember the constancy of the Jews in captivity. " By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, we wept when we remembered Zion. We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof. For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song ; and they A SABBATH DAY AT KINNETTLES. 211 that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, sing us one of the songs of Zion. How shall we sing the Lord's song in a strange land ? If I forget thee, Jerusalem, let my right hand forget its cunning, if I do not remember thee let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth ; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy." But 'tis now near the hour of prayer, and the Sabbath bell will soon break in silvery sweetness over our peaceful glen. Already some of our people are skirting the wood on their way to the House of God. As we follow in a little family group, let us observe the hilly road before us crowded with anxious travellers, clad in glowing and not unpicturesque costumes, all pressing onwards to worship in the distant village church. The top-boots of the farmer, and the red plaid and snood of the cottar are there, blended with the dazzling colours of the " gudewife's " newest dress, the bright tints of the scarlet plush of the ploughman's habili- ments, and the gaudy hues of the flaunting ribbons of the sweet and bonnie lasses. Every homestead in the glen, every lonely cot on the hill-side, sends its quota of devout worshippers. Beautiful Sabbath morning ! We wend our way midst wayside flowers and golden sunshine, melody of hymning brooks and woodland birds, along the white and dusty road ; now on the upland lea 'mong bleating lambs, anon in shady groves of beech and elm, on through the hazel copse and gowand holm, the mountain streamlet murmuring at our feet, reflecting on its tremulous bosom the passing vision pilgrims on the march, by smiling faces, silvery voices cheered of God- sent happy children, each starting far from different points yet all arriving glad beneath the same blest, sacred roof at last. Beautiful emblem of the true church of Christ, divided into many sects and parties setting out on their Zionward march from many different points, and pursuing their way by many different paths, but all gathering into one happy, glorious company at the gates of Paradise ! 212 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. We have now reached the top of the hill, and as we slowly pace along by Hayston and Foffarty, we can admire at our leisure the magnificent panorama of hill and dale, which stretches away in surpassing beauty to the foot of the Grampians on our left. The Hunter Hill on the west and the hill of Kinnettles on the east, necessarily considerably circum- scribe the view of the Howe, but the effect produced on the mind is just the more exhilarating and sublime by reason of its contraction. Sweetly reposing in the hollow amidst umbrageous woods and daisied meadows, the mansion-house of Brigton appears from this point of view in all its simple and primitive beauty. The sloping lawns of Invereighty so green and pleasant to the sight, stretch smilingly away by sylvan- fringed copses to the east ; while the pretty village of Kinnettles with its church and manse, its " ancient mill, " and little school nestles peacefully by the banks of the Kerbet, beneath the friendly shadow of its beautifully wooded hill on the north. Amidst its dark and gloomy forests, the red embattled towers of Lindertis gleam brightly in the morning sun ; the steeples of Kirriemuir in the distance, shaded some- what by the great dark quarried rock, opaquely crowned with gloomy stunted pine behind, standing sharply out in bold relief against the clear blue sky ; the sparkling peat streams, like winding threads of silver, meandering to their own soft music, in the lovely valley between. Bleak and grim in the far north, the lofty Grampians tower upwards towards heaven in all their majesty and grandeur ; black Carn-a-month, and snow-capped Mount Blair looking down mysteriously from their mist-enshrouded thrones as if charged from spirit land with some portentous message to the thoughtless and unreflec- tive inhabitants below. Crossing now the swift flowing Kerbet, by a little rickety wooden bridge, we are kindly greeted by my old and worthy schoolmaster Mr Daniel Robertson, of Kinnettles, for in that little school, yonder, did I con the first elements of learning. Dear spot ! ever sacred shalt thou be to me, and oft re- A SABBATH DAY AT KINNETTLES. 213 membered fondly in after-life, and as often as the cherished picture is recalled to my memory, will appear in the midst thereof the form and expression of the venerable man who first opened to me the gates of knowledge. Now we are pacing among the tombs. What a holy in- structive place is a country churchyard ! We see old and decaying sepulchres, quaint and rude inscriptions in the cemetery of the crowded city, as well as in the lonely burying-ground of a sequestered Highland glen. But here, for ages, have the members of the same family been succes- sively buried in the same grave, the same spot of earth thus becoming a resting-place for several generations. In many a surrounding homestead as in my own ancestral line, son succeeds father, and brother succeeds brother, it may be for centuries, and to the same narrow house do they quickly succeed each other in the dark and Silent Land. With the German poet Klopstock, we fervently exclaim : " How they so softly rest, All, all the holy dead, Unto whose dwelling place Now doth my soul draw near ! How they BO softly rest All in their silent graves, Deep to corruption Slowly down-sinking ! " And they no longer weep, Here, where complaint is still ! And they no longer feel, Here, where all gladness flies ! And, by the cypresses Softly o'ershadowed, Until the Angel Calls them, they slumber ! " What a pleasant thought that you will sleep the last long sleep in the grave of your fathers, and that your ashes will congenially mix with kindred dust ! How comforting to look every sabbath-day on that little green hillock ; to become familiar with your own grave, begemmed in summer with 214 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. butter-cups and daisies, around which the butterflies spread their silken wings, and the humming bees drowse luxuriously among their honied sweets ! How consoling the thought that when you are quietly sleeping beneath that grassy mound, the flowers you loved so well will bloom above you, and the birds you so delighted to hear will sing around you ; yet more consoling still, that friends will fondle these flowers, and bless these birds for your sake ; and every Sabbath day will look upon your grave, and think of you, and speak about you, and vividly realise the time not far distant when they shall be gently laid in the same narrow house beside you ! How different, dear reader, may be your fate and mine ! The time is at hand when we must go forth into the world to brave its dangers and its temptations, its sorrows and its trials, and we may wander many a weary mile, see the strange scenes of many a strange land, and drink of the waters of many a strange river, ere our earthly pilgrimage be ended. But our grave where shall it be 1 In the pestilential swamps of Africa, or on the burning plains of Hindostan; on the solitary prairie of America, or on the ice-bound coast of Labrador ; in the crowded cemetery of the city, or in the depths of the ever-surging sea 1 We cannot tell ! Alas ! our sad fate it may be to experience the poignant feelings of the sick and lonely exile, far from country, far from friends, dying in solitude among strangers, who, when he knows the approach of death cannot be averted, nor his poisoned shafts turned aside, turns his face to the wall and breathes a hopeless wish that he may be buried in the grave of his fathers ! But the church-bell has ceased. Let us now reverently enter the House of God. How sacred and holy we feel the place to be where we, in early childhood, first offered up praise and prayer from pure and loving hearts, to the Most High God, the great Omniscient Author of our being, the Guide and Counsellor of our youth ! Impressions made on the young and tender heart are seldom, if ever, effaced in after-life. How supremely important, therefore, they be, right A SABBATH DAY AT KINNETTLES. 215 religious impressions, which, though sometimes choked well nigh to extermination, by the cares and pleasures or riches of the world, will ultimately flourish in healthful luxuriance and beauty. The service ended, we now, amidst kind words and smiling adieus, turn our faces homewards ; and as we journey leisurely on our way, it may not be out of place or uninstructive, to give expression to our feelings and convictions in regard to the subject matter of the discourse to which we have just listened, from our worthy parish minister. The theme was in the abstract, Foreign Missions, and eloquently and power- fully did he plead their cause. To me, however, a trans- parent fallacy seemed to run through all his arguments, for I have always most firmly held the opinion that the true spirit of Christianity is best exemplified, in the first instance, in the home circle of our family and friends, gradually extending its benign influence to our neighbours and countrymen in general. Nay, more, I hold that the Christian most lamentably fails in his duty, who, while he opens his purse-strings to support, and makes every sacrifice to extend, the field of Foreign Missions, neglects or ignores the confessed spiritual destitu- tion which reigns on every hand around him, in his native land. Let an exhibition be got up for the sale of fancy work ; a subscription set a-foot ; or a public meeting convened, for the purpose of swelling the treasury of our foreign missions, and what sacrifices we see made, what generosity displayed, and what thrilling eloquence is poured forth, until heaven and earth seem stirred and aroused by the commotion ! Yet, that gorgeous array of finery may be displayed in the same city, where hundreds and thousands of our fellow -creatures are naked, houseless wanderers, without a place whereon to lay their head ; these princely subscriptions are given, it may be from the same locality where many are pining with hunger, nay, actually dying for want of the common necessaries of life ; and these rushing strains of eloquence may almost 216 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. penetrate to the dark and dismal hovels, where countless throngs of our own countrymen are wallowing in vice and crime, and from which may be heard the reproachful and bitter cry " No man careth for our souls." Ct^*^ ^ I venture to assert, that, if but a tithe of the vast sums ^JTA "~ expended on foreign missions were applied to the excavationr^rrif 1/Ji and ejili^itenmentfof the heathen in our own land, the aridi^^ ^, ft deserts and moral wastes, which, in spite of all our boasted advancement, everywhere encompass us, would, under the blessing of the Most High, soon assume the gladdening appearance of fertility and beauty ; the deadly and pesti- lential atmosphere be purified by the cheering and invigorat- ing light of the gospel ; and the loud universal hymn of praise and thanksgiving be heard throughout the length and breadth of our beloved land. I know it is said, and believe truly said, that those who are the warmest supporters of foreign missions, are generally the most zealous promoters of home schemes of reformation. But that the efforts made in behalf of the latter, are in any way commensurate to the necessitous nature of the case, let the revenue for home and foreign missions of our various churches and societies testify. Surely the soul of a Scotchman is as precious and as worthy to be saved as that of an African Negro, or of a South Sea Islander. Nay, does not the charm of country and of home throw an additional interest over the former 1 It is delightful to read of the triumph and success of the far-distant missionary, and to receive regular tidings of the little Indian boy and girl who are being reared in the paths of virtue and holiness by our instrumentality. But, O ! surely it is not less delightful to follow in the rugged pathway of the Christian philanthropist, as he ministers of the bread and water of life to those who are bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh, and to see with our own eyes, the reclaimed and happy urchins in the Ragged School, and mark the progress of our little foundling as he scans the elements of Christian knowledge ! A SABBATH DAY AT KINNETTLES. 217 To be a Christian is to love with brotherly affection all mankind. But there are degrees of love. A man has not, and cannot have, the same affection for a stranger as he feels for those of his own household. The patriot has not, and never can have, the same undying love for his adopted country, as he has for his own father-land. Keligion, when it enters the soul, hallows and [deepens, instead of eradicating or weakening these emotions. Were we to cast this shining pebble into yon calm and peaceful lake, the tremulous ripple would begin where the stone had sunk, imperceptibly increasing further and further from the spot, till the wide bosom of the lake heaved and vibrated in sympathetic unison. So it is with Christianity. Seated in the heart, the Christian's heart affections flow out, first to those of his family, or his own household, yet gradually and surely extending its influence, until the whole human race are encompassed with its holy, and vivifying, and ever- lasting love. But let me, and those who conscientiously think with me, not be misunderstood. We depreciate not the labours of the missionary in other lands, nor wish his sphere of usefulness abridged. On the contrary, we hail with joy every accession to the ranks of those devoted men, who, leaving country and friends, and the comforts and happiness of social and civilized life, to brave the dangers of distant climes, ought ever to receive our warmest gratitude. We do not wish for less of missionary zeal, but only for more heart-felt interest and anxious efforts on behalf of our own country-men. We do not think less of the pioneer of the Cross, as he discourses of the Saviour on the sandy deserts of Africa, or on the burn- ing plains of Hindostan ; but we think more of the humble missionary prayerfully and perseveringly pursuing his tor- tuous way along the dark alleys and dismal streets of our large cities, braving reproach, disease and death, that he may win souls to Christ. We love not a' Duff or a Williams less we only love a Chalmers and a Guthrie more. 218 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. As a fitting sequel to these reflections on the good man's discourse, may we not now enquire into the causes of the de- cline of sacred music in our Scottish Churches, as you could not but have been most forcibly struck to-day with the extreme bauclmess, and the very cold, and inefficient state of this part of the service. In general the persons appointed to lead the psalmody, and the great majority, if not nearly all of the members and adherents of our congregations in the country, come to the sanctuary on the Sabbath day, with little or no preparation whatever for that part of the service in which only they are permitted to engage, the reasons in most instances being, that the latter cannot learn what the other is utterly incapable of communicating, the former being often destitute even of an ear for music, and oftener entirely ignorant of the very first elements of the science. It was not always so. Music was cultivated under express divine sanction in the Jewish Church, and from the time of David held a high place as part of the public worship of God. When David was old and full of years, the number of the Le- vites above thirty years of age, was thirty-eight thousand, and out of this number four thousand praised the Lord with the instruments which he had made. The Songs of Solomon, his successor, we are informed, were one thousand and five, and all his arrangements for the celebration of public worship were on a scale of even greater magnificence than those of David. These were not mere Jewish appointments. Devo- tional singing was earlier than Judaism, as is seen in the hymn of praise sung by Moses and Miriam on the shores of the Red Sea. It is as early as the creation itself, for when the copestone thereof was laid, " The morning stars sang together and all the sons of God shouted for joy." The spiritual priesthood under the New Testament, per- petuated the appointment of praise as the duty of the whole church, " That they should shew forth the praises of Him who hath called them out of darkness into His marvellous light." Jesus Himself sang an hymn with His disciples on the A SABBATH DAY AT KINNETTLES. 219 night in which He was betrayed. Paul in his epistle to the church at Corinth, says, " when ye come together, every one of you hath a psalm." He exhorts the Colossian Church, also, to " admonish one another in psalms, and hymns, and spiritual songs." Approaching our own day, D'Aubigne says " The souls of Luther and his contemporaries, elevated by faith to the most sublime contemplations, roused to enthusiasm by the dangers and struggles which incessantly threatened the infant church, inspired by the poetry of the Old, and the hope of the New Testament, soon began to pour out their feelings in religious songs, in which poetry and music joined, and blended their most heavenly accents, and thus were heard reviving in the sixteenth century, the hymns, which, in the first century, soothed the sufferings of the martyrs. Many were the hymns composed, and rapidly circulated among the people, and greatly did they contribute to arouse their slumbering minds." Calvin and Knox were both enthusiastic lovers of music, the former establishing the singing of psalms as a distinguished and important part of public worship ; and the latter com- piling a work on sacred music to give an increased impetus to the general cultivation of the divine science. And until lately psalmody was cultivated with much success, and was universally popular in our own country. Calderwood relates the return of John Durie to Edinburgh, thus : " As he was coming from Leith to Edinburgh, upon tuesday the fourth September, there met him at the Gallow Greene two hundredth men of the inhabitants of Edinburgh. Their number still increased till he came within the Nether Bow. There they beganne to sing the 124th Psalme, ' Now Isrrael may say,' &c., and sang in foure parts, knowne to the most of the people. They came up the street till they came to the Great Kirk, singing all the way to the number of two thowsand." It thus appears, that in the Jewish and New Testament Churches, as well as in the churches of the Reformation, in 220 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. this and other lands, the place assigned to praise as a part of the worship of God, was distinguished and prominent, and that every exertion was used by kings, priests, and ministers, to encourage and keep alive in the minds of the people, the glowing flame of divine song. Why has it declined to its present miserably low state amongst the churches in Scotland 1 Why is so little interest taken in the cultivation of sacred music in an age conspicuous above all others, for its rapid advancement in philosophy and literature, in science and art ? Has the worship of God lost any of its charms, or the Songs of Zion any of their sweet- ness 1 Alas, alas ! In this romantic land of poetry and song, with its deeds of glory and of fame strung to the loftiest strains of national music, and sung with enthusiastic rapture, on every hill-side and in every glen, the sublime praises of Divine Worship are either in a languid, cheerless state, or altogether neglected ; no joyous, well-sustained, melodious hymn of gladness rising like the hallelujahs of heaven from the Sanctuary of the saints on earth. What shall we say then to break the slumbering apathy and arouse the minds of our countrymen to their former ardour and enthusiastic love of the sweet Songs of Zion ? Shall we exclaim with Baxter " A choir of holy persons singing melodiously the praises of Jehovah, are most like the angelical society." Or with Edwards " As it is the command of God that all should sing, so all should make conscience of learning to sing, as it is a thing which cannot be decently performed at all without learning. Those, therefore, who neglect to learn to sing, live in sin." With Luther " I verily think, and am not ashamed to say, that next to divinity no art is comparable to music ; " or join with him in singing his own sublime hymn " Eine vaste burg ist unser Gott "- OUR GOD IS A STRONG TOWER. Or, leaving man's saying, shall we quote the injunctions A SABBATH DAY AT KINNETTLES. 221 and admonitions of Holy Writ ? " Let the people praise Thee, Lord ; let all the people praise Thee. Then shall the earth yield her increase, and God, even our own God, shall bless us." " Praise the Lord, for the Lord is good : sing praises unto His name, for it is pleasant." " Let us come make haste before His presence with thanksgivings, and make a joyful noise unto Him with Psalms." But a divine vision now floats before my entranced and dazzled eyes : Heaven with its unspeakable glories unfolds it- self to view with jewelled harps and crowns of gold, on sunny wings the angels fly arrayed in robes of white, and wear- ing diadems of glory, redeemed ones tread the golden streets of Paradise softly o'er its amber bed flows the river of life among the groves of amaranth celestial music fills and ravishes my soul in holy unison my heart vibrates with sweet exulting joy and hark ! a voice cometh out of the throne saying "Praise our God, all ye His servants, and ye that hear Him, both small and great." And I hear, " as it were the voice of a great multitude, and as the voice of many waters, and as the voice of mighty thunderings, saying, ' ALLELUJAH : FOR THE LORD GOD OMNIPOTENT REIGNETH ! '" CHAPTEE XVIII. LUCY JOHNSTONE. PART I. SUNSHINE. So sure as God doth reign on high, Controlling this world's destiny, Shall conscience sting that guilty breast, Nor give his troubled spirit rest ; Recalling oft her wasted form, Swift flitting through the raging storm ; Rehearsing in his troubled dreams Her wild-like shouts and piercing screams, And picturing dark that desolate hearth, From which hath fled the joys of earth. THE farm and mill of Airniefoul, the birthplace of the writer, is pleasantly situated in the extreme east corner of the Glen of Ogilvy. Surrounded on all sides by a mountainous belt of hills, the lonely glen is, apparently, completely isolated from the outer world. Yet, it is not so. The county town is. within a few miles distance, and populous hamlets and villages encompass it on all sides ; while the Howe, or Valley of Strathmore, stretches away in its sylvan beauty beyond; the long rugged range of the Sidlaw Hills grim towering dark between. It was now autumn ; the fields in their golden yellow were ripening luxuriantly for the sickle ; and all was bustle and preparation at Airniefoul for the approaching harvest. A re-union of two loving and trusting hearts had just taken place within its precincts. Kate, the only daughter of the worthy farmer, and Jeanie Morison, a former school com- panion hi a neighbouring city, had met the evening before after a separation of many years, the latter the invited guest LUCY JOHNSTONE. 223 to Airniefoul, to partake for a time of its simple hospitalities and rural pleasures. Kate, it may be observed, was some years the elder of Jeanie. She was of a warm and genial temperament, yet apparently saddened in heart by some early disappointment, which, however, infused a pensive sweetness to her voice, and a solemn melody to her words, very attractive and winning especially in one who combined the inward qualities of a cultivated mind, with all the external graces of comeliness and beauty. The landscape around her mountain home was not only beautiful in picturesque and attractive scenery, but from its close connection with, and immediate proximity to, Glamis, was also rich in classic associations and legendary lore. Her great delight, therefore, had latterly been to muse over the wizard and fairy tales of by-gone times, and to treasure up in her heart whatever was romantic or interesting in the more unheeded, yet not less momentous scenes of every day life. And this, not from the mere love of the marvellous, but with an anxious, fixed desire to extract some moral or useful lesson from all that was happening around her. On the morning after Jeanie Morison's arrival at Airnie- foul, the two friends were walking arm in arm by the banks of the little streamlet that murmurs round the homestead, when Kate, ever anxious to communicate whatever had profit- ably impressed herself, thus addressed her companion : " This balmy morning so bright and beautiful seems to invite us to wander over the glen. But whither shall we bend our footsteps ? You see that lonely cottage on the brow of the hill, the sun shining bright on its white-washed walls, and partly overshadowed with a clump of stately elms ? There is a sad story of domestic misery connected with that cot ; a blight has come over its once joyous and happy hearth. Let us seat ourselves on this mossy bank and I will tell it thee : "Adam Johnstone, the late occupant of the cottage, was, 224 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. for many years Grieve or Overseer of the neighbouring farm of Hayston, to whom the proprietor, who did not reside on the estate, entrusted the full management of its affairs. A most diligent and faithful servant, ever alive to the interests of his employer, was honest Adam Johnstone. He superintended the farm, bought and sold, engaged and dis- charged servants, as if the whole were his own property, every transaction, however small, being negotiated with the most scrupulous fidelity. Honesty had its reward in the unswerving confidence of his employer, and the good wishes and respect of all who knew him. The minister and session of the parish, with the unanimous concurrence and approval of the congregation, elected him cordially to the eldership, an office which he faithfully though unostentatiously filled for a longer term of years than had .ever fallen to the lot of any of his compeers. Yet all this prosperous and happy time, he sought not the applause of men, but the possession of a good conscience, and a single eye to rectitude and truth. " Janet, his sonsie helpmate, was in every respect a suitable wife to Adam Johnstone. Active, industrious, frugal, inven- tive, making ' auld claes look maist as weel as new,' she kept a warm and cosy hearth, the envy of many a gudewife in the glen with double the means without being able to bring about the same result. Her kitchen or but end was kept as scrupulously clean as a Dutch cottage ; she was always scouring away at chairs, tables, ' higgles,' and all the et-ceteras of her sanctum ; and then her capacious hearthstone and large roomy ingle, how white and beautiful ! The roof was hung round with dainty sized hams and rolls of bacon all her own curing, while her clean-kept dairy was full of large earthen dishes brimful of nice rich milk for the making of butter and cheese, at which she was quite an adept, and which, on market days, she disposed of herself in the neighbouring town. The parlour or ben house was a mirror of neatness and comfort. The floor scoured clean and white, and covered over with a slight sprinkling of glistering sand LUCY JOHNSTONE. 225 from the bonnie burn; the chairs, table, and cupboard of bright varnished oak, with the mahogany eight day clock ticking cheerily behind the door, gave the whole quite an air of rural independence. On the white-washed walls hung several gaudily coloured prints without frames, descriptive of Wallace and his exploits ; or the re-union of loves long estranged, with the village church in the distance ; the cupboard filled with the glowing china tea set, used only now on rare and high occasions ; and the sunny recess of the little diamond-paned window adorned with the gaudily painted parrot in its stucco cage. On the mantelpiece were placed several non- descript figures of porcelain bedecked with peacock's feathers, and long strings of birds' eggs fantastically hung round the whole, while on the mahogany chest of drawers lay the big Ha' bible with the shorter and larger Catechism, the Con- fession of Faith, Hervey's Meditations, Pilgrim's Progress, and Guthrie's Christian's Great Interest. "But Adam and Janet were now surrounded by much more interesting objects than these. Sweet, healthy, olive plants grew around their table, destined in time to be either a blessing or a crown of thorns to their aged heads. Four beautiful children, three boys and one girl, made their lonely cot a little paradise ; and it was Adam's delight when the labours of the day were over, to work in his little garden with all his laughing children around him ; or to train the honeysuckle and jessamine on the porch and walls of his cottage, while they bedecked themselves with the pretty blossoms which he threw down amongst them ostensibly as useless for his purpose, but in reality that he might see their sunny ringlets clustered with their bloom, and listen to their ringing merry laughter ever so sweetly dear to a father's heart. In the long winter evenings he would tell them the story of Joseph and his brethren, till their little cheeks were wet with tears ; or romp with them at " hide-and-seek," or "blind man's buff," till warned by Janet it was time to "gie ower their damn," when they would all gather round him to P 226 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. say their evening prayers ; and in a few minutes the house would be still and silent, the lovely sleepers each on his little pillow, a perfect picture of innocence and beauty. "The Saturday holiday has an irresistible, inexpressible charm for every schoolboy, but to those at a remote country school, it possesses a double charm. There are so many little excursions to make, sights to see, friends to visit, that it is always looked forward to with delight, and enjoyed with the rarest pleasure. The youngsters at Woodbine Cottage- were now attending school, and as they were our nearest neighbours they and the young people belonging to Airnie- foul were in the constant habit of going to, and returning from Kinnettles' school together. On these occasions many were the excursions we planned, and the exploits we pro- jected. None, however, afforded me greater pleasure than to spend the afternoon at Adam's cottage, and to take a " dish o' tea " in his cozy kitchen. Then Janet was in all her glory, her grey wincey gown tucked neatly up behind, her massive broad-winged cap as white as driven snow, and her blooming sonsie face all radiant with sunny smiles ; the hearthstone and "jams" newly "calmed," a large log fire blazing in the ingle, and the burnished tea kettle singing on the " sway." Then the table was duly placed in the middle of the nicely sanded floor, on which were laid the "tea dishes," with pyramids of oaten cakes and flour " scones," nice fresh butter and "groser jam." Some of the urchins who had been watching without would now enter in breath- less haste with the joyful announcement that " Father was coming.'' We would then all hasten out to welcome him home, and Adam would then enter the cottage with a little elf on each arm, and the rest somewhat jealous, all clinging round him, but it took some little time to satisfy by many marks of affection, that they all equally shared his love. " There was one, however, in this little group always more conspicuous than the rest in her eager and childlike attention to her father, who in his turn caressed and fondled her with LUCY .TOHNSTONE. 227 apparently more warmth of affection than any of her little brothers. This was Lucy. With her ruddy cheeks and hazel eyes, and light sunny curls she was as pretty a little nymph as one could look upon. A wild little imp too was Lucy, always doing a great many tricks at other people's expense. Yet being the only girl in the family, we were never very severe upon the culprit, who, to do her justice, when fairly taxed with her misdeeds, never denied that of which she knew she was really guilty. This was. a beautiful trait in her then embryo character, which, developing itself in after life, made her the very personification of truthfulness, a virtue beautiful in all, but priceless and incomparable in woman. Then she was not childish ; she had a courage and fortitude far above her years ; nor selfish, for she would have shared any or everything with her playmates ; nor capricious, for her friendship and love were steady and un- changing. Although a slight feeling of jealousy might occa- sionally spring up in our little breasts, at any marked, and as we might have supposed, uncalled for attention bestowed on Lucy, the cloud soon passed away, leaving the horizon purer and brighter than before. We all loved Lucy ; her father tenderly and dearly ; and, although then a mere girl, I have often detected his eyes following her every movement in our romping games, and when not missed by the others, have seen her seated on his knee, his hard bony fingers playing with her waving curls, while a low voice would tenderly whisper, " My ain Lucy." " Two circumstances which occurred in my girlhood, served indelibly to impress on my mind the features and expression of Lucy, circumstances which I will doubtless often recall in after life, as mementoes of early years. We had all planned a blaeberry excursion for a Saturday in the latter end of July, to the Hunter Hill which you see rising yonder immediately behind the farm of Airniefoul. It was a lovely morning when we all mustered on the green meadow beside the Mill, with our burnished flagons to contain the united proceeds of our 228 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. individual gatherings. After receiving sundry admonitions to keep well together, and not fall out by the way, and having been duly marshalled in regular marching order by the good- natured miller, we began our journey in the highest spirits. " Over the burn we crossed, and away among the lofty pines we rambled, shouting loudly as we went, to the no small amazement of honest Reynard, who, thinking a pack of hounds had got on his track, broke cover in fine style, and bounded away with swift, yet stealthy steps across the hill. Even a majestic deer would now and then start from the brushwood in affright, but discovering the puny foes with whom he imagined he had to contend, would, in utter contempt, kick his heels in the air, and walk leisurely and proudly away till lost to sight by the thick entangling brushwood. All the while, little Lucy kept close by my side as her legitimate pro- tector, for I had promised to her parents to be her faithful guide, and to return her to them in safety. She was only then seven years of age, and as she toddled by my side, occa- sionally looking up slyly into my face with an expression of gratitude and happiness, I felt my young heart beat with excusable pride, that such a dear little lovely sylph had been committed to my care and keeping. As we wandered on, now in a deep mossy dell, anon on a high broomy knoll, I would gather for her the tallest and most beautiful of the blue and purple bells, or pluck the variegated ferns to adorn her sunny ringlets, or quickly pull a few of the wild raspberries which temptingly hung around our path, till we at last became very good friends indeed, so much so that no induce- ments could entice her to leave my side even for an instant. Sometimes, as the great lofty pines overhead shook their far- stretching branches in the breeze, now tremulous and faint as the notes of distant music, then loud and boisterous like the voice of approaching thunder, she would suddenly stop and gaze upwards with an expression of fear and awe till reassured by some gentle word, she would tremblingly take my hand, and move onwards as before. Often since then have I con- LUCY JOHNSTONE. 229 jectured, what were the thoughts that passed through the mind of that timid child as these giant old harpers struck their thundering harps. To my own soul their notes were ever as the music of the spheres, suggestive of spiritual influences, and visions of glory. Did the tender strings of her little heart vibrate in sympathetic unison with mine ? Was a passing glimpse of spiritual existence vouchsafed to her startled soul as she intently gazed on the azure sky far beyond, and above these harping pines ? " Loud shoutings and clapping of hands from the vanguard of our troop now announced the joyful intelligence that the blaeberry ground had been reached at last, and, sure enough, there were the bright green bushes hanging thick with the much prized purple fruit, at sight of which little Lucy forgot her gravity, and clapped her little hands in excess of joy. We again marshalled our forces, sending some to the right, and some to the left, while a few went forward as pioneers of the unexplored regions beyond. As for Lucy I judged it the safer plan to give her a very limited boundary wherein to range about for the exercise of her exploring pro- pensities ; so placing her down on a knoll in a sunny opening of the wood where the berries were ripe and plentiful, assign- ing to her a certain fixed limit, over the verge of which she was not to pass, and giving her the tiniest vessel to fill against our return, I cheerily pushed along among the pioneers, not how- ever before announcing that our ultimate rendezvous was to be the ' Fiery Pans,' a well known spot on the top of the hill. " The berries were ripe to perfection, and the crop luxuriantly large, so that with the shouting of captains in battle we filled our capacious flagons to overflowing, having at the same time made a rich feast to ourselves as we gathered ; for, while we kept one eye steadily on the vessel, we as steadily kept the other on our own pleasure, ever remembering, no doubt with great self-satisfaction, that the workman is worthy of his hire. The word was given 'To the Fiery Pans,' and as the feast of blaeberries, instead of allaying, had rather increased our 230 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. hunger, and with our luxurious picnic, of bread and cheese and milk, in prospect, to the Fiery Pans assuredly we scampered, not by any means in regular file, but in strangely crooked and zigzag movements resembling rather the straggling of an army beating a retreat, than victorious conquerors announcing a victory. The last straggler had appeared on the summit of the hill, and our little party sat down without any ceremony, eager to discuss our wallets. The cakes and milk had just been introduced, when, as with one voice, we all exclaimed 'Lucy! Lucy! where is Lucy 1 ?' Like one demented I rushed down the hill not knowing whither I went or where to go ; my conscience smote me so violently, that filled with remorse and grief, I hardly knew what I was doing. The rest of our party following with anxious and hasty steps, immedi- ately saw the necessity for decisive and active measures being instantly taken, for the sun was declining in the west ; and the shadows of the trees fell heavily on the ground. Our little party was now organized and speedily on our different routes, shouting and hallooing at the top of our voices, if so be the lost Lucy now dearer than ever might hear and answer our cries. What agony I endured, what remorse I felt since my cruel and inexcusable neglect had been the cause of this grief ; and how it might end, I was afraid to contemplate, the image of the little lost Lucy ever rising reproachfully before me, goading me on to despair. For hours we continued to search every dell and hollow, every rising knoll and opening of the wood. Our voices were now hoarse with shouting, and our eyes were dim with tears, and I shall never forget the look of blank and hopeless despair which overshadowed every face of our little group as we all again met without having obtained the object of our search. In my despair I gave her up for lost, and walking slowly and sadly on, we came suddenly upon an opening in the wood, which we had not hitherto explored. I looked anxiously down from the hill on which we stood and to my amazement and great joy remembered this as the place where I had left Lucy, and perceived the coloured LUCY JOHNSTONE. 231 handkerchief, which, as a mark by which I might know the place again, I had tied to the highest branches of the bushes, still hanging where I had left it. Frantic with joy, I shouted ' Lucy ' and bade them follow, and down the hill, and over the hollow we rushed, when, breathless with anxiety, we stood at last beside the very spot where I had left her. Beckoning them to be quiet, and remain where they were, I cautiously advanced, and there, in a little mossy hollow between some blaeberry bushes, lay the form of the little lost one, reclining sweetly in the arms of sleep. Myjieart palpitated with exult- ing joy as I gazed on the lovely sleeper, and felt my anxiety and grief for her sake were now over. She seemed to have scrupul- ously obeyed my injunctions, not to wander from the prescribed limits ; her little flagon was full of fruit, and it would seem she had awaited our return, till, overpowered by the heat, she had fallen asleep. And there she lay, dear, sweet little elf, a bunch of moss for her pillow, her head reclining gently on her hand, her golden ringlets flowing dishevelled over her shoulders, and her plump cheeks well besmeared with the purple juice of the blaeberry. I need not tell you what a joyful awakening it was to Lucy, nor how merrily we threaded our homeward way among the still sighing pines, nor with what pride and joy I delivered over my little pet lamb to the safe fold of her doting parents. " "And what was the other incident, Kate ?" " The other circumstance to which I alluded, occurred when Lucy was eleven years of age. It was a dreary day in winter, dark scowling clouds were driving through the sky chasing each other like demons intent on mischief; and the wild bluster- ing winds howled and bellowed along the glen, shaking the bending trees with resistless power and fury. I had gone up the hill as usual to spend the Saturday afternoon in Adam's cottage, and felt sorry my little favourite Lucy was absent, having gone to Kinnettles on some necessary household duties. We romped and gambolled about as usual, but sadly missed the fairy form, and ringing silvery voice of our little favourite. 232 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. There was a vacuum felt in, and silently acknowledged by, each little heart, which cast a damper over our frolicsome pastimes, so that it was by the greatest effort our childish games could be pursued or kept up at all. At last our merri- ment fairly died out of itself, and as with one consent, we gathered in a group at the door of the cottage, to watch the threatening storm. Just at this moment, a strange murky darkness overspread the dreary glen ; a deceitful calm settled for a moment on the face of the sky, and a mysterious, suspicious hush came over the conflicting elements, foreboding darkly, yet surely, the coming tempest. There we stood, with the anxious mother in the midst intently gazing on the gather- ing tempest, fe'eling a strange unearthly sensation of impend- ing desolation, and all thinking of dear much loved Lucy, and earnestly longing for her return. Blacker and blacker grew the threatening heavens, and more oppressively settled the saddening silence, when the feathery snowflakes silently and softly began to fall hiding first the surrounding hills from our view, and latterly obscuring every landmark in the glen. " ' A snow storm,' cried Janet convulsively wringing her hands, ' Lucy, Lucy ! what will become of Lucy ? ' Thicker, and thicker fell the driving snow, and darker, and blacker grew the deepening gloom, the depressing silence only broken at long intervals by the whirring flight of the moorland birds seek- ing vainly for shelter from the feeding storm. Our little hearts trembled, and our spirits gave way, and the hot tears began to trickle down our cheeks as we looked into each other's faces with all the varied expression of grief and despair, feeling some overwhelming calamity was about to overtake us. Janet seemed to have entirely lost her presence of mind, and by her frantic gestures and melancholy cries, only served to encrease tenfold our bitter distress. " I now volunteered to go in search of Lucy, and was just preparing to put my purpose into execution, when a dark figure was dimly seen advancing in the direction of the cottage. As it slowly approached, it soon became evident it was not LUCY JOHNSTONE. 233 the form of Lucy. Still, we held our breath in eager ex- pectation, and in a few moments, Adam Johnstone entered the cottage. " ' Lucy ! Lucy, our dear Lucy,' frantically exclaimed Janet, rushing into her husband's arms, and sobbing, like a child. ' Let us put our trust in God : He will temper the wind to the shorn lamb,' was Adam's solemn reply, and gently disengaging himself from her wild-like embrace, he hastily threw his plaid around his brawny shoulders, took down his rustic staff, called his faithful dog, drew his bonnet over his brow, and cautioning us not to leave the cottage, till his return, he left with a steady step, and was soon lost to sight in the thickening snow. " So calm, yet quick, had been his movements, that it was not till his darkly receding figure had entirely disappeared that I remembered my resolution to go in search of Lucy. Without communicating my intention lest I might be prevented from leaving the cottage in terms of Adam's injunctions, I slipped quietly from the group, and before any obstacle could be thrown in my way, was bounding down the glen. "I had gone a considerable way without finding any trace of Adam, and soon regretted the rash step I had taken in blindly rushing into danger, without any reasonable hope that I would ever reach the object of my search. I stood still amidst the falling snow, and in utter helplessness burst into tears. Just at this moment the flakes fell less frequently, and became gradually smaller in size till they ceased altogether, and the setting sun shone brightly upon the grey leaden sky, illuminating the dreary glen by his welcome light. At a short distance stood Adam in wild amazement at my unex- pected appearance, and when I joyfully rushed to him for protection, he, at first, seemed inclined to chide me for my rashness, but so tenaciously and tenderly did I cling to him, telling him that I must go with him to seek for Lucy, that his brow at last relaxed, and his frown passed away, as he gently covered me with his plaid, grasped warmly my tremb- 234 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. ling hand, and bade me take courage for the Lord would yet restore to us our dear lost Lucy. ' This is only a blink before the storm/ said Adam, and we hastily pursued our way. " The flakes of snow again began to fall, the sun went down in darkness, and bleak and dreary grew the troubled sky. The winds, which had for sometime slept in ominous silence, now roused into frantic wrath, shook their shaggy manes to the storm, dancing on in their thundering vengeance and desolating fury, driving, and tossing, and wheeling into maddening eddies the light and feathery snowflakes, and shaking the surrounding hills from their very foundations. No wonder my young heart trembled, and my feeble limbs shook with fear, but Adam kept my hand firmly clasped in his, and if it shook too, it was not for fear of the whirlwind or the tempest, but for the weak helpless lamb now wandering in the wilderness far from her own loved sheltered fold. Thicker fell the blinding snow, and drearier grew the hopeless night, yet on we went amidst the storm supported safely by an unseen hand. " 'Lucy must have long since left the village,' said Adam solemnly, ' yet she could not, I think, have passed this spot.' " ' But you forget, Adam,' I replied, ' that the snow is deep, and the night is dark.' " ' True, true, poor Lucy has doubtless lost her way. May the Lord have mercy on her.' " ' List, Adam, I hear a distant sound a sound as it were of music. Listen do you not hear it ? ' " ' I do hear a strange-like pleasing sound, but it is not like a human voice something spiritual, I fear.' " ' Yes, Adam,' said I joyfully, ' It is a human voice, and I know the soft notes of that pensive song.' " Still nearer and nearer came the pleasing sound, until at last we distinctly heard these plaintive words. wearily I wander O'er dreary glen and wold, All blacker grows the darkness Which hides me from my fold. LUCY JOHNSTONE. 235 To Thee, God, Jehovah, The sorrows of my breast I tell, for Thou wilt hear me, And give my spirit rest. For me there is no coffin, The snow will be my shroud, While Angels hover round me, Like a bright celestial cloud. wearily I wander O'er dreary glen and wold, Through this increasing darkness Find not can I my fold. " The snowflakes suddenly ceased, the moon shone forth in soft and silvery brightness ; a moment more, and I and Lucy were rapturously clasped in each others arms. " Need I tell the sequel. How old Adam embraced again and again his little daughter ; and how she related to us as we went joyfully homeward, how long after she had hopelessly wandered among the snow, the idea suggested itself of singing as loudly as she could in the faint hope of her voice reach- ing the ears of those who might be sent from the cottage in search of her ; how Janet met us frantic with joy at the door of the cottage, and how all the little ones clung round their beloved sister, refusing for sometime to be parted from her." " I can easily imagine, Kate, the joyous and happy scene," quietly said Jeanie, " but you seem to have had a melancholy pleasure in relating or rather dwelling on these interesting incidents in Lucy's early life while I was all impatience and anxiety to hear the sequel" " Yes, my dear friend, you have penetrated my real feelings. Every picture of life has its bright and its dark side. I love to dwell on the one, but fear to turn to the other, I have no heart at least to dwell on the dark side of this picture. But as we are invited to drink tea this evening at the manse to- morrow I will tell it thee." 236 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. PART II. THE DESTROYER. " It strikes me, my dearest friend," cheerfully said Kate next morning, " you begin to like our country life. You have probably from childhood been so accustomed to the gay circle of city life that this change to rural scenes and primitive customs and habits has the greater effect on your sensitive nature. And you have been so gentle and silent too ; more anxious apparently to listen than to join in conversation, which with your natural amiability and cultivated talents you could possibly so much adorn." " Yes, Kate," Jeanie replied, " I came rather to be a listener than a prominent speaker, for well knowing your powers of description, warm affections, and still warmer heart, I antici- pated learning much during my brief visit to Airniefoul, and I have not been disappointed." " Dearest Jeanie, you flatter me too much, for the fact is, this glen, the surrounding hills, the villages, the castles, the lochs, the moors of this and the adjoining parishes are so rich in poetic and historic lore, that although you were to prolong your stay at Airniefoul for a full twelvemonth, I would be unable to exhaust their treasures." " Then let us make the most of our time, Kate. I am all impatience to hear the sequel of the story of Lucy Johnstone." "Let us seat ourselves then in this quiet arbour in the garden, and, as briefly as I can, I will tell it thee : " Lucy Johnstone had reached her nineteenth year when a young man, the son of a merchant prince of a neighbouring sea-port town, came to reside at the farm of Hayston for the purpose of being instructed by Adam Johnstone in the practi- cal science of agriculture, previous to his departure to Australia to take possession of a large tract of land purchased for him by his father. "Walter Ogilvy was a younger son, and much beloved LUCY JOHNSTONE. 237 by both his parents. With good average natural abilities he united warm and generous affections, being rather a favourite than otherwise with the friends of his younger days. As he grew up to manhood, however, whether from the over- indulgence of his parents, or the development of innate pro- pensities hitherto lying concealed, he began gradually to ex- hibit feelings of restless discontent, and a desire to distinguish himself in some more extended and more congenial sphere than the counting-house of his father, in whose service he had been for some years. Mistaking, what might only, after all, have been a mere dislike to parental authority, and the dull, monotonous routine of methodical duty, for the secret stirrings of a noble and genuine ambition, his worthy father and too in- dulgent mother unitedly came to the abrupt conclusion, that the profession of the law was a much more suitable and congenial profession for their recreant son ; and, forthwith without much consultation with him on a matter of which they believed themselves the better judges, they proceeded to put their darling project into execution. An old friend, the law agent in Edinburgh of the firm, was appealed to with such effect, that within one month from the time the scheme was first entertained all the preliminaries preparatory to Walter's com- mencement of the study of the law, were, in the technical phrase of the profession, ' signed, sealed, and delivered/ and our hero duly installed in his comfortable lodgings on the second flat of a highly respectable house in Pitt Street in the New Town. "When I suddenly drop the curtain on his career in Edin- burgh, by at once and honestly telling you, that he was neither more nor less than what is charitably and considerately termed, ' a spoiled child,' with no fixed principles in his head, and plenty of gold in his pocket, you can at once imagine, what, in its details, that career had been. At the time of which I speak, drunkenness was in the northern capital the rule, sobriety the exception. Hard drinking particularly distinguished the habits of the middle and upper classes of 238 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. society. No business of any kind could be transacted without drink. Judges drank, advocates drank, physicians drank, ministers drank, shop-keepers and tradesmen drank. No wonder then such a reckless youth as Walter Ogilvy fell into, and was carried off by the vortex. His hours of study became few and far between, and the purlieus of Potterrow and the Cowgate, became gradually more familiar to him than the more aristocratic lounges of Princes Street, or George Street. He had formed the acquaintance, we cannot call ties formed in such circumstances, by the sacred name of friendship of other too young men, equally wild, irresolute, and thoughtless as himself, whose parents being also rich, had liberally supplied them hitherto with funds. The drafts however on their liberality becoming so outrageously large, the fathers of the two young men proceeded to Edinburgh to learn and in- vestigate for themselves, the true state of the case. " Curiously enough, Walter's father having for sometime had grave suspicions that all was not right in Pitt Street either, met by accident at the ' Royal ' on his arrival in Auld Reekie, those two veritable gentlemen just mentioned. There seems to be a sort of freemasonry in such things, for as the three sat down to breakfast, they soon discovered their affinity to each other, and as the first-named pair had had the advantage of a day's start, they of course knew everything the other wished, or cared to know. The revelation was sad and sorrowful enough, and after a full review of the whole matter, they came, as they thought, to the wise and philo- sophic conclusion, that a sheep-farm in the wilds of Australia was the best and only reformatory for such reckless, unprin- cipled, ungrateful scapegoats. This duly arranged, Walter came home with his father to Deedun, from thence removing, after a short probation, to Hayston, the Laird of which estate, Mr Douglas, being a private friend of his father, and whose recommendation to place his son under the care of Adam Johnstone had been eagerly and gladly adopted. " Walter Ogilvy might have been at this time about twenty- LUCY JOHNSTONE. 239 four or twenty-five years of age, and I well remember not knowing anything of his previous history, of being particu- larly struck with his appearance as he walked into the church on the first Sunday after his arrival, and sedately took his seat in the Laird's pew. Though not particularly tall, he was well formed ; his mein graceful and easy ; and the expression of his countenance pensive if not sad. His hair in dark brown ringlets fell carelessly around his brow, and his rich, full lips, regularly classic features and fine piercing eyes, shewed nothing of the debauchee, or man of the world. I may just add, his dress was plain and becoming, exhibiting not the^remotest feature of the fop or votary of fashion. " You may well believe that in the little village church of Kinnettles, the presence of the interesting stranger was no small event, and created no little furor among such a rustic congregation. When service was over, 1 joined Lucy Johnston e at the church door ; Walter Ogilvy and her father, walking on together before, our thoughts naturally reverting to, and our conversation turning upon, the favourable impression the manners and appearance of the young stranger had made upon each of our minds. As we approached the Kerbet, now flooded by the July rains, Adam turned round to allow us to pass first over the ricketty planks which, at that time, served as a bridge opposite the village, when Walter, with no airs of assumed gallantry, but quiet subdued politeness, offered his hand to Lucy, and thus led her gently along the bridge ; Adam and I following, when we observed them safely over. Taking the nearest paths homeward, by turnip fields, and across grassy leas, many were the stiles lifted by our gallant attendant, and many were the admonitions of old Adam to the young and thoughtless lassies, said half in earnest, half in jest, leaving each to make the application as best suited herself, under the circumstances. Coming at last to the road which led more directly to Hayston, Mr Ogilvy made his parting salaam, and with a peculiarly winning smile to Lucy went on his way; while I accompanied her and her father to the door of their 240 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. cottage, where, meeting my father and brothers, I pursued with them my way homeward." " What impressions did the young stranger make on your- self, Kate 1 " said Jeanie. " Pardon the interruption, but if not too rude, I feel curious and anxious to have an answer to my question before I hear the sequel." " I was just about giving you my own impressions, when you put your question. They were simply these. Though not at all reckoning myself peculiarly acute in such matters, I thought I detected a lurking, sinister expression in his eye, whenever he addressed himself to Lucy, which for the time, created a kind of instinctive aversion to the speaker, en- gendering uneasy misgivings and suspicions, which, in spite of myself, I could not, without an effort, shake entirely off. On reflection, I reproachfully thought, I did him injustice, thus to cast doubts and shadows over his character at a first interview, yet secretly imagined I had really hit upon some true trait of his inner heart that served at least to arouse the utmost watchfulness and care." " Had Lucy and he ever met before 1 " enquired Jeanie. " No : Listen : Up to this time, Lucy had lived altogether retired from the world, knowing comparatively nothing of its gaieties or vanities ; its hollow heartlessness or seductive pleasures; its base deceitfulness, or its heinous crimes. Happy in a home of strictly religious and moral propriety, and breathing the atmosphere of purity and love, she scarcely knew what sin was, far less felt able to detect its subtleties, or comprehend its results. Yet with all this strict propriety and purity of life, it must be confessed, the only companions with whom she could come in contact, and the only society in which, of necessity, she could mingle, were not of such an elevated order or cast, as to impress her young heart with feelings or aspirations superior to her own. There was no elevation of thought, no new desire, or holier, or deeper affec- tion inspired by contact with those in whose society she had lived from childhood ; and her short visits to the neighbour- LUCY JOHNSTONE. 241 ing country town, were too brief and transitory to light up any latent and hidden emotion of the heart. She had received just such an ordinary education as the parish school afforded, and her conversation did not display any particular elevation of thought or expression ; still, I felt convinced, hers was a soul of no common order, and would not, willingly, ally itself to anything of meaner, more inferior or grosser mould. This may partly account for the circumstance, that although now passing out of girlhood into the more comely and maturer graces of womanhood, her heart apparently had never been touched by the impress of love or if touched at all had not continued to vibrate to the passing stroke. Of admirers she had many ; of lovers none. The halo that ever surrounded her, forbade the least approach to familiar converse, or the flattering expressions of regard. Beautiful she was to a degree, and many a rural gallant came joyfully many a long mile to gaze upon her angelic countenance in the little village church, and then turn his weary way homeward, carrying however her celestial image in his heart. " At this peculiarly trying and critical time in the life of woman came this gay young stranger to reside at Hayston. It were useless to deny the naturally fascinating charm and grace of those who have moved in the polished circles of life, nor the powerful effects, for good or evil, which these accom- plishments produce, especially in the minds of those removed far beneath them in the scale of worldly wealth or intel- lectual acquirements. And if I could have read Lucy's thoughts aright when she laid her beautiful head on her pil- low on the evening of the day on which she first met Walter Ogilvy, they would doubtless have resolved themselves into intense absorbing admiration of the only man whose presence and voice and manner had ever abidingly touched her pure .and tender trusting heart ; the impression deepening the more, and the spirit strings of the soul vibrating the sweeter the the more her mind dwelt upon the object who had been the Q 2 42 STRATHMORE ; ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. primary cause of all this new, tumultuous, yet feverish and luxurious joy. " In like manner, if I could have unveiled the thoughts, which no less tremulously passed swiftly through the mind of Walter Ogilvy on that same Sabbath evening, they would in effect have somewhat taken this shape : " What a thought- less scapegrace have I been ! How many fine opportunities of starting in life have I missed, and to be about to suffer banishment to the Antipodes as a debauched and witless ne'er-do-weel ! But all are mistaken in regard to my real character. I have been idle, irresolute, dissatisfied ; have haunted recklessly the lowest abodes of vice and crime, and madly joined in the ribbald jest and drunken song : Innocence hath lain prostrate at my feet, a withered, scorched, degraded thing ! while I, remorseless, struck the fallen with the leering smile of triumph, and the cold, unfeeling, scorn- ful words of contempt. Yet I have activity, resolution, noble ambition ; my heart's affections are warm, susceptible, and capable withal of pure, enduring, elevated love." And then, as if some pleasing conception had passed before him, resuming enthusiastically : " Yes, there's no denying it ; she is the only woman who has ever created within me the pure emotion of holy love. I felt my soul moved towards her when I first beheld her in church, and had a firm strong be- lief her heart vibrated in unison with mine. When I heard her soft silvery voice behind me in the churchyard ; when I tenderly held her trembling little hand in mine while gently leading her across the rustic bridge ; and drank in her artless doric words, as we sauntered by the hedge-rows, and over the fields; and returned the sweet smile, the piercing, yet innocent glances he gave me at parting ; my soul seemed suddenly lifted out of the pit of darkness and degradation into which it had fallen, and to live a new, and purer, and holier existence, experi- encing the elevating sentiments of purity and virtue, and inhal- ing an atmosphere of holiness and love, to me, until then, utter and entire strangers. The Bible tells me, my conscience tells LUCY JOHNSTONE. 243 me, God, the Omniscient, tells me, these are tokens for good. Let me arise, therefore, and, like the prodigal of old, go to my earthly father, confessing my sins, imploring his mercy ; and when the fatted calf has been killed, and the guests assembled ; when mirth and song, and psaltery, and harp harmoniously resound ; the shoes been put upon my naked feet, the rings on my fingers, and the fairest robe hung round my shoulders, and the shouts of exulting thousands are heard : ' Let us eat and drink, and be merry, for this my son was dead and is alive again ; was lost, but now is found ; ' may the breathings of my soul be heard above the long resounding song, that my happiness be completed in joining with me in bonds indis- soluble, this lovely maiden through whose instrumentality, under God, I was induced to leave the husks, and swine, and miseries of a far country, and present myself, repentant and forgiven, at my father's house." " But here come my cousins, Martha and Esther, from Foffarty." " How provoking this interruption," said Jeanie. " Say not so, Jeanie. They are my kindred ; good as they are kind. Let us rise and welcome them : they have now passed the mill, and will soon be at the garden-gate. We shall have a ramble with them in the Hunter Hill after dinner, and then give them a ' Scotch convoy ' up the brae on their way home in the evening. Come, let us go : but here come the merry reapers from the harvest field and, hark ! how softly sweet their even-song : THE REAPER'S SONG. 0, bright arose the glorious sun, Sweet blush'd the rosy morn, Blithe sang the shepherd on the lea, The bird upon the thorn. The streamlet, as it joyous ran, Soft music breathed around, A song the breeze brought on its wings, Attuned to sweetest sound. 244 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. While thus all Nature gladsome sung, To greet the early morn, 0, soft the reaper's song arose Among the yellow corn. And now at ev'ning's twilight hour, When solemn silence reigns, To heaven above we joyful raise Our heart's adoring strains. And when the sun in glory bright, Begems the rosy morn, The reaper's song again shall rise Among the yellow corn. Then music sweet again shall float Upon the balmy air, While clouds of incense rise to heaven At th' morning hour of prayer. 0, when the sun in glory bright, Begems the rosy morn, The reaper's song again shall rise Among the yellow corn. PART III. THE VICTIM. " Now, dearest Kate, " impatiently said Jeanie on the early morrow, " let us seat ourselves again in the arbour, for I long to know the fate of Lucy Johnstone. It strikes me, however, you were rather pleased than otherwise at the abrupt interrup- tion we experienced yesterday. " " On a fine summer evening, " Kate replied, "you have noticed the doves whirling and floating about their dove-cot appar- ently unwilling to enter, and then just as they seemed to have made up their minds at last to terminate their zig-zag flights, they bound still farther off in the distant sky. In like manner I loathe to leave the sunshine of purity and love, to enter the dark chambers of sin and shame, and every little passing interruption is a strange relief to me, shadowing away as it does the ominous future. One is ever unwilling to LUCY JOHNSTONE. 245 believe human nature to be so depraved as I am afraid the sequel of my story will too manifestly unfold. But let us sit down, Jeanie, and as briefly as I can I shall narrate the sequel : " Since Lucy Johnstone's first interview with Walter Ogilvy, a marked change had come over her manner ; such a change as generally takes place whenever the affections of the heart are really touched by the tender passion of love. With me, it was no difficult matter to solve the riddle ; for now, the very name of Walter Ogilvy could not be pronounced in her presence, or the least allusion made to the affairs of Hayston, without the rosy blush mantling the cheek and the sparkling response glistening intelligently in the eye. Although we had been playmates and confidantes from childhood, she had never yet made the most distant allusion to the new hopes and feelings which had evidently taken possession of her youthful mind ; and I had not deemed it prudent, to open up the subject myself, lest I might be betrayed into expressions of my own suspicions regarding the true character of him on whom, it was too evident, her heart's affections were fixed. " Walter Ogilvy was regular in his attendance at church, but it soon became manifest how his thoughts, even there, were occupied. No sooner had he seated himself in his prominent pew in front of the gallery, than his restless eye sought out and fixed itself on the humble seat of Adam Johnstone, in the opposite and lower part of the church. Lucy was also as regular in her attendance, and although no eye was ever lifted up to the gallery she seemed conscious of the pleasing fact that he was there in the same house of prayer as herself. After service, there were the same friendly greetings among the parishioners as heretofore ; but the meetings between Lucy and Walter were more punctilious and constrained than formerly ; the former, if not actually shrinking from the presence of the latter, at least betraying a nervous timidity, as if afraid of the very object around which her heart strings were gradually and securely entwining themselves. We crossed the burn, and walked on as before, across the fields and along the bye-paths, 246 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. on our way home, but our converse had lost its sprightliness and vigour, sinking down into a cold, methodical disquisition on Scotch divinity, in which, with the exception always of Adam Johnstone, the heart of the speakers had manifestly no share. "Adam's quick and experienced eye, it may readily be believed was not slow to detect this marked change in the manner, and bearing of his beloved daughter. This timid shyness, and expressive silence were more to be dreaded, he evidently thought, than joyous excitement, or innocent familiarity, and I often detected an uneasy glance at Lucy as she systematically declined to respond to the pertinent re- marks addressed to her. "Lucy's changed demeanour imposed, sympathetically, a similar restraint on myself. This at last became so intolera- bly burdensome that I reluctantly resolved to go home, at least from church, alone, or with my own friends, for the future. On the first occasion, however, of my attempting to put my resolution into practice, Lucy, with instinctive percep- tion, divined at once the truth, and clinging as it were the closer to me, the more I moved away from her presence, I was soon compelled to abandon my intention, and to walk silent and thoughtful home with her as before. " It might be about twelve months from the time of her first introduction to Walter Ogilvy, when I was agreeably surprised one afternoon by seeing, from the garden gate, the wellknown form of Lucy Johnstone coming down the hill on her way to Airniefoul. Gladly welcoming her, I led the way to the parlour ; when, after some general conversation, she proposed a walk to the Hunter Hill. " Down by the burn, and up the hazel braes we went till, coming to a shady alcove, overlooking the glen, we sat down, our previous converse turning upon points of trivial import- ance. It seemed evident to me there was something pressing upon her mind which it would be a relief to her to get rid of; but I did not, apparently, seem anxious to be made LUCY JOHNSTONE. 247 acquainted with her secret. At last, as if unable to conceal her emotion any longer, she faintly said : " ' You have not mentioned the name of Walter Ogilvy to me for sometime, Katherine ]' " ' No,' I replied, ' because it did not seem to be agreeable to you. I hear he leaves for Australia early next spring.' " ' Yes,' she archly replied, " but he goes not alone." Entirely thrown off my guard, I laughingly said, "So I understand, for he takes some agricultural labourers, of your father's selection, with him as assistants. " "'Yes,' she naively replied, 'but he takes a partner with him, besides.' " ' A partner in business 1 ' " ' A partner for life ! ' " ' And you are that partner ? ' " : Yes, and I ought to ask your forgiveness for my, appar- ently, strange conduct to you for sometime past, you having been my confidante in everything but this ' " ' The most important event of your life ' I hastily inter- rupted. " ' Forgive me, I am sure you will, Kate, when you have heard my explanation. Up to the period of Walter Ogilvy coming to reside amongst us, my heart's affections remained almost untouched, and, most certainly, disengaged. Yet, I felt my heart was made to love, and yearning long for some kindred soul on which to lay its first unsullied offering, I no sooner saw this accomplished stranger than I felt my dearest hopes and most ardent longings, in a moment realised. It could not altogether have been his superior breeding and high accomplishments which captivated me, for before I had seen him at all, a thrilling, peculiar, luxurious presentiment foreshadowed the realisation of my wishes. The sensations were to me, however, so strange, and so new, that I seemed to have changed my very being, and to b've a new etherealised existence. So much has this been the case, Kate, that a con- siderable time elapsed before I could satisfactorily collect my 248 STKATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. thoughts ; and even then, the reality so far exceeded the picturings of fancy, I could not find words sufficiently expres- sive to pourtray my happiness. Do you forgive me, Kate 1 ' " ' yes, you have anticipated that already. Is the matter, then, all arranged, and does your father know of the compact 1 ' " ' It is all arranged, Kate, but as some recompense for my former seeming neglect, you are the first to whom I have communicated the good news.' A shade of doubt passed across my mind, and after some hesitation presuming upon old friendship, I ventured to ask, if she knew sufficient of his former life to warrant her in betrothing herself thus without either her father's knowledge or permission. " ' He has told me everything,' she rather pettishly replied, " ' And are you satisfied, Lucy,' I immediately rejoined. " ' Perfectly satisfied, Kate. His protestations also are so strong, and his vows of amendment so profuse and overpower- ing, that I fully believe his future career will be as brilliant and as happy as his previous life has been clouded and miserable.' " ' Then there is the greater reason for your informing your parents, who, I feel persuaded, would rejoice with you in your anticipated happiness.' Lucy was silent. It was quite evident she felt disappointed by my manner of cross questioning, to her so unexpected. Piqued therefore at the cool, cautious manner in which I had received her revelations, she rose abruptly, and as we walked together to the little bye-path in the wood which led to her father's cottage, she at last said " ' You do not seem to partake of my happiness, Kate ? ' " ' You are altogether mistaken, Lucy. Next to, nay even before my own, I desire most heartily and sincerely your happiness both in this life and the next. I cannot, however, but feel anxious that, you should be fully satisfied in your own mind as to the stability of the foundations on which your future happiness is to be reared.' LUCY JOHNSTONE. 249 " ' But why all these doubts and misgivings, Kate V " It was my turn to be silent now, for I really could give no tangible explanation of the doubts and fears which ofttimes, for her sake, perplexed me. And so we walked till we arrived at the outskirts of the wood, where, meeting my father returning from the village, we bade each other an affectionate yet constrained and lingering adieu. " On the following Saturday evening I was proceeding to the surgeon's in the village for some medicines for one of the female servants, when, at a sudden turning of the road, be- neath the brow of the hill, I met Lucy Johnstone and Walter Ogilvy. Receiving previously the intelligence of their be- trothal from Lucy herself, I did not feel so much surprised as I otherwise would have done, at their presence together ; so, after a short interview, I passed on, not wishing to interrupt their apparently interesting conversation. Lucy was looking so radiantly beautiful in her neat white bonnet and tartan scarf, her rich auburn hair flowing in sunny tresses over her shoulders, and her whole air and bearing so confidingly trustful as she hung affectionately on the arm of her companion, that when I involuntarily turned round when I had reached the top of the hill to take a long last look of them, I most devoutly wished my fears, and doubts, and misgivings might be illusory and groundless. Just as I turned round they entered the outskirts of the wood, and in a few minutes disappeared. " Next day, my mind troubled about many things, I entered the village church, and at the commencement of, and during the service, my eye wandered in vain to Adam Johnstone's pew in search of Lucy. She was not there ! Walter Ogilvy was in his accustomed place, but although I watched him narrowly he never once looked in the direction of Adam's pew, contenting himself apparently with his own private acts of devotion. This being the only instance I could recollect of Lucy having been absent from church, I hastily overtook old Adam on his way home, to learn the cause of her absence. A slight headache, Adam said, had unexpectedly confined her to the 250 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. house, and Walter now joining us, the conversation took another direction. " I imagined Walter's manner to be quieter and more reserved than usual, but this, to me at least, was partly accounted for by his telling me this was his last appearance in the church of Kinnettles, his father having taken his passage by the first Australian packet from Liverpool. With a courteous adieu he took leave of us at the separation of our paths, and I pro- ceeded for some little time with Adam alone, till overtaken by my father and mother, we all went on our homeward way together. Adam did not ask me to enter the cottage to enquire after Lucy, and not caring to intrude, especially as her mother cheerfully told us as we passed the door that she was better, I journeyed onward to Airniefoul with my parents. "During the ensuing week it was quite current in the parish, that Walter was to leave Hayston, on the Saturday, but not a whisper of any wedding or of Lucy becoming his wife. It soon became apparent that Adam knew nothing of any such engagement, else he would have been the first to divulge it to me. And so the expected Saturday came, and Walter bade adieu to Hayston, taking an affectionate farewell of old Adam, who had been, in every respect as a friend and counsellor to the young man, in whose welfare from the first, he had taken much interest. " Sunday came, and in her accustomed seat sat Lucy John- stone, but how changed ! Her once blooming cheek had become even paler than the lily, and her countenance had assumed a restless sadness, which I accounted for, scarcely satisfactorily however, as her deep, unfeigned sorrow at the premature departure of her lover. But her marriage ? 1 could not trust myself to think of that, or if I did, it was to judge charitably some unforeseen event may* have occurred to prevent its celebration at the present time he will return after due preparation for his betrothed bride ; the manner and conduct of both attesting to the truth of their mutual affection. LUCY JOHNSTONE. 251 " For some months did Lucy and I meet each other at the church door as usual at the conclusion of the service, but on each occasion there was an evident shrinking from coming into near and familiar contact. Her cheek became still more deadly pale ; her eye more restless and uneasy, her voice more hollow and sepulchral, and her whole demeanour more timid and retiring. Hers was evidently some deep, deep, inward, secret grief, with which the outer world dared not intermeddle. " Her attendance at church now became less regular, until about six months after Walter's departure, she ceased to attend the village sanctuary altogether. Censuring my own neglect in not sooner having offered her my sincere sympathy in her sorrow, I called one day at the cottage, when her mother informed me she particularly wished to be kept quiet from all intrusion ; but with such a sad mysterious air was the prohibition uttered, that I was at a loss to account for my being denied admittance to her sick chamber. Janet too, seemed much changed, in as much as her wonted buoyancy of spirits seemed entirely to have forsaken her, and a peculiar kind of melancholy having settled down upon her once joyously expressive features. " It was now winter, and the snow lay deep upon the ground. Adam Johnstone entered his cottage on a cold, gusty, snowy night in the latter end of December. Lucy, pale and dejected, sat by the blazing ingle, without, however, once turning her eyes toward her father, while her mother paced to and fro on the kitchen floor in a state of frenzied distraction. Adam hung his bonnet on the rafters, shook the frosted snow from his ample plaid, and was about to seat himself in his old arm-chair by the fire, when Janet with an ominous meaning in her tremulous voice, summoned him to follow her to the spence or inner room. What revelation was made there we cannot exactly tell, but terrible, angry, and threatening words reached the ears of the terror-stricken Lucy : 'Disgraced, ruined in soul and body curse her! 252 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. Yes, I will, and do curse her ; darken my door she shall no more. Yes ! accursed be my own flesh that thus brings my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave,' were some of the inco- herent expressions which resounded through the house, making the very rafters tremble with the sound. " Adam followed by Janet now furiously entered the kitchen to vent his terrible wrath on the stricken maiden, but Lucy was not there ! Every room, nook, and cranny of the cottage was minutely searched, but to no effect. She had fled no one knew whither ! " Adam's imprecations now gave place to lamentation and woe, and on a far more fearful night than that on which Adam and I had many years before gone forth in search of Lucy, did the now aroused villagers scour the country round without finding any trace of the lost maiden. The snow fell thickly during the greater part of the night ; the winds howled in fitful gusts along the glen; and many a noble heart felt desolate and broken at the thought of Lucy perish- ing among the snow. Towards daybreak the snow ceased to fall, and a severe sharp frost set fiercely in, chiUing and curdling the blood of even the youngest and strongest of the band. Still they searched on, and at last gathering in a melancholy group at the outskirts of yon dark pine wood, to resolve as to their future proceedings, low meanings were distinctly heard to issue from the clump of furze hard by. In a few minutes they were on the spot, and there sat Adam Johnstone with his still loved daughter and her new-born babe in his arms but the snow of death was on the brow of Lucy and her child their spirits had fled to God who gave them. "Adam Johnstone never was himself again. A curse seemed to have settled on his household. In one short twelvemonth Adam and Janet had followed each other to the grave, and the voice of gladness and mirth were heard no more in that once happy home. The cottage is now tenanted by strangers, and a new generation is springing up LUCY JOHNSTONE. 253 in the parish of Kinnettles. Still, the tale of Lucy Johnstone is told at many a fireside in the long winter evenings, and compassion mingles with grief as the cottagers dwell upon the sorrowful details of her tragical end." PART IV. THE RETRIBUTION. ON the evening immediately following that on which Kate had related to Jeanie the tragical fate of Lucy Johnstone, the two friends were walking together as usual by the side of the burn enjoying the quiet loveliness of the sylvan landscape. It was one of those beautiful autumnal nights, which, while it yielded the most exquisite enjoyment, threw a shadow of melancholy sadness over the spirit, rather pleasing, however, than otherwise, to studious and contemplative minds. The two friends walked on in silence, neither, apparently, wishing to disturb or interrupt the reveries of the other. This con- tinued and studied silence at last became oppressively painful, and, accurately divining the thoughts which now dwelt uppermost in her mind, Jeanie Morison thus abruptly addressed her companion : " Surely vice as well as virtue meets sometimes with its due reward, even in this world, Kate ? " " Yes, dear Jeanie, and in the case of Walter Ogilvy, the retribution was full and complete." "Relate the sequel, then, Kate, not for the purpose of gloating over the sufferings even of the most guilty, but as a fitting and instructive conclusion to a tale, not of romance but of real life." " Being of your opinion, Jeanie, that the narrative would be incomplete without some allusion, at least, to Walter Ogilvy's future career, I shall briefly recount to you, therefore, the principal incidents of the remaining years of his eventful life. We have walked, however, much farther than I had 254: STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. intended. Let us now retrace our steps homeward, and I shall talk as we walk along. There will just be sufficient time to narrate the sequel before we again reach Airnie- foul.' "Three years had passed away since Walter Ogilvy's departure for Australia. The minister of Kinnettles after having completed his weekly sermon for the following day, was sitting in the cozy parlour of the manse, in the greatest good humour with himself, one Saturday evening in the autumn of 18 , when a stranger was abruptly announced. Rising to receive his visitor the minister was presented with a letter of introduction. Desiring the stranger to be seated, the minister resumed his place by the fire and began to peruse the letter. While doing so, we shall glance for a moment at the stranger's general appearance. Moder- ately tall, well-formed, his face much bronzed by apparent exposure to the sun, he might have passed for a stalwart, sturdy mountaineer, had not the restless, hollow eye betrayed the inward workings of a mind ill at ease with itself. On closer inspection, we perceive in the wasted cheek and glassy eye unmistakable evidences of broken health, whilst a pensive melancholy sadness seems to have settled on his soul. His attire bespeaks the studied negligk of a man of the world ; a profusion of hair envelopes his brow, and his long chestnut curls, plentifully tinged with grey, hang in admired disorder over his shoulders. " 'Captain Vernon, I presume,' said the minister. The stranger bowed. " ' It is many years since I had the pleasure of seeing the writer of this letter. He was a very intimate college friend of mine, and for the sake of old days, nothing could possibly give me greater pleasure than to be of service to any friend of his. I see,' continued the minister, glancing at the letter, " that you intend taking up your residence for a short time in the neighbourhood in consequence of failing health. Well, although there are many places much more attractive than LUCY JOHNSTONE. 255 our old fashioned little village and surrounding homesteads, yet we have classic land hard by, immortalized by the historian and the poet, and I shall do my best to make you, in time, acquainted with its unrivalled beauties. Have you procured comfortable and suitable quarters for your sojourn amongst us if not, I can possibly put you in the way of obtaining them 1 ' " ' You are very kind, indeed," replied the Captain, ' but I have obtained accommodation in the little hamlet of Thornton, where, I believe, I shall find myself at home during my short stay amongst you.' " '.You are welcome to the use of my pew during your stay, should you feel inclined to attend the Sabbath services of our little sanctuary but here comes the tea we shall be so happy by your joining our family circle and becoming one of us for the evening.' " Captain Vernon, however, pleaded the fatigue of a long journey as an excuse for not complying with the kind invita- tion of the worthy minister, and almost immediately took his leave, promising to wait again upon him on the following Monday. " The minister's pew is, as you know, opposite to that of Airniefoul, so that, on the succeeding Sabbath, I could not fail to observe the presence of the stranger, who gave, however, but little opportunity for any one to scrutinize his features, covering, as he did, his face with his hand during almost the whole service. The subject of discourse was taken from these remarkable words : ' For God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing whether it be good, or whether it be evil.' The sermon struck me at the time as peculiarly pointed and impressive, and I could not help thinking of the mournful fate of Lucy Johnstone, nor of wondering whether retributive justice would, even in this world, overtake her destroyer. " Beautiful and green was the velvet turf on Lucy's grave, begemmed, as it was, with the modest daisy, an emblem once 256 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. of her own purity and simple loveliness. It did not obtrude itself on the attention of the passers-by, but nestling in a quiet nook of the churchyard, remote from vulgar eyes, its isolated loneliness bespoke the greater sympathy for the unhappy fate of its silent occupant. As usual, after church service, I was musingly loitering among the graves on my way to Lucy's resting place, when, to my great surprise, I abruptly encoun- tered the foreign-looking stranger whom I had that morning seen in church. He seemed to be intently endeavouring to discover some particular grave with all the keen earnestness of a man searching for some lost or hidden treasure. He started as I approached, fixing his cold glassy eye enquiringly upon me for an instant. I returned his enquiring look with a strange, unwelcome feeling of recognition. Whether he read aright the expression of that momentary glance, I know not, but he hurriedly made his way across the burial-ground, disappearing from my sight before I had time to recover myself from the strange excitement the encounter had occasioned. "It was sometime before my reeling and tumultuous thoughts could gather any tangible form ; but when they had somewhat settled and moulded themselves into shape, the conviction grew strong and denned that I had not only seen a once familiar form, but had penetrated his own conviction, that he felt himself to be known and discovered. His name ; his introduction to the minister ; and the attention bestowed on him as a stranger; which came subsequently to my knowledge, did not in the least shake my conviction, and I felt, that sooner or later, the apparent mystery would be satisfactorily solved. I kept my suspicions, however, entirely to myself, and resolutely resolved to bide my time. " On the next day, the minister, without waiting for the promised visit of the captain, called at the hamlet of Thornton where he was residing, and, after some unimportant conversa- tion, proposed a walk to the grand old Castle of Glamis, which, although situate in a different parish, is only a short LUCY JOHNSTONE. 257 distance from Kinnettles. The stranger assented, and, the minister leading the way, the two proceeded by the shortest road through the wood of Thornton to the ancient stronghold of a long illustrious line of earls, in whose veins ran the purple blood of kings. They had now entered the wood, the minister discoursing eloquently of ancient days with their rude accom- paniments of Chase and Tournay, bloody catastrophes, and war-like deeds. In the gloomiest part of this classic wood, tradition saith King Malcolm was slain, and, like a spectre of the past, at a weird-like turning of the path, abruptly uprose before them, the gaunt Memorial Stone, erected on the spot, where, as fanciful imagination will have it, the bloody deed was consummated. " ' There,' said the minister, pointing to the rude yet im- pressive memorial, ' stands to this day, the stone erected to perpetuate the remembrance of the tragically foul and treacherous deed. Depend upon it, my young friend, every deed of darkness, however long concealed, will ultimately be brought to light.' " A slight tremor passed through the frame of his compan- ion, his cheek paled, his lips quivered, and his limbs smote the one against the other. The minister observed the sudden change and jocularly remarked, that these old legends had probably turned his head, as they did the heads of younger children in the nursery. " ' I confess,' said the Captain, ' I do not feel quite well we will not, if you please, proceed any further to-day some other time I shall be happy to accompany you in a pilgrimage to the old Castle, but I feel unequal to the task to-day.' "So, retracing their steps homeward, they emerged from the wood in silence, a strange unaccountable feeling of embarrass- ment preventing either from resuming the conversation. The sight of the pretty vale of Kinnettles bathed in the golden sunshine, seemed, however, to revive the stranger as if by enchantment. " ' 'Tis a beautiful valley,' said he, ' with its waving woods R 258 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. and sparkling streams. I almost envy your happy life, spent among such pleasant scenes.' " ' Yes/ replied the minister, sorrowfully, ' if the moral picture were as untainted and beautiful, it would, indeed, be a pleasant spot in which to spend one's days; but the fact, that beneath that smiling exterior, impure desires and heartless deeds lie concealed from the common eye, causes a deep and lasting shadow to overcast the beautiful landscape.' "A shade of gloom again came over the stranger's spirit, and they walked on in silence. They had passed the Plans and were now approaching the village. Crossing the river the minister kindly assisted the stranger to keep his balance on the old rickety planks, and while he did so, felt the arm he held tremble like an aspen in his gentle grasp. Attributing this to nervous feeling caused by his weak state of health, the good man spoke still more kindly to him, inviting him to spend the evening at the manse, which they had now almost reached. " ' I would prefer a quiet walk in the churchyard,' replied his companion ; and while proceeding thither the door of the little parish school quickly opened, and like bees issuing from their byke, out rushed the noisy happy throng, shouting, and singing, and trampling upon each other's heels in their eager- ness to escape into the free, breezy, exhilarating air. " ' God bless their little happy hearts,' said the minister, ' ' The stranger made no reply, and they both passed into the churchyard in silence. "' Whose solitary resting-place is that?' suddenly asked Captain Vernon, pointing to Lucy Johnstone's unnamed grave. " ' That is the grave, alas ! of one,' replied the minister, ' once the purest and loveliest amongst the creatures of God.' " ' Her name ? ' interrupted the stranger. " ' Lucy Johnstone.' " The cause of her death ? ' " ' A broken heart." " ' She is buried there ? ' LUCY JOHNSTONE. 259 '" She and her babe, together.' " ' Both dead ? ' " ' Father and mother, besides.' " ' Her home ? ' " ' Desolate and waste.' " ' The night air comes chilly over me let us go.' " And with the same oppressive silence as they entered, they returned from the churchyard. " Politely declining the good man's reiterated invitation to the manse, the stranger bade adieu at the gate, and proceeded on his way to Thornton. " Several days passed away without the minister either see- ing or hearing any more of the stranger, at which he was both puzzled and surprised. Ruminating one evening as to what might be the cause of his non-appearance, his musings were suddenly interrupted by the entrance of a messenger from Thornton, with an urgent request from Captain Vernon that he would hasten without delay to see him. "Promptly obeying the summons, the minister was instant- ly on his way to the neighbouring hamlet. On arriving at the cottage where the Captain resided, he was immediately shown into his bedroom. On the bed, his head propped up by pillows, lay the stranger, who held out his hand in token of welcome, as the minister softly approached. The change in his general appearance was so great that the latter could not, without an effort, recognize in the shrivelled attenuated frame, and pale and ghastly features of the sick man, the handsome and athletic-looking stranger so lately introduced to him. Dashing back his dishevelled hair, which had fallen in thick damp clusters over his brow, the Captain faintly said, " ' I have been ill, sir.' "' I am extremely sorry, indeed, to see you in such a weak and exhausted condition. Has any medical man been called in to see you ? ' replied the minister. " ' Doctors, I am afraid, can do me no good. The root of the disease is beyond their ken, and the cure above their skill.' 260 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. " ' My dear friend,' said the minister, still affectionately pressing his hand, 'you must not give way to despair. These gloomy forebodings only aggravate your disease. Our family physician shall be immediately sent for, and ' " ' Take a chair by my side, and listen,' interrupted the sick man. 'If I fail to convince you that my case is altogether hopeless, you may then send for medical assistance. My name is "Walter Ogilvy.' "< Walter Ogilvy?' " ' Yes, forgive your old friend Graeme, as well as myself, for the fraud we have jointly perpetrated. It was done in this wise. On my arrival from Australia, I sought out the old companion of my youth, and to him disclosed the true cause and nature of my malady. Perceiving I was resolutely bent on revisiting Kinnettles he advised the change of name out of deference to my feelings, until it should be seen what effect the visit had on my spirits. To save any further cross- questioning, I may as well at once proceed with the narrative of which I wish to make you the recipient.' " ' Walter Ogilvy ! ' again, half incredulously exclaimed the minister. " ' Do not shrink from me, good sir, I am now more an object of pity than contempt ; but as I feel my time is short, forgive me for detaining you a very few minutes while I have strength left for the recital. To be brief, then, nothing went well with me in Australia. My mind, filled with remorse, could not settle itself to any steady pursuit, and the natural consequences of the want of any fixed purpose, coupled with neglected business, soon followed with retributive swiftness ; my health began to give way ; and broken in fortune and in health, I returned to Scotland. " ' A strange fascination impelled me to revisit the scenes once so purified and blessed by the presence of Lucy Johnstone. A sense of shame, however, prevented the accomplishment of my purpose, until Mr Graeme suggested the project of a visit under an assumed name. Feeling safe, then, from detection,. LUCY JOHNSTONE. 261 my whole appearance being so much changed, I came to Kin- nettles, not certainly with the purpose of practising any criminal deception, but that I might, unmolested, again sur- vey and penitentially visit those scenes in which I felt my- self now so deeply interested. But I had calculated beyond my strength. Every field, and hedgerow, and meadow, reminded me of Lucy Johnstone. The winds, the birds, the streams ever whispered her endearing name. Her once happy home of innocence and love, the humble cottage on the hill-side but my imagination supplied the picture I could not venture there. Neither could I find courage to breathe her name, or to ask any questions concerning her or her family ; the more especially, since I felt I had actually been discovered on the very day after my arrival, while furtively searching in the burial-ground for what I instinctively felt was there, although entirely ignorant of the fact until the harrowing revelation fell from your own lips. Then, again, the effects of an evil conscience were evinced in connection with almost every passing occurrence. The subject of your discourse on the Sunday the remark you incidentally made at the Memo- rial Stone in the wood of Thornton the picture you drew of the landscape when we again came in sight of the valley of Kinnettles your allusion to the happy hearts of the children as they escaped from the bondage of the little village school. But your solemn yet cutting replies to my home questioning in the church-yard, gave the death-blow to all my hopes of for- giveness from the lips of her whom I had so deeply wronged. The disclosure burst like a thunderbolt on my accursed soul, crushing it at once beyond hope of revival. My dear sir, God and myself only know what I have suffered since that to me fatal revelation. Yet you see I am comparatively calm. I speak not in cant, or rant, or rhapsody. Still waters run deep. The heart is smote the sorest when it sheds no tears. With me the bitterness of death is past. I know you will pray for me. I have almost ceased to pray for myself. God of justice have mercy on me ! I shall soon go hence and 262 STKATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. be no more as to this world. "When I die, bury me near HER, This is my last request, sir : fare-you-well ! ' " He fell back utterly prostrated by the exertion and excite- ment of the recital ; and the minister, commending him to the special care of the sick nurse, took his departure with a heavy heart. " Three days after, the mortal remains of Walter Ogilvy were consigned to the tomb. " His dying request was not forgotten, and he sleeps in the quiet churchyard of Kinnettles, side by side with Lucy Johnstone." Jeanie Morrison after spending a pleasant week at Airnie- foul, bade an affectionate adieu to her dear and early friend, returning to her city home to increase by her radiant presence its purity, its happiness, and love. Kate, in course of time forgot her early sorrows, having become the happy wife of a neighbouring farmer in the Howe, whose descendants still occupy the " bonnie farm." CHAPTEK XIX. LEGEND OF THE NINE MAIDENS. " See yonder hallowed fane ! the pious work Of names once famed, now dubious or forgot, And buried, 'midst the wreck of things that were." Blair. THE Glen of Ogilvy, at one time the property of Graham of Claverhouse, the scene of the legend of the Nine Maidens, is in immediate proximity to, and territorially connected with, the earldom of Strathmore, with which, in its traditional and historical associations, it is closely identified. From the south it is entered by the rugged pass of Lumleyden, on emerging from which, the sweet romantic glen with its smiling homesteads, cultivated fields, and little clachan in the midst surrounded by the southern and northern ranges of the Sidlaw Hills, bursts at once upon the view. Not the least pleasing feature in the landscape is the winding rivulet, called Glamis burn, which, rising in the hill of Auchterhouse, traverses the whole length of the glen, cutting its devious way through the central hilly ridge, and joining the sluggish Dean on the demesne of Glamis Castle on the north. The Gaelic word Ogle means "wood," and vy being a corruption of buie "yellow," the literal meaning of both would be, " The glen of yellow wood." This interpretation would also agree with tradition and history, for both repre- sent the glen in ancient times as being covered with wood, or, to speak more correctly, as being an extensive, if not a royal forest. As will afterwards be shown, the Ogilvys of Forfarshire are descended from Gilbert, third son of Gille- bride, second Earl of Angus ; and that in the " Douglas 264 STKATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. Peerage " it is recorded that he obtained from King William the Lion, the lands of Ogilvy in the parish of Glands, and from these lands assumed the surname of Ogilvy. Hector Boece, however, gives a more romantic, although less reliable account of the progenitor of the noble house of Airlie. He relates that he bore the name of Gilchrist, and that he married a sister of King William the Lion. The marriage proved an unhappy one, and jealous of his honour, Gilchrist strangled his wife at Mains near Dundee, for which he and his family were outlawed. They fled to England, but after many years' absence returned to Scotland, furtively retiring to the forest of Glen of Ogilvy. The king happening to be travelling through the glen came upon an old man and two sons "delving up turfs." Surprised at the unexpected en- counter, his Majesty requested an explanation of the circum- stance, when, probably thinking a frank confession would stand them in better stead than any subterfuge they might invent, they at once revealed who they were, expressing at the same time, such deep contrition for the murder of his sister, that they were not only pardoned and received again into favour, but had their estates restored, receiving also a grant of the lands of Ogilvy in the parish of Glamis. Far away back in the eighth century, the Glen of Ogilvy, tradition saith, was the chosen residence of St. Donivald and his nine daughters. They lived [in the glen " as in a hermit- age, labouring the ground with their own hands, and eating but once a day, and then but barley bread and water." After a long life of fasting and incessant toil, St Donivald died in his rude dormitory in the glen ; the daughters there- after removing to Abernethy, where Garnard King of the Picts, had granted them a lodging and oratory. " They were visited there by King Eugen VII. of Scotland, who made them large presents ; and dying there, they were buried at the foot of a large oak, much frequented by pilgrims till the Reformation." They were canonised as the " Nine Maidens," and many churches were dedicated to them throughout LEGEND OF THE NINE MAIDENS. 265 Scotland. One of these churches was that of Strathmartine, near Dundee, with which is connected the famous tradition of the " Nine Maidens of Pitempan," being devoured by a serpent at the Nine Maiden Well in that parish. They are intimately associated with Glamis, for within the Castle grounds, the Nine Maiden Well is still an object of super- stitious awe and reverence. THE NINE MAIDENS. Barbaric darkness shadowing o'er, Among the Picts in days of yore, St Donivald, devoid of lore. Lived in the Glen of Ogilvy. Beside the forest's mantling shade, His daughters nine a temple made, To shelter rude his aged head Within the Glen of Ogilvy. Charred wood-burned ashes formed the floor, The trunks of pines around the door Supporting walls of branches hoar, Turf -roofed in Glen of Ogilvy. Nine maidens were they spotless fair, With silver skins, bright golden hair, Blue-eyed, vermillion-cheeked, nowhere Their match in Glen of Ogilvy. Yet these fair maids, like muses nine, God -like, etherealized, divine, To perfect some high-souled design Within the Glen of Ogilvy, Did with the aged hermit toil, With their own hands in daily moil, Hard labouring rude the barren soil Around the Glen of Ogilvy. Poor barley bread and water clear, And that but once a-day, I fear, Was all their fare from year to year, Within the Glen of Ogilvy. 266 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. A chapel built they rude at Glamis, From whence, like sound of waving palms, Arose on high the voice of psalms, Near by the Glen of Ogilvy. The hermit dead, they left the glen, E'er shunning dread the haunts of men, In oratory sacred then, Far from the Glen of Ogilvy ; On Abernethy's holy ground, From whence their fame spread soon around, Although no more their songs resound In their loved Glen of Ogilvy. Nine maidens fair in life were they, Nine maidens fair in death's last fray, Nine maidens fair in fame alway, The maids of Glen of Ogilvy. And to their grave from every land, Come many a sorrowing pilgrim band, The oak to kiss whose branches grand Wave o'er the maids of Ogilvy. CHAPTER XX. LIFE. Life from its rapid shifting scenes, appears, E'en in its great realities, to all As but a bright, or dark bewildered dream. HAVE we ever asked ourselves the question, " When did we begin to live ?" We breathed, it is true, at the moment of our birth, and certainly in a primary sense we then began to live ; but at what particular period of our life were we for the first time perfectly and really intelligibly conscious that we were a reasonable and responsible being one that had a separate and individual part to act in the great drama of life, irrespec- tive of, and altogether unconnected with, that of any of our fellows ; when we, fresco-like, stood out in our own individu- ality, and felt the movings of our conscience within rousing us from our lethargic repose to acquit ourselves like men in the great battle of the world ; in other words, When did we begin to live ? Supposing we are now in one of the fashionable suburbs of the Metropolis, and as the luxurious equipages of the great and noble pass in rapid review before us, we put the question in succession to each of their lordly occupants. We might fancy the almost uniform reply would be " Born to affluence, we have never experienced want ; initiated not into the mysteries of any profession, we know not the toil and labour of those who work for their subsistence by the sweat of their brow, or by the exercise of their mental faculties ; the stream of life, on the whole, hath flowed so soft and pleasantly that we can scarcely tell ichen we began to live. " 268 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. Now, this may, to a certain extent, be true as regards the higher classes of our land ; but its full and unqualified admis- sion would lead to the supposition that the rich have not the same feelings as the poor, than which there cannot be a greater or more transparent fallacy. The sorrows of the rich are as sharp, their trials as severe, their hearts as impressible, their affections as finely-strung to tender emotions, as are the sorrows, the trials, and heart emotions of the poor. Nay, from the upper ranks have sprung the greatest men of our time, with each and all of whom there must have been some distinct, particular period of their life which effectually startled them into reflection, resolution, and action. But let us for a moment change the scene. We are now in one of the poorest and most densely-populated districts, where, with God-defying front, vice and wretchedness go boldly hand in hand, and the air is polluted with the ribbald jest and obscene song ; the maudlin roar of the drunkard, the screams of famishing children, the shouts of the profane, and the groans of the dying. Ask that bold virago, with blotched and swollen features, clad in tattered and faded garments, with a puling, sickly infant at her breast and a ragged urchin by her side, just issuing from the gaudily-decorated gin palace ; or yonder hoary-headed sinner, reeling along to his miserable den, with delirium in his eye and curses on his lip ; or this little half-starved " Arab of the city, " sharp and acute beyond his years, clothed in flaunting rags, without shoes to his feet or covering to his head, who never knew a father's care or a mother's love : they will each in their turn laugh at your ignorance and simplicity, and, with a savage leer, in confidence tell you that, early thrown upon their own re- sources, they began to live with the first dawnings of reasons, and that the battle of life to them has been so fierce and pro- longed, they have always known by bitter experience what it is to live. Ruminating on these things one beautiful summer evening in the honeysuckle porch of our suburban cottage, far away LIFE. 269 from the Howe of Strathmore, and relating to him the train of thought with which my mind had been occupied, I hastily put the question to my eldest boy, an intelligent lad of some sixteen summers, when he quickly but with great solemnity replied " When my dear little brother died. " "But why," I asked, "do you fix upon that particular period ? " "Because," said he, "I never was conscious of reasoning before that event." "Explain yourself still further, my boy. Do you mean to say your life was all a blank previous to the death of little Edmund?" " It was, my father. Our home was such a happy home, the sunshine of love ever o'er us, and glad faces and merry hearts ever around us, that I never thought what life was till my little playmate grew sick and drooped and died. It was not so much his pale, thin cheek, his dim eye, or his weak and scarcely audible voice, nor was it the low and ceaseless moan, the pressure of his damp and wasted hand, nor his last long look before he closed his eyes in death but it was " " Go on, my son. Unburthen everything to a father's ear. " " It was the silence, my father, that came like a cloud over everything when he was gone that hushed and deep stillness, more terrible than all beside, that oppressed my heart with strange new feelings, that I could not weep, though my heart was troubled and heavy with grief. Then all at once the thought struck my mind 'Where has my brother gone?' ' To God,' some inward monitor replied. Tears then gushed forth like a stream, my heart was relieved of its heavy burden, a new existence seemed implanted within me, and a new world opened up before me, and I then felt that in reality I had begun to live." " God bless you, my dear boy. Live on, live on, and never allow the cares, or sorrows, or temptations of the world to obscure for an instant thy First impressions of Life ! " 270 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. " But will you now permit me, my father, to put the same question to yourself?" " Certainly, my son. Although the pictures I drew of the great and wealthy, and of the abject and suffering poor, are in their details literally and substantially true, it must be admitted that these are the extreme cases of obliviousness on the one hand and precociously developed intellect on the other. Still, generally speaking, there must be some event in the lives of most men which served, if not as the turning-point of their destiny, at least to direct their thoughts into a new channel, and add fresh impulse to all their actions. Affliction, death, some sudden and severe temporal loss, disappointment in love, the estrangement of friends, or the malignity of enemies, may each in their turn, to differently constituted minds, have been the cause of a complete revulsion in their feelings and change of their deportment, so that they have begun in reality to lead a new life. I am no exception to this rule myself, but the particular circumstance which tinged with reflection my after life may appear trivial in your eyes when compared with any of those I have enumerated, or even with that sad and solemn event which inspired new life and opened up a new world to yourself. " During this conversation, my little bright-haired Mary had, unknown to me, entwined her arms around her brother's neck, and now, gazing intently with her large hazel, dreamy eyes into mine, joined her entreaties to those of her brother that I would relate to them this little incident in my history. " Do tell us, dear father," again repeated Mary ; " we are so anxious to know, and we shall listen so attentively. " " You have often heard me speak of my mountain home ? " " Oh, yes," said Mary ; " we know all about the pretty little homestead and the mill, in Strathmore, the daisied meadow and the bonnie burn, and the grand old ancestral trees ; the honeysuckled porch, the moss-covered arbour, the lowing of the kine on the leas, and the bleating of the sheep on the, hills." LIFE. 271 " Yes," rejoined Harry; "and the great bleak mountains and weird old castles, with their stirring stories of knights and cavaliers and 'ladyes gay,' of tilt and tournament and foray." " * Then, my children, I need not describe that home you seem to know so well, but shall at once proceed to my narrative. My boyhood had passed so pleasantly away that hardly a cloud had ever obscured its brightness. A fond father and a doting mother had done everything for their boy's present and future happiness that an enduring love, sanctified by religious principles, could dictate ; and the time had at last arrived when I was to bid farewell to this happy home, and to go forth to the world to act my part on the great stage of life. I had already bade adieu to my merry- hearted school-fellows, and received the sage advice and part- ing benediction of my respected preceptor. On the day before I left, I paid some parting visits to my friends in the glen, and while each and all expressed their sorrow at my departure, I never felt so very happy, nor so free from anxiety and care. " As I went on my homeward way, there were many things to attract and interest me. The village green, the dark pine wood, for, I thought the Indies, Isle of Palms, Could ne'er outvie the woods of Glamis : the murmuring streamlet, the heath-clad hills shall I ever see them again? Sometimes such thoughts would intrude themselves ; but the sun shone so brightly, the birds sang so sweetly, and the bonnie burn meandered so softly, that I gave my heart up to its full current of gushing gladness, and thought not of the morrow. ' ' When I reached Airniefoul there was an unusual stillness in the house. My father was sitting in his old arm-chair, apparently in deep and troubled thought ; my mother was busy packing my wardrobe, and the servants were moving noiselessly about their household duties : 272 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. The wee herd laddie at his brose, The tears felt trickling down his nose ! My first feeling was that of depression, as if some dread calamity had happened or was about to happen, never once imagining that all this interest was solely and altogether centred in myself. Quickly rallying, however, I passed the evening in my usual cheerful manner, although my father and mother spoke much less than usual, and, to my astonish- ment, never uttered a word unless in reply to some question of mine regarding my journey on the morrow, and never said, contrary to their usual custom, it is time to retire to rest. "Alas! thoughtless Youth, the morrow will have pangs sufficient for itself; and the last night could a father or a mother's heart desire that their boy should be ever out of their sight 1 "I went to my bed-chamber of my own accord, and slept soundly till softly aroused by the sound of footsteps stealthily proceeding across the room. I slightly raised my head, and beheld my mother on her knees in the attitude of prayer, and though no words escaped her lips, she was doubtless supplicating a blessing on her darling boy, from whom she was so soon to part, probably for ever. I for some time lay as if asleep, and often did she come and stroke the golden tresses from off my forehead and place her warm and feverish hand in mine, and say. ' Who will care for my boy now|? ' " We were to start at an early hour, and I knew that hour must be past : still she awoke me not ! Oh ! who can tell the feelings of a mother's heart ? To awake me would be cruel. Let the fond mother gaze yet a little longer on her darling boy ! " Comprehendingjher feelings, I arose, and made ready for my journey. The cart with my luggage had already started, and my father was ready to accompany me a short way on the road. I turned to bid my mother farewell. Not a word she spoke but oh ! that last, long look, so sweetly solemn, yet so full of yearning love that last, long, long embrace which held her to her boy, till gently parted from him for LIFE. 273 ever. Excuse these tears, my children, they are a tribute to a mother's love. "Slowly my father and I proceeded on our way. Our words were few, and neither seemed inclined to interrupt the reveries of the other. The dew still gemmed the shooting corn, Dull, grey and misty, bleak the morn, The lark had not begun to sing, The linnet smoothed her dewy wing ; Yet, curling smoke from homesteads rose, The fox, now roused from his repose, With timid hare, sped o'er the glen, Avoiding haunts of murderous men ; Defiant, brave, without alarm, Cock answered cock from many a farm, While moorland birds no more forlorn. Announced, while onwards quickly borne, With whirring flight the break of morn. The bleating sheep on Sidlaw Hills, The murmuring rush of mountain rills, Soft mingled with the early lay Of shepherd laddie, as he lay Wrapped in his ragged tartan plaid, The fragrant heather for his bed, Shared by his faithful dog alway, All welcomed glad the opening day ; Which now, soft blushing in the east, Seemed to arise at their behest, All glorious as the smiling sun Proclaimed with joy the day begun, While lark and linnet cheerily sang, With bursting song the wild-woods rang ; The maiden blithe by sunny bield, The ploughman by his team afield, The neighing horse, the lowing kine, All felt the influence divine : While hind to early market sent, His longwhip cracked in merriment ; And lasses trudging o'er the road, Now lighter felt their heavy load, And smirked and smiled as they passed by, As if we would their butter buy. Surrounded grim by Sidlaw hills, All watered fresh by mountain rills, S 274 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. With skirting 1 copsewood here and there, The hill tops leaving bleak and bare, On which the shepherd feeds his flock, Sometimes, nay oft, a scanty stock ; A little hamlet with its school, Its streamlet, bridge, and minnow pool, And hostelry well stored and found, "With smiling homesteads all around, Removed afar from haunts of men, Lonely, yet sweet, thou bonnie glen ! 'Tween Dryburns bleak, Kilmundie warm, There's many a snug and smiling farm, Many a cozy home the sun shines on From Airniefoul to Middleton. May plenty, virtue, peace and love, With choicest blessings from above, Be yours in perpetuity, Who dwell in Glen of Ogilvy. " At last we reached the top of the Sidlaw Hills. Behind me lay the glen where I was born ; before me the untrodden, unknown world, where I felt I was doomed to die. " ' We must now part, my son,' my father tremulously said, ' and I commend you to God, who is able and willing to protect you in all your wanderings. Trust ye in Him, and you shall never have cause to be ashamed. Take His Holy Word as your comforter and guide, and if we never meet again in this world, we shall meet at last in our heavenly Father's house above.' " Presenting me with a Bible, he fervently embraced me, turning abruptly his steps homeward. " Not anticipating either the gift or the solemn benediction by which it had been accompanied, I stood for some minutes gazing on the retreating form of my venerable parent, when, just before turning the brow of the hill, he turned round and waved his last adieu. I would have run after him and embraced him, and said many things to him which I now remembered, but I was spell-bound to the spot all my regrets were vain. I looked in the direction he had gone, but he had disappeared ! " Then new thoughts and feelings rushed through my mind LIFE. 275 as I experienced the bitter pangs of remorse at losing the last opportunity I might ever have of unburthening my heart to a beloved parent. And then came the sad and withering thought which never ceased to influence me in after-life to be within a short distance of those we love, and not to be able to take advantage of our position ; to live in the same world, and see the same sun and sky, and breathe the same atmosphere, and yet be separated from our friends by continents and by seas, is the greatest trial and the most grievous burden that mortals can be called upon to bear. We lose our dearest by death, but the very fact that their doom is irrevocable, and that we cannot by any possibility alter the decree, makes us resigned to bereavements, however severe. But the thought that distance only separates us from our friends, and yet we can see them no more, is more intensely agonising than losing them by death itself. "Such, my children, were my first impressions of LIFE." CHAPTER XXI. DEATH. " Invidious Grave ! how dost thou rend in sunder Whom love has knit, and sympathy made one." Blair. " HAVE you ever seen a dead poet 1 " excitedly exclaimed an esteemed friend, as I met him sometime ago on a winter afternoon in one of the busiest thoroughfares in Dundee. Startled by the weird-like question, I kindly requested an ex- planation of its meaning. My friend then with the greatest tenderness of feeling informed me that James Gow, the weaver-poet, had died a pauper's death the day before, in a common lodging-house in the Overgate ; requesting my pre- sence at the sametime at his funeral, the expenses of which, Lord Kinnaird, with his usual generosity, had just telegraphed that he would most willingly liquidate. On my way homewards, I felt rather at sea in regard to the personnelle of the weaver-poet ; when all at once I recollected, that some five and twenty years before, I had read and re-read with the greatest delight, some beautiful pieces of sterling poetry, in Tait's Magazine, and Chambers' Journal, by James Gow, author of " Lays of the Loom." These fugitive pieces were entitled " Alic the Pauper " " The Orphan Laddie "- "Helen the Outcast " " The Snow-Drop "" The Orphan's Grave," &c., suggestive now of sad and touching memories. These, as well as his " Lays of the Loom," were all composed, like Tannahill, as he worked at his loom, then familiarly termed " the four posts of misery !" On recovering from a severe attack of typhus fever, some DEATH. 277 twenty-five years before he died, he found the genius of poetry had deserted him, and from that time to the day of his death, his life had been one of melancholy silence and gloom, and a continued struggle with poverty and want. On the forenoon of the following day, after the conversation recorded had taken place, I went alone in a very melancholy mood to see the remains of the poor weaver-poet. Up a dark narrow close, midway between Barrack Street and Lindsay Street, I groped my devious way until I found the lodging- house I sought. And there, in a dark, ill-ventilated room, scantily furnished, yet scrupulously neat and clean, on a com- mon deal table, rested the black coffin of the dead poet. With tremulous hand I gently raised the ghastly shroud, and with tearful eyes long and tenderly gazed on the pleasant and resigned-like features of him whom I had never seen till his eyes had closed in death, and his spirit had gone to God who gave it. Two days afterwards we buried him up yonder in the Eastern Necropolis, shewing that if in his life he had receded from the world's gaze, in his death he had not been forgotten. On a bright, cloudless day on the following spring, with a heart full of emotion, I stood alone by the grave of the poor poet. This emotional feeling, however, did not arise from a sorrowful regret for him who was calmly sleeping below, but from a deep feeling of holy gratitude to those good friends, by whose delicate kindness the " Snow-Drop " was now blooming in all its pure loveliness over the grave of him who had so sweetly sung its praise, and which, while on earth, he had loved so well. A neat, little memorial stone had also been erected at the poet's grave, with a representation of the snow-drop cut in bas-relief at the top, and the simple inscrip- tion beneath of the date of his birth, and the date of his death. IN MEHORIAM. I knew thee not in life, 'twas only when the snow Of Death lay icy cold upon thy marble brow ; 278 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. The child of grief, and yet no trace of sorrow there, Thy lips had closed, it seemed, while breathing words of prayer. Thine not the high-pitched key of royal nightingale, Nor gushing note of thrush, borne richly on the gale, But to the linnet's song thy harp of music strung, Thy strains were sweet and true as ever poet sung. The ' ' Snow-Drop " couldst thou sing, but 'mong thy notes of joy, Low, sad, the "Orphan's Grave," like undertones deploy ; Thus, ever with the song of bird upon the tree, Like distant dirges come the wailings of the sea ! The son of poverty, as there thou calmly slept 'Midst want and woe, could I have child-like sobb'd and wept ; Oh Genius ! must it be thy ever-chequered doom To languish in neglect, cloud-wrapt in deepest gloom ? No ! no ! God wills it not, His every gift is giv'n, To gild the scenes of earth, and raise our hopes to heav'n : Die ? die ! we love not death ; we wish, we pray for life, That manfully may we do battle in the strife. Ye bright immortals blest, victorious in the fight, Who 'midst the sunshine walk, robed with celestial light, Look on our struggles here, that nerved we be withal To wrestle on until in harness brave we fall ! By a natural transition of thought, my mind reverts to the time, when, in my early youth, I came into close contact with Death, and gazed for the first time, with sorrowful, yet inexperienced eyes, on the face of the dead. This reminiscence of former days, carries us after this, I trust, pardonable digression again to the sunny fields of Strathmore, and its wide-spreading, glorious sea-board at Montrose. I have often thought of and never can forget that bright and beautiful summer morning, on which at early dawn, and at an early age, I took my departure from my father's farm in the " Howe," to be entered as a pupil in the far-famed Academy of Montrose. My conveyance was a very homely, old- fashioned one, being none other than an ordinary coupe-cart with a heavy slow-paced horse, called " Dicer," and a raw, young hind as my postillion. My father having previously made the necessary arrangements at Montrose, everything DEATH. 279 had been done to make the journey as comfortable to me as possible. Clean wheaten straw was plentifully strewn around in the bottom of the cart, while sundry sacks of chaff, as an apology for seats, lined the sides and top of the primitive con- veyance ; while a mother's hand could be detected in sundry little arrangements as to creature comforts for the young and inexperienced traveller. Up the hill of Hayston, and down the Plans of Thornton we went ; passed quietly through the still slumbering villages of Kinnettles and Douglastown ; reaching the county town of Forfar, before a curl of smoke arose from its chimneys, or any of its denizens were seen perambulating its silent streets. Taking the old road to Brechin, we wended slowly, yet delightfully on our way. Ascending the rugged acclivity behind Turin Hill, and just before reaching the confines of Aberlemno, I was aroused from my dreamy reverie by the wild and thrilling cry of my conductor : " The Sea ! The Sea ! The Sea ! " With a new impulse of life, and feeling the divine extacy of a higher existence, I started to my feet, and intently gazed in the direction indicated. In the far distance a mystic, ethereal, and apparently boundless waste of waters stretched in match- less, indescribable beauty to the furthermost verge of the eastern horizon ; while the ships on its calm and silvery sur- face, the bright cerulean sky above, and the golden shore around, lent additional beauty and animation to the scene. And this was my first view of the sea ! I had read of it, dreamed of it, sung of it, and there it lay before me, the grand reality infinitely exceeding the fanciful ideal of the most imaginative of poetic conceptions ! Hail ! Hail ! Thou ever bless'd, great, glorious sea ! How leapt my young heart glad with joy, when, lone, Thee first I saw from yonder heath-clad hill, All still and peaceful, slumbering calm, begirt With golden radiance, as the summer sun, With prodigal effulgence, thee enchased 280 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. With regal glory, and the sweet soft winds, Fresh from the fields of heaven, swept gently o'er Thy fragrant bosom, fondly kissing thee With warm and honied lips, or cresting white The idle wavelets, as they rushing broke, Melodious murmuring on the yellow sands. Sweet scene ! Bright morn f Engraven on my heart To be remembered ever ! Long, long, next day from the sandy bent-covered hills, I gazed upon the broad expanse of ocean, stretched out in dreamy beauty before my enraptured vision, while far away on the verge of the horizon, the stately ships like things of life, were sailing to and fro ; and near at hand, the fishing-boats, with their dark brown sails and hardy crews, came bounding o'er the sea to the measured strokes of their glancing oars, and the rude yet tuneful numbers of their sea-loved songs. With wondering awe, my unpractised eye followed the long, resound- ing swell of the heaving billows, and listened with a mixture of mystical delight and superstitious fear to the never-ceas- ing, weary moan of the ever-surging troubled sea, until my virgin thoughts, in all their pristine exuberance, burst spon- taneously forth into tumultuous song : Whataileth thee, Sea? Asleep or awake, thy ceaseless groan, Thee near or away, thy weary moan, Sad, dreamy come to me. What aileth thee, Sea ? In storm or in calm, thy heaving breast, Wild surging, e'er tells of deep unrest, And the pain that wasteth thee. What aileth thee, Sea ? Now riding aloft on thy billowy way, Now drenching the rocks with thy weeping spray, In thy mad agony. What aileth thee, Sea ? Now feigning to sleep in the soft summer beams, Thy bosom bejewelled with diamond gleams, To hide thy hypocrisy. DEATH. 281 What aileth thee, Sea ? Do the spirits of those in thy deep coral caves, Loud thunder above the roar of the waves ' Slain ! slain, Sea, by thee ! ' What aileth thee, Sea ? A murderer's conscience ? Ha ! ha ! that shriek ; A hell e'er within thee ? Speak ! speak ! Is it this that aileth thee ? Montrose is a beautiful seaport town on the east coast of Scotland. Situate on an extensive peninsula, with its lofty stone buildings and splendid church spire, and surrounded by undulating hills studded with hamlets, and country seats embosomed among umbrageous woods, it presents, when viewed from the sea, a very attractive and picturesque appear- ance. It is, besides, one of those few towns that does not sink in your estimation on a nearer approach or inspection ; for, with the exception that in the principal street a great number of the houses are constructed Flemish-like, with their gables in front, there is, on the whole, a uniform grace and elegance in everything that meets the eye, which leaves on the mind a very pleasing and favourable impression. The ancient name of Montrose is said to have been Celurca or Salorky, and this is the designation given to it by Boyce, Dr Arthur Johnstone, and other early writers. Although the motto on the town's seal MARE DITAT ROSA DECORAT would seem to refer to its present name having been derived from the .Latin " Mons Rosarum" "The Mount of Roses," this derivation is evidently fanciful, the name in ancient charters being Monross Ross signifying a promontory be- tween two waters, and Mon or Moinh the back of the promon- tory, these two names being certainly more descriptive of its situation. The time of the erection of the town and castle of Montrose must have been very remote, as it is stated in Aber- cromby's " Martial Achievements," that when the Danes in- vaded Scotland in the year 980, they destroyed both the town and castle, putting the citizens to the sword. In 1 244, the town 282 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. was entirely consumed by fire : and in allusion to tins con- flagration, the learned Camden says, " the town is built out of the ruins of another of the same name." The earliest account of the town is given by Ochterlony who describes it as " a very handsome well-built toune, of consider- able trade in all places abroad ; good houses all of stone, excellent large streets, a good tolbuith and church, good shipping of their own, a good shore at the toune, a myle with- in the river of South Esk ; but the entrie is very dangerous for strangers that know it not, by reason of a great bank of sand that lyeth before the mouth of the entrie, called Long Ennell, but that defect is supplied by getting pilots from the neighbour- ing fisher-towns of Ulishavene or Ferredene, who know it so well that they cannot mistake." He says further, that " they are mighty fyne burgesses, and delicate and painfull mer- chants. There have been men of great substance in that toune of a long time, and yet are, who have and are purchas- ing good estates in the country. The generalitie of the burgesses and merchants do very far exceed those in any other toune in the shy re." Daniel de Foe in his tour through Scotland in the begin- ning of the eighteenth century, speaks of Montrose as "a pretty seaport town, and one street very good ; the houses well built, and the town well pav'd. The inhabitants here, as at Dundee, are very genteel, and have more the air of gentlemen than merchants." Captain Franck, in 1657-8, in " Northern Memoirs," says in grandiloquent terms that Montrose is called " a beauty that lies concealed, as it were, in the bosom of Scotland; most delicately dressed up and adorned with excellent buildings, whose foundations are laid with polished stone, and her ports all washed with silver streams, that trickle down from the famous Ask ! " Dr Johnson visited Montrose when on his journey to the Western Islands. He describes the Episcopal Chapel of the day St. Peter's, since destroyed by fire as " clean to a degree unknown in any other part of Scotland, with com- DEATH. 283 modious galleries, and what was less expected with an organ." Burns who visited his cousin, Mr Burness, there in 1787, in less poetical language calls it "a finely situated handsome town," which, in every respect it certainly is, with its broad and splendid High Street, almost rivalling the Trongate of Glasgow, or the High Street of Edinburgh. Sir Thomas the Rymer, however, dooms it to inglorious destruction, pro- phesying, with his usual truthfulness, that " Bonny Monross will be a moss, When Brechin's a borough town ; An' Forfar will be Forfar still, When Dundee's a' dung down !" When Sir William Wallace resigned the guardianship of Scotland in 1299, and retired to France, the northern lairds of Scotland sent Squire Guthrie to request his return in order to assist in opposing the English. In obedience to this request Wallace landed at Montrose in 1303, which historical event is thus quaintly alluded to by Blind Harry : " Na ma with him he brocht off that cuntre, Bot his awn men, and Schyr Thomas the Knicht, In Flawndrys land that past with all thar mycht. Guthries barg was at the Slus left styll ; To se thai went with ane full egyr will. Bath Forth and Tay thai left and passyt by On the north cost, (gud) Guthre was thar gy, In Alunross havyn that brocht hym to the laud ; Till trew Scottis it was a blyth tithand. Schyr^Ihon Ramsay, that worthi was and wycht, Frae Ochtyrhouss the way he chesyt rycht, To meite Wallace with men off armes strang ; Off his duellyng thai had thocht wondyr lang. The trew Ruwan come als with outyn baid ; In Barnan wod he had his lugying maid. Barklay be that to Wallace semblyt fast ; With thre hundreth to Ochtyrhouss he past. " The old steeple, which was only taken down in 1832, was, besides being of unknown antiquity, an object of some historical note. It was from that " Stiple head, " says Melvill, that " the fyre of joy" blazed in June 1566, when the news 284 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. of the birth of King James was announced. Previously in the year 1493, it had been the scene of Sir Thomas Froster's murder by young Erskine of Dun. Froster was a priest of Montrose, to whose father Erskine granted a bond of assyth- ment or blood money for the offence. Between the town and the sea a large level tract of green- sward stretches away for many miles, which in England would be called the "Downs," but to which the name of " Links " is given in Scotland ; while beyond the bent-covered sandhills the German Ocean lashes the rugged rocks, or breaks in gentle wavelets on the tawny sands. When standing on these sandy knolls, the attention of the stranger is always directed to the "Ennet, " a large bank of quicksands, where many a melancholy and heartrending shipwreck has happened within hail of the shore. Between the Ennet and the rocks, to the south, flows the South Esk, a narrow, deep, and rapid stream, forming the natural inlet to the harbour, which widen- ing considerably opposite the town, again contracts beneath a handsome Suspension Bridge, till its waters fill an immense basin, to the west, which, when the tide is full, presents the appearance of a capacious lake, with numerous boats and small craft skimming its clear and silvery surface. There is one spot to me, however, more interesting than any other, and that is the lesser Links, on which the Academy stands; for on that bright greensward, in boyish, healthful sport, I spent many a happy day of my youth, and within the precincts of that classical seminary I commenced my educa- tional career. Montrose has earned the proud distinction of having been the cradle of the Greek language in Scotland. Even in the days of The Bruce, the public schools had gained such eminence that he granted a sum out of the public revenue for their support. The first teacher of Greek at Montrose Academy was a Frenchman of the name of Marsilliers, who, in 1534, John Erskine of Dun brought from the continent for the purpose of teaching that classic language. Greek, previously, was almost DEATH. 285 unknown in the country. Andrew Melville, the father of Presbytery in Scotland, was educated in Montrose ; and when in his fourteenth year, he went to the University of St. Andrews, he surprised his teachers by his knowledge of Greek, with which they were wholly unacquainted. Marsilliers was succeeded by his pupil, the celebrated George Wishart, who, for his zeal in openly teaching and circulating the Greek New Testament, was summoned to appear before Bishop Hepburn of Brechin on a charge of heresy, which he eluded by escaping to England where he remained for some years. The grammar school had the honour of being taught by David Lindsay, son to the laird of Edzell Lindsay, who was afterwards bishop, first of Brechin, and then of Edinburgh, and it was at his head that Jeanie Geddes flung the stool when he began to read the Book of Common Prayer in the High Church of Edinburgh, in July 1637. At the time of which I write now, alas ! some five-and- thirty years ago there were comparatively few educational establishments of high repute in Scotland, and still fewer in England. Among the few which then existed the Academy of Montrose still held the first rank, and many families of dis- tinction were attracted by its fame to send their sons and daughters from other lands to be educated by its learned and accomplished professors. The masters, besides being the public instructors of these strangers, were also their private tutors and guardians, inasmuch as they all kept large board- ing establishments, where their wards were lodged and fed and where all the comforts and instructions of home were reproduced in all their affectionate kindness and love. I had the good fortune to form one of the happy household of Dr Calvert, the classical teacher, and, as such, contracted friend- ships among my fellow-boarders which I have ever retained in after-life. The younger members of the afterwards cele- brated Burness family, and Sir George Balfour, M.P. for Kincardineshire, were class-fellows of the writer at the public classes in the Academy. 286 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. " How shall we spend to-morrow's holiday, comrades 1 We have had so many rural excursions lately first to the North Water Bridge, then to the Hill of Craig and Rossie Castle, anon to the rocks of St Cyrus and the Castle of Kinnaird that, to tell you the truth, I am heartily sick of the thing altogether. What say ye, my boys, to a boating excursion to-morrow ? I'll teach you how to ply the oar and furl the sail, and guide you safely over the waves. Hurrah ! my lads, hurrah !" This little speech was addressed to his fellow-boarders by Billy Dickson, on the evening preceding a long-looked-for holiday, just as we had finished our last game in the play- ground, and were about retiring for the night. Billy, with his brother James, had come from the far east, and although his hair was black and curly as a negro's, and his complexion even swarthier than a " dusky brown, " he had a sharp, in- telligent eye, expressive features, well-formed, handsome limbs, a sympathetic, merry laugh, and a loving heart withal. A favourite with every one, and particularly so with his com- rades at school, was dear, beloved Billy Dickson. What he recommended we as readily adopted ; where he led, we obediently followed ; when he commanded, we as instantly obeyed. In very truth, by his winning manners and consum- mate generalship he had gradually acquired the complete mastery over us ; but he exercised this vested power with such skill, and grace, and good brotherhood, that we felt the yoke neither irksome nor severe. At the conclusion of his address, a long and loud hurrah responded to his appeal, and after having determined on the hour of departure, we bade each other good-night, and retired, ostensibly to rest, but in reality to dream of our voyage on the morrow. " Good morning, my hearties," said Billy, as he met us at an early hour next morning at the breakfast table. "No chicken-hearted, feather-bed sailors amongst my crew, I hope." Then, approaching, he chucked me good-naturedly under the DEATH. 287 chin, and archly said, " What ! my little boatswain first be- ginning to show the white feather 1 Cheer up, cheer up, my boy. Only think how these land sharks will jerk up their trousers and trip up the shrouds when your piping cry is heard, 'All hands aloft, boys, all hands aloft !'" Then giving me a hearty slap on the shoulder, and with a waggish leer directed to the rest of my schoolmates, he boisterously exclaimed, " Show them pluck, my boy show them pluck, my hearty ! " After partaking of an excellent breakfast, and having re- ceived the parting benediction and advice of our worthy teacher, we sallied first along the High Street and Bridge Street, and then to the harbour, where we had little difficulty in engaging a small fishing-boat for the day. "All hands on board," cried Billy; and when seated in the little craft, our amateur crew of eight looked like so many tight, jolly tars on the eve of a long and perilous voyage. " Stow the beef and biscuit in the locker," again cried our captain ; " and, Tom, you seat yourself on the prow and look out for squalls. The rudder I will guide myself assisted by (as he always called me) my little friend Jim, who will sit in the stern beside me ; and as for the rest of you, my boys, bestir yourselves to weigh the anchor and unfurl the sails, and let us scud before the gale ere it lulls itself into a calm." In a few minutes all was ready, and our tight little boat passed under the old wooden bridge, carrying us on to the "Backsands" right merrily. It was a beautiful morning in April, the air crisp, sharp, and exhilarating, and as we bounded over the silver waves we looked so proud and so happy proud at our dexterous and successful seamanship, and happy at the prospect of a long and merry holiday. " Steady, boys, steady," said Billy, as a heavily-laden coal craft bore down upon us. " We must give her more way. There, on like a duck in a mill-pond, she scuds away, and I defy that clumsy lugger to overtake her." " We must beware of the treacherous sandbanks," I said, sometime after, looking up into Billy's face, as he now stood 288 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. in the stern of the boat, as if listening to some distant sound, .and scanning at the same time the changed aspect of the heavens. " I fear these sudden squalls," said Billy, quietly, " much more than I do the changing quicksands. For the one we may be prepared, for the other we cannot." The wind was now hushed into a deceitful calm, the sails flapped ominously on the creaking masts, the sky grew dark and troubled, and the low moan of the distant sea, mingled with the mournful cry of the seagull, fell heavily on the ear. " Squalls ahead ! " cried Tom, from the prow, and instantly all eyes were directed to a dark lowering cloud, which every moment increased its threatening aspect, till the black ripple on the water forewarned us of the coming tempest. " Steady, boys, steady," cried Billy. " Quick, furl the sails, and I shall lay her more to leeward. The wind is rising, but there is no danger." " There is danger," Billy whispered in my ear. " When the lurch comes cling fast to me, Jim." Scarcely were the words uttered when the swell of the water shook the timbers of our little craft, and the squall burst in merciless rage over her, tearing into tatters her tiny sails, and capsizing her in an instant into the trough of the sea ! The salt brine gurgled in my throat, As stunned I lay beneath the boat, But quick I floated far away Amongst the white, fierce dashing spray, And faint, like sounds heard in our dreams, I heard some distant wild-like screams ; Then in a slumber sweet I fell, As mermaids bore me to their cell ; Far down below in the deep, deep sea, A bed of coral they made for me. Oh, fondly and softly they laid me down, Of flowers of the sea gay wreathing a crown, And arraying me bright with silver shells, All musical sweet like evening bells ; Then archly combing their golden hair I never saw maidens look so fair, DEATH. 289 Their skin all so pure and silvery white, And their pouting lips so rosy bright, And their eyes so arch and sparkling blue, Like violets gemmed with the morning dew, And their busts so plump and rounded fine I thought them beautiful, nay divine ! The fishes swam round and round my head, Green were the waters above my head, And yet so sparkling and bright the waves, I saw every gem of the ocean caves. The mermaids now listened I heard a strain Come sweetly across the watery main, Nor of earth, nor of sea it seemed to be, So spiritually pure in its melody ! Nearer, and nearer, yet sweeter it came, Till wondering I heard 'mong the notes my name Sung softly and fondly ; a well-known voice Filled glad my rapt soul, and bade me rejoice ; And now o'er my couch my fond mother smiled, Surrounded by angels, who'd watched o'er her child, And brought her in safety and love to me, On my white coral bed in the deep, deep sea. Now softly and swiftly they bore me away, While the mermaids, dejected, sad, urged me to stay, And followed entreating, as upwards we flew, More mournful the nearer to earth we drew, Till fondly, yet sadly, they kissed me each one, Then vanished, as now their good mission was done ! I awoke. Where 1 On the lowly bed of a little cottage, on the southern banks of the Esk, and attended by my shivering and anxious shipmates. The truth at once dawned upon me, and 1 essayed to speak ; but for some time was unable to articulate. At last I cried " Where is Billy Dickson ? " No answer being returned, I carefully scrutinised each anxious face to read the truth, if possible, in each expression, but not being satisfied I rose, and staggered feebly towards a little group who seemed intently gazing on some object which, apparently, deeply interested them. And there stretched on a lowly couch lay Billy Dickson, his garments drenched with brine, and his hair dishevelled T 290 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. yet so natural and life-like, that with great rapture I ex- claimed " How happy I am our dear Billy is safe." "He is safe, I trust, in one respect," said an elderly cottar beside me ; " but I fear " "Fear what ?" I interrupted impetuously. " He is dead," was the reply. "Dead !" I cried. "Dear Billy Dickson dead?" And I gazed on his calm expressive countenance, the sweet smile on his lip, and the clear lustre in his eye, and exclaimed with tears of joy in my eyes " You mock me he is not dead," and I eagerly grasped his hand in mine. It was damp and clammy to the touch. I pressed it with greater warmth ; but oh ! how cold, cold, this last pressure, sending a withering and chilling thrill to my innermost heart, never, never to be forgotten, for this was my first contact with death ! The details of the catastrophe are few, and soon told. Capsized in the storm, our cries were heard by those on board the coal sloop, which we were so anxious to outsail. They bore down with all speed to the scene, and all were rescued from a watery grave. Poor Billy, however, never rallied, and by the time the shore was reached his spirit had fled to another and a happier sphere. Such were my first impressions of Death. CHAPTER XXII. KINNAIRD CASTLE. Lo ! princely mansion, hall and tower, Proclaim the spell of beauty's power ; Here, ancient, modern art combine, To raise a shrine almost divine. SKIRTING the basin of Montrose are the rich alluvial lands of Kinnaird, and after a pleasant drive of an hour, we enter the gates of Kinnaird Castle, the princely residence of the Earls of Southesk. The lands which form the territorial earldom of Southesk extend from the basin of Montrose on the east to the western extremity of Monrommon Moor on the west, a distance of fully eight miles. The southern division of the Kinnaird estates comprehends the lands of Baldovie, Fullerton, Bonay- ton, part of Carcary, Upper and Lower Fithie, Bolsham, Kinnell, and others, comprehending the lands of Baldovie on the east, to the parish of Kinnell on the south-west and is in length seven and a half miles. The northern division com- prises the portion north of the river South Esk, and extends from Balwyllo on the east to Brechin on the west. The early history of the family according to Mr Fraser to whose antiquarian researches I have in the composition of this chapter been greatly indebted is involved in much obscurity, owing in a great measure to the destruction of the charters and records of Kinnaird by the burning of the mansionhouse of Kinnaird after the battle of Brechin in the year 1452; and again suffering from the confusion of the times, having been dispersed on the forfeiture of the fifth Earl 292 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. in 1715, when the family papers were taken possession of by the Commissioners on the forfeited estate of Southesk. Sufficient evidence, however, has been preserved in a Char- ter by King David II. without date, but probably granted in 1358 confirming a donation made by the then deceased Walter Maule, to John de Balinhard afterwards de Carnegie of the lands of Carnegie, to prove that four generations of the family bore the surname of Balinhard. In the county of Forfar, there are at least three places of the name of Balin- hard ; one of these is Balinhard, or Bonhard, in the parish of Arbirlot, another forms part of the estate of Clova, and the third, known as Bonhard, lies in Edzell parish. The lands of Carnegie from the time of their being first acquired by John de Balinhard, the ancestor of the Carnegies, in the year 1358, continued to form part of the possessions of the family, either in the direct or collateral lines, till they were forfeited in the year 1716. The direct male line of the Carne- gies of Carnegie, failed about the year 1530, when the lands became the property of a collateral branch. On the failure of that branch about the end of the sixteenth century, the lands again reverted to the Carnegies of Kinnaird, then the main line. Three years after the restoration of Charles II., James, the second Earl of Southesk, obtained from His Majesty a Charter dated 3d August 1663, by which the lands of Carnegie and many other lands were erected into a free barony, to be called the barony of Carnegie in all time coming. After the lands of Carnegie were forfeited in 1716, they re- mained for a considerable number of years in other hands, but in the year 1763, they were pur chased by Sir James Carnegie of Pittarrow, the heir male of the family. He, however, retained them only for a very short time, having almost imme- diately exchanged them with the Earl of Panmure for other lands adjacent to the principal residence of Kinnaird. Duthac of Carnegie, second son of John de Carnegie, who held the lands of Carnegie, was the first of that family who.- KINNAIRD CASTLE. 293 possessed Kinnaird and Carcary. In the year 1401 he ac- quired a small portion of the lands of Kinnaird ; and in the year 1409, the half of the same lands which belonged to Mariota of Kinnaird. The lands of Kinnaird and Little Car- cary were first erected into the barony of Kinnaird by King James V. who, by a Charter under the Great Seal, dated 17th July 1 542, granted to Eobert Carnegie of Kinnaird, on his own resignation, the lands of Kinnaird and Little Carcary, with the Manor of Kinnaird and all privileges pertaining thereto. The reddendo is a silver penny to be paid upon the said lands of Kinnaird, yearly if asked, and also the keeping of the king's ale cellar within the shire of Forfar, when he should happen to reside there, the grantee and his heirs being law- fully warned. In consequence of several extensive additions to the Kin- naird barony, a new erection of the barony was made by Queen Mary by a Charter under the Great Seal, dated 25th March 1565. The reddendo is the same as in the previous Charter of erection by King James V. Another, and third erection of the barony of Kinnaird was made by King James VI. by a Charter under the Great Seal, dated 14th October 1591. On the resignation of James, second Earl of Southesk, the barony of Kinnaird, and many other baronies and lands which had been acquired by him, were by a Charter granted by King Charles II. in favour of Robert Lord Carnegie, and Lady Anna Hamilton, his spouse, dated 8th March 1667, erected and incorporated into one whole and free Earldom ot' and Lordship to be called the Earldom of Southesk, and Lordship of Carnegie in all time coming ; the tower, fortalice, and manor place of Kinnaird were declared to be the principal messuage ; and one sasine to be taken there- at was to be sufficient infeftment for the whole earldom anicturesquely situated, on the banks of the Ericht, the hill of Kingseat, 1178 feet above the level of the sea. The other elevations of the parish are Barryhill, and the hills of Loyall and Alyth. Notwithstanding the proximity of powerful royalist families, the people of Alyth seem to have adhered rigidly to the cause of Presbytery. During the troublous period, from 1 640 to 1660, there occur several entries in the Session Records, as to inter- missions of public worship, " because of the common enemy." During the greater part of 1646, Montrose's army was stationed in the immediate neighbourhood, to the great consternation of the inhabitants : as appears from the following entries, viz., "July 5 day 1646, first Sabbath. Given to Hendrie Gargill x sh u for to go to the camp to trie and search some news from the malignants, and that he may forwarnisse of their cuming upon us. July 2 Sab : This day no preaching, because of the common enemie. July 3 Sab. and 4 Sab. : No preaching, be- cause Montrose was so near us. August the first Sab. and 2 day : Ther was no preaching with us since the last Fast, {Feby. 1st) because the enemie was quarterit in our bownds. This day our minister taught." Among the entries a few years afterwards, occur the following viz., "August the last day 1651 ; This day no preaching, because our minister was taken on Thursday last by the Englishes, being the 28 of August 1651." "March the 28, 1652 : No preaching, except only one Englishe trooper went up to ye pulpit, and made ane forme of ane preaching who hade no warrant to preach, whose text was upon the 45 Psalm, 13, 14 vs." After the Restoration, however, a change seems to have come over " the spirit of their dream," for we find both minister and people quietly submitting to the altered state of things : " March 15, 1663 : This day, the clerk writter hereof, being appointed and ordained be the minister and session to everie Sab., before the incoming of the minister to the pulpit, red this day," &c. In 1667, it is further recorded that Mr Thomas Robertson was inducted as assistant 470 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. and successor, with the usages and ceremonies of the Episcopal Church. The Flora of the parish although not extensive, is yet rich in rare and beautiful plants, amongst which may be noticed the following, viz. the Alisma ranunculoides, the Scrophularia vernalis, the Senicio saracenicus, the Astragalus glycyphyllus, the Trollius Europceus, the Campanula latifolia, and the Gallium boreale. In the upland districts may be found, the Orobus sylvaticus, the Trientalis Europcea, the Saxrifraga aizoides, and the Erica vulgaris alba (white heath) these latter very abundantly. The ruins of several old castles in the parish add consider- ably to its other attractions. The principal of these are the remains of the old castle of Inverquiech, situated at the junc- tion of the Burn of Alyth with the Isla. The date of the erection of this castle is lost in the mists of antiquity. In a charter granted by Eobert II. in 1394, to his nephew James de Lyndesay, it is mentioned as " the King's Castle of Inucuyth," and appears to have been even then in ruins. At Corb, there are also the remains of a castle, the name of which is unknown. It is supposed to have been a hunting-seat of the Scottish Kings, or of the Earls of Crawford, from its situation being on the borders of the forest. The most attractive place, to the antiquarian, however, is doubtless the fort on Barry Hill which Chalmers considers to be coeval with the Koman Invasion. It would appear to have been a pictish entrenchment of great strength, the remains of which are still in a very perfect state of preservation. A deep fosse, about ten feet in height, seems to have protected the fort on the east and south ; the other sides of the hill being so precipitous as to render such an artificial defence unneces- sary. Some remains exist of a narrow bridge thrown over the fosse ; and though there is no vestige of a well, there was, until lately, a very deep pond, which the tenants in their wisdom, thought proper to fill up, the spot of ground reclaimed being doubtless, in their eyes, of more value than antiquarian associations however ancient or important. ALYTH. 471 Numerous legends spread their mystic halo around this ancient fort. The chief of these may be said to be that referring to Vanora or Guinevar, already referred to in the description of the monuments traditionally erected to her infamous memory at Meigle. The title conferred by the local tradition, on the heroine of the story being that of Queen Wander, a malignant giantess, is not certainly so high sound- ing as that of the wife of King Arthur. The legends all agree, however, in representing this fortified castle as the residence or prison of Arthur's Queen. "What after all, should the surmises of Captain Mitchell turn out to be the correct interpretation of these ancient monuments at Meigle, and thus at once sever the alleged connection between them and Barry Hill ? Mr Mitchell considers them " as neither more nor less than the monuments of the Knights Templars, who unquestion- ably had a burying-ground at Meigle. At the top of the south face of the largest stone, the armorial bearings of the kingdom of Jerusalem may be distinctly traced, and the group of figures, now almost obliterated, which has been sup- posed to represent Vanora torn in pieces by wild beasts, (and on which the popular tradition was very probably founded), may be considered, with great probability, as an allegorical representation of Judea rescued by the Crusaders. " To the south of Barry Hill, there are several rude obelisks, or " Standing Stones, " on one of which there is the mark of a large horse shoe, with indistinct traces of other figures. Tradition refers to the time of King Kobert the Bruce, as the date of their erection, but they evidently belong to a much more remote period. The parish records, Mr Eamsay states, commence in 1624, and the minutes of session in 1637. Many of the earlier entries given by him are extremely curious. One of the most remarkable is the entry for the 9th of February 1651, which is as follows: "This day my Lord Ogilvy declared his repentance before the congregation, in the habit of sackcloth, confessed his sinful accession to General Major Middleton's " 472 . STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. rebellion, and for his sinful miscarriages against the Covenant, and gave great evidence of his heartie grief for the samine, to the full satisfaction of the whole congregation. " On the 18th of August, and first of September, 1649, fifteen soldiers, who had taken arms in what is called the " unlawful engagement," pro- fessed their repentance, and were admitted to the renewal of the covenant as a necessary preliminary to their participating in the communion. The oases of contumacy are numerous ; and in addition to the classes of offences which usually fall under the cognizance of a church court, the Kirk session seems to have been frequently occupied with cases of " fechting and flyting," slander, &c., with occasional investigations into charges of witchcraft. Having regard to the changed circum- stances of the times in which we live very few now will ques- tion the conclusion to which the late minister of the parish, Mr Ramsay, reflectingly arrived, viz. "On the whole, however, if we may judge from the ecclesiastical records of this parish, the parochial police of that period, to which many are disposed to look back as a golden age of purity and piety, can hardly be regarded in any other view than as most injudiciously and unjustifiably rigid, and rather calculated to irritate and harden the offender, than to win him to repentance. " CHAPTER XLII. DEN OF AIRLIE. f " Argyle has raised a hunder men, A hunder men an' mairly, An' he's awa doun by the back o' Dunkeld, To plunder the bonnie house o' Airlie." Old Ballad. THE name of the parish of Airlie is supposed to have been Airdly, from the Gaelic Aird, signifying the extremity of a ridge, and which exactly describes the locality of Airlie Castle. It is situated in the western part of Forfarshire, and borders upon Perthshire. The southern part stretches along the Howe of Strathmore, gradually rising in a series of undu- lating ridges, forming a portion of the braes of Angus. The principal ridge stretches along the north side of the parish, and terminates in a deep rocky gorge, through which the im- petuous Isla pours its troubled waters from the high lands into those of the low country. At Airlie Castle, this wild ravine separates into two parts, which form, respectively, the channels of the Isla, and the Melgum. As the genealogy of the noble house of Airlie will be more appropriately alluded to in the succeeding chapter, suffice it here to state, that this noble family became connected with the parish in the year 1 458, when Sir John Ogilvy of Lintra- then, received a grant of the Castle and Barony from James II. The Den of Airlie, celebrated for its fine river scenery and romantic beauty, extends about a mile below the junction of the Isla and the Melgum, and forms one of the most pictur- esque and beautiful scenes to be met with in the country. The luxuriant brushwood of the Den consists chiefly of oak, 474 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. and is remarkable as containing the most easterly remains of natural oakwood on the southern face of the Grampians. The Den of Airlie, besides its unrivalled scenery, and historical associations, is classic ground to the botanical student, having been a favourite resort of the elder Don, and the scene of some of his earliest discoveries. Here, amongst many other rare plants enumerated by Dr. Barty, are to be found, in comparatively so small a space, the Eibes petrceum or rock currant ; the Orobus niger ; the curious Paris quadrifolia rare in Strathmore ; the interesting Nidus-avis ; the Victa sylvatica, with its trailing festoons of beautiful flowers ; the showy Epilobium augustifolium ; while the gray walls of Airlie Castle are redolent with the sweetly scented wall-flower, the Cheiranthus Cheiri, a favourite plant in the garden, looking still more attractive in its wild) natural beauty, as it clings with loving tenacity to the sheltered crevices of the classical hoary pile. Come let us wreathe a garland sweet Of wild-flowers blooming at our feet, And twine the mountain heather green, To weave a crown for fairy queen. Now mark the varied coloured hue Of mountain flowers some softly blue, And glistering bright with pearly dew ; Some blooming like the purple bell, Which loves the lonesome mossy dell ; While some, all hung with silver sheen, Look pure as angels' robes, I ween, And gently humming sounds distil, Like distant song of flowing rill ; And though the music deeper swells, The bee, deep in these silvery cells, Pursues her task with busy feet, And loads her wings with nectar sweet ! Of mountain flowers then twine the wreath How rich the perfume which they breathe ! But mark the leaves of every flower, And say if aught in garden bower, Can e'er these gorgeous tints outvie, These beauteous flow'rets of the sky. DEN OF AIRLIE. 475 How delicate their colours bright Of petals, purple, blue, and white ; What rich embroid'ry gems the form Of these lone children of the storm ! Although in reality, it was at the Castle of Forter, in Glen- isla, that the incidents recorded in the popular old ballad of the " Bonnie House o' Airlie," took place, tradition still clings to Airlie Castle, as the scene of Argyle's cruelties, just as it tenaciously does to the Castle of Glamis, as the locale of the murder of Duncan and the scene of the deadly combat between Macduffand Macbeth. It is matter of history, however, that the Earl of Airlie was one of the most faithful and distinguished champions of the royal cause, and that in 1639 the middle parts of Scotland were put under his command by king Charles I. In the year 1640, to avoid the necessity of subscribing the covenant, the Earl covertly passed over to England, and knowing this, his hereditary enemy, the Earl of Argyll, obtained authority from the Committee of Estates to take and destroy the Castle of Airlie and that of Forter, in Glenisla, which was also one of the seats of the Airlie family. Argyll, according to Spalding, raised a body of 5000 men of his own clan, and proceeded in the mouth of July to execute his commission. The Castle had been left in the charge of Lord Ogilvy, the Earl's eldest son, who had recently maintained it against the assault of the Earl of Montrose but on the approach of Argyll's army, he regarded all idea of resistance as hopeless, and abandoned it at once to the assailants, who plundered it of everything which they coveted, and could carry away with them, and burned it to the ground. Argyll not only directed the siege, but personally lent a willing and earnest hand in the work of demolition. Accord- ing to the parson of Kothiemay " He was seen taking a hammer in his hand and knocking down the hewed work of the doors and windows till he did sweat for heat at his work." It will be observed, that the ballad, instead of taking the 476 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. poetical licence of exaggeration, very materially diminishes the number of the besiegers, in as much as while the historian states the army of Argyll to have amounted to 5000 men, the lyrist modestly puts down the number as only a ' hunder.' The statement that " he's awa' down by the back o' Dunkeld," may have been the foundation of the tradition, that the men who burned Airlie Castle halted on the night previous at the haughs of Rattray. True to his commission, Argyll and his men also demolished the Castle of Forter, but tradition saith the Campbells kept possession of it for several months before they destroyed and abandoned it. It was here where the Lady Ogilvy was residing, and not at Airlie Castle, when the destruction of the two houses was perpretated by Argyll. Lady Ogilvy, it is said, was treated with the greatest cruelty by Argyll, " who not only would not allow her, although far advanced in preg- nancy, to remain at Forter till she was brought to bed, but even refused to grant permission to her grandmother, and his own kinswoman, the Lady Drimmie, to receive her into her house of Kelly." The house of Craig in Glenisla, although not included in Argyll's commission, was destroyed at the same time. The particulars of the event are thus related by Gordon : " At such time as Argyll was making havoc of Airlie's lands, he was not forgetful of old quarrels to Sir John Ogilvy of Craig, cousin to Airlie ; therefore he directs one, sergeant Campbell, to Sir John Ogilvy's house, and gives him warning to sleight it. The sergeant coming thither found a sick gentlewoman there, and some servants, and looking upon the house with a full survey, returned without doing anything, telling Argyll what he had seen, and that Sir John Ogilvy's house was no strength at all, and therefore he conceived that it fell not within his orders to cast it down. Argyll fell in some chafe with the sergeant, telling him that it was his part to have obeyed his orders, and instantly commanded him back again, and caused him deface and spoil the house.'' DEN OF AIRLIE. 477 The old castle of Airlie is supposed to have belonged to the same age as those of Eedcastle, and Castle Guthrie, the latter being the seat of Guthrie of Guthrie, the most ancient family in the County of Angus. It occupied a commanding site on the rocky promontory at the confluence of the Melgum and the Isla. A building of great strength, both as regards position and masonry, it ranked as one of the noblest and most formidable baronial residences in the country, and previous to the introduction of artillery, must have been almost impregnable. In its original state it had the form of an oblong quadrangle, and occupied nearly the whole summit of the promontory. The massive wall which protected the castle on the eastern and most accessible side, together with the portcullis entry, still remain in connexion with the modern mansion of Airlie. The fosse also continues distinct, although now partially filled up to suit the questionable ideas of modern improvement. And these few remains are all that is left of the " Bonnie House o' Airlie ! " Byron says " Not that I love man the less, but Nature more," which, to be in full accordance with my own feelings, I should alter thus Not that I love Nature less, but man- kind before. Intensely as I adore and love Nature in all her varied moods of sunshine and storm, sublime magnificence and golden beauty, I still more intensely adore and love the human heart, with all its warm affections, tender emotions, its deep-seated, holy, unchangeable love. Hence, I never feel my landscapes to be complete, without the voices of children mingling in the diapason of song. There may be the choral melody of birds, the sweet murmuring of streams, the mystic music of the distant sea, but all is to me compara- tively a world of silence without human interest being mani- fested in the scene, and human voices blending with Nature's far resounding hymn of universal joy. So, as when at Craighall, our thoughts at first reverted to the mythical baron of Bradwardine, they converged in the end on that recent catastrophe, by which a young and blooming '478 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. maiden was suddenly bereft of life, just because of its human interest, and having in it that " touch of nature which makes the whole world kin ; " we now leave the recital of the bar- barous cruelties of Argyll, and the cruel wrongs of Airlie, and fix our thoughts on the sad and sudden death of the young Cambridge student, at the very moment the prize of his ambition seemed to be within his reach. Mr Andrew Craik, M.A., and fourth wrangler at Cam- bridge, was born and brought up on the Braes of Airlie, where his father has a small pendicle. From his boyhood, he evinced great aptitude for learning, displaying more than ordinary talents in mastering the elements of classical and general literature. From the parish school of Airlie, he went to the University of Aberdeen, where he was a distinguished student. The bursaries and prizes which he gained at Aberdeen and in Glasgow, amounted to 500, which enabled him to pursue his studies without requiring any assistance from his friends. At Cambridge, he at once gained a scholar- ship, and was appointed by the University to lecture in some of the principal towns in England. Had he lived a few days longer, he would have got his Fellowship. A good classical scholar, and a distinguished mathematician, his whole career was one of splendid success. He died, after a few hours' illness, at Emmanuel College, Cambridge, on the 2d June 1874, at the early age of twenty-seven. His early death has caused wide-spread regret. His winning, unassuming manners endeared him to the poor ; his gentlemanly bearing and well-stored mind, made him a welcome guest at the tables of the higher classes. The Earl of Airlie, with his accustomed discernment and generosity of heart, took an early interest in his welfare, and encouraged him to proceed bravely on in his literary career; while a letter from the countess, congratulating him on his Cambridge successes, was one of the earliest received, as it was amongst the most highly prized by his mother. Only a few days before his death, he wrote home that he DEN OF AIRLIE. 479 had secured a lectureship, and that he had a hope almost reaching to assurance, that he was soon to receive a Fellow- ship of considerable value. He expressed himself as longing for home ; that, rich as were the English landscapes which daily met his eye, no fields were so green, nor woods so beautiful as those of Airlie. THE BONNIE BRAES 0' AIRLIE.* Bonnie sing the birds in the bright English valleys, Bonnie bloom the flowers in the lime-shelter'd alleys, Golden rich the air with perfume laden rarely, But dearer far to me the bonnie braes o' Airlie. Winding flows the Cam, but it's no my ain loved Isla, Rosy decked the meads, but they're no like dear Glenisla, Cloudless shines the sun, but I wish I saw it fairly, Sweet blinkin' through the mist on the bonnie braes o' Airlie. Thirsting for a name, I left my native mountains, Drinking here my fill at the pure classic fountains, Striving hard for fame, I've wrestled late an' early, An' a' that I might rest on the bonnie braes o' Airlie. Yonder gleams the prize for which I've aye been longing Darkness comes atween my struggles sad prolonging ; Dimly grow my een, an' my heart is breaking sairly, Waes me ! I'll never see the bonnie braes o' Airlie. * Set to music by Alfred Stella. CHAPTER XLIII. KIKRIEMUIR. " Kirriemuir bears the gree." Drummoiid. PROCEEDING eastward, and passing by the dark woods and castellated Mansion of Lindertis, the next parish we reach is Kirriemuir, anciently Kil-marie, a burgh or barony, of which the old Earls of Angus were superiors. It skirts the north side of the valley of Strathmore, and its locality is discernable from a great distance, the hill of Kirriemuir rising abruptly to a great height immediately to the north of the town. The name is supposed to be compounded of two words, Corrie-mor, the large holloiv or den. The situation of the town on the side of a ravine or den, fully bears out the derivation. Nothing authentic is known respecting the early history of Kirriemuir. Tradition is silent, and history only records some miniature battles between the Ogilvys and Lindsays in 1447. The noble family of Airlie connected with this parish, can trace their genealogy as far back as the reign of William the Lion, who succeeded to the crown of Scotland in 1165, being descended from Gilbert, third son of Gillebride, second Earl of Angus. King William conferred on Gilbert the lands of Powrie, and those of Ogilvy in the parish of Glamis. From the last named, the surname of Ogilvy was assumed. Sir James Ogilvy was created a peer by King James IV., by the title of Lord Ogilvy of Airlie, and sat in his Parliament in 1491. The title of Earl was conferred on the eighth Lord Ogilvy in 1639, by King Charles I. After the rebellion in 1745, in which Lord Ogilvy was engaged, the title was for sometime KIRRIEMUIR. 481 in abeyance, but was restored in 1826, to David, the late Earl, and father to the present nobleman who so worthily bears the titles and honours of this ancient house. The Ogilvys of Inverquharity trace their descent from Walter Ogilvy of Auchterhouse, and had conferred on them the lands and barony of Inverquharity in 1420. The members of this family have generally distinguished themselves, and have held, in different reigns, the highest military and civil appointments. Captain Ogilvy, son of Sir David Ogilvy of Inverquharity, is said to have been the author of the once popular song "It was a' for our rightful King." The present representative of this ancient family is Sir John Ogilvy of Baldovan, who ably represented Dundee in Parlia- ment, from 1857 to 1874. Sir John, by his dignified and courteous bearing, combined with continuous assiduity in the discharge of his parliamentary duties, was always regarded by his constituents with the highest respect and esteem, and general regret was felt at the unexpected result of the late election, by which the union which had so long subsisted between him and the community, was so suddenly dissolved. The Kirriemuirians, if undistinguished by their martial prowess in the field of battle, were noted for the fervour with which they pursued their inglorious feuds with the Souters of Forfar. There is a tradition or legend, that Drummond of Hawthornden visited Forfar in the summer of 1645, while on a tour through the north of Scotland, and that he was inhospitably refused shelter for the night. The plague was then raging in many parts of Scotland, and this might have been the reason of their uncourteous and unfriendly treatment of the sensitive bard. Stung by such ungenerous treatment, the poet disdainfully shook the dust from off his feet, and betook himself to the neighbouring town of Kirriemuir, where he at once received a hearty welcome. Having become acquainted with the pending feud betwixt the inhabitants of the two places, respecting a piece of ground called the Muir Moss, which was claimed by both parishes, Drummond resolved 2H 482 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. to be revenged for the affront put upon him by the burghers of Porfar. The Estates of Parliament were then sitting at St Andrews, and Drummond contrived to send a very formid- able official-looking document to the Provost, with the intention that his honour might suppose it came from that august body. The bait took so amazingly well, that the chief magistrate immediately convened the council and clergyman of the burgh to hear and deliberate upon the contents of the document. All being assembled, with eager haste the mysterious missive was opened, when much to their chagrin and disappointment they found it only contained the following severe philippic against themselves : " The Kirriemairians an' the Forfarians met at Muir Moss, The Kirriemairians beat the Forfarians back to the cross ; Sutors ye are, an Sutors ye'll be, Fye upo' Forfar, Kirriemuir bears the gree ! " The rivers or streams in this parish are the South Esk, which takes its rise at the mountains of Clova,and falls into 'the sea at Montrose ; the Prosen, which runs through Glenprosen, and after receiving the waters of several rivulets, falls into the South Esk, near Inverquharity ; the Carity, which rises at Bal- intore, and also falls into the South Esk, near Inverquharity. Some rare birds are found in this parish, such as the Golden Eagle, (Falco Chrysaetos) ; the Blue hawk, (F. cyaneus}; the Merlin, (F. AEsalon); the- Missel thrush, (Turdus viscivorus) ; the Ring or rock-ousel, (T. torquatus) the Snow-bunting, (Em- beriza nivalis) ; the Mountain finch, (F. montifringilla) ; the Wood-lark, (Alanda arborea) ; the Golden-crested wren (M. regulus) the least of all European birds ; the Wood-cock (Scolopax rusticolo) ; the Wild-swan (Anus cygnus ferus) ; the Spotted fly-catcher (Muscipula grisola) &c. Catlaw, the foremost mountain of the Grampian ridge, supposed to be the Mons Grampius of Tacitus, rising to the height of 2,264 feet above the level of the sea, is partly situated in the parish of Kirriemuir, and partly in the parish of Kingoldrum. The only eminences of any consequence in the KIRRIEMTJTR. 483 southern division of the parish, are the braes of Inverquharity, and the hill of Kirriemuir. The view from the latter hill is very extensive and beautiful in the extreme. To the east is seen the hills of the Mearns, which extend to the German Ocean ; and nearer at hand, the bold undulating heights of Finhaven. To the north, the scene that meets the eye is inexpressibly wild and sublime, hill rising upon hill, and mountain upon mountain, stretching grandly away with their cloud-covered summits, to the mystic confines of classic Loch- nagar, enshrouded with " its steep frowning glories," and casting around its gloomy shadow, like the surging, troublous life of the unhappy yet noble poet, who loved in youth to sing of its weird-like sublimity and awful grandeur, till its changing moods and fitful shades were photographed in unfading lines upon the rugged fretwork of his dark tumultuous soul. Far away in the west, backed by the mountains of Perthshire, amidst a flood of classic glory, bright and beautiful in the golden sunshine, rise Birnam wood and lofty Dunsinane hill, associated for evermore with the matchless fancy and transcendent genius of the bard of Avon. To the south, beneath our feet and on either hand, lies in all its unparalleled beauty, the lovely valley of Strathmore, bright with its glittering streams and daisied meadows, luxuriantly fruitful in its orchard woods, and waving fields of corn ; and supremely rich in all the delicate tints and gorgeous hues of an eastern landscape, blent with the wilder beauties of mountain scenery as a fitting background of Alpine magnificence. A very attractive object to the antiquarian is the "Standing Stone," on the hill of Kirriemuir, which, although it has no inscription of any kind, is, nevertheless, deeply interesting as a voiceless relic of the past. The stone, since its erection, has evidently been split into two, one part left standing, the other lying on the ground. Above the surface of the ground, the standing part is nine feet in height, and the lying part oi the stone nearly thirteen feet in length. The purpose for which the stone was erected is unknown. Regarding the cause of 484 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. the stone having been split into two, tradition saith, that after a most daring robbery had been committed by them, the robbers sat down beside the stone to count their gold, when the stone suddenly split into two, the falling part bury- ing the robbers and their booty underneath together. It is currently believed, that by lifting the stone, the treasure would be found, but to this day no one has had the courage to test the experiment ! Of Kocking Stones, or as the Highlanders call them Clacha Breath, that is, the stones of judgment, there are two a short dis- tance to the north-west of the hill of Kirriemuir. The one is of whinstone, and the other of porphyry, being three feet three inches in height, nine feet in length, and four feet ten inches in breadth ; and two feet in height, eight feet in length, and five feet in breadth, respectively. The most interesting feature in connection with these stones, is this, that whereas Mr Huddlestone, in his learned and elaborate notes to his edition of Tolland, authoritatively asserts, that no two rock- ing stones are ever found together, these stones are in close proximity to each other. Several " Weem's Holes," or caves in the earth, have been discovered in the parish; one on the top of the hill of Mearns, and another at Auchlishie. That on the hill is built of stone, and is about sixty or seventy yards in length. The other is a long subterranean recess in which, when it was opened, a currah and some querns were discovered. Descending from the hill of Kirriemuir, let us take our evening walk along the Den which extends to the east of the town, and where in my boyhood I loved to wander, when on occasional visits to a near relative at Denmill, during the short holidays then allowed at the Academy of Montrose. During the daytime I wandered up and down the ravine in golden reveries, building mystic shrines and gossamer " castles in the air," and wondering whether in after-life my youthful dreams would ever be realised. The sweet little burn called the Garie takes its rise in the KIRRIEMUIR. 485 loch of Kinnordy, and runs with a pleasant sound through the den. An excavation, or cave, in the red rock on the north bank of the stream, is called " The King's Chamber," beside which I often mused in dreamy reflectiveness. What was the origin of the name ; and what legend or tradition associated with it, could unravel somewhat of its history, were questions more easily put than answered. My grandfather voted it a myth ; but the fact was, the shrewd old man was, for once, quite at fault, for all his ingenuity completely failed to give an ordinary or extraordinary solution of the mystery. Left, therefore, entirely to my own resources, it was my delight to produce and reproduce all sorts of legendary fancies, quite satisfactory to myself if not to others. Taken in connection with the admitted facts, that the lonely den was the chosen resort of the Spunkies, and that the neighbouring farm of Glasswell was nightly haunted by ghosts and hobgoblins, I came at last to the sage conclusion, that as the elfins and fairies were presided over and ruled by a queen, the cave in the rock had been, and was the presence-chamber of the King of the Evil Spirits, where he, in royal state, gave audiences to his mythical subjects, and from whence were promulgated those terrible fiats of vengeance and destruction, which made men's hearts to quake with fear, and the material world to upheave in volcanic throes of expiring dissolution ! In the gloaming the good old man invariably accompanied me, and with his warm hand in mine, would relate with dra- matic power, as we went along, the mystic stories of bygone days ; of fairies in their robes of green at their wild incanta- tions beneath the silvery beams of the harvest moon ; of spunkies and waterkelpies, brownies and witches, each at his or her particular vocation ; of love-sick swains and broken- hearted maids ; making me tremble, and laugh, and weep by turns, till my young heart beat high with feelings strange and new, and my innermost soul was deeply stirred alternately with gushing joy or pensive sorrow, emotions which, at this distance of time, are as fresh and strong as when at first 486 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. they threw over me their fascinating spell under the virgin impulses of pristine youth. As we leisurely pursue our way down the winding road to Forfar, let us pause for a moment opposite the prettily situated farm of Redford, on our left. Another near relative was tenant of that farm in my boyhood. Though duty and inclination led me to devote the greater part of my holidays to Glands, I never failed to set aside a few days to spend with my aunt the ' Flower of Brigton " at Redford ; and these I divided, as best I could, with my old maternal grandfather at Denmill. The farm-house and steading remain the same, but what was the sweetest and most interesting feature in the landscape, has disappeared. You see that triangular field immediately to the left of the bye- road leading up to the farm, now waving in all the golden luxuriance of autumnal beauty ] It was not always so. In my boyhood, that now rustling field of corn fast ripening for the scythe of the reaper, was covered with a beautiful plantation of silver fir, whose fair spreading branches were vocal in spring with the melody of birds, and whose winding walks were redolent in summer with the balmy perfume of a thousand flowers. Many a bright summer day have I wandered alone in that sylvan wood, now penetrating into its inmost recesses, anon reclining on some mossy bank, the sweet choristers of Nature attuning the tender heart-strings of my virgin harp to the minstrelsy of the sky ! How sweet on the calm Sabbath morning to walk from the smiling farmstead through this fir-scented planting to the distant church, sur- rounded with an atmosphere of love, and purity and holy joy ! How refreshing its pleasant shade, when, after leaving the white and dusty road, we again, after sermon by the good Dr. Easton, entered its green o'ershadowed pathway welcomed back by the bursting melody of the happy birds, whose gushing strains seemed the more ravishingly joyous because of our return ! And now all is gone ! If I can never forget the spring- KIRRIEMUIR. 487 flush of happiness ministered to my ripening heart by that solitary wood of silver-fir, so, also, can I never forget those feelings of sadness and of pain, when, after an absence of many long years, I sought in vain for my favourite haunts in one of the most dearly cherished scenes of my early youth. Some time or other, dear reader it may be soon weeping eyes will look in vain for the landmarks of our existence ; and loving hearts will mourn our exit hence, the more deeply and the more sadly, insomuch as we have imperceptibly evapor- ated like a gossamer dissolving view, leaving not a memory behind. Be it ours then to fulfil our proper destiny, by striv- ing to develop to full fruition, those precious gifts with which a gracious God may have endowed us, and husbanding those blessed opportunities for doing good, which a kind Providence may have combined with our social positions in life. True, we cannot all aspire to be statesmen, philosophers, or poets, but each can do something, however infinitessimally small, to promote the general weal of the Commonwealth, and thereby accelerate the advent of that happy era in the world's history, when moral and Christian enlightenment shall flow down our streets like a stream, and righteousness as a mighty river. CHAPTER XLIV. THE CASTLE OF FORFAR. " The castell of Forfar was then, Stuffit all with Englishmen." Earbour. THE old castle of Forfar was of great but uncertain antiquity. All vestiges of the original building have long since disap- peared, and with them all record of the date of its erection, or the particular form of the structure itself. Boyce says that Forfar had a castle at the time of the Roman invasion under Agricola, which is considered to be altogether apocryphal. The castle, however, is recorded to have been the scene of the parliament which was held in the year 1057, by Malcolm Canmore after the recovery of his kingdom from the usurpa- tion of Macbeth, and in which surnames and titles were first conferred on the Scottish nobility. It is quite certain that within one hundred and fifty years after the death of that King, Robert de Quincy made over to Roger de Argenten what he designates, "my place of the old castle of Forfar, which our Lord King William gave to me in lieu of a toft, to be held of me and my heirs by him and his heirs, well and peacefully, freely and quietly." (Reg. Prioratus S. Andrae). It is evident from this charter, that there must then have been more than one castle at Forfar ; and this view is con- firmed by Boyce (Hollinshed's Chron.) who says, that Forfar was " strengthened with two roiall castles as, (he continues) the ruins doo yet declare. " It is supposed that the old castle given over by De Quincy was that of King Malcolm, which tradition states to have stood THE CASTLE OF FORFAR. 489 upon an island on the north side of the loch, called Queen Margaret's Inch, and that it was there King Malcolm held his first parliament, as already noted. The more recent castle would, on this hypothesis, have been the one that stood on the rising ground to the north of the town, called the Castlehill, some traces of which existed down to the end of the last century. William the Lion held a court at this castle between 1202-7 ; and Alexander I. held a parliament there in person, in 1225, and another in 1227, but from which the king was absent. King Edward and his retinue entered Forfar on Tuesday the 3d of July 1296, and resided in the castle until Friday the 6th. It would appear, however, that during the English monarch's stay at Forfar, only two churchmen and four barons from various parts of the kingdom went there and owned his superiority over Scotland. After Edward's depar- ture, it was held by Brian Fitzadam, one of his retainers, from whom it was captured by Sir William Wallace. It soon fell again into the hands of the English, who kept possession of the fort until its re-capture by Robert the Bruce. Barbour assigns the merit of this capture to Philip, the forester of Platane, near Finhaven : " The castell of Forfar was then Stuffit all with Englishmen, But Philip the forestar of Platane Has of his frendis with him tane, And with ledderis all prevely Till the castell he can him by, And clam out our the wall of stane, And saget has the castell tain Throu fait of wach with litill pan And syn all that he fand his slane. Syn yhald the castell to the King, That mad him richt gude rewarding, And syn gert brek down the wall, And fordid the castell all. And all the towris tumlit war Down till the erd " The castle, thus so completely demolished, was never 490 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. rebuilt, and the court afterwards resided, on its occasional visits to the neighbourhood, either at the Castle of Glamis, or at the Priory of Rostinoth. As not a vestige now remains of this fort on the Castlehill, no conception can be formed of its elevation or extent. The only representations of one or other of these ancient castles which now exist are the figure cut upon the top of the old market cross, and the device which forms the common seal of the burgh. These devices, however, apparently only give a representation of a very inconsiderable portion of what originally must have been a very palatial and extensive stronghold. Like the burghers of Coupar, the "sutors" of Forfar seem to have turned the ruins of the ancient edifice into a quarry, for it furnished them with the materials, it is affirmed, for the building of the old steeple, the west entry to the old church, and a large portion of the houses which formed the streets of the old county town ! Not a legend or tradition have I been able to trace in con- nection either with the castle on St Margaret's Inch, or the more kingly residence and stronghold on the castle hill. This is the more remarkable as interesting memorials of royal residences poetically survive in the names of some localities, such as, the King's muir, the Queen's well, the Queen's manor, the Palace dykes, and the Court road ; and in the vicinity, the King's burn, the King's seat, and the Wolf law where the nobles were wont to meet for hunting the wolf. Some bronze celts and cabinet ornaments, preserved in the Museum of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland ; and a few warlike swords and battle axes, in Glamis Castle, are all that remain to posterity of the royal palaces and castles of Forfar. Even the traditionary story of the armour found in the loch as being that of the murderers of Malcolm II., is rudely falsified by the more prosaic probability, that the swords and battle-axes had rather belonged to the soldiers who fell at the capture of the Castle of Forfar in 1308. Disappointed by the paucity of legendary lore, we must be content to note the more prosaic yet not less interesting THE CASTLE OF FORFAR. 491 historical facts. The first record of these is undoubtedly due to the liberality of the brothers Strang, merchants in Stock- holm, and natives of Forfar, who, in 1657 presented to the town three very handsome bells, of which the citizens are justly proud. They were originally hung in the old crazy tower which, until 1814, occupied the site of the present hand- some steeple, to which they were then with all due formality transferred. The inscriptions on the largest of the three bells is worth transcribing : viz " THIS BELL is PERFECTED AND AUGMENTED BY WILLIAM STRANG AND HIS WYFE MARGRET PATTILLO IN STOCKHOLM ANNO 1656. " The other inscription is on the east side of the bell viz : FOR THE GLORY OF GOD AND LOWE HE DID BEARE TO HIS NATIVE TOUNE, HATHE VMQ' ROBERT STRANG, FRIELY GIFFTED THIS BELL TO THE CHURCHE OF THE BcRGHE OF FORFAR, WHO DECEASED IN THE LORD IN STOCKHOLM THE 21 DAY OF APRIL, ANNO 1651. The following quotations from the Evangelist and Psalmist, surround the rim of the bell, at the top and bottom respec- tively : "GLORIA IN EXCELSIS DEO ET IN TERRA PAX HOMINIBUS BONA VOLUNTAS. ANNO 1656. " " LAETATUS SUM IN HIS QU^E DICTA SUNT MIHI IN DOMUM DOMINI IBIMUS STANTES ERANT PEDES NOSTRI IN ARTRUS TUIS JERUSALEM. ME FECIT GEROT MEYER. 1656." In the letter of William Strang to the magistrates of Forfar accompanying the gift, he naively says. "Pay the skipper his reasonable fracht for I behowed to gift him 2 bells for his ship, and hous wse befor he would grant to take it in. Per skipper whom God preserve. " Forfar had always stood firm to the cause of Episcopacy, its magistracy and council boldly protesting when occasion required against the pretensions of the covenanters. In the reign of Charles IL the following remarkable declaration 492 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. against the legality of the Solemn League and Covenant, was fulminated from the Council Chamber : " Wee Pro west, Baillies, and Counsellors of the burghe of Forfar, under subscryvand and evry ane of Ws Doe sincerly affirme and declaire That we judge it wnlawfull To subjects vpon pretence of reformatione or other pretence whatsoever, To enter into Leagues and Covenants, or to take vp armes aganest the King or theise commissionated by him. And all theise gatherings, conwocations, petitiones, protestationes, and erecting and keiping of counsell tables, that wore used in the beginning, and for careing on of the late troubles, wer wnlaw- full and seditious ; And particularlie that theise oathes wherof the one was comonlie called The Nationall Covenant (as it wes sworne and explained in the j m vj c and thirtie eight, and therefter, and the vther entituled A Solemne League and Covenant, wer and are in themselfes unlawful oaths, and wer taken by, and imposed vpone, the svbjects of this kingdome aganest the foundamentale Laws and Liberties of the same : And that ther lyeth no obligations vpone ws or any of the subjects from the saids oathes, or aither of them, to endeavoure any change or alteratione of the government, aither in churche or state, as it is now established by the Lawes of this King- dom : In witnes whereof wee put owr handis heirto att For- far this tuentie one day of December j m vj c thriescore thrie yeares. CHARLES DICKESON, prouest. T. GUTHRIE, bailie. CHARLES THORNTOUNE,balzie- A. SCOTT, counsellor. DA. DICKSON, counsellor. JAMES BENNY, counsellor. Eo. HOOD, counsellar. JHONE MORGAN. TH. BENNY, consoler. MR. WILLIAM SUTTIE, cown- cellar. H. CUTHBERT, coonceller. JOHNE AlRTH, JS. BROWNE, jr. JOHN COOK, JHON BRANDORE. JAMES BENNY, counsellor. The " Sutors " of Forfar are equally distinguished in ancient annals as those of their neighbours, the " Weavers " of Kirrie- THE CASTLE OF FORFAR. 493 muir. Their petty feuds, and the stinging satire of Drummond of Hawthornden, thereanent, have already been alluded to in the preceding chapter. At what period the manufacture of shoes or " brogues " was introduced into Forfar has not been very accurately ascertained, but it must at all events have been a considerable time before the visit of Drummond in 164:5. The learned Dr. Arthur Johnstone in his Poemata, 1642, assigns to the trade a fabulous antiquity, as appears from the following translation given by Jervise, in his "Memorials of Angus and Mearns" : " The ruines of a Palace thee decore, A fruitful! Lake, and fruitfull Land much more, Thy Precincts (it's confest) much straitened be, Yet ancient SCOTLAND did give Power to thee : Angus and other places of the Land, Yeeld to thy Jurisdiction and Command, Nobles unto the People Laws do give, By Handy -Crafts the vulgar sort do live. They pull of Bullock's-hydes and make them meet When tanned, to cover handsome Virgin's feet : From thee are Sandals to light Umbrians sent, And soils with latchets to Rope-Climbers lent : And Rullions werewith the Bowrs do go To Keep their feet unhurt with Yce and Snow. The ancient Greeks their Boots from this Town brought And also hence their Laidies slippers sought. This the Tragedians did with Buskings fit, And the Commedian-shooes invented it. Let not Rome henceforth of its Puissance boast Nor Spartans vaunt much of their warlick-host : They laid their yoak on necks of other Lands Farfar doth tye their feet and leggs with bands." Dr. Jamieson, the learned compiler of the Scottish Diction- ary, resided for seventeen years in Forfar, during which time from 1780 to 1797, he was pastor of the Anti-burgher congre- gation there, and " Living blest on Fifty pounds a year." During his residence in Forfar he enjoyed the society and friendship of Mr. George Dempster of Dunnichen, at whose hospitable board he formed the acquaintance of Grim Thorkelin, 494 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. professor of Antiquities at Copenhagen. The learned anti- quary had noted the similarity of many purely Gothic words then spoken in Forfarshire, with the Icelandic idiom, and from this hint the Doctor formed the resolution of writing a Diction- ary of the Scottish language. Some valuable paintings adorn the County Hall of Forfar, embracing excellent portraits of the hero of Camperdown ; Dempster of Dunnichen; Scott of Dunninald; and Henry Dundas, Lord Melville. At a county dinner, shortly after the picture of the famous Tory, Dundas, had been hung up in the hall, the late Lord Panmure a zealous adherent of the whig party, in a frolicsome mood applied a lighted taper to the portrait. The picture did not sustain much injury, but the incident gave rise to the following stinging satire by the Honourable Miss Wortley, whose relations were of the same politics as Dundas : " To vent his spleen on MELVILLE'S patriot name, MAXTLE gave his picture to the ruthless flame ; Nor knew that this was MELVILLE'S fame to raise Censure from MAULE is MELVILLE'S greatest praise. At Black Dykes, and Haerfaulds, in the neighbourhood of Forfar, there are traceable remains of two Eoman Camps. Between these, and at a distance of about a mile and a half east from Forfar, are the extensive remains of another camp, by some alleged to be of Roman, and by others of Pictish origin. It is supposed, that anciently a fosse extended from the Loch of Forfar to that of Eestennet, and Dr. Jamieson is of opinion, " that the ditch and the rampart had been cast by the Picts under Feredith, for guarding their camp against the attack from the Scots under Alpin, before the battle of Restennet." Ruins of a priory still exist at Restennet. This priory was connected with the Abbey of Jedburgh, and the charters and other important documents of that Abbey were deposited for safety at Restennet. Spottiswoode says, that about the year 697, one Boniface, an Italian, came to Scotland, where he erected several churches, one near the mouth THE CASTLE OF FORFAR. 495 of the Tay, a second at Tealing, and a third at Eestennet. According to Boece, Fergus had appointed lona to be a re- pository for the public records, but that Alexander I., on account of the great difficulty of the access to lona, had caused our annals to be transported to the Priory of Restennet in Angus. From the Prior of Restennet, the magistrates and town-council of Forfar purchased the right of patronage to Forfar-Restennet in 1652, for the sum of 2250 merks Scots. In 1643, the glebe of Forfar-Restennet, or more properly Rostinoth-Forfar, was removed nearer to the town, and, in lieu of the glebe allotted to the then incumbent Mr. Thomas Pierson, from the lands of Restennet, he had, as given by Jervise from archives of Burgh, "All and heall that craft of arribill land callit the Bread croft lyand within the territorie of the said burgh of Forfar, betwixt the lands of William Scott at ye wast, the lands of Jhon Morgoun on the east, the Ferrie- toun fields on the south, an the Kings gait ledand to Dundie at the north pairts, Extending to four ackers of arrabill land or thairby, to be holden in frie burgage and heretage for ye yeirlie payment of the Kings meall and wthors common anuells and debbit furth yrof of befoir, by the said Mr. Thomas Pierson, and his successors, ministers, serueing the kirk and cuir y r -of as a constant gleib to him and them in all time coming." Misinterpreting, or rather interpreting too literally, the words in Exodus " Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live," James VI. promulgated his celebrated statute for the punish- ment of witches. Forfar, like many other towns in Scotland, had her due share of the disgrace attendant upon the rigorous enforcement of this barbarous decree. The last execution for witchcraft which took place at Forfar, seems to have been about the year 1682. By a special Commission appointed by the Crown in 1661, it was decreed that " persones jimprisoned for witchcraft shall have no watch with them jn ther prisones, nor fyre nor candle, but that sex men nightly and dayly attend and watch them jn the vper tolbooth, and that the quartermaster shall order the watchmen to visit them at every 496 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. three houres end night and day." The "Witches Howe," where these poor creatures were put to death is situate a little north of the town, but is now occupied by works of industry and commerce. The branks or witches bridle, however, is still preserved in the county hall. It is a small circle of iron, consisting of four parts, connected by hinges, and adapted as a collar for the neck. Behind is a short chain, and in front, pointing inwards, is a gag which entered the mouth, and pressed down the tongue for preventing speech or cries amidst the tortures of the flames. This infamous instrument was usually found amongst the mingled ashes of the body and the faggots, after the infernal incremation was over. Shortly after the last execution for witchcraft, the town and neighbourhood of Forfar, was the stirring scene of a raid, or foray, between the Farquharsons and the M'Comies, two brave, yet revengeful Highland clans ; the former of Broch- darg in Glenshee, and the latter of Forther in Glenisla. The immediate cause of quarrel seems to have been a dispute in regard to a right of forestry in the forest of Glascorie. As usual in those days, a fatal conflict was the consequence. The opposing parties met near the muir of Forfar, on the 28th of January 1673. In the encounter M'Comie was severely wounded, the same shot killing his brother Robert, while ultimately the Farquharsons, savagely despatched John " with their durks and swords. " Brochdarg, afraid of the con- sequences to himself, precipitately took flight, but the M'Comies pursuing, soon overtook him, and killed him in cold blood at the extremity of the moss. Those who survived the fight were all outlawed. Traditional stories of this conflict at Forfar, are still fresh and rife in Glenshee, and Glenisla, in which the great personal strength and gallantry of the M'Comies are dwelt upon with the greatest enthusiasm. The chief of the clan was named " The big M'Comie." He delighted in wielding the claymore, and in popular feats of strength, such as THE CASTLE OF FORFAR. 497 "Putting the Stone," "Throwing the Hammer," and other Highland games, where great muscular power was indis- pensable to secure success. His natural daring and undaunted courage, M'Comie sedulously endeavoured to impart to his seven sons, the eldest of whom he supposed to have inherited the least of the courageous spirit of his ancestors. For the purpose of testing his powers, Mr Jervise graphically relates, that " the old man waylaid him one dark night, at a large stone in the solitude of G-lenbaynie, known at this day as " M'Comie's Chair," and pouncing upon him unawares, a dreadful tulzie took place between the father and the son. The father, finding his son's strength and courage fully a match for his own, at length discovered himself, upon which his astonished son is said to have allowed the sword to drop insensibly from his hand." A favourite resort of the old highlander was Camlochan, or "the Crooked loch," a beautiful sequestered spot on his property in Glenisla. Here, he is said to have had frequent interviews with a Mermaid, who revealed some wonderful stories to him; and on one occasion, like "witch Maggie," with Tarn o' Shanter, it is traditionised, "that she took advantage of his horse in a trip down Glenisla, by leaping on behind him ! " The big M'Comie was a severe disciplinarian, and the Cateran whom he ruled with despotic sway, instead of lamenting his death, regarded that event as a happy deliver- ance from his tyranny. One of the clan returning from the Lowlands at the time, on being asked the usual question " What News ? " with great rapture exclaimed " What News ? News ! and good news ! Blessed be the Virgin Mary ! The great M'Comie in the head of the Lowlands is dead, for as big and strong as he was ! " 21 CHAPTER XLV. THE VILLAGE CLUB, 1870. " A change we have found there and many a change, Faces and footsteps and all things strange ! " Mrs Hemans. ON the morning of Auld Yule, 1870, one, who had been long absent from these parts, might have been seen emerging from the Lowlands at the Sidlaw Hills, and taking his solitary way to the Glen of Ogilvy in the direction of Glamis. Although past the meridian of life, scarcely a grey hair yet silvered his forehead ; the bloom of health was on his cheek, the light of intelligence beamed in his eye, and his step was as firm and elastic as in the days of his sunny youth. As the well-remembered scene burst suddenly upon his view he paused on the verge of the Sidlaws overlooking the wild yet peaceful glen, with the feelings of one who had just left the outer world behind and entered a sequestered Elysium of quiet rest and peace. Was it so 1 Alas ! no resting-place for the foot of the weary wanderer but that of the ancient churchyard of his fathers, to which he was now instinctively approaching. With tearful eye he looked round on the once familiar scene. Here was Dryburns at his feet ; there was the Milton in the centre of the glen, and Middleton and Wood- end to the north ; with little and muckle Kilmundie in the far east, and reposing, as of old, under the shadow of the Hunter Hill, the mill and farm of Airniefoul, with the mountain rivulet still meandering through the glen with its unforgotten silver sound, just as it leaped and babbled in the days of yore. But where were the dwellers of the glen in his early youth 1 where the loved friends, the dear companions of THE VILLAGE CLUB. 499 his boyhood 1 ? where the sweet merry voices that once stirred to its deepest core the golden harp-strings of his young and innocent heart 1 All, all were gone " the once familiar faces." Hushed for ever on this earth the dearly cherished voices he once loved, and still, in his memory, loves so well He had now reached the very spot where his venerated parent had bade him farewell on his leaving the home of his fathers to fight the battle of life in the great restless world beyond. Had the visions of fame which then flitted across his youthful vision like the golden dreams of a blissful Elysium been in part, or in full realized ? Realized or not, the healthy pulsations of his heart beat true, as they ever had done, to the dearly cherished scenes of his early youth ; and the words he had uttered a decade of life before, he could, with as much truth and warmth of feeling, utter now : Dear spot ! though changed to me thou be, My wandering thoughts still turn to thee, Glad picturing bright the happy scene Of children's gambols on the green ; When all was beautiful around, That e'er to me loved, sacred ground. Oh ! when amidst the city's throng, I ne'er forgot my boyhood song ; When dulcet music strove to please, It brought to mind the swelling breeze, Which, rushing, swept my native glen, And tuned my mimic harp again. When vacant laughter, shouts of joy, Bewildered wild the rustic boy, I timid thought of foaming floods, Of maiden's songs, and summer woods. My native glen ! my heart's been thine, Through all this chequered life of mine ; When fortune swelled the prosperous gale, Or fate low howled her shuddering wail ; When friendship burned without alloy, Or did its devotees destroy ; When first lve thrilled its magic tone, 500 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. Or charmed the cold false-hearted one ; When children's blest sweet voices rung, Or sad, bereaved, the bosom wrung ; Throughout each scene of grief or joy, In manhood's prime as when a boy, I loved with thee in thought to be, My wearied heart e'er turned to thee ! Village Scenes. He now in sadness mused by the old homestead and " Ancient Mill : " There stood the house, the old apple tree, In age with grey branches adorning ; And there in the gable his own little window, Where the sun peep'd through in the morning. And there was the steading, the stack'd farm-yard, The haughs for bleaching the claes ; The mill and the burn, and the dark Hunter Hill, The uplands, and broom-covered braes. It is said the dread, unbroken silence which ever pervades the vast forests of the American continent are more eloquently impressive than their vastness of extent, or their unrivalled prodigality of luxuriant beauty. And so, with the keenest edge of that saddening and painfully oppressive feeling, did the hushed silence which now reigned around his birth-place pierce the innermost recesses of the traveller's soul, until a wel- come flood of tears obscured from his vision the landmarks of his fathers, as he, with overpowering emotion, exclaimed : " Oh ! for the wings of a dove, that I might flee away and be at rest!" Having crossed the burn, our traveller now took his way by the well-known by-path through the Hunter Hill : And onwards, how sadly ! through copeswood he wander'd, Yet feeling a deep solemn ^oy, For these were the pathways, zigzag in the woodland, Where rambled he free when a boy. He entered at last the village of Glamis ; and, standing on THE VILLAGE CLUB. 501 the bridge over the burn, he could recognise little, if any change in the salient points of the landscape. There flowed, in low breathed music as of old, the little mountain rivulet, and on its rugged banks the leafless brushwood, and icicle- bespangled trees, studded like a woodland terrace, the romantic base of the well-known Hunter Hill. Beneath, stretched out the fondly cherished village green, alive at the moment, with the rural urchins' happy merriment on being let loose from the galling restraints of Compound Division, and the Rule of Three. The millwright's shop, and the blacksmith's shed, still stood in their wonted place on the right bank of the stream ; while further to the south, the ruins of the old spinning mill seemed the only object in view on which the iron pencil of time had inscribed the dreaded word " Change." Turning to the north, the old romantic meal mill, with all its tender associations, met at once his loving gaze ; and the churchyard, church and manse, reposing among the leafless woods, filled up sympathetically, the receding background of the picture. Then his mind instinctively again reverted to the unforgotten past. Fixing his weary eyes on the manse, his thoughts lovingly wandered back to the many happy hours he had spent in that sainted dwelling, when the lovely and accomplished family of the venerable Dr Lyon shed a radiant sunshine over their peaceful village home ; until one after another had taken their solitary way to the dark and silent land of the dead ! He then thought of the learned Dr. Crawford, and the accomplished Dr. Taunoch, the first regret- tingly removed from this peaceful scene, to high office in the Metropolitan University ; and the last, dying the death of the Christian in that sequestered manse, and followed to the grave by the lamentations of all who had known him as their pastor and friend. His mind full of warm and loving remembrances, and as if his eye had forgotten to search for something that was lost, he once more turned round in the direction of the 502 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. Hunter Hill, and gazed long and fondly on some deeply cherished object that then met his view. Ah ! he had not forgotten to look for what now so intensely interests him ; but aware of the eifect the sight of it would have upon his sensitive feelings, he had refrained to the last from subjecting them to the severe and painful ordeal of recognition. With a heart too big for words, with eyes too full for tears, he felt that some loved Presence was, unseen, encompassing him as with a halo of celestial brightness. The object, dear reader, on which he so agonizingly, yet lovingly gazed, was an isolated, lonely dwelling on the left bank of the stream, and that silent cottage was once the home of " The Forester's Daughter ! " No wonder, poor soul ! that he felt the extreme bitterness of hopeless grief, for there was the well-known garden in which Eliza had tended her favourite flowers ; yonder the little window where she had sat reading or at work ; and, fronting the west, the honeysuckle porch from whence her pure and gentle spirit had passed silently away to her home in the sky. ' Had she lived, how different, he thought, might his life have been ! COULD HE EVER FORGET HER ? Forget her ? mock me not ; behold The everlasting hills, Adown whose rugged fissures dash A thousand flashing rills. E'en they, inheriting decay, Slow moulder though unseen, But love, celestial sacred flower, Is ever fresh and green. Forget her ? gaze on that bright stream, E'er deep'ning, as it runs, Its rocky channel, leaping free In storms and summer suns. So in my heart of hearts do years, As onward swift they roll, The deeper grave in diamond lines, Her name upon my soul. THE VILLAGE CLUB. 503 Forget her ! hast thou ever loved ? Know then love cannot die, Eternal as the eternal God 'Twill ripen in the sky. yes ! sad drench 'd in tears on earth, By storms and tempests riven, Twill only blossom in its prime In the golden air of Heaven ! The village of Glamis is one of those ancient places which change not with the lapse of years, and, therefore, just because of its unchangeableness, the more dear to those who have long been absent from their native Strath. While every other town and village in Scotland has of late gradually assumed a new aspect, Glamis remains almost the same as it was a cen- tury ago. The only new houses erected in this village during that decade of time, are the masonic lodge on the east, and the handsome parochial school and school-house to the west. There was one change, however, not in the building but in the occupation thereof, which arrested the attention of the traveller. The old school-house, associated to many with the fondest recollections, was turned into a lumber room or wash-house ! The sight was too much for him, and he sor- rowfully retraced his footsteps to the village. Standing at the door of the village hostelrie, the aspect of the village seemed to the stranger in all its externals, very much the same as it was forty long years ago. The well remembered names over the shop doors had disappeared, and with them the old respected traders who had so long supplied the wants and luxuries of the villagers. He looked in vain for the name of the old hostess over the door of the hospitable inn by which he was musing ; it too had disappeared. He was glad to know, however, she was still hale and hearty, although now known by another name than the well-remem- bered one of old. As he sauntered through the village, his mind reverted to the many characters of former days, who by their wit and sarcasm, their calvinistic enthusiasm, and sterling worth, had 504 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. enlivened and made bright the little community in which they lived, and moved, and had their being. He imagined he still beheld the smith his hammer ply, With brawny arm so lustily, That every stroke upheaved the ground, While showers of sparks flew wheeling round ; and, with fond recollections of the many genial hours he had spent with him in the old meal mill, Still seated at his cottage door, He saw the miller pondering o'er, With waggish eye and smile so sleek, The bargains of the by-gone week, Well pleased, he'd added to his store One weighty, well-paid melder more. There goes his old sarcastic friend the hard-wrought, ill- paid village postman of other days : With gaucy face and honest smile, And words upright no art or guile, He's civil, kind, polite to all, In lowly cot, or courtly hall ; But many a weary mile he goes Through raging storms and drifting snows, In noon-day bright or twilight dim, By lonely wood or castle grim, And lists the owl's wild eildrich scream, By haunted tower, or roaring stream. And here comes poor daft Geordie, the simpleton of the village, with whom the stranger in his boyish days had cracked many a humorous joke, sometimes to the discomfiture of the simpleton, but very much oftener to his own : George long a denizen had been, Well known about the village green ; Though all he curtly passes by, Nor aught displays of courtesy, Yet he his life would quickly peril, To please the factor or the earl. After these imaginary meetings with former friends in his solitary ramble through the village, the stranger entered the THE VILLAGE CLUB. 505 western gate of the Castle, and looked long and wistfully along the lime-shaded avenue to the magnificent hoary pile beyond. There it was, with its massive walls, and spacious courts, its spreading wings and lofty tower, its ramparts and battlements, and cone-roofed turrets as of old. Yet, even here, associations were not wanting personally to connect some incidents in his life with the venerable and princely pile which proudly seemed to challenge his right of relation- ship with its history : For from these grey embattled towers, We gazed on mountain, lake and stream, On woodlands, meadows, sylvan bowers, All seemed a fairy sunny dream ; Till her sweet voice awoke, dispell'd The wizard minstrelsy of the past ; Then first my youthful heart rebelled, 'Twas our first meeting, and our last. Eetracing his steps, the stranger walked up the lane which led to the manse, and entering the church-yard he paced slowly among the tombs, and the lonely burying-ground would literally to him have been a land of silence, had it not been for the humming voice of the old grave-digger, as he dug a little grave on the eastern brow of the hill which gently slopes down to the murmuring rivulet at its base. "A very small grave that you are digging, my friend," softly said the stranger, to the hoary sexton of sixty winters. Resting from his work and looking up inquiringly at the speaker, that worthy quaintly replied, " It's a sma' bit grave indeed, but big eneuch to baud the corp o' a little wean scarcely a year auld, sir." " Do you take as much pains with the graves of the young," the stranger asked, " as you do with those of the old ? " "Fat for. no," was the rather testy reply, " the weest bairnie that dees is as precious in God's sicht as the man o' fourscore, and shudna' it be as precious in mine 1 " This was rather a home-thrust to the stranger, who parried it off, however, very adroitly by immediately putting a further 506 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. question to the grave-digger of a totally different import, viz : "Is your trade in these parts in a healthy state at present?" " Gie middlin, sir," was the rather doleful reply "Ye see, sir, sin' the mosses an' marshes i' the parish hae been a' drained, an' brocht under cultivation an' a' the spunkies an' waterkelpies hae disappeared, foulks are livin' langer than they used to do, and if this be so, it stands to reason, that there canna be sae mony buirrils." " But the spunkies and waterkelpies," said the stranger, " could not have been the cause surely of the previous greater mortality ! " " No juist directly," somewhat hesitatingly replied the sexton, " but," he continued, " the fac' is as I hae stated, for sin' thae uncannie cre'tures hae taen their departure, there has na been sae mony deeing within a given time as afore, although my opinion is that it's a tempting o' Providence aifter a'. There was, for instance, an auld residentor i' the parish deed lately at the advanced age o' ninety-twa, and if it hadna been for some illness they ca' the elic passion, he micht hae made out the hunder an' been livin yet ! " " Is there any vacant ground that could be acquired by my- self, as my own burial place 1 " asked the stranger with some emotion. " But you're no deed yet, sir," sarcastically replied the sex- ton, " time eneuch to bury you surely when you're deed 1 " " But we're enjoined to prepare for death," solemnly said the stranger, " and this implies preparation for the grave." " Did you want the bit grund for yo'urseP 1 " reflectingly said the sexton ; adding after a short pause " there's a bonnie spot aboon St. Fergus' Well wud suit you to a tee, for in summer-time the burnie below and the birdies above wud sing to you frae mornin' tae nicht, and you wud sleep there juist as cozily as in your ain bed, sir." " But in winter 1 " enquiringly asked the stranger. " Ou aye in winter" somewhat perplexed, answered THE VILLAGE CLUB. 507 the sexton " ye see, when you're lyin' there, sir, you'll no need to care whether it be winter or no ; an' at ony rate, the robin redbreast will be happin' aboot amang the leafless bushes, an' singin' his fareweel sang to the expirin' year, an' may-be he'll gather some o' the withered leaves that will be rustlin' i' the furrows, an' gently cover your grave as was dune to the ' Babes in the Wood ' in the days o' auld : but I maun get on wi' my wark though, for you see the sun is juist aboot settin' ahint the Grampians, and the day-licht will sune gie place to the darkness o' a cauld wintry nicht." The old man again began shovelling the earth out of the little grave, when all at once, and as if something had suddenly come to his remembrance, he ceased work in an instant, and leaning reflectively on his spade, thus interrogatively addressed the stranger, who still lingered in silence by the little grave: " Ye kent the Forester's daughter in your youth ? " " You know me then ? " quickly said the startled traveller. " Ou aye," replied the sexton, " I kent you by in " " Intuition," interrupted the strange r. " That's it thank you, sir," replied the sexton, " it's a word gie aften used by thae harum-scarum cre'tures they ca' poets, an' I'm no juist vera sure what they mean by it, but I ken my ain meariin' o't, which is, when people ken things without bein' tell'd by ony body. Ken you 1 Man, I kent wha you wis whenever my een lichtet on your face, an' what's mair I kent a' your forbears afore your day tae." " That could scarcely be," quietly retorted the stranger, " for my ancestors have been connected with the parish of Glamis and that of Kinnettles for many centuries." " I kent a guide wheen o' them, though," impatiently answered the sexton, " an' as for the rest o' them, I hae heard o' them at ony rate, an' that comes pretty much to the same thing I dar' say " " Did you know Mr Wood, the Forester 1 " interposed the stranger. 508 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. " Kent Maister Wud, the forester ? " exclaimed the sex- ton, "Man I kent him as weel as I ken mysel' ; an' a dainty, weel-faured, weel-edicate gentleman he was, an' a great favourite wi' everybody on the estate. An' as for Mrs Wud she was a stately, weel-bred, comely woman, an' fit to be the companion o' ony countess i' the land. She was a born ledclie, sir, an' I could tell you something o' her history that ye may- be dinna ken onything aboot." " What is that 1 " hastily interrupted the stranger. " That she was a gentlewoman by birth, sir," replied the sexton. "Maister Wud, in his early youth," he continued, " was overseer an' forester to a heeland laird i' the wast countrie, an' while there ane o' the dochters o' the laird fell in luve wi' him, or may be it wid be nearer the truth to say, that they baith fell in luve wi' ane anither. Fa' in luve was ae thing, but hoo to get buckled as man an' wife was quite anither thing. Ae thing was quite clear, an' that was, that the heeland pride o' the laird wid never submit to such a degradation. So, the short an the 'lang o' it is, that they made a rin-awa match o't, an' cam' doon to the low countrie to push their fortunes, an after a while settled at Glamis. That raither astonishes you, freend, does it not 1 " " It does indeed," said the stranger, in a musing mood. " But I'm no dune yet, sir," quickly continued the grave- digger; "fouks that didna ken ony better, objecit to the grand ideas an' fine words you put into the lassie's heed, in her last illness, because, said they, forsooth, it was na nat'ral to think that ane in her station, could think sic grand thochts an' say sic fine tilings, forgettin' that she was the dochter o' a born leddie, an' the very image o' her mother. Eliza was weel edicate, an' alang wi' her ain accomplishments, had inherited the graces, intelligence, an' beauty o' her mother ; for puir folk may say what they like, but there's a certain air an' manner connecit wi' gentle blude, that is very winnin' an' which inspires respect, an' is as different fae the airs an' THE VILLAGE CLUB. 509 manners o' your upstart, imitation gentry, as buckram is fae camric, or pinckbeck fae fine gold." " You seem to be well acquainted with the history of the Forester and his family," quietly said the stranger. " Yes," rejoined the sexton, still leaning on his spade, and fixing his eyes still more intently on those of the stranger, " an' the story o' the " Forester's Daughter," revived a' the memories o' the past sae clearly, yet sae sadly, that I couldna read o' her deeing at the cottage door, without sheddin' mony a bitter tear o' sorrow, an' even yet, I canna read it without greetin' like a bairn ; very affectin' though," continued the old man, as, after a pause, he turned round, and again gently dug his spade into the ground, while the bursting tears stand- ing for a moment in his trembling eyelids, at last ran down his furrowed cheeks in a copious stream. " Nae winder " the stranger heard him saying, as if speaking to himself, as he quietly retired from the scene " Nae winder than he was half broken-hearted at the loss o' his early love, for mine wid hae broken a' thaegither, if it had haen the chance. She was as bonnie an' sweet a lassie as ever trod God's earth but she was owre gude for this warld, and so her Heavenly Father took her to himsel'. We'll soon, however, meet her up yonder, where there is no sighin', or sorrow, an' where the tears will be wiped away from every weeping eye : " A few short years of evil past. We reach the happy shore, Where death-divided friends at last, Shall meet, to part no more." Darkness now set in and the beautiful stars were shining brightly in the welkin above, betokening a clear and frosty night, the weather being in agreeable contrast to the dark murky sky and blinding snow-storm of that well-remembered yule evening when last we met the jocund members of the Village Club, in all the plenitude of their glory and happi- ness. 510 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. The stranger now slowly retired from the churchyard, and having reached the village Inn, he requested to be shown upstairs to the dining-room. The well-known resort seemed pretty much the same as it appeared to him on his last visit. The table and chairs stood in the same position as of old, and, with the exception of the adornment of the walls, and the introduction of gas, no change was apparent in the cherished sanctum of other years. Summoning the landlady he politely asked her on her appearance, if the members of the Village Club still held their periodical meetings in that room, and assembled at Yule to make merry over their cups as in the days of yore ] The landlady as courteously replied, that these meetings were principally held there during the occupancy of her pre- decessor, Mrs Hendry, but that she knew the several members very well. " How many do you expect to-night 1 " enquired the stranger. " None," was the hostess' solemn reply. " None ! " repeated the stranger, " Are they all gone ? " " All gone, sir," said the hostess. " Do I understand you to mean, my good lady, that they are all dead 1 " further enquired the stranger. " Four of them, I know, are dead and buried," replied the good-natured landlady "and as for the fifth, he has been so long absent from the Howe, that we may safely put him, I think, in the same black list too." "Who died first?" hurriedly asked the stranger "and what were the circumstances attending his death 1 " "The Laird was the first to dee," said the landlady, " because I suppose he was the oldest. He deed as he had lived, farming his ain land, in the auld style, and drivin' hard bargains to the last. He retained his quiet pawky humour in his auld age. and even in his last illness, he enjoyed a sly joke immensely, firing off his retorts wi' a' the vigour o' his youth." THE VILLAGE CLUR 511 "And the next?" " The Smith," rejoined the engaging hostess ; " he wasna lang o' deein' aifter the laird, wi' whom he had had mony a tulzie about free will, an' election, an' the Covenant o' grace. He died quite calm, askin' to be forgiven for a' the temper he had displayed, an' a' the harsh words he had used, in the many debates an' disputes in which he had sae often been engaged, an' turnin' his face to the wall, fell gently asleep." " Who followed him t " " The Miller but he lived to a green old age, waggish and jolly to the last. It was a treat to look upon his happy smiling face, and to share in his contentment, and enjoy his good fellowship." " One by one they are falling through the bridge the last will soon follow. Who was the next to fall 1 " " The Dominie and it's only a few years ago since they buried him in the Kirkyard o' Kinnettles, for although he had given up teaching on account o' the frailties o' auld age, an' retired to Forfar to spend the evening o' his days there, he made it his last request to be interred beside the village where he had so long taught the promising youth o' the Howe o' Strathmore." Before making any further enquiries, the stranger feelingly asked his hostess, whether she was aware, " that when four were removed by death, the surviving member was bound to visit the Club-room in the village hostelrie every Auld Yule evening thereafter, so long as he was able, and drink a bumper in solemn silence to the memory of those who were gone 1 " Our hostess, somewhat nervelessly, replied, that she was aware of the strange compact, which she believed, was not now likely ever to implemented. " This is the same table, is it not, at which they sat ? " ex- citedly asked the stranger, unheeding her reply "place five chairs around the board in the way they used to be arranged when the Club met at Auld Yule there, that will do now 512 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. bring up the old punch-bowl filled to the brim with the finest toddy you can brew : You have still the old china punch- bowl, have you not ? " What, between the placing of the chairs to please the stranger, and the number of questions asked, the obliging hostess was put into a state of nervous tremour akin to super- stitious fear, the reverse of agreeable to a sensitive nature like hers. Eecovering herself, however, and thinking what a strange customer she had to deal with, she quietly responded, " That is the table at which the members of the Club sat, and the old punch-bowl from which they drank is still to the fore in remembrance o' their meetings. But you're no in earnest, surely, in askin' me to fill the bowl wi' punch : wha's to drink it a' ? " " Your duty is to obey " quickly retorted the stranger, immediately adding in a kinder, though mysterious tone " Execute the order and bring the bowl, for we don't know WHO may partake of its contents." Our hostess, sadly puzzled to account for the eccentricities of her guest, came to the wise conclusion, that it would be the safest way to comply with his request, and quietly abide the result. Left alone, the stranger seated himself at the table, on the same chair, it might be, on which he had sat, as it was cer- tainly the same position he had occupied, on the last occasion at which he was present at the meeting of the Club, on the evening of Auld Yule forty long years ago. " I have had playmates," said he, with Charles Lamb : " I have had playmates, I have had companions, In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days ; All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. " I loved a love once, fairest among women ; Closed are her doors upon me I must not see her ; All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. " Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my childhood Earth seemed a desert I was bound to traverse, Seeking to find the old familiar faces. THE VILLAGE CLUB. 513 " Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother ; Why wert not thou born in my father's dwelling ? So might we talk of the old familiar faces " How some they have died, and some they have left me, And some are taken from me all are departed All, all are gone the old familiar faces. " The hostess now appeared with the capacious punch bowl, but she had taken the wise precaution not to fill it above half full, afraid of what the consequences might be to herself were her guest to drink it all himself. " You have only brought one glass," rather querulously said the stranger "be kind enough," he continued, "to send up other four." "Other four?" repeated the hostess, in amazement, " Other four glasses ! when there's naebody i' the room but yoursel' ! " " Yes," said the stranger " other four glasses, you are not aware, as I have already said, who may yet be present to- night to assist me in my orgies ! " Our hostess looked more bewildered than ever, but still acting upon the safe principle, that it was better to flatter fools than to fight with them,; she instantly disappeared to obey the imperious behest of her strange guest. Not choosing to entrust her servant with the fulfilment of the message, she appeared in a few seconds with the four glasses, which she tremulously put down beside the punch- bowl, opposite to the chair on which the stranger sat. "Place one glass before each chair," said the stranger, in a still more imperious tone ; which request was no sooner complied with by the attentive hostess, than the stranger, by a dignified wave of the hand, dismissed her from his presence ! As she retired from the room, she cast another doubtful glance at her guest, thinking at the same time, he was cer- tainly the strangest customer she had ever had in her life, and wondering what the upshot of all these mad-cap manoeuvres would eventually be ! 2K 514 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. Again left alone, and having drank in solemn silence to the memory of those who were gone ; the stranger fell into another reverie, still sadder and gloomier than the last ; for in sharp, clear outlines, vividly and truthfully defined, the whole course of his past life, like a luminous panorama of light and shade, of sunshine and of storm, passed rapidly in review before him, and like fairy gossamer dissolving views, as quickly, in dreamy indistinctness, faded mysteriously away ! As the summer sun, in lessening radiance, lingers lovingly on some solitary mountain-top, as if loth to withdraw from it her golden beams, so there was one scene in his life, which, frescoe- like, stood out in grand relief from all the others, and on which the wayward sun of his destiny, still lavished his linger- ing tints of undiminished glory. This cherished scene was the last, and, in some respects, the happiest meeting of the " Village Club, " at which he had been present ; and the reason why it stood out in such vivid distinctness, could be discovered in the fact, that he had then, unconsciously, prophetically fore- shadowed some of the turning points of his life, and had, in picturing the feelings of an imaginary hero, given, by anticipa- tion, expression to the very feelings by which his troubled mind was now so poignantly agitated : For in the autumn ripe of life, The scenes that brightest shine, Within our inmost heart of hearts, Are the days o' langsyne ! The stranger now overcome with his emotions, covered his face as of old, weeping long and bitterly, like one who would not be comforted. The flood of grief having somewhat expended itself, he looked up again through his blinding tears, when a mystical haze seemed to have filled the room, so that he could not recognise the various objects around with sufficient dis- tinctness to enable him to analyse them as before. The mist grew denser as he gazed, but having apparently reached its climax, it gradually dissolved away, and there, each seated on his own chair, sat the other members of the Club, just as THE VILLAGE CLUB. 515 they had talked and laughed, and sung, and disputed forty long years ago ! In the chair of honour, sat the worthy President of the Club in all the panoply of state, conducting the weighty business of the meeting with the same pompous dignity as of yore. On his right sat the Laird, on his left the Smith : while our jolly friend the Miller, was boisterously engaged in singing his favourite song " The Miller o' Dee. " After the ringing applause which followed the Miller's song had subsided, the chairman called for a bumper to the good health, long life, and prosperity of the singer, which was heartily responded to with all the honours, as of old. "Hand in your glasses," impatiently demanded the Dominie, " for there is a great deal of work to get through, before we can break up for the night. " While the glasses were being replenished, the Laird and the Smith had drifted away into an acrimonious argument as to the relative merits of Arminianism versus Calvinism, ending as usual, in neither being convinced by the luminous and learned arguments of the other, very much to the chagrin and disgust of the stalwart Smith, who, in his own peculiarly charitable way, imagined none so well understood the bearings of theological subjects as he did himself. " That's aye the way wi' you twa, " indignantly chimed in the Miller, " wranglin' an fechtin' awa aboot doctrinal points that naebody noo understands, or cares a single flee aboot. But, my certe, if ance Patronage were abolished, an' I may live to see it sweepit awa wi' the besom o' destruction yet the barrier atween a' the sects will be sae microscopically sma' that fouks will need to search for it as they would for a needle in a wisp o' strae : ha, ha, ha ! An' the best o' it a' will be, that thae doctrinal disputes, an' a' ither bickerins aboot this ism an' that ism, will never be heard o' mair, for in the words o' Scripture " The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid ; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together ; and a little child shall lead them. " Will that no be so, Student 1 516 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. " You're unco dull an' melancholy the nicht, man. Noo, when you've gotten fame, if not fortune, I expecit ye wid ha e been as cheery as the liltin' birdies o' your ain bonnie sangs wha sing as if nae cankerin' sorrow or care had ever rent their little hearts. You see I aye gae you the auld familiar name, although mony lang years hae flown by since last ye met your trusty cronies four at the celebration o' Auld Yule in the bonnie Howe o' Strathmore. Here's a lilt to cheer you up a bit, my boy : " sings What though the night be stormy, 'Twill break before the day, What though the day be cloudy, The clouds will pass away. Come, let us e'er be manly, Treat life not as a toy, There's manliness in sorrow, There's manliness in joy. Pray ever calm contentment May make its voice be heard, And set our heart a-singing, Sweet like a little bird. No more unjust complaining Of ills we never feel, All rousing now put boldly Our shoulder to the wheel. Let him who wields the hammer, List music in the sound, As from the sturdy anvil The sparks fly thick around. Let him who guides the shuttle, See through the misty gloom The dignity of labour, E'en at the humble loom. And let the pale mechanic, No cause see of chagrin, While guiding man's invention, The complicate machine. THE VILLAGE CLUB. 517 And happy, gay the miller, Aye merry may he be, While grinding out the barley, Or on the grassy lea. The peasant at the ploughshare, May oft his heart upraise, As from the woodland rises The melody of praise. So may the ship-tost sea-boy, Aloft upon the shrouds, Hear God above the thunder, And see Him in the clouds. And loud in voice angelic, Be heard the poet's song, All cheerful, hopeful ever, The joy-notes to prolong ; Its rolling notes of gladness, So pleasant, yet so coy, All heav'n in rapture list'ning To earth's high song of joy ! " Well done, Miller," exclaimed the worthy Dominie ; "I like volunteered songs best," he continued ; "they are fresher and more enjoyable than the formally prepared musical effusions we have had hitherto, and following the good example of our facetious friend, I will also give you a song from the impulsive recollections of the moment. Before doing so, just allow me one word of explanation. You all know with what intense interest I continue to watch over the future fortunes and destinies of my " Laddies ;" for they remain aye laddies to me though the golden hair of their youth may be turned to silver grey. Well, very lately, while enjoying the hospitalities of the happy home of an old pupil on the east coast, in whose career I was proudly interested, my friend proposed an excur- sion to the caves of Auchmithie. Delighted to be his com- panion with such an inviting object in view, I accompanied him the next morning to view these celebrated caves, the sight of which more than repaid us for the exertions of a long 518 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. summer day in exploring their mystical recesses. Beautifully grand and solemnly impressive as were the scenes through which we passed, the thoughts of my companion seemed nevertheless, incomprehensibly to be fixed on other objects than those which met his eye ; and a feeling of relief evidently came over him when we at last rested on the velvet green sward by the ruins of the ancient castle of Redhead over- looking the beautiful bay of Lunan. ' There, ' he enthusiasti- cally exclaimed Is the bonnie, bonnie bay All bright with sea-gemmed shells, and glistering sands, White skiffs light dancing o'er the sparkling waves, And coursing sea-mews, in a giddy maze Of snowy whiteness, 'mong the golden clouds ! Dost thou remember of my young heart's wish To dwell through life within that cozy manse, The guide, the father of my little flock, Lulled to sweet rest by murmuring waves, awoke Each Sabbath morn by Sabbath bell's loved chimes, All softly blent with music of the sea ? " After this spontaneous burst of poetic enthusiasm, his soft tremulous voice blending pensively with the gentle ripple of the tiny billows on the far stretching yellow sands beneath, he sang, as I now sing to you THE BONNIE BAY o' LUNAN. Yonder bright the bay, The bonnie, bonnie bay, Yonder bright the bay, The bonnie bay o' Lunan ! Sparkling white with silver waves, Girt with high wild rocky caves, Mermaids sing o'er seamen's graves In the bonnie bay o' Lunan. Yonder bright the bay, The bonnie, bonnie bay, The bounie bay o' Lunan. Glist'ring shine the purple shells, Gemmed with flowers the woody dells, THE VILLAGE CLUB. 519 Softly chime the evening bells In the bonnie bay o' Lunan. Crested white the bay, Wavelet's murm'ring play In the bonnie bay o' Lunan. Wafted gently by the gale, Come the boats with slacken'd sail, Hark ! the joyous welcome : " Hail ! To the bonnie bay o' Lunan ! " Brightly gleams the bay, The bonnie, bonnie bay, The bonnie bay o' Lunan. Now the boats unload their store, Creels lie piled along the shore ; Plenty reign for evermore In the bonnie bay o' Lunan. Lovely calm the bay, The bonnie, bonnie bay, The bonnie bay o 1 Lunan. Hark ! the fisher's jovial song, Wives and bairns the strains prolong, Old men shout, maids trip along In the bonnie bay o' Lunan. Sunny bright the bay, The bonnie, bonnie bay, The bonnie bay o' Lunan. Bright like life the morning sky, Soft like death the shadows lie, Sweet to live, how blest to die In the bonnie bay o' Lunan ! Softly sleeps the bay, The bonnie, bonnie bay, Softly sleeps the bay, The bonnie bay o' Lunan ! "Very good," said the Laird; "capital," chimed in the Miller; "excellent," added the Smith, who apparently bent on winning new laurels in the field of extempore effusion, immediately sang with more than his accustomed spirit : 520 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. THE GOLDEN OKANGE. sweet the golden orange, The fragrance of the vine, And beautiful the maidens Of sunny Palestine. But I like the blooming heather, The odour of the pine ; My native land, I love thee, And people that are thine. How luscious, fig and pine-apple, Bananas of the plain. The fruitage of the palm -date, The vintage red of Spain. Bat I like the English apple, Strawberries when they're fine, And after rich plum-pudding, A cup of elder wine. AH grand the western prairies, Where buffaloes abound ; Or Afric's spreading vallies, Where zebras skip the ground. But I like the gowan'd meadows, Where browse the udder'd kine, Where frisk the sportive lammies, And brooklets sparkling shine. How rich the note of nightingale In balmy southern plains, And minstrel gallant serenades Of love-sick swarthy swains. But I like the warbling linnet, The blackbird's evening song, And whisp'rings soft of lovers The hazel bowers among. AH gorgeous bright the palaces By Indian sparkling seas, Soft shaded by the palm-tree, Fann'd by the balmy breeze. But I like the ivy cottage Embower 'd 'mong eglantine, With porch of honeysuckle, White fiow'ring- jessamine. THE VILLAGE CLUB. 521 fair the dark-eyed damsels In islands of the sun, Who sound the lute and timbrel, Where silver waters run. But I like the Highland lassies, To me they're all divine, Dear Scotland, how I love thee, And people that are thine ! Great applause followed the singing of this song, the Miller declaring he " didna gie a carl doddie for ony thing furrin ;" and as for the ladies, "commend me," said he with emphatic unction, "to the dimpled cheeks, the pouting lips, and the bonnie blue e'en o' our ain Scotch winsome lassies 1" "Well," quietly said the Laird, "I'll no be behind ony o' ye yet in singin' aff hand a gude Scotch sang, but it having of late very forcibly struck me that poets run too much in one groove, inasmuch as they're aye lamentin' o'er the love disap- pointments o' the lords o' creation, I will sing to you of the heart-sorrows of the fairer sex, viz : THE FORSAKEN. Oh ! I can greet nae mair, Break, break my heart, Twos very, very sair From him to part. My ain dear Jamie's gane, Noo I am left alane, Yet ne'er I'll sad complain, Though deep the smart. His bonnie yellow hair Laid on my breast, An' he sae passing fair, How happy, blest ! Anither's noo ? again Waft back love's early strain, may its sweet refrain Lull me to rest. Still, still, my heart is thine, Love lasts for ever, Those heav'n-knit chords divine Earth cannot sever. 522 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. When bairnies climb thy knee, Dear Jamie, think o' me ; Cease I to think o' thee ? Never ! Never ! " You have sung tliat plaintive lament, Laird, with great tenderness and feeling, " responded the chairman, " and I con- gratulate you on your success in unfolding that rather neglected phase of love's too often erratic and undefinable career. " " Three cheers for the Laird, " exclaimed the Miller, " an' if he gaes on at this rate, we'll need to promote him by-an'-by to the poet laureate-ship of the Village Club : ha ! ha ! ha ! Fat say ye to that, Student 1 ye'll need to look to your laurels, my boy : ha ! ha ! ha ! Fat are ye a' starin' at, ' my reverend, grave, and potent signiors,' as if there was ony ill in takin' a gude hearty lauch. My certe! those who lauch langest will live langest : ha ! ha ! ha : Get out o' your dowy, absent mood, maister Student, an' wind up the business o' the meetin' wi* something cheery an' grand, for do ye no see thae midden cocks around you are crawin' gie crouse the nicht on their ain midden taps." The Student, apparently shaking off for the moment the abstracted lethargy in which he had enveloped himself during the greater part of the evening, in the enjoyment of which he seemed to have had no share, in slow and painfully tremulous tones, thus addressed himself as if to some unseen, yet visibly felt Presence, which held him spellbound by some mysterious power or fascinating charm : THE UNSEEN. 'Twas on a wild and gusty night, in winter's dreary gloom, I sat in meditation rapt, within my lonesome room, While like a panorama passed the days of love's sweet joy, And all youth's blissful visions bright which cheered me when a boy. The winds let loose, mad shrieking howled among the leafless trees, Sad from the distance hollow came the murmur of the seas, While on the trembling window-panes wild dashed the sobbing rain, Like a maiden by her lover left in sorrow and in pain. THE VILLAGE CLUB. 523 Clear high above the blast arose like an ancient melody, The silver tones of a well known voice : ' I come my love to thee ; My broken vows forgive, fain I would come to thee for rest, And pillow soft my weary head upon thy faithful breast ! ' Like summer cloud across the blue, a shadow on my soul Fell dark and heavily, but quick, it vanished like a scroll ! Yes ! freely I forgave, forgot, the change she'd wrought in me, And seizing quick the lamp I cried ' I come my love to thee ! ' The door I opened wide, and blush'd to welcome to my hearth Her to my heart the dearest jewel, most precious gem of earth : Alas ! the flickering taper frail, it went out like a spark, And lo ! all weeping, left me lone, faint crying in the dark ' Beloved ! 0, beloved, come, I wait to welcome thee ! ' But no refrain came answering back save the wailing of the sea : Yet still I cried ' Beloved, come ' as if I'd cry my last, Heard only by the rushing wind, mock'd by the stormy blast ! Deserted, sad, woes me ! return 'd into my widowed room, The chambers of my soul hung round with dark funereal gloom, Loud on the shivering window-panes wild beats the sobbing rain, Like a lover by his false one left in sorrow and in pain ! The clock struck twelve ; and the dreamy haze again enshrouded the room, obscuring its occupants from the view. As the mist cleared away, the stranger once more found himself ALONE ! The glasses had been filled, but their contents remained untouched ! Descending the staircase, he was met in the lobby by his attentive hostess, who kindly helped him to his overcoat and muffler, remarking at the same time, that she was very glad to see him looking so much more cheerful than he had done in the earlier part of the evening. " I have done my duty," kindly replied the stranger " and when a man feels he has done his duty, he becomes naturally more cheerful, inasmuch as he has fulfilled his promises, and discharged his obligations to the best of his ability. My obligations to you, as my hostess, I must now discharge also ; and, while doing so, permit me to thank you very much for your courtesy and kindness to me on this ever-to-be-remem- 524 STRATHMORE : ITS SCENES AND LEGENDS. bered evening I am the LAST surviving member of the VILLAGE CLUB ! " "Preserve us a'," exclaimed our worthy hostess; but before she had time further to express her astonishment, her strange guest had disappeared ! Stepping across the little square in front of the Inn, in the direction of the bridge, a sweet soft voice saluted the stranger's ear, and turning round in the direction whence the sound proceeded, he beheld, not an ominously croaking raven in the air, but his much valued friend and companion the Eeader who kindly expressed the wish that they might meet again. " In bidding you, for the present, adieu," the stranger feelingly said, " I have to thank you sincerely for the great patience and forbearance which you have manifested during our many wanderings through the Howe of Strathmore, and if, during the progress of our explorations to the end of our journey, I have been the humble means of inspiring you with a love of Nature, and of all that is true and beautiful in human nature ; if I have ministered to your innocent amuse- ment, or raised the merry laugh to lighten the heavy heart ; if I have instilled into your mind one affectionate feeling, or one holy, lofty desire ; if I have dried the tear of sorrow, or soothed the dying moments of the departing spirit, I shall ever feel a grateful delight that my labours have not been in vain. Most cordially do I reciprocate the much appreciated wish, that we may meet again. For the present, dear Reader < FARE-THEE-WELL." TUBNBULL AND SPKAES, PRINTERS. BY THE SAME AUTHOR. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3*. 6d. ROWENA; OR, THE POET'S DAUGHTER. A POEM. Rev. George GilflUan. " ' Rowena,' is on the whole, the best of its Author's productions. There is more maturity in the thought, greater simplicity in the language, and greater variety in the figures. The power of the poem lies in its many excellent passages. Besides, and especially, it reveals growth. " Examiner. " ' Rowena' is a flowing, graceful poem. " Treasury of Literature. "Mr Guthrie's new poem 'Rowena,' is marked by all that constitutes a true poet. " Illustrated Midland News. " ' Rowena' is stamped with the mark of originality. " Scotsman. " Mr Cargill Guthrie in the present volume exhibits a decided advance on any he has previously written. His views of life and its duties, are on the whole, sound and healthy, and while they are evidently the offspring of an earnest, amiable, and loving nature, are, on the other hand, entirely free from mawkish sentimentalism. There are many evidences throughout the poem of real poetic genius. " Dundee Advertiser. "This is probably the best work Mr Guthrie has yet published. The object of ' Rowena' is to stimulate her father to do justice to his genius, and not to allow disappointment or want of success to "Dim its light, or damp its holy name. ;> The poem is a rich repertory of fine passages descriptive and moral many of which are the most finished in execution, and felicitous in phrase Mr Guthrie has hitherto produced. " BY THE SAME AUTHOR. Dundee Courier and Argus. " Mr Guthrie's former fame is well sustained in this new poem. The great truths enforced in ' Rowena, ' our author attractively unfolds in language as pure and eloquent as his wont, yet with greater force and -fire, and more exquisite finish than in any of his previous productions. " Montrose Standard. " 'Rowena' is unmistakably the most powerful because the most thoughtful of Mr Guthrie's works. His style is thoroughly unconventional, always earnest, often impassioned, scattering with no niggard hand seed-thoughts that can hardly fail of producing good and wholesome fruit ill days to come. " Foolscap 8vo, cloth, 5s., Fifth Edition. VILLAGE SCENES. A POEM. Literary Gazette. " 'Village Scenes ' has reached a fifth edition a rare distinction in these prosaic days. " Northern "Warder. " The spirit of the whole poem is fine. It shows an amiable and gentle being smit with a passion for Nature, touched with a warm sympathy for man, and uniting to these a profound reverence for God : religion not assumed, but real beats in every page of the poem. " Perthshire Advertiser. " A fine vein of chastened and pensive thought runs through the whole, and the poem deserves the patronage it has so universally received. " Inverness Advertiser. " Distinguished by genuine pathos, and a refined fancy worthy of a poet. " Foolscap 8vo, cloth, is. 6d., Third Edition, THE FIRST FALSE STEP. A POEM. The Commonwealth. "The heroine, Mary Hay, is a lovely character, as a maiden, a wife anc a mother ; and her vicissitudes will start many a tear before the reader ii done. " BY THE SAME A UTHOR. Foolscap Srvo, cloth, 4s, Second Edition. WEDDED LOVE. A POEM. Lord Cockburn to the Author. " Many, many passages I have paused over and felt. Individual opinion, however, can be of little value to an author who has obtained so much applause from the public ; ;here are no laurels like numbers of editions. " Crown 8vo, cloth, 5s. MY LOST LOVE. A POEM. Fife Herald. " Full of true poetry, welling up from a pufe heart, and high moral and religious sentiment. Bradford Observer. " When Mr Guthrie published his ' Village Scenes, ' Lord Cockburn and other Edinburgh critics hailed him as another true Son of the Scotch muse, and one worthy of enrolment in that glorious band of which Burns is the chief, and Eamsay, Ferguson, Hogg, and Cunningham, and many more of immortality, are members. His new work is such as the public had a right to expect from the author of 'Village Scenes.' It abounds in graphic paintings, and in moralisings on things physical and spiritual which shew the author to be possessed of the true poet's eye, of the insight and suscep- tibility which intuitively reach the heart of mysteries that no philosophic key can unlock. ' My Lost Love ' deserves as much popularity as ' Village Scenes. ' " John S. Qibb, F.E.I.S., Hector, Academy, Dalkeith. " Mr Guthrie's claims as a poet have been recognised in the last edition of ' The Poets and Poetry of Scotland, from James I. to the Present time ' pubb'shed under the Editorship of the Rev. Andrew R. Bonar, Edinburgh which contains a commendatory notice of his life-long devotion to the Muses, and various specimens of his power as a song writer 'The days o' Lang- syne,' &c., as 'illustrative of the genius and spirit of those Scottish Song writers whose compositions have deservedly met with general acceptance ; ' and ' of what is purest and most precious in our national poetic literature.' " People's Journal. " Mr Guthrie's writings deserve to be popular were it for nothing else but for the fine genial Christian spirit by which they are pervaded. The heart that dictated the kindly sentiments expressed in Mr Guthrie's poetry must needs be full of gentleness ajjd love, and sympathy with all that is good and true and beautiful as well in humanity as in the material universe. " BY THE SAME A UTHOR. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. SUMMER FLOWERS. POEMS. The Poets and Poetry of Scotland, from James I. to the Present Time. "Mr James Cargill Guthrie, born at Airniefoul farm, in the parish of Glamis, is the author of several volumes of poetry VILLAGE SCENES, The FIRST FALSE STEP, WEDDED LOVE, MY LOST LOVE, SUMMER FLOWERS all of which have been favourably noticed by competent critics. It was Mr Guthrie's intention to study for the church, but circumstances induced him to enter the mercantile world. In 1851 he published VILLAGE SCENES, a descriptive poem, tke first edition of which was disposed of in a few months. The work has since been frequently reprinted. He has also contributed papers to many of the periodicals. His poems are marked by tenderness of feeling and strength of attachment to the scenes amidst which his early years were spent. To quote Mr Guthrie's own words his ' Thoughts aye fondly wander, Far to the stormy North,' to the ' purple heather setting the hills a-glow,' and the 'world -famed blue bells of Scotland. ' " Price Bs., Second Edition. THE BONNIE BRAES 0' AIRLIE. Daily Review. " 'The Bonnie Braes o' Airlie,' takes our fancy extremely. The composer has succeeded in catching the peculiar lilt of the old Scotch airs, and sets a melody to Mr Guthrie's fine words, which should take a place among ^standard Scotch Songs." North British Advertiser. " Mr Guthrie's inspiration in charming verse Alfred Stella has translated into the sphere of his own art in an effusion elegant, graceful, and replete with feeling. The composer has been eminently successful in adapting the phrases of the air to the sentiment and versification of the poet." Dundee Advertiser. " As we predicted, this composition by Mr Cargill Guthrie, has proved a great success in song writing scarcely three months having elapsed since its first publication in Edinburgh, and a second edition being demanded by the public." Dundee Courier and Argus. " Not only true to Nature but full of tenderness and feeling. The music by Stella brings out the sentiment of the song With great power and effect." O^r ^tffi UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. JUL l 1954 a L9-100i-9,'52 (A3105)444 :j uthrie - The vale of 335398 Strathirore A 000998018 DA 880 SS5G9S