CHAPTER XXXV

A VOLUNTEER SIXTY YEARS SINCE

On hearing the unwelcome sound of the drum, Major Melville hastily

opened a sashed door and stepped out upon a sort of terrace which

divided his house from the highroad from which the martial music

proceeded. Waverley and his new friend followed him, though

probably he would have dispensed with their attendance. They soon

recognised in solemn march, first, the performer upon the drum;

secondly, a large flag of four compartments, on which were

inscribed the words, COVENANT, KIRK, KING, KINGDOMS. The person

who was honoured with this charge was followed by the commander of

the party, a thin, dark, rigid-looking man, about sixty years old.

The spiritual pride, which in mine host of the Candlestick mantled

in a sort of supercilious hypocrisy, was in this man's face

elevated and yet darkened by genuine and undoubting fanaticism. It

was impossible to behold him without imagination placing him in

some strange crisis, where religious zeal was the ruling

principle. A martyr at the stake, a soldier in the field, a lonely

and banished wanderer consoled by the intensity and supposed

purity of his faith under every earthly privation, perhaps a

persecuting inquisitor, as terrific in power as unyielding in

adversity; any of these seemed congenial characters to this

personage. With these high traits of energy, there was something

in the affected precision and solemnity of his deportment and

discourse that bordered upon the ludicrous; so that, according to

the mood of the spectator's mind and the light under which Mr.

Gilfillan presented himself, one might have feared, admired, or

laughed at him. His dress was that of a West-Country peasant, of

better materials indeed than that of the lower rank, but in no

respect affecting either the mode of the age or of the Scottish

gentry at any period. His arms were a broadsword and pistols,

which, from the antiquity of their appearance, might have seen the

rout of Pentland or Bothwell Brigg.

As he came up a few steps to meet Major Melville, and touched

solemnly, but slightly, his huge and over-brimmed blue bonnet, in

answer to the Major, who had courteously raised a small triangular

gold-laced hat, Waverley was irresistibly impressed with the idea

that he beheld a leader of the Roundheads of yore in conference

with one of Marlborough's captains.

The group of about thirty armed men who followed this gifted

commander was of a motley description. They were in ordinary

Lowland dresses, of different colours, which, contrasted with the

arms they bore, gave them an irregular and mobbish appearance; so

much is the eye accustomed to connect uniformity of dress with the

military character. In front were a few who apparently partook of

their leader's enthusiasm, men obviously to be feared in a combat,

where their natural courage was exalted by religious zeal. Others

puffed and strutted, filled with the importance of carrying arms

and all the novelty of their situation, while the rest, apparently

fatigued with their march, dragged their limbs listlessly along,

or straggled from their companions to procure such refreshments as

the neighbouring cottages and alehouses afforded. Six grenadiers

of Ligonier's, thought the Major to himself, as his mind reverted

to his own military experience, would have sent all these fellows

to the right about.

Greeting, however, Mr. Gilfillan civilly, he requested to know if

he had received the letter he had sent to him upon his march, and

could undertake the charge of the state prisoner whom he there

mentioned as far as Stirling Castle. 'Yea,' was the concise reply

of the Cameronian leader, in a voice which seemed to issue from

the very penetralia of his person.

'But your escort, Mr. Gilfillan, is not so strong as I expected,'

said Major Melville.

'Some of the people,' replied Gilfillan, 'hungered and were

athirst by the way, and tarried until their poor souls were

refreshed with the word.'

'I am sorry, sir,' replied the Major, 'you did not trust to your

refreshing your men at Cairnvreckan; whatever my house contains is

at the command of persons employed in the service.'

'It was not of creature-comforts I spake,' answered the

Covenanter, regarding Major Melville with something like a smile

of contempt; 'howbeit, I thank you; but the people remained

waiting upon the precious Mr. Jabesh Rentowel for the out-pouring

of the afternoon exhortation.'

'And have you, sir,' said the Major, 'when the rebels are about to

spread themselves through this country, actually left a great part

of your command at a fieldpreaching?'

Gilfillan again smiled scornfully as he made this indirect answer

--'Even thus are the children of this world wiser in their

generation than the children of light!'

'However, sir,' said the Major, 'as you are to take charge of this

gentleman to Stirling, and deliver him, with these papers, into

the hands of Governor Blakeney, I beseech you to observe some

rules of military discipline upon your march. For example, I would

advise you to keep your men more closely together, and that each

in his march should cover his file-leader, instead of straggling

like geese upon a common; and, for fear of surprise, I further

recommend to you to form a small advance-party of your best men,

with a single vidette in front of the whole march, so that when

you approach a village or a wood'--(here the Major interrupted

himself)--'But as I don't observe you listen to me, Mr.

Gilfillan, I suppose I need not give myself the trouble to say

more upon the subject. You are a better judge, unquestionably,

than I am of the measures to be pursued; but one thing I would

have you well aware of, that you are to treat this gentleman, your

prisoner, with no rigour nor incivility, and are to subject him to

no other restraint than is necessary for his security.'

'I have looked into my commission,' said Mr. Gilfillan,'

subscribed by a worthy and professing nobleman, William, Earl of

Glencairn; nor do I find it therein set down that I am to receive

any charges or commands anent my doings from Major William

Melville of Cairnvreckan.'

Major Melville reddened even to the well-powdered ears which

appeared beneath his neat military sidecurls, the more so as he

observed Mr. Morton smile at the same moment. 'Mr. Gilfillan,' he

answered, with some asperity, 'I beg ten thousand pardons for

interfering with a person of your importance. I thought, however,

that as you have been bred a grazier, if I mistake not, there

might be occasion to remind you of the difference between

Highlanders and Highland cattle; and if you should happen to meet

with any gentleman who has seen service, and is disposed to speak

upon the subject, I should still imagine that listening to him

would do you no sort of harm. But I have done, and have only once

more to recommend this gentleman to your civility as well as to

your custody. Mr. Waverley, I am truly sorry we should part in

this way; but I trust, when you are again in this country, I may

have an opportunity to render Cairnvreckan more agreeable than

circumstances have permitted on this occasion.'

So saying, he shook our hero by the hand. Morton also took an

affectionate farewell, and Waverley, having mounted his horse,

with a musketeer leading it by the bridle and a file upon each

side to prevent his escape, set forward upon the march with

Gilfillan and his party. Through the little village they were

accompanied with the shouts of the children, who cried out, 'Eh!

see to the Southland gentleman that's gaun to be hanged for

shooting lang John Mucklewrath, the smith!

APPENDICES TO THE GENERAL PREFACE

NO. I

FRAGMENT [Footnote: It is not to be supposed that these fragments

are given in possessing any intrinsic value of themselves; but

there may be some curiosity attached to them, as to the first

etchings of a plate, which are accounted interesting by those who

have, in any degree, been interested in the more finished works of

the artist.] OF A ROMANCE WHICH WAS TO HAVE BEEN ENTITLED

THOMAS THE RHYMER

CHAPTER I

THE sun was nearly set behind the distant mountains of Liddesdale,

when a few of the scattered and terrified inhabitants of the

village of Hersildoune, which had four days before been burned by

a predatory band of English Borderers, were now busied in

repairing their ruined dwellings. One high tower in the centre of

the village alone exhibited no appearance of devastation. It was

surrounded with court walls, and the outer gate was barred and

bolted. The bushes and brambles which grew around, and had even

insinuated their branches beneath the gate, plainly showed that it

must have been many years since it had been opened. While the

cottages around lay in smoking ruins, this pile, deserted and

desolate as it seemed to be, had suffered nothing from the

violence of the invaders; and the wretched beings who were

endeavouring to repair their miserable huts against nightfall

seemed to neglect the preferable shelter which it might have

afforded them without the necessity of labour.

Before the day had quite gone down, a knight, richly armed and

mounted upon an ambling hackney, rode slowly into the village. His

attendants were a lady, apparently young and beautiful, who rode

by his side upon a dappled palfrey; his squire, who carried his

helmet and lance, and led his battlehorse, a noble steed, richly

caparisoned. A page and four yeomen bearing bows and quivers,

short swords, and targets of a span breadth, completed his

equipage, which, though small, denoted him to be a man of high

rank.

He stopped and addressed several of the inhabitants whom curiosity

had withdrawn from their labour to gaze at him; but at the sound

of his voice, and still more on perceiving the St. George's Cross

in the caps of his followers, they fled, with a loud cry, 'that

the Southrons were returned.' The knight endeavoured to

expostulate with the fugitives, who were chiefly aged men, women,

and children; but their dread of the English name accelerated

their flight, and in a few minutes, excepting the knight and his

attendants, the place was deserted by all. He paced through the

village to seek a shelter for the night, and, despairing to find

one either in the inaccessible tower or the plundered huts of the

peasantry, he directed his course to the left hand, where he spied

a small decent habitation, apparently the abode of a man

considerably above the common rank. After much knocking, the

proprietor at length showed himself at the window, and speaking in

the English dialect, with great signs of apprehension, demanded

their business. The warrior replied that his quality was an

English knight and baron, and that he was travelling to the court

of the King of Scotland on affairs of consequence to both

kingdoms.

'Pardon my hesitation, noble Sir Knight,' said the old man, as he

unbolted and unbarred his doors--'Pardon my hesitation, but we are

here exposed to too many intrusions to admit of our exercising

unlimited and unsuspicious hospitality. What I have is yours; and

God send your mission may bring back peace and the good days of

our old Queen Margaret!'

'Amen, worthy Franklin,' quoth the Knight--'Did you know her?'

'I came to this country in her train,' said the Franklin; 'and the

care of some of her jointure lands which she devolved on me

occasioned my settling here.'

'And how do you, being an Englishman,' said the Knight, 'protect

your life and property here, when one of your nation cannot obtain

a single night's lodging, or a draught of water were he thirsty?'

'Marry, noble sir,' answered the Franklin, 'use, as they say, will

make a man live in a lion's den; and as I settled here in a quiet

time, and have never given cause of offence, I am respected by my

neighbours, and even, as you see, by our FORAYERS from England.'

'I rejoice to hear it, and accept your hospitality. Isabella, my

love, our worthy host will provide you a bed. My daughter, good

Franklin, is ill at ease. We will occupy your house till the

Scottish King shall return from his northern expedition; meanwhile

call me Lord Lacy of Chester.'

The attendants of the Baron, assisted by the Franklin, were now

busied in disposing of the horses, and arranging the table for

some refreshment for Lord Lacy and his fair companion. While they

sat down to it, they were attended by their host and his daughter,

whom custom did not permit to eat in their presence, and who

afterwards withdrew to an outer chamber, where the squire and page

(both young men of noble birth) partook of supper, and were

accommodated with beds. The yeomen, after doing honour to the

rustic cheer of Queen Margaret's bailiff, withdrew to the stable,

and each, beside his favourite horse, snored away the fatigues of

their journey.

Early on the following morning the travellers were roused by a

thundering knocking at the door of the house, accompanied with

many demands for instant admission in the roughest tone. The

squire and page of Lord Lacy, after buckling on their arms, were

about to sally out to chastise these intruders, when the old host,

after looking out at a private casement, contrived for

reconnoitring his visitors, entreated them, with great signs of

terror, to be quiet, if they did not mean that all in the house

should be murdered.

He then hastened to the apartment of Lord Lacy, whom he met

dressed in a long furred gown and the knightly cap called a

MORTIER, irritated at the noise, and demanding to know the cause

which had disturbed the repose of the household.

'Noble sir,' said the Franklin, 'one of the most formidable and

bloody of the Scottish Border riders is at hand; he is never

seen,' added he, faltering with terror, 'so far from the hills but

with some bad purpose, and the power of accomplishing it; so hold

yourself to your guard, for--'

A loud crash here announced that the door was broken down, and the

knight just descended the stair in time to prevent bloodshed

betwixt his attendants and the intruders. They were three in

number; their chief was tall, bony, and athletic, his spare and

muscular frame, as well as the hardness of his features, marked

the course of his life to have been fatiguing and perilous. The

effect of his appearance was aggravated by his dress, which

consisted of a jack or jacket, composed of thick buff leather, on

which small plates of iron of a lozenge form were stitched in such

a manner as to overlap each other and form a coat of mail, which

swayed with every motion of the wearer's body. This defensive

armour covered a doublet of coarse grey cloth, and the Borderer

had a few half-rusted plates of steel on his shoulders, a two-

edged sword, with a dagger hanging beside it, in a buff belt; a

helmet, with a few iron bars, to cover the face instead of a

visor, and a lance of tremendous and uncommon length, completed

his appointments. The looks of the man were as wild and rude as

his attire: his keen black eyes never rested one moment fixed upon

a single object, but constantly traversed all around, as if they

ever sought some danger to oppose, some plunder to seize, or some

insult to revenge. The latter seemed to be his present object,

for, regardless of the dignified presence of Lord Lacy, he uttered

the most incoherent threats against the owner of the house and his

guests.

'We shall see--ay, marry shall we--if an English hound is to

harbour and reset the Southrons here. Thank the Abbot of Melrose

and the good Knight of Coldingnow that have so long kept me from

your skirts. But those days are gone, by Saint Mary, and you shall

find it!'

It is probable the enraged Borderer would not have long continued

to vent his rage in empty menaces, had not the entrance of the

four yeomen with their bows bent convinced him that the force was

not at this moment on his own side.

Lord Lacy now advanced towards him. 'You intrude upon my privacy,

soldier; withdraw yourself and your followers. There is peace

betwixt our nations, or my servants should chastise thy

presumption.'

'Such peace as ye give such shall ye have,' answered the moss-

trooper, first pointing with his lance towards the burned village

and then almost instantly levelling it against Lord Lacy. The

squire drew his sword and severed at one blow the steel head from

the truncheon of the spear.

'Arthur Fitzherbert,' said the Baron, 'that stroke has deferred

thy knighthood for one year; never must that squire wear the spurs

whose unbridled impetuosity can draw unbidden his sword in the

presence of his master. Go hence and think on what I have said.'

The squire left the chamber abashed.

'It were vain,' continued Lord Lacy, 'to expect that courtesy from

a mountain churl which even my own followers can forget. Yet,

before thou drawest thy brand (for the intruder laid his hand upon

the hilt of his sword), thou wilt do well to reflect that I came

with a safe-conduct from thy king, and have no time to waste in

brawls with such as thou.'

'From MY king--from my king!' re-echoed the mountaineer. 'I care

not that rotten truncheon (striking the shattered spear furiously

on the ground) for the King of Fife and Lothian. But Habby of

Cessford will be here belive; and we shall soon know if he will

permit an English churl to occupy his hostelrie.'

Having uttered these words, accompanied with a lowering glance

from under his shaggy black eyebrows, he turned on his heel and

left the house with his two followers. They mounted their horses,

which they had tied to an outer fence, and vanished in an instant.

'Who is this discourteous ruffian?' said Lord Lacy to the

Franklin, who had stood in the most violent agitation during this

whole scene.

'His name, noble lord, is Adam Kerr of the Moat, but he is

commonly called by his companions the Black Rider of Cheviot. I

fear, I fear, he comes hither for no good; but if the Lord of

Cessford be near, he will not dare offer any unprovoked outrage.'

'I have heard of that chief,' said the Baron. 'Let me know when he

approaches, and do thou, Rodulph (to the eldest yeoman), keep a

strict watch. Adelbert (to the page), attend to arm me.' The page

bowed, and the Baron withdrew to the chamber of the Lady Isabella

to explain the cause of the disturbance.

No more of the proposed tale was ever written; but the Author's

purpose was that it should turn upon a fine legend of superstition

which is current in the part of the Borders where he had his

residence, where, in the reign of Alexander III of Scotland, that

renowned person Thomas of Hersildoune, called the Rhymer, actually

flourished. This personage, the Merlin of Scotland, and to whom

some of the adventures which the British bards assigned to Merlin

Caledonius, or the Wild, have been transferred by tradition, was,

as is well known, a magician, as well as a poet and prophet. He is

alleged still to live in the land of Faery, and is expected to

return at some great convulsion of society, in which he is to act

a distinguished part, a tradition common to all nations, as the

belief of the Mahomedans respecting their twelfth Imaum

demonstrates.

Now, it chanced many years since that there lived on the Borders a

jolly, rattling horse-cowper, who was remarkable for a reckless

and fearless temper, which made him much admired and a little

dreaded amongst his neighbours. One moonlight night, as he rode

over Bowden Moor, on the west side of the Eildon Hills, the scene

of Thomas the Rhymer's prophecies, and often mentioned in his

story, having a brace of horses along with him which he had not

been able to dispose of, he met a man of venerable appearance and

singularly antique dress, who, to his great surprise, asked the

price of his horses, and began to chaffer with him on the subject.

To Canobie Dick, for so shall we call our Border dealer, a chap

was a chap, and he would have sold a horse to the devil himself,

without minding his cloven hoof, and would have probably cheated

Old Nick into the bargain. The stranger paid the price they agreed

on, and all that puzzled Dick in the transaction was, that the

gold which he received was in unicorns, bonnet-pieces, and other

ancient coins, which would have been invaluable to collectors, but

were rather troublesome in modern currency. It was gold, however,

and therefore Dick contrived to get better value for the coin than

he perhaps gave to his customer. By the command of so good a

merchant, he brought horses to the same spot more than once, the

purchaser only stipulating that he should always come, by night,

and alone. I do not know whether it was from mere curiosity, or

whether some hope of gain mixed with it, but after Dick had sold

several horses in this way, he began to complain that dry bargains

were unlucky, and to hint that, since his chap must live in the

neighbourhood, he ought, in the courtesy of dealing, to treat him

to half a mutchkin.

'You may see my dwelling if you will,' said the stranger; 'but if

you lose courage at what you see there, you will rue it all your

life.'

Dicken, however, laughed the warning to scorn, and, having

alighted to secure his horse, he followed the stranger up a narrow

foot-path, which led them up the hills to the singular eminence

stuck betwixt the most southern and the centre peaks, and called

from its resemblance to such an animal in its form the Lucken

Hare. At the foot of this eminence, which is almost as famous for

witch meetings as the neighbouring wind-mill of Kippilaw, Dick was

somewhat startled to observe that his conductor entered the

hillside by a passage or cavern, of which he himself, though well

acquainted with the spot, had never seen or heard.

'You may still return,' said his guide, looking ominously back

upon him; but Dick scorned to show the white feather, and on they

went. They entered a very long range of stables; in every stall

stood a coal-black horse; by every horse lay a knight in coal-

black armour, with a drawn sword in his hand; but all were as

silent, hoof and limb, as if they had been cut out of marble. A

great number of torches lent a gloomy lustre to the hall, which,

like those of the Caliph Vathek, was of large dimensions. At the

upper end, however, they at length arrived, where a sword and horn

lay on an antique table.

'He that shall sound that horn and draw that sword,' said the

stranger, who now intimated that he was the famous Thomas of

Hersildoune, 'shall, if his heart fail him not, be king over all

broad Britain. So speaks the tongue that cannot lie. But all

depends on courage, and much on your taking the sword or the horn

first.'

Dick was much disposed to take the sword, but his bold spirit was

quailed by the supernatural terrors of the hall, and he thought to

unsheath the sword first might be construed into defiance, and

give offence to the powers of the Mountain. He took the bugle with

a trembling hand, and [sounded] a feeble note, but loud enough to

produce a terrible answer. Thunder rolled in stunning peals

through the immense hall; horses and men started to life; the

steeds snorted, stamped, grinded their bits, and tossed on high

their heads; the warriors sprung to their feet, clashed their

armour, and brandished their swords. Dick's terror was extreme at

seeing the whole army, which had been so lately silent as the

grave, in uproar, and about to rush on him. He dropped the horn,

and made a feeble attempt to seize the enchanted sword; but at the

same moment a voice pronounced aloud the mysterious words:

'Woe to the coward, that ever he was born,

Who did not draw the sword before he blew the horn!'

At the same time a whirlwind of irresistible fury howled through

the long hall, bore the unfortunate horse-jockey clear out of the

mouth of the cavern, and precipitated him over a steep bank of

loose stones, where the shepherds found him the next morning, with

just breath sufficient to tell his fearful tale, after concluding

which he expired.

This legend, with several variations, is found in many parts of

Scotland and England; the scene is sometimes laid in some

favourite glen of the Highlands, sometimes in the deep coal-mines

of Northumberland and Cumberland, which run so far beneath the

ocean. It is also to be found in Reginald Scott's book on

"Witchcraft," which was written in the sixteenth century. It would

be in vain to ask what was the original of the tradition. The

choice between the horn and sword, may perhaps, include as a moral

that it is foolhardy to awaken danger before we have arms in our

hands to resist it.

Although admitting of much poetical ornament, it is clear that

this legend would have formed but an unhappy foundation for a

prose story, and must have degenerated into a mere fairy tale.

Doctor John Leyden has beautifully introduced the tradition in his

Scenes of Infancy:--

Mysterious Rhymer, doom'd by fate's decree,

Still to revisit Eildon's fated tree;

Where oft the swain, at dawn of Hallow-day,

Hears thy fleet barb with wild impatience neigh;

Say who is he, with summons long and high.

Shall bid the charmed sleep of ages fly,

Roll the long sound through Eildon's caverns vast,

While each dark warrior kindles at the blast:

The horn, the falchion grasp with mighty hand,

And peal proud Arthur's march from Fairy-land?

Scenes of Infancy, Part I.

In the same cabinet with the preceding fragment, the following

occurred among other disjecta membra. It seems to be an attempt at

a tale of a different description from the last, but was almost

instantly abandoned. The introduction points out the time of the

composition to have been about the end of the eighteenth century.

THE LORD OF ENNERDALE

A FRAGMENT OF A LETTER FROM JOHN B----, ESQ., OF THAT ILK, TO

WILLIAM G----, F.R.S.E.

'FILL a bumper,' said the Knight; 'the ladies may spare us a

little longer. Fill a bumper to the Archduke Charles.'

The company did due honour to the toast of their landlord.

'The success of the Archduke,' said the muddy Vicar, 'will tend to

further our negotiation at Paris; and if--'

'Pardon the interruption, Doctor,' quoth a thin emaciated figure,

with somewhat of a foreign accent; 'but why should you connect

those events, unless to hope that the bravery and victories of our

allies may supersede the necessity of a degrading treaty?'

'We begin to feel, Monsieur L'Abbe,' answered the Vicar, with some

asperity, 'that a Continental war entered into for the defence of

an ally who was unwilling to defend himself, and for the

restoration of a royal family, nobility, and priesthood who tamely

abandoned their own rights, is a burden too much even for the

resources of this country.'

'And was the war then on the part of Great Britain,' rejoined the

Abbe, 'a gratuitous exertion of generosity? Was there no fear of

the wide-wasting spirit of innovation which had gone abroad? Did

not the laity tremble for their property, the clergy for their

religion, and every loyal heart for the Constitution? Was it not

thought necessary to destroy the building which was on fire, ere

the conflagration spread around the vicinity?'

'Yet, if upon trial,' said the Doctor,' the walls were found to

resist our utmost efforts, I see no great prudence in persevering

in our labour amid the smouldering ruins.'

'What, Doctor,' said the Baronet,'must I call to your recollection

your own sermon on the late general fast? Did you not encourage us

to hope that the Lord of Hosts would go forth with our armies, and

that our enemies, who blasphemed him, should be put to shame?'

'It may please a kind father to chasten even his beloved

children,' answered the Vicar.

'I think,' said a gentleman near the foot of the table,'that the

Covenanters made some apology of the same kind for the failure of

their prophecies at the battle of Dunbar, when their mutinous

preachers compelled the prudent Lesley to go down against the

Philistines in Gilgal.'

The Vicar fixed a scrutinizing and not a very complacent eye upon

this intruder. He was a young man, of mean stature, and rather a

reserved appearance. Early and severe study had quenched in his

features the gaiety peculiar to his age, and impressed upon them a

premature cast of thoughtfulness. His eye had, however, retained

its fire, and his gesture its animation. Had he remained silent,

he would have been long unnoticed; but when he spoke there was

something in his manner which arrested attention.

'Who is this young man?' said the Vicar in a low voice to his

neighbour.

'A Scotchman called Maxwell, on a visit to Sir Henry,' was the

answer.

'I thought so, from his accent and his manners,' said the Vicar.

It may be here observed that the northern English retain rather

more of the ancient hereditary aversion to their neighbours than

their countrymen of the south. The interference of other

disputants, each of whom urged his opinion with all the vehemence

of wine and politics, rendered the summons to the drawing-room

agreeable to the more sober part of the company.

The company dispersed by degrees, and at length the Vicar and the

young Scotchman alone remained, besides the Baronet, his lady,

daughters, and myself. The clergyman had not, it would seem,

forgot the observation which ranked him with the false prophets of

Dunbar, for he addressed Mr. Maxwell upon the first opportunity.

'Hem! I think, sir, you mentioned something about the civil wars

of last century? You must be deeply skilled in them, indeed, if

you can draw any parallel betwixt those and the present evil days

--days which I am ready to maintain are the most gloomy that ever

darkened the prospects of Britain.'

'God forbid, Doctor, that I should draw a comparison between the

present times and those you mention. I am too sensible of the

advantages we enjoy over our ancestors. Faction and ambition have

introduced division among us; but we are still free from the guilt

of civil bloodshed, and from all the evils which flow from it. Our

foes, sir, are not those of our own household; and while we

continue united and firm, from the attacks of a foreign enemy,

however artful, or however inveterate, we have, I hope, little to

dread.'

'Have you found anything curious, Mr. Maxwell, among the dusty

papers?' said Sir Henry, who seemed to dread a revival of

political discussion.

'My investigation amongst them led to reflections at which I have

just now hinted,' said Maxwell; 'and I think they are pretty

strongly exemplified by a story which I have been endeavouring to

arrange from some of your family manuscripts.'

'You are welcome to make what use of them you please,' said Sir

Henry;' they have been undisturbed for many a day, and I have

often wished for some person as well skilled as you in these old

pot-hooks to tell me their meaning.'

'Those I just mentioned,' answered Maxwell, 'relate to a piece of

private history, savouring not a little of the marvellous, and

intimately connected with your family; if it is agreeable, I can

read to you the anecdotes in the modern shape into which I have

been endeavouring to throw them, and you can then judge of the

value of the originals.'

There was something in this proposal agreeable to all parties. Sir

Henry had family pride, which prepared him to take an interest in

whatever related to his ancestors. The ladies had dipped deeply

into the fashionable reading of the present day. Lady Ratcliff and

her fair daughters had climbed every pass, viewed every pine-

shrouded ruin, heard every groan, and lifted every trap-door in

company with the noted heroine of Udolpho. They had been heard,

however, to observe that the famous incident of the Black Veil

singularly resembled the ancient apologue of the mountain in

labour, so that they were unquestionably critics as well as

admirers. Besides all this, they had valorously mounted en croupe

behind the ghostly horseman of Prague, through all his seven

translators, and followed the footsteps of Moor through the forest

of Bohemia. Moreover, it was even hinted (but this was a greater

mystery than all the rest) that a certain performance called the

'Monk,' in three neat volumes, had been seen by a prying eye in

the right hand drawer of the Indian cabinet of Lady Ratcliff's

dressing-room. Thus predisposed for wonders and signs, Lady

Ratcliff and her nymphs drew their chairs round a large blazing

wood-fire and arranged themselves to listen to the tale. To that

fire I also approached, moved thereunto partly by the inclemency

of the season, and partly that my deafness, which you know,

cousin, I acquired during my campaign under Prince Charles Edward,

might be no obstacle to the gratification of my curiosity, which

was awakened by what had any reference to the fate of such

faithful followers of royalty as you well know the house of

Ratcliff have ever been. To this wood-fire the Vicar likewise drew

near, and reclined himself conveniently in his chair, seemingly

disposed to testify his disrespect for the narration and narrator

by falling asleep as soon as he conveniently could. By the side of

Maxwell (by the way, I cannot learn that he is in the least

related to the Nithsdale family) was placed a small table and a

couple of lights, by the assistance of which he read as follows:--

'Journal of Jan Van Eulen

'On the 6th November 1645, I, Jan Van Eulen, merchant in

Rotterdam, embarked with my only daughter on board of the good

vessel Vryheid of Amsterdam, in order to pass into the unhappy and

disturbed kingdom of England. 7th November--a brisk gale--

daughter sea-sick--myself unable to complete the calculation which

I have begun of the inheritance left by Jane Lansache of Carlisle,

my late dear wife's sister, the collection of which is the object

of my voyage. 8th November--wind still stormy and adverse--a

horrid disaster nearly happened--my dear child washed overboard as

the vessel lurched to leeward. Memorandum--to reward the young

sailor who saved her out of the first moneys which I can recover

from the inheritance of her aunt Lansache. 9th November--calm--

P.M. light breezes from N. N. W. I talked with the captain about

the inheritance of my sister-in-law, Jane Lansache. He says he

knows the principal subject, which will not exceed L1000 in value.

N. B. He is a cousin to a family of Petersons, which was the name

of the husband of my sister-in-law; so there is room to hope it

may be worth more than he reports. 10th November, 10 A.M. May God

pardon all our sins!--An English frigate, bearing the Parliament

flag, has appeared in the offing, and gives chase.--11 A.M. She

nears us every moment, and the captain of our vessel prepares to

clear for action.--May God again have mercy upon us!'

'Here,' said Maxwell, 'the journal with which I have opened the

narration ends somewhat abruptly.'

'I am glad of it,' said Lady Ratcliff.

'But, Mr. Maxwell,' said young Frank, Sir Henry's grandchild,

'shall we not hear how the battle ended?'

I do not know, cousin, whether I have not formerly made you

acquainted with the abilities of Frank Ratcliff. There is not a

battle fought between the troops of the Prince and of the

Government during the years 1745-46, of which he is not able to

give an account. It is true, I have taken particular pains to fix

the events of this important period upon his memory by frequent

repetition.

'No, my dear,' said Maxwell, in answer to young Frank Ratcliff--

'No, my dear, I cannot tell you the exact particulars of the

engagement, but its consequences appear from the following letter,

despatched by Garbonete Von Eulen, daughter of our journalist, to

a relation in England, from whom she implored assistance. After

some general account of the purpose of the voyage and of the

engagement her narrative proceeds thus:--

'The noise of the cannon had hardly ceased before the sounds of a

language to me but half known, and the confusion on board our

vessel, informed me that the captors had boarded us and taken

possession of our vessel. I went on deck, where the first

spectacle that met my eyes was a young man, mate of our vessel,

who, though disfigured and covered with blood, was loaded with

irons, and whom they were forcing over the side of the vessel into

a boat. The two principal persons among our enemies appeared to be

a man of a tall thin figure, with a high-crowned hat and long

neckband, and short-cropped head of hair, accompanied by a bluff,

open-looking elderly man in a naval uniform. "Yarely! yarely! pull

away, my hearts," said the latter, and the boat bearing the

unlucky young man soon carried him on board the frigate. Perhaps

you will blame me for mentioning this circumstance; but consider,

my dear cousin, this man saved my life, and his fate, even when my

own and my father's were in the balance, could not but affect me

nearly.

'"In the name of Him who is jealous, even to slaying," said the

first--'

CETERA DESUNT

NO. II

CONCLUSION OF MR. STRUTT'S ROMANCE OF QUEENHOO-HALL

BY THE AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY

CHAPTER IV

A HUNTING PARTY--AN ADVENTURE--A DELIVERANCE

THE next morning the bugles were sounded by daybreak in the court

of Lord Boteler's mansion, to call the inhabitants from their

slumbers to assist in a splendid chase with which the Baron had

resolved to entertain his neighbour Fitzallen and his noble

visitor St. Clare. Peter Lanaret, the falconer, was in attendance,

with falcons for the knights and teircelets for the ladies, if

they should choose to vary their sport from hunting to hawking.

Five stout yeomen keepers, with their attendants, called Ragged

Robins, all meetly arrayed in Kendal green, with bugles and short

hangers by their sides, and quarter-staffs in their hands, led the

slow-hounds or brachets by which the deer were to be put up. Ten

brace of gallant greyhounds, each of which was fit to pluck down,

singly, the tallest red deer, were led in leashes, by as many of

Lord Boteler's foresters. The pages, squires, and other attendants

of feudal splendour well attired, in their best hunting-gear, upon

horseback or foot, according to their rank, with their boar-

spears, long bows, and cross-bows, were in seemly waiting.

A numerous train of yeomen, called in the language of the times

retainers, who yearly received a livery coat and a small pension

for their attendance on such solemn occasions, appeared in

cassocks of blue, bearing upon their arms the cognisance of the

house of Boteler, as a badge of their adherence. They were the

tallest men of their hands that the neighbouring villages could

supply, with every man his good buckler on his shoulder, and a

bright burnished broadsword dangling from his leathern belt. On

this occasion they acted as rangers for beating up the thickets

and rousing the game. These attendants filled up the court of the

castle, spacious as it was.

On the green without you might have seen the motley assemblage of

peasantry convened by report of the splendid hunting, including

most of our old acquaintances from Tewin, as well as the jolly

partakers of good cheer at Hob Filcher's. Gregory the jester, it

may well be guessed, had no great mind to exhibit himself in

public after his recent disaster; but Oswald the steward, a great

formalist in whatever concerned the public exhibition of his

master's household state, had positively enjoined his attendance.

'What,' quoth he,'shall the house of the brave Lord Boteler, on

such a brave day as this, be without a fool? Certes, the good Lord

Saint Clere and his fair lady sister might think our housekeeping

as niggardly as that of their churlish kinsman at Gay Bowers, who

sent his father's jester to the hospital, sold the poor sot's

bells for hawk-jesses, and made a nightcap of his long-eared

bonnet. And, sirrah, let me see thee fool handsomely--speak squibs

and crackers, instead of that dry, barren, musty gibing which thou

hast used of late; or, by the bones! the porter shall have thee to

his lodge, and cob thee with thine own wooden sword till thy skin

is as motley as thy doublet.'

To this stern injunction Gregory made no reply, any more than to

the courteous offer of old Albert Drawslot, the chief parkkeeper,

who proposed to blow vinegar in his nose to sharpen his wit, as he

had done that blessed morning to Bragger, the old hound, whose

scent was failing. There was, indeed, little time for reply, for

the bugles, after a lively flourish, were now silent, and Peretto,

with his two attendant minstrels, stepping beneath the windows of

the strangers' apartments, joined in the following roundelay, the

deep voices of the rangers and falconers making up a chorus that

caused the very battlements to ring again:--

Waken, lords and ladies gay,

On the mountain dawns the day;

All the jolly chase is here,

With hawk and horse, and hunting spear;

Hounds are in their couples yelling,

Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling,

Merrily, merrily, mingle they,

'Waken, lords and ladies gay.'

Waken, lords and ladies gay,

The mist has left the mountain grey;

Springlets in the dawn are streaming,

Diamonds on the brake are gleaming,

And foresters have busy been,

To track the buck in thicket green;

Now we come to chant our lay,

'Waken, lords and ladies gay.'

Waken, lords and ladies gay,

To the green-wood haste away;

We can show you where he lies,

Fleet of foot and tall of size;

We can show the marks he made,

When 'gamst the oak his antlers frayed;

You shall see him brought to bay,

'Waken, lords and ladies gay.'

Louder, louder chant the lay,

Waken, lords and ladies gay;

Tell them youth, and mirth, and glee

Run a course as well as we;

Time, stern huntsman! who can baulk,

Stanch as hound and fleet as hawk?

Think of this and rise with day,

Gentle lords and ladies gay.

By the time this lay was finished, Lord Boteler, with his daughter

and kinsman, Fitzallen of Harden, and other noble guests, had

mounted their palfreys, and the hunt set forward in due order. The

huntsmen, having carefully observed the traces of a large stag on

the preceding evening, were able, without loss of time, to conduct

the company, by the marks which they had made upon the trees, to

the side of the thicket in which, by the report of Drawslot, he

had harboured all night. The horsemen, spreading themselves along

the side of the cover, waited until the keeper entered, leading

his ban-dog, a large blood-hound tied in a learn or band, from

which he takes his name.

But it befell thus. A hart of the second year, which was in the

same cover with the proper object of their pursuit, chanced to be

unharboured first, and broke cover very near where the Lady Emma

and her brother were stationed. An inexperienced varlet, who was

nearer to them, instantly unloosed two tall greyhounds, who sprung

after the fugitive with all the fleetness of the north wind.

Gregory, restored a little to spirits by the enlivening scene

around him, followed, encouraging the hounds with a loud layout,

for which he had the hearty curses of the huntsman, as well as of

the Baron, who entered into the spirit of the chase with all the

juvenile ardour of twenty. 'May the foul fiend, booted and

spurred, ride down his bawling throat with a scythe at his

girdle,' quoth Albert Drawslot; 'here have I been telling him that

all the marks were those of a buck of the first head, and he has

hallooed the hounds upon a velvet-headed knobbler! By Saint

Hubert, if I break not his pate with my cross-bow, may I never

cast off hound more! But to it, my lords and masters! the noble

beast is here yet, and, thank the saints, we have enough of

hounds.'

The cover being now thoroughly beat by the attendants, the stag

was compelled to abandon it and trust to his speed for his safety.

Three greyhounds were slipped upon him, whom he threw out, after

running a couple of miles, by entering an extensive furzy brake,

which extended along the side of a hill. The horsemen soon came

up, and casting off a sufficient number of slow-hounds, sent them

with the prickers into the cover, in order to drive the game from

his strength. This object being accomplished, afforded another

severe chase of several miles, in a direction almost circular,

during which the poor animal tried every wile to get rid of his

persecutors. He crossed and traversed all such dusty paths as were

likely to retain the least scent of his footsteps; he laid himself

close to the ground, drawing his feet under his belly, and

clapping his nose close to the earth, lest he should be betrayed

to the hounds by his breath and hoofs. When all was in vain, and

he found the hounds coming fast in upon him, his own strength

failing, his mouth embossed with foam, and the tears dropping from

his eyes, he turned in despair upon his pursuers, who then stood

at gaze, making an hideous clamour, and awaiting their two-footed

auxiliaries. Of these, it chanced that the Lady Eleanor, taking

more pleasure in the sport than Matilda, and being a less burden

to her palfrey than the Lord Boteler, was the first who arrived at

the spot, and taking a cross-bow from an attendant, discharged a

bolt at the stag. When the infuriated animal felt himself wounded,

he pushed frantically towards her from whom he had received the

shaft, and Lady Eleanor might have had occasion to repent of her

enterprise, had not young Fitzallen, who had kept near her during

the whole day, at that instant galloped briskly in, and, ere the

stag could change his object of assault, despatched him with his

short hunting-sword.

Albert Drawslot, who had just come up in terror for the young

lady's safety, broke out into loud encomiums upon Fitzallen's

strength and gallantry. 'By 'r Lady,' said he, taking off his cap

and wiping his sun-burnt face with his sleeve, 'well struck, and

in good time! But now, boys, doff your bonnets and sound the

mort.'

The sportsmen then sounded a treble mort, and set up a general

whoop, which, mingled with the yelping of the dogs, made the

welkin ring again. The huntsman then offered his knife to Lord

Boteler, that he might take the say of the deer, but the Baron

courteously insisted upon Fitzallen going through that ceremony.

The Lady Matilda was now come up, with most of the attendants; and

the interest of the chase being ended, it excited some surprise

that neither Saint Clere nor his sister made their appearance. The

Lord Boteler commanded the horns again to sound the recheat, in

hopes to call in the stragglers, and said to Fitzallen, 'Methinks

Saint Clere so distinguished for service in war, should have been

more forward in the chase.'

'I trow,' said Peter Lanaret, 'I know the reason of the noble

lord's absence; for, when that mooncalf Gregory hallooed the dogs

upon the knobbler, and galloped like a green hilding, as he is,

after them, I saw the Lady Emma's palfrey follow apace after that

varlet, who should be thrashed for overrunning, and I think her

noble brother has followed her, lest she should come to harm. But

here, by the rood, is Gregory to answer for himself.'

At this moment Gregory entered the circle which had been formed

round the deer, out of breath, and his face covered with blood. He

kept for some time uttering inarticulate cries of 'Harrow!' and

'Wellaway!' and other exclamations of distress and terror,

pointing all the while to a thicket at some distance from the spot

where the deer had been killed.

'By my honour,' said the Baron, 'I would gladly know who has dared

to array the poor knave thus; and I trust he should dearly abye

his outrecuidance, were he the best, save one, in England.'

Gregory, who had now found more breath, cried, 'Help, an ye be

men! Save Lady Emma and her brother, whom they are murdering in

Brokenhurst thicket.'

This put all in motion. Lord Boteler hastily commanded a small

party of his men to abide for the defence of the ladies, while he

himself, Fitzallen, and the rest made what speed they could

towards the thicket, guided by Gregory, who for that purpose was

mounted behind Fabian. Pushing through a narrow path, the first

object they encountered was a man of small stature lying on the

ground, mastered and almost strangled by two dogs, which were

instantly recognised to be those that had accompanied Gregory. A

little farther was an open space, where lay three bodies of dead

or wounded men; beside these was Lady Emma, apparently lifeless,

her brother and a young forester bending over and endeavouring to

recover her. By employing the usual remedies, this was soon

accomplished; while Lord Boteler, astonished at such a scene,

anxiously inquired at Saint Clere the meaning of what he saw, and

whether more danger was to be expected.

'For the present I trust not,' said the young warrior, who they

now observed was slightly wounded; 'but I pray you, of your

nobleness, let the woods here be searched; for we were assaulted

by four of these base assassins, and I see three only on the

sward.'

The attendants now brought forwaid the person whom they had

rescued from the dogs, and Henry, with disgust, shame, and

astonishment, recognised his kinsman, Gaston Saint Clere. This

discovery he communicated in a whisper to Lord Boteler, who

commanded the prisoner to be conveyed to Queenhoo-Hall, and

closely guarded; meanwhile he anxiously inquired of young Saint

Clere about his wound.

'A scratch, a trifle!' cried Henry. 'I am in less haste to bind it

than to introduce to you one without whose aid that of the leech

would have come too late. Where is he? where is my brave

deliverer?'

'Here, most noble lord,' said Gregory, sliding from his palfrey

and stepping forward, 'ready to receive the guerdon which your

bounty would heap on him.'

'Truly, friend Gregory,' answered the young warrior,'thou shalt

not be forgotten, for thou didst run speedily, and roar manfully

for aid, without which, I think verily, we had not received it.

But the brave forester, who came to my rescue when these three

ruffians had nigh overpowered me, where is he?'

Every one looked around, but though all had seen him on entering

the thicket, he was not now to be found. They could only

conjecture that he had retired during the confusion occasioned by

the detention of Gaston.

'Seek not for him,' said the Lady Emma, who had now in some degree

recovered her composure, 'he will not be found of mortal, unless

at his own season.'

The Baron, convinced from this answer that her terror had for the

time somewhat disturbed her reason, forbore to question her; and

Matilda and Eleanor, to whom a message had been despatched with

the result of this strange adventure, arriving, they took the Lady

Emma between them, and all in a body returned to the castle.

The distance was, however, considerable, and before reaching it

they had another alarm. The prickers, who rode foremost in the

troop, halted and announced to the Lord Boteler, that they

perceived advancing towards them a body of armed men. The

followers of the Baron were numerous, but they were arrayed for

the chase, not for battle, and it was with great pleasure that he

discerned, on the pennon of the advancing body of men-at-arms,

instead of the cognisance of Gaston, as he had some reason to

expect, the friendly bearings of Fitzosborne of Diggswell, the

same young lord who was present at the May-games with Fitzallen of

Harden. The knight himself advanced, sheathed in armour, and,

without raising his visor, informed Lord Boteler that, having

heard of a base attempt made upon a part of his train by ruffianly

assassins, he had mounted and armed a small party of his retainers

to escort them to Queenhoo-Hall. Having received and accepted an

invitation to attend them thither, they prosecuted their journey

in confidence and security, and arrived safe at home without any

further accident.

CHAPTER V

INVESTIGATION OF THE ADVENTURE OF THE HUNTING--A DISCOVERY--

GREGORY'S MANHOOD--PATE OF GASTON SAINT CLERE--CONCLUSION

So soon as they arrived at the princely mansion of Boteler, the

Lady Emma craved permission to retire to her chamber, that she

might compose her spirits after the terror she had undergone.

Henry Saint Clere, in a few words, proceeded to explain the

adventure to the curious audience. 'I had no sooner seen my

sister's palfrey, in spite of her endeavours to the contrary,

entering with spirit into the chase set on foot by the worshipful

Gregory, than I rode after to give her assistance. So long was the

chase that, when the greyhounds pulled down the knobbler, we were

out of hearing of your bugles; and having rewarded and coupled the

dogs, I gave them to be led by the jester, and we wandered in

quest of our company, whom it would seem the sport had led in a

different direction. At length, passing through the thicket where

you found us, I was surprised by a cross-bow bolt whizzing past

mine head. I drew my sword and rushed into the thicket, but was

instantly assailed by two ruffians, while other two made towards

my sister and Gregory. The poor knave fled, crying for help,

pursued by my false kinsman, now your prisoner; and the designs of

the other on my poor Emma (murderous no doubt) were prevented by

the sudden apparition of a brave woodsman, who, after a short

encounter, stretched the miscreant at his feet and came to my

assistance. I was already slightly wounded, and nearly overlaid

with odds. The combat lasted some time, for the caitiffs were both

well armed, strong, and desperate; at length, however, we had each

mastered our antagonist, when your retinue, my Lord Boteler,

arrived to my relief. So ends my story; but, by my knighthood, I

would give an earl's ransom for an opportunity of thanking the

gallant forester by whose aid I live to tell it.'

'Fear not,' said Lord Boteler, 'he shall be found, if this or the

four adjacent counties hold him. And now Lord Fitzosborne will be

pleased to doff the armour he has so kindly assumed for our sakes,

and we will all bowne ourselves for the banquet.'

When the hour of dinner approached, the Lady Matilda and her

cousin visited the chamber of the fair Darcy. They found her in a

composed but melancholy postmire. She turned the discourse upon

the misfortunes of her life, and hinted, that having recovered her

brother, and seeing him look forward to the society of one who

would amply repay to him the loss of hers, she had thoughts of

dedicating her remaining life to Heaven, by whose providential

interference it had been so often preserved.

Matilda coloured deeply at something in this speech, and her

cousin inveighed loudly against Emma's resolution. 'Ah, my dear

lady Eleanor,' replied she, 'I have to-day witnessed what I cannot

but judge a supernatural visitation, and to what end can it call

me but to give myself to the altar? That peasant who guided me to

Baddow through the Park of Danbury, the same who appeared before

me at different times and in different forms during that eventful

journey--that youth, whose features are imprinted on my memory, is

the very individual forester who this day rescued us in the

forest. I cannot be mistaken; and, connecting these marvellous

appearances with the spectre which I saw while at Gay Bowers, I

cannot resist the conviction that Heaven has permitted my guardian

angel to assume mortal shape for my relief and protection.'

The fair cousins, after exchanging looks which implied a fear that

her mind was wandering, answered her in soothing terms, and

finally prevailed upon her to accompany them to the banqueting-

hall. Here the first person they encountered was the Baron

Fitzosborne of Diggswell, now divested of his armour, at the sight

of whom the Lady Emma changed colour, and exclaiming, 'It is the

same!' sunk senseless into the arms of Matilda.

'She is bewildered by the terrors of the day,' said Eleanor;' and

we have done ill in obliging her to descend.'

'And I,'said Fitzosborne, 'have done madly in presenting before

her one whose presence must recall moments the most alarming in

her life.'

While the ladies supported Emma from the hall, Lord Boteler and

Saint Clere requested an explanation from Fitzosborne of the words

he had used.

'Trust me, gentle lords,' said the Baron of Diggswell, 'ye shall

have what ye demand when I learn that Lady Emma Darcy has not

suffered from my imprudence.'

At this moment Lady Matilda, returning, said that her fair friend,

on her recovery, had calmly and deliberately insisted that she had

seen Fitzosborne before, in the most dangerous crisis of her life.

'I dread,' said she, 'her disordered mind connects all that her

eye beholds with the terrible passages that she has witnessed.'

'Nay,' said Fitzosborne, 'if noble Saint Clere can pardon the

unauthorized interest which, with the purest and most honourable

intentions, I have taken in his sister's fate, it is easy for me

to explain this mysterious impression.'

He proceeded to say that, happening to be in the hostelry called

the Griffin, near Baddow, while upon a journey in that country, he

had met with the old nurse of the Lady Emma Darcy, who, being just

expelled from Gay Bowers, was in the height of her grief and

indignation, and made loud and public proclamation of Lady Emma's

wrongs. From the description she gave of the beauty of her foster-

child, as well as from the spirit of chivalry, Fitzosborne became

interested in her fate. This interest was deeply enhanced when, by

a bribe to old Gaunt the Reve, he procured a view of the Lady Emma

as she walked near the castle of Gay Bowers. The aged churl

refused to give him access to the castle; yet dropped some hints

as if he thought the lady in danger, and wished she were well out

of it. His master, he said, had heard she had a brother in life,

and since that deprived him of all chance of gaining her domains

by purchase, he--in short, Gaunt wished they were safely

separated. 'If any injury,' quoth he, 'should happen to the damsel

here, it were ill for us all. I tried by an innocent stratagem to

frighten her from the castle, by introducing a figure through a

trap-door, and warning her, as if by a voice from the dead, to

retreat from thence; but the giglet is wilful, and is running upon

her fate.'

Finding Gaunt, although covetous and communicative, too faithful a

servant to his wicked master to take any active steps against his

commands, Fitzosborne applied himself to old Ursely, whom he found

more tractable. Through her he learned the dreadful plot Gaston

had laid to rid himself of his kinswoman, and resolved to effect

her deliverance. But aware of the delicacy of Emma's situation, he

charged Ursely to conceal from her the interest he took in her

distress, resolving to watch over her in disguise until he saw her

in a place of safety. Hence the appearance he made before her in

various dresses during her journey, in the course of which he was

never far distant; and he had always four stout yeomen within

hearing of his bugle, had assistance been necessary. When she was

placed in safety at the lodge, it was Fitzosborne's intention to

have prevailed upon his sisters to visit and take her under their

protection; but he found them absent from Diggswell, having gone

to attend an aged relation who lay dangerously ill in a distant

county. They did not return until the day before the May-games;

and the other events followed too rapidly to permit Fitzosborne to

lay any plan for introducing them to Lady Emma Darcy. On the day

of the chase he resolved to preserve his romantic disguise, and

attend the Lady Emma as a forester, partly to have the pleasure of

being near her and partly to judge whether, according to an idle

report in the country, she favoured his friend and comrade

Fitzallen of Marden. This last motive, it may easily be believed,

he did not declare to the company. After the skirmish with the

ruffians, he waited till the Baron and the hunters arrived, and

then, still doubting the farther designs of Gaston, hastened to

his castle to arm the band which had escorted them to Queenhoo-

Hall.

Fitzosborne's story being finished, he received the thanks of all

the company, particularly of Saint Clere, who felt deeply the

respectful delicacy with which he had conducted himself towards

his sister. The lady was carefully informed of her obligations to

him; and it is left to the well-judging reader whether even the

raillery of Lady Eleanor made her regret that Heaven had only

employed natural means for her security, and that the guardian

angel was converted into a handsome, gallant, and enamoured

knight.

The joy of the company in the hall extended itself to the buttery,

where Gregory the jester narrated such feats of arms done by

himself in the fray of the morning as might have shamed Bevis and

Guy of Warwick. He was, according to his narrative, singled out

for destruction by the gigantic Baron himself, while he abandoned

to meaner hands the destruction of Saint Clere and Fitzosborne.

'But certes,' said he, 'the foul paynim met his match; for, ever

as he foined at me with his brand, I parried his blows with my

bauble, and, closing with him upon the third veny, threw him to

the ground, and made him cry recreant to an unarmed man.'

'Tush, man,' said Drawslot, 'thou forgettest thy best auxiliaries,

the good greyhounds, Help and Holdfast! I warrant thee, that when

the hump-backed Baron caught thee by the cowl, which he hath

almost torn off, thou hadst been in a fair plight had they not

remembered an old friend, and come in to the rescue. Why, man, I

found them fastened on him myself; and there was odd staving and

stickling to make them "ware haunch!" Their mouths were full of

the flex, for I pulled a piece of the garment from their jaws. I

warrant thee, that when they brought him to ground thou fledst

like a frighted pricket.'

'And as for Gregory's gigantic paynim,' said Fabian, 'why, he lies

yonder in the guard-room, the very size, shape, and colour of a

spider in a yew-hedge.'

'It is false!' said Gregory. 'Colbrand the Dane was a dwarf to

him.'

'It is as true,' returned Fabian, 'as that the Tasker is to be

married on Tuesday to pretty Margery. Gregory, thy sheet hath

brought them between a pair of blankets.'

'I care no more for such a gillflirt,' said the jester,' than I do

for thy leasings. Marry, thou hop-o'-my-thumb, happy wouldst thou

be could thy head reach the captive Baron's girdle.'

'By the mass,' said Peter Lanaret, 'I will have one peep at this

burly gallant'; and, leaving the buttery, he went to the guard-

room where Gaston Saint Clere was confined. A man-at-arms, who

kept sentinel on the strong studded door of the apartment, said he

believed he slept; for that, after raging, stamping, and uttering

the most horrid imprecations, he had been of late perfectly still.

The falconer gently drew back a sliding board of a foot square

towards the top of the door, which covered a hole of the same

size, strongly latticed, through which the warder, without opening

the door, could look in upon his prisoner. From this aperture he

beheld the wretched Gaston suspended by the neck by his own girdle

to an iron ring in the side of his prison. He had clambered to it

by means of the table on which his food had been placed; and, in

the agonies of shame and disappointed malice, had adopted this

mode of ridding himself of a wretched life. He was found yet warm,

but totally lifeless. A proper account of the manner of his death

was drawn up and certified. He was buried that evening in the

chapel of the castle, out of respect to his high birth; and the

chaplain of Fitzallen of Marden, who said the service upon the

occasion, preached the next Sunday an excellent sermon upon the

text, 'Radix malorum est cupiditas,' which we have here

transcribed.

Here the manuscript, from which we have painfully transcribed, and

frequently, as it were, translated, this tale for the reader's

edification, is so indistinct and defaced, that, excepting certain

howbeits, nathlesses, lo ye's! etc., we can pick out little that

is intelligible, saving that avarice is defined 'a likourishness

of heart after earthly things.' A little farther there seems to

have been a gay account of Margery's wedding with Ralph the

Tasker, the running at the quintain, and other rural games

practised on the occasion. There are also fragments of a mock

sermon preached by Gregory upon that occasion, as for example:--

'My dear cursed caitiffs, there was once a king, and he wedded a

young old queen, and she had a child; and this child was sent to

Solomon the Sage, praying he would give it the same blessing which

he got from the witch of Endor when she bit him by the heel.

Hereof speaks the worthy Doctor Radigundus Potator; why should not

mass be said for all the roasted shoe souls served up in the

king's dish on Saturday; for true it is, that Saint Peter asked

Father Adam, as they journeyed to Camelot, an high, great, and

doubtful question, "Adam, Adam, why eated'st thou the apple

without paring?"

[Footnote: This tirade of gibberish is literally taken or selected

from a mock discourse pronounced by a professed jester, which

occurs in an ancient manuscript in the Advocates' Library, the

same from which the late ingenious Mr. Weber published the curious

comic romance of the Hunting of the Hare. It was introduced in

compliance with Mr Strutt's plan of rendering his tale an

illustration of ancient manners A similar burlesque sermon is

pronounced by the fool in Sir David Lindesay's satire of the Three

Estates. The nonsense and vulgar burlesque of that composition

illustrate the ground of Sir Andrew Aguecheek's eulogy on the

exploits of the jester in Twelfth Night, who, reserving his

sharper jests for Sir Toby, had doubtless enough of the jargon of

his calling to captivate the imbecility of his brother knight, who

is made to exclaim--'In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling

last night, when thou spokest of Pigrogremitus, and of the vapours

passing the equinoctials of Quenbus; 't was very good, i' faith!'

It is entertaining to find commentators seeking to discover some

meaning in the professional jargon of such a passage as this.]

With much goodly gibberish to the same effect; which display of

Gregory's ready wit not only threw the whole company into

convulsions of laughter, but made such an impression on Rose, the

Potter's daughter, that it was thought it would be the Jester's

own fault if Jack was long without his Jill. Much pithy matter,

concerning the bringing the bride to bed, the loosing the

bridegroom's points, the scramble which ensued for them, and the

casting of the stocking, is also omitted from its obscurity.

The following song which has been since borrowed by the worshipful

author of the famous History of Fryar Bacon, has been with

difficulty deciphered. It seems to have been sung on occasion of

carrying home the bride

Bridal Song

To the tune of--'I have been a Fiddler,' etc,

And did you not hear of a mirth befell

The morrow after a wedding day,

And carrying a bride at home to dwell?

And away to Tewin, away, away!

The quintain was set, and the garlands were made,

'T is pity old customs should ever decay;

And woe be to him that was horsed on a jade,

For he carried no credit away, away.

We met a consort of fiddle-de-dees;

We set them a cockhorse, and made them play

The winning of Bullen and Upsey-frees,

And away to Tewin, away, away!

There was ne'er a lad in all the parish

That would go to the plough that day;

But on his fore-horse his wench he carries.

And away to Tewin, away, away!

The butler was quick, and the ale he did tap,

The maidens did make the chamber full gay;

The servants did give me a fuddling cup,

And I did carry't away, away.

The smith of the town his liquor so took,

That he was persuaded that the ground look'd blue;

And I dare boldly be sworn on a book,

Such smiths as he there's but a few.

A posset was made, and the women did sip,

And simpering said, they could eat no more;

Full many a maiden was laid on the lip,--

I'll say no more, but give o'er (give o'er).

But what our fair readers will chiefly regret is the loss of three

declarations of love; the first by Saint Clere to Matilda; which,

with the lady's answer, occupies fifteen closely written pages of

manuscript. That of Fitzosborne to Emma is not much shorter; but

the amours of Fitzallen and Eleanor, being of a less romantic

cast, are closed in three pages only. The three noble couples were

married in Queenhoo-Hall upon the same day, being the twentieth

Sunday after Easter. There is a prolix account of the marriage-

feast, of which we can pick out the names of a few dishes, such as

peterel, crane, sturgeon, swan, etc. etc., with a profusion of

wild-fowl and venison. We also see that a suitable song was

produced by Peretto on the occasion; and that the bishop who

blessed the bridal beds which received the happy couples was no

niggard of his holy water, bestowing half a gallon upon each of

the couches. We regret we cannot give these curiosities to the

reader in detail, but we hope to expose the manuscript to abler

antiquaries so soon as it shall be framed and glazed by the

ingenious artist who rendered that service to Mr. Ireland's

Shakspeare MSS. And so (being unable to lay aside the style to

which our pen is habituated), gentle reader, we bid thee heartily

farewell.

NO. III

ANECDOTE OF SCHOOL DAYS

UPON WHICH MR. THOMAS SCOTT PROPOSED TO FOUND A TALE OF FICTION

It is well known in the South that there is little or no boxing at

the Scottish schools. About forty or fifty years ago, however, a

far more dangerous mode of fighting, in parties or factions, was

permitted in the streets of Edinburgh, to the great disgrace of

the police and danger of the parties concerned. These parties were

generally formed from the quarters of the town in which the

combatants resided, those of a particular square or district

fighting against those of an adjoining one. Hence it happened that

the children of the higher classes were often pitted against those

of the lower, each taking their side according to the residence of

their friends. So far as I recollect, however, it was unmingled

either with feelings of democracy or aristocracy, or indeed with

malice or ill-will of any kind towards the opposite party. In

fact, it was only a rough mode of play. Such contests were,

however, maintained with great vigour with stones and sticks and

fisticuffs, when one party dared to charge and the other stood

their ground. Of course mischief sometimes happened; boys are said

to have been killed at these bickers, as they were called, and

serious accidents certainly took place, as many contemporaries can

bear witness.

The author's father residing in George Square, in the southern

side of Edinburgh, the boys belonging to that family, with others

in the square, were arranged into a sort of company, to which a

lady of distinction presented a handsome set of colours. Now this

company or regiment, as a matter of course, was engaged in weekly

warfare with the boys inhabiting the Crosscauseway, Bristo Street,

the Potterrow--in short, the neighbouring suburbs. These last were

chiefly of the lower rank, but hardy loons, who threw stones to a

hair's-breadth and were very rugged antagonists at close quarters.

The skirmish sometimes lasted for a whole evening, until one party

or the other was victorious, when, if ours were successful, we

drove the enemy to their quarters, and were usually chased back by

the reinforcement of bigger lads who came to their assistance. If,

on the contrary, we were pursued, as was often the case, into the

precincts of our square, we were in our turn supported by our

elder brothers, domestic servants, and similar auxiliaries.

It followed, from our frequent opposition to each other, that,

though not knowing the names of our enemies, we were yet well

acquainted with their appearance, and had nicknames for the most

remarkable of them. One very active and spirited boy might be

considered as the principal leader in the cohort of the suburbs.

He was, I suppose, thirteen or fourteen years old, finely made,

tall, blue-eyed, with long fair hair, the very picture of a

youthful Goth. This lad was always first in the charge and last in

the retreat--the Achilles, at once, and Ajax of the

Crosscauseway. He was too formidable to us not to have a cognomen,

and, like that of a knight of old, it was taken from the most

remarkable part of his dress, being a pair of old green livery

breeches, which was the principal part of his clothing; for, like

Pentapolin, according to Don Quixote's account, Green-Breeks, as

we called him, always entered the battle with bare arms, legs, and

feet.

It fell, that once upon a time, when the combat was at the

thickest, this plebeian champion headed a sudden charge, so rapid

and furious that all fled before him. He was several paces before

his comrades, and had actually laid his hands on the patrician

standard, when one of our party, whom some misjudging friend had

entrusted with a couleau de chasse, or hanger, inspired with a

zeal for the honour of the corps worthy of Major Sturgeon himself,

struck poor Green-Breeks over the head with strength sufficient to

cut him down. When this was seen, the casualty was so far beyond

what had ever taken place before, that both parties fled different

ways, leaving poor Green-Breeks, with his bright hair plentifully

dabbled in blood, to the care of the watchman, who (honest man)

took care not to know who had done the mischief. The bloody hanger

was flung into one of the Meadow ditches, and solemn secrecy was

sworn on all hands; but the remorse and terror of the actor were

beyond all bounds, and his apprehensions of the most dreadful

character. The wounded hero was for a few days in the Infirmary,

the case being only a trifling one. But, though inquiry was

strongly pressed on him, no argument could make him indicate the

person from whom he had received the wound, though he must have

been perfectly well known to him. When he recovered and was

dismissed, the author and his brothers opened a communication with

him, through the medium of a popular ginger-bread baker, of whom

both parties were customers, in order to tender a subsidy in name

of smart-money. The sum would excite ridicule were I to name it;

but sure I am that the pockets of the noted Green-Breeks never

held as much money of his own. He declined the remittance, saying

that he would not sell his blood; but at the same time reprobated

the idea of being an informer, which he said was clam, i.e. base

or mean. With much urgency he accepted a pound of snuff for the

use of some old woman--aunt, grandmother, or the like--with whom

he lived. We did not become friends, for the bickers were more

agreeable to both parties than any more pacific amusement; but we

conducted them ever after under mutual assurances of the highest

consideration for each other.

Such was the hero whom Mr. Thomas Scott proposed to carry to

Canada, and involve in adventures with the natives and colonists

of that country. Perhaps the youthful generosity of the lad will

not seem so great in the eyes of others as to those whom it was

the means of screening from severe rebuke and punishment. But it

seemed to those concerned to argue a nobleness of sentiment far

beyond the pitch of most minds; and however obscurely the lad who

showed such a frame of noble spirit may have lived or died, I

cannot help being of opinion that, if fortune had placed him in

circumstances calling for gallantry or generosity, the man would

have fulfilled the promise of the boy. Long afterwards, when the

story was told to my father, he censured us severely for not

telling the truth at the time, that he might have attempted to be

of use to the young man in entering on life. But our alarms for

the consequences of the drawn sword, and the wound inflicted with

such a weapon, were far too predominant at the time for such a

pitch of generosity.

Perhaps I ought not to have inserted this schoolboy tale; but,

besides the strong impression made by the incident at the time,

the whole accompaniments of the story are matters to me of solemn

and sad recollection. Of all the little band who were concerned in

those juvenile sports or brawls, I can scarce recollect a single

survivor. Some left the ranks of mimic war to die in the active

service of their country. Many sought distant lands to return no

more. Others, dispersed in different paths of life,'my dim eyes

now seek for in vain.' Of five brothers, all healthy and promising

in a degree far beyond one whose infancy was visited by personal

infirmity, and whose health after this period seemed long very

precarious, I am, nevertheless, the only survivor. The best loved,

and the best deserving to be loved, who had destined this incident

to be the foundation of literary composition, died 'before his

day' in a distant and foreign land; and trifles assume an

importance not their own when connected with those who have been

loved and lost.

NOTES

NOTE I

LONG the oracle of the country gentlemen of the high Tory party.

The ancient News-Letter was written in manuscript and copied by

clerks, who addressed the copies to the subscribers. The

politician by whom they were compiled picked up his intelligence

at coffee-houses, and often pleaded for an additional gratuity in

consideration of the extra expense attached to frequenting such

places of fashionable resort.

NOTE 2

There is a family legend to this purpose, belonging to the

knightly family of Bradshaigh, the proprietors of Haigh Hall, in

Lancashire, where, I have been told, the event is recorded on a

painted glass window. The German ballad of the Noble Moringer

turns upon a similar topic. But undoubtedly many such incidents

may have taken place, where, the distance being great and the

intercourse infrequent, false reports concerning the fate of the

absent Crusaders must have been commonly circulated, and sometimes

perhaps rather hastily credited at home.

NOTE 3

The attachment to this classic was, it is said, actually displayed

in the manner mentioned in the text by an unfortunate Jacobite in

that unhappy period. He escaped from the jail in which he was

confined for a hasty trial and certain condemnation, and was

retaken as he hovered around the place in which he had been

imprisoned, for which he could give no better reason than the hope

of recovering his favourite Titus Livius. I am sorry to add that

the simplicity of such a character was found to form no apology

for his guilt as a rebel, and that he was condemned and executed.

NOTE 4

Nicholas Amhurst, a noted political writer, who conducted for many

years a paper called the Craftsman, under the assumed name of

Caleb D'Anvers. He was devoted to the Tory interest, and seconded

with much ability the attacks of Pulteney on Sir Robert Walpole.

He died in 1742, neglected by his great patrons and in the most

miserable circumstances.

'Amhurst survived the downfall of Walpole's power, and had reason

to expect a reward for his labours. If we excuse Bolingbroke, who

had only saved the shipwreck of his fortunes, we shall be at a

loss to justify Pulteney, who could with ease have given this man

a considerable income. The utmost of his generosity to Amhurst

that I ever heard of was a hogshead of claret! He died, it is

supposed, of a broken heart; and was buried at the charge of his

honest printer, Richard Francklin.'--Lord Chesterfield's

Characters Reviewed, p. 42.

NOTE 5

I have now given in the text the full name of this gallant and

excellent man, and proceed to copy the account of his remarkable

conversion, as related by Doctor Doddridge.

'This memorable event,' says the pious writer, 'happened towards

the middle of July 1719. The major had spent the evening (and, if

I mistake not, it was the Sabbath) in some gay company, and had an

unhappy assignation with a married woman, whom he was to attend

exactly at twelve. The company broke up about eleven, and, not

judging it convenient to anticipate the time appointed, he went

into his chamber to kill the tedious hour, perhaps with some

amusing book, or some other way. But it very accidentally happened

that he took up a religious book, which his good mother or aunt

had, without his knowledge, slipped into his portmanteau. It was

called, if I remember the title exactly, The Christian Soldier, or

Heaven taken by Storm, and it was written by Mr. Thomas Watson.

Guessing by the title of it that he would find some phrases of his

own profession spiritualised in a manner which he thought might

afford him some diversion, he resolved to dip into it, but he took

no serious notice of anything it had in it; and yet, while this

book was in his hand, an impression was made upon his mind

(perhaps God only knows how) which drew after it a train of the

most important and happy consequences. He thought he saw an

unusual blaze of light fall upon the book which he was reading,

which he at first imagined might happen by some accident in the

candle, but, lifting up his eyes, he apprehended to his extreme

amazement that there was before him, as it were suspended in the

air, a visible representation of the Lord Jesus Christ upon the

cross, surrounded on all sides with a glory; and was impressed as

if a voice, or something equivalent to a voice, had come to him,

to this effect (for he was not confident as to the words), "Oh,

sinner! did I suffer this for thee, and are these thy returns?"

Struck with so amazing a phenomenon as this, there remained hardly

any life in him, so that he sunk down in the arm-chair in which he

sat, and continued, he knew not how long, insensible.'

'With regard to this vision,' says the ingenious Dr. Hibbert, 'the

appearance of our Saviour on the cross, and the awful words

repeated, can be considered in no other light than as so many

recollected images of the mind, which probably had their origin in

the language of some urgent appeal to repentance that the colonel

might have casually read or heard delivered. From what cause,

however, such ideas were rendered as vivid as actual impressions,

we have no information to be depended upon. This vision was

certainly attended with one of the most important of consequences

connected with the Christian dispensation--the conversion of a

sinner. And hence no single narrative has, perhaps, done more to

confirm the superstitious opinion that apparitions of this awful

kind cannot arise without a divine fiat.' Doctor Hibbert adds in a

note--'A short time before the vision, Colonel Gardiner had

received a severe fall from his horse. Did the brain receive some

slight degree of injury from the accident, so as to predispose him

to this spiritual illusion?'--Hibbert's Philosophy of Apparitions,

Edinburgh, 1824, p. 190.

NOTE 6

The courtesy of an invitation to partake a traveller's meal, or at

least that of being invited to share whatever liquor the guest

called for, was expected by certain old landlords in Scotland even

in the youth of the author. In requital mine host was always

furnished with the news of the country, and was probably a little

of a humorist to boot. The devolution of the whole actual business

and drudgery of the inn upon the poor gudewife was very common

among the Scottish Bonifaces. There was in ancient times, in the

city of Edinburgh, a gentleman of good family who condescended, in

order to gain a livelihood, to become the nominal keeper of a

coffee-house, one of the first places of the kind which had been

opened in the Scottish metropolis. As usual, it was entirely

managed by the careful and industrious Mrs. B--; while her husband

amused himself with field sports, without troubling his head about

the matter. Once upon a time, the premises having taken fire, the

husband was met walking up the High Street loaded with his guns

and fishing-rods, and replied calmly to someone who inquired after

his wife, 'that the poor woman was trying to save a parcel of

crockery and some trumpery books'; the last being those which

served her to conduct the business of the house.

There were many elderly gentlemen in the author's younger days who

still held it part of the amusement of a journey 'to parley with

mine host,' who often resembled, in his quaint humour, mine Host

of the Garter in the Merry Wives of Windsor; or Blague of the

George in the Merry Devil of Edmonton. Sometimes the landlady took

her share of entertaining the company. In either case the omitting

to pay them due attention gave displeasure, and perhaps brought

down a smart jest, as on the following occasion:

A jolly dame who, not 'Sixty Years Since,' kept the principal

caravansary at Greenlaw, in Berwickshire, had the honour to

receive under her roof a very worthy clergyman, with three sons of

the same profession, each having a cure of souls; be it said in

passing, none of the reverend party were reckoned powerful in the

pulpit. After dinner was over, the worthy senior, in the pride of

his heart, asked Mrs. Buchan whether she ever had had such a party

in her house before. 'Here sit I,' he said, 'a placed minister of

the Kirk of Scotland, and here sit my three sons, each a placed

minister of the same kirk. Confess, Luckie Buchan, you never had

such a party in your house before.' The question was not premised

by any invitation to sit down and take a glass of wine or the

like, so Mrs. B. answered drily, 'Indeed, sir, I cannot just say

that ever I had such a party in my house before, except once in

the forty-five, when I had a Highland piper here, with his three

sons, all Highland pipers; and deil a spring they could play amang

them.'

NOTE 7

There is no particular mansion described under the name of Tully-

Veolan; but the peculiarities of the description occur in various

old Scottish seats. The House of Warrender upon Bruntsfield Links

and that of Old Ravelston, belonging, the former to Sir George

Warrender, the latter to Sir Alexander Keith, have both

contributed several hints to the description in the text. The

House of Dean, near Edinburgh, has also some points of resemblance

with Tully-Veolan. The author has, however, been informed that the

House of Grandtully resembles that of the Baron of Bradwardine

still more than any of the above.

NOTE 8

I am ignorant how long the ancient and established custom of

keeping fools has been disused in England. Swift writes an epitaph

on the Earl of Suffolk's fool--

Whose name was Dickie Pearce

In Scotland, the custom subsisted till late in the last century;

at Glamis Castle is preserved the dress of one of the jesters,

very handsome, and ornamented with many bells. It is not above

thirty years since such a character stood by the sideboard of a

nobleman of the first rank in Scotland, and occasionally mixed in

the conversation, till he carried the joke rather too far, in

making proposals to one of the young ladies of the family, and

publishing the bans betwixt her and himself in the public church.

NOTE 9

After the Revolution of 1688, and on some occasions when the

spirit of the Presbyterians had been unusually animated against

their opponents, the Episcopal clergymen, who were chiefly

nonjurors, were exposed to be mobbed, as we should now say, or

rabbled, as the phrase then went, to expiate their political

heresies. But notwithstanding that the Presbyterians had the

persecution in Charles II and his brother's time to exasperate

them, there was little mischief done beyond the kind of petty

violence mentioned in the text.

NOTE 10

I may here mention that the fashion of compotation described in

the text was still occasionally practised in Scotland in the

author's youth. A company, after having taken leave of their host,

often went to finish the evening at the clachan or village, in

'womb of tavern.' Their entertainer always accompanied them to

take the stirrup-cup, which often occasioned a long and late

revel.

The poculum potatorium of the valiant Baron, his blessed Bear, has

a prototype at the fine old Castle of Glamis, so rich in memorials

of ancient times; it is a massive beaker of silver, double gilt,

moulded into the shape of a lion, and holding about an English

pint of wine. The form alludes to the family name of Strathmore,

which is Lyon, and, when exhibited, the cup must necessarily be

emptied to the Earl's health. The author ought perhaps to be

ashamed of recording that he has had the honour of swallowing the

contents of the Lion; and the recollection of the feat served to

suggest the story of the Bear of Bradwardine. In the family of

Scott of Thirlestane (not Thirlestane in the Forest, but the place

of the same name in Roxburghshire) was long preserved a cup of the

same kind, in the form of a jack-boot. Each guest was obliged to

empty this at his departure. If the guest's name was Scott, the

necessity was doubly imperative.

When the landlord of an inn presented his guests with deoch an

doruis, that is, the drink at the door, or the stirrup-cup, the

draught was not charged in the reckoning. On this point a learned

bailie of the town of Forfar pronounced a very sound judgment.

A., an ale-wife in Forfar, had brewed her 'peck of malt' and set

the liquor out of doors to cool; the cow of B., a neighbour of A.,

chanced to come by, and seeing the good beverage, was allured to

taste it, and finally to drink it up. When A. came to take in her

liquor, she found her tub empty, and from the cow's staggering and

staring, so as to betray her intemperance, she easily divined the

mode in which her 'browst' had disappeared. To take vengeance on

Crummie's ribs with a stick was her first effort. The roaring of

the cow brought B., her master, who remonstrated with his angry

neighbour, and received in reply a demand for the value of the ale

which Crummie had drunk up. B. refused payment, and was conveyed

before C., the bailie, or sitting magistrate. He heard the case

patiently; and then demanded of the plaintiff A. whether the cow

had sat down to her potation or taken it standing. The plaintiff

answered, she had not seen the deed committed, but she supposed

the cow drank the ale while standing on her feet, adding, that had

she been near she would have made her use them to some purpose.

The bailie, on this admission, solemnly adjudged the cow's drink

to be deoch an doruis, a stirrup-cup, for which no charge could be

made without violating the ancient hospitality of Scotland.

NOTE 11

The story last told was said to have happened in the south of

Scotland; but cedant arma togae and let the gown have its dues. It

was an old clergyman, who had wisdom and firmness enough to resist

the panic which seized his brethren, who was the means of rescuing

a poor insane creature from the cruel fate which would otherwise

have overtaken her. The accounts of the trials for witchcraft form

one of the most deplorable chapters in Scottish story.

NOTE 12

Although canting heraldry is generally reprobated, it seems

nevertheless to have been adopted in the arms and mottos of many

honourable families. Thus the motto of the Vernons, Ver non semper

viret, is a perfect pun, and so is that of the Onslows, Festina

lente. The Periissem ni per-iissem of the Anstruthers is liable to

a similar objection. One of that ancient race, finding that an

antagonist, with whom he had fixed a friendly meeting, was

determined to take the opportunity of assassinating him, prevented

the hazard by dashing out his brains with a battle-axe. Two sturdy

arms, brandishing such a weapon, form the usual crest of the

family, with the above motto, Periissem ni per-iissem--I had died,

unless I had gone through with it.

NOTE 13

Mac-Donald of Barrisdale, one of the very last Highland gentlemen

who carried on the plundering system to any great extent, was a

scholar and a well-bred gentleman. He engraved on his broad-

swords the well-known lines--

Hae tibi erunt artes pacisque imponere morem,

Parcere subjectis, et debellare superbos.

Indeed, the levying of black-mail was, before 1745, practised by

several chiefs of very high rank, who, in doing so, contended that

they were lending the laws the assistance of their arms and

swords, and affording a protection which could not be obtained

from the magistracy in the disturbed state of the country. The

author has seen a Memoir of Mac-Pherson of Cluny, chief of that

ancient clan, from which it appears that he levied protection-

money to a very large amount, which was willingly paid even by

some of his most powerful neighbours. A gentleman of this clan,

hearing a clergyman hold forth to his congregation on the crime of

theft, interrupted the preacher to assure him, he might leave the

enforcement of such doctrines to Cluny Mac-Pherson, whose

broadsword would put a stop to theft sooner than all the sermons

of all the ministers of the synod.

NOTE 14

The Town-guard of Edinburgh were, till a late period, armed with

this weapon when on their police-duty. There was a hook at the

back of the axe, which the ancient Highlanders used to assist them

to climb over walls, fixing the hook upon it and raising

themselves by the handle. The axe, which was also much used by the

natives of Ireland, is supposed to have been introduced into both

countries from Scandinavia.

NOTE 15

An adventure very similar to what is here stated actually befell

the late Mr. Abercromby of Tullibody, grandfather of the present

Lord Abercromby, and father of the celebrated Sir Ralph. When this

gentleman, who lived to a very advanced period of life, first

settled in Stirlingshire, his cattle were repeatedly driven off by

the celebrated Rob Roy, or some of his gang; and at length he was

obliged, after obtaining a proper safe-conduct, to make the

cateran such a visit as that of Waverley to Bean Lean in the text.

Rob received him with much courtesy, and made many apologies for

the accident, which must have happened, he said, through some

mistake. Mr. Abercromby was regaled with collops from two of his

own cattle, which were hung up by the heels in the cavern, and was

dismissed in perfect safety, after having agreed to pay in future

a small sum of black-mail, in consideration of which Rob Roy not

only undertook to forbear his herds in future, but to replace any

that should be stolen from him by other freebooters. Mr.

Abercromby said Rob Roy affected to consider him as a friend to

the Jacobite interest and a sincere enemy to the Union. Neither of

these circumstances were true; but the laird thought it quite

unnecessary to undeceive his Highland host at the risk of bringing

on a political dispute in such a situation. This anecdote I

received many years since (about 1792) from the mouth of the

venerable gentleman who was concerned in it.

NOTE 16

This celebrated gibbet was, in the memory of the last generation,

still standing at the western end of the town of Crieff, in

Perthshire. Why it was called the kind gallows we are unable to

inform the reader with certainty; but it is alleged that the

Highlanders used to touch their bonnets as they passed a place

which had been fatal to many of their countrymen, with the

ejaculation 'God bless her nain sell, and the Teil tamn you!' It

may therefore have been called kind, as being a sort of native or

kindred place of doom to those who suffered there, as in

fulfilment of a natural destiny.

NOTE 17

The story of the bridegroom carried off by caterans on his bridal-

day is taken from one which was told to the author by the late

Laird of Mac-Nab many years since. To carry off persons from the

Lowlands, and to put them to ransom, was a common practice with

the wild Highlanders, as it is said to be at the present day with

the banditti in the south of Italy. Upon the occasion alluded to,

a party of caterans carried off the bridegroom and secreted him in

some cave near the mountain of Schiehallion. The young man caught

the small-pox before his ransom could be agreed on; and whether it

was the fine cool air of the place, or the want of medical

attendance, Mac-Nab did not pretend to be positive; but so it was,

that the prisoner recovered, his ransom was paid, and he was

restored to his friends and bride, but always considered the

Highland robbers as having saved his life by their treatment of

his malady.

NOTE 18

This happened on many occasions. Indeed, it was not till after the

total destruction of the clan influence, after 1745, that

purchasers could be found who offered a fair price for the estates

forfeited in 1715, which were then brought to sale by the

creditors of the York Buildings Company, who had purchased the

whole, or greater part, from government at a very small price.

Even so late as the period first mentioned, the prejudices of the

public in favour of the heirs of the forfeited families threw

various impediments in the way of intending purchasers of such

property.

NOTE 19

This sort of political game ascribed to Mac-Ivor was in reality

played by several Highland chiefs, the celebrated Lord Lovat in

particular, who used that kind of finesse to the uttermost. The

Laird of Mac---was also captain of an independent company, but

valued the sweets of present pay too well to incur the risk of

losing them in the Jacobite cause. His martial consort raised his

clan and headed it in 1745. But the chief himself would have

nothing to do with king-making, declaring himself for that

monarch, and no other, who gave the Laird of Mac ---- 'half-a-guinea

the day and half-a-guinea the morn.'

NOTE 20

In explanation of the military exercise observed at the Castle of

Glennaquoich, the author begs to remark that the Highlanders were

not only well practised in the use of the broadsword, firelock,

and most of the manly sports and trials of strength common

throughout Scotland, but also used a peculiar sort of drill,

suited to their own dress and mode of warfare. There were, for

instance, different modes of disposing the plaid, one when on a

peaceful journey, another when danger was apprehended; one way of

enveloping themselves in it when expecting undisturbed repose, and

another which enabled them to start up with sword and pistol in

hand on the slightest alarm.

Previous to 1720 or thereabouts, the belted plaid was universally

worn, in which the portion which surrounded the middle of the

wearer and that which was flung around his shoulders were all of

the same piece of tartan. In a desperate onset all was thrown

away, and the clan charged bare beneath the doublet, save for an

artificial arrangement of the shirt, which, like that of the

Irish, was always ample, and for the sporran-mollach, or goat's-

skin purse.

The manner of handling the pistol and dirk was also part of the

Highland manual exercise, which the author has seen gone through

by men who had learned it in their youth.

NOTE 21

Pork or swine's flesh, in any shape, was, till of late years, much

abominated by the Scotch, nor is it yet a favourite food amongst

them. King Jamie carried this prejudice to England, and is known

to have abhorred pork almost as much as he did tobacco. Ben Jonson

has recorded this peculiarity, where the gipsy in a masque,

examining the king's hand, says--

You should, by this line,

Love a horse and a hound, but no part of a swine.

The Gipsies Metamorphosed.

James's own proposed banquet for the Devil was a loin of pork and

a poll of ling, with a pipe of tobacco for digestion.

NOTE 22

In the number of persons of all ranks who assembled at the same

table, though by no means to discuss the same fare, the Highland

chiefs only retained a custom which had been formerly universally

observed throughout Scotland. 'I myself,' says the traveller,

Fynes Morrison, in the end of Queen Elizabeth's reign, the scene

being the Lowlands of Scotland, 'was at a knight's house, who had

many servants to attend him, that brought in his meat with their

heads covered with blue caps, the table being more than half

furnished with great platters of porridge, each having a little

piece of sodden meat. And when the table was served, the servants

did sit down with us; but the upper mess, instead of porridge, had

a pullet, with some prunes in the broth.'--Travels, p. 155.

Till within this last century the farmers, even of a respectable

condition, dined with their work-people. The difference betwixt

those of high degree was ascertained by the place of the party

above or below the salt, or sometimes by a line drawn with chalk

on the dining-table. Lord Lovat, who knew well how to feed the

vanity and restrain the appetites of his clansmen, allowed each

sturdy Fraser who had the slightest pretensions to be a

Duinhewassel the full honour of the sitting, but at the same time

took care that his young kinsmen did not acquire at his table any

taste for outlandish luxuries. His lordship was always ready with

some honourable apology why foreign wines and French brandy,

delicacies which he conceived might sap the hardy habits of his

cousins, should not circulate past an assigned point on the table.

NOTE 23

In the Irish ballads relating to Fion (the Fingal of Mac-Pherson)

there occurs, as in the primitive poetry of most nations, a cycle

of heroes, each of whom has some distinguishing attribute; upon

these qualities, and the adventures of those possessing them, many

proverbs are formed, which are still current in the Highlands.

Among other characters, Conan is distinguished as in some respects

a kind of Thersites, but brave and daring even to rashness. He had

made a vow that he would never take a blow without returning it;

and having, like other heroes of antiquity, descended to the

infernal regions, he received a cuff from the Arch-fiend who

presided there, which he instantly returned, using the expression

in the text. Sometimes the proverb is worded thus--'Claw for claw,

and the devil take the shortest nails, as Conan said to the

devil.'

NOTE 24

The description of the waterfall mentioned in this chapter is

taken from that of Ledeard, at the farm so called, on the northern

side of Lochard, and near the head of the lake, four or five miles

from Aberfoyle. It is upon a small scale, but otherwise one of the

most exquisite cascades it is possible to behold. The appearance

of Flora with the harp, as described, has been justly censured as

too theatrical and affected for the lady-like simplicity of her

character. But something may be allowed to her French education,

in which point and striking effect always make a considerable

object.

NOTE 25

The author has been sometimes accused of confounding fiction with

reality. He therefore thinks it necessary to state that the

circumstance of the hunting described in the text as preparatory

to the insurrection of 1745 is, so far as he knows, entirely

imaginary. But it is well known such a great hunting was held in

the Forest of Brae-Mar, under the auspices of the Earl of Mar, as

preparatory to the Rebellion of 1715; and most of the Highland

chieftains who afterwards engaged in that civil commotion were

present on this occasion.

GLOSSARY

A', all.

ABOON, abune, above.

ABY, abye, endure, suffer.

ACCOLADE, the salutation marking the bestowal of knighthood.

AIN, own.

ALANE, alone.

AN, if.

ANE, one.

ARRAY, annoy, trouble.

AULD, old.

AWEEL, well.

AYE, always.

BAILIE, a city magistrate in Scotland.

BAN, curse.

BAWTY, sly, cunning.

BAXTER, a baker.

BEES, in the, stupefied, bewildered.

BELIVE, belyve, by and by.

BEN, in, inside.

BENT, an open field.

BHAIRD, a bard.

BLACK-FISHING, fishing by torchlight poaching.

BLINKED, glanced.

BLUDE, braid, blood.

BLYTHE, gay, glad.

BODLE, a copper coin worth a third of an English penny.

BOLE, a bowl.

BOOT-KETCH, a boot-jack.

BRAE, the side of a hill.

BRISSEL-COCK, a turkey cock.

BREEKS, breeches.

BROGUES, Highland shoes.

BROKEN MEN, outlaws.

BROUGHT FAR BEN, held in special favor

BROWST, a brewing.

BRUIK, enjoy.

BUCKIE, a perverse or refractory person.

BULLSEGG, a gelded bull.

BURD, bird, a term of familiarity.

BURN, a brook.

BUSKING, dress, decoration.

BUTTOCK-MAIL, a fine for fornication.

BYDAND, awaiting.

CAILLIACHS, old women on whom devolved the duty of lamenting for

the dead, which the Irish call keening.

CALLANT, a young lad, a fine fellow.

CANNY, prudent, skillful, lucky.

CANTER, a canting, whining beggar.

CANTRIP, a trick.

CARLE, a churl, an old man.

CATERAN, a Highland irregular soldier, a freebooter.

CHAP, a customer.

CLACHAN, a hamlet.

CLAW FAVOUR, curry favour.

CLAYMORE, a broad sword.

CLEEK, a hook.

CLEIK the cunzie, steal the silver.

COB, beat.

COBLE, a small fishing boat.

COGS, wooden vessels.

COGUE, a round wooden vessel.

CONCUSSED, violently shaken, disturbed, forced.

CORONACH, a dirge.

CORRIE, a mountain hollow.

COVE, a cave.

CRAME, a booth, a merchant's shop.

CREAGH, an incursion for plunder, termed on the Borders a raid.

CROUSE, bold, courageous.

CRUMMY, a cow with crooked horns.

CUITTLE, tickle.

CURRAGH, a Highland boat.

DAFT, mad, foolish.

DEBINDED, bound down.

DECREET, an order of decree.

DEOCH AN DORUIS, the stirrup-cup or parting drink.

DERN, concealed, secret.

DINMONTS, wethers in the second year.

DOER, an agent, a manager.

DOON, doun, down.

DOVERING, dozing.

DUINHE-WASSEL, dunniewassal, a Highland gentleman, usually the

cadet of a family of rank.

EANARUICH, the regalia presented by Rob Roy to the Laird of

Tullibody.

ENEUGH, eneuch, enough.

ERGASTULO, in a penitentiary.

EXEEMED, exempt.

FACTORY, stewardship.

FEAL AND DIVOT, turf and thatch.

FECK, a quantity.

FEIFTEEN, the Jacobite rebellion of 1715.

FENDY, good at making a shift.

FIRE-RAISING, setting an incendiary fire.

FLEMIT, frightened,

FRAE, from.

FU, full.

FULE, fool.

GABERLUNZIE, a kind of professional beggar.

GANE, gone.

GANG, go.

GAR, make.

GATE, gait, way.

GAUN, going.

GAY, gey, very.

GEAR, goods, property.

GILLFLIRT, a flirty girl.

GILLIE, a servant, an attendant.

GILLIE-WET-FOOT, a barefooted Highland lad.

GIMMER, a ewe from one to two years old.

GLISKED, glimpsed.

GRIPPLE, rapacious, niggardly.

GULPIN, a simpleton.

HA', hall.

HAG, a portion of copse marked off for cutting.

HAIL, whole.

HALLAN, a partition, a screen.

HAME, home.

HANTLE, a great deal.

HARST, harvest.

HERSHIPS, plunder.

HILDING, a coward.

HIRSTS, knolls.

HORNING, charge of, a summons to pay a debt, on pain of being

pronounced a rebel, to the sound of a horn.

HOWE, a hollow.

HOULERYING AND POULERYING, hustling and pulling.

HURLEY-HOUSE, a brokendown manor house.

ILK, same; of that ilk, of the same name or place.

ILKA, each, every.

IN THE BEES, stupefied.

INTROMIT, meddle with.

KEN, know.

KITTLE, tickle, ticklish.

KNOBBLER, a male deer in its second year.

KYLOE, a small Highland cow.

LAIRD, squire, lord of the manor.

LANG-LEGGIT, long-legged.

LAWING, a tavern reckoning.

LEE LAND, pasture land.

LIE, a word used in old Scottish legal documents to call attention

to the following word or phrase.

LIFT, capture, carry off by theft.

LIMMER, a jade.

LOCH, a lake.

LOON, an idle fellow, a lout, a rogue.

LUCKIE, an elderly woman.

LUG, an ear, a handle.

LUNZIE, the loins, the waist.

MAE, mair, more.

MAINS, the chief farm of an estate.

MALT ABUNE THE MEAL, the drink above the food, half-seas over.

MAUN, must.

MEAL ARK, a meal chest.

MERK, 13 1/3 pence in English money.

MICKLE, much, great.

MISGUGGLED, mangled, rumpled.

MONY, many.

MORN, the morn, tomorrow.

MORNING, a morning dram.

MUCKLE, much, great.

MUIR, moor.

NA, nae, no, not.

NAINSELL, own self.

NICE, simple.

NOLT, black cattle. ony, any.

ORRA, odd, unemployed.

ORRA-TIME, occasionally.

OWER, over.

PEEL-HOUSE, a fortified tower.

PENDICLE, a small piece of ground.

PINGLE, a fuss, trouble.

PLENISHING, furnishings.

PLOY, sport, entertainment.

PRETTY MEN, stout, warlike fellows.

REIFS, robberies.

REIVERS, robbers.

RIGGS, ridges, ploughed ground.

ROKELAY, a short cloak.

RUDAS, coarse, hag-like.

SAIN, mark with the sign of the cross, bless.

SAIR, sore, very.

SAUMON, salmon.

SAUT, salt.

SAY, a sample.

SCHELLUM, a rascal.

SCOUPING, scowping, skipping, leaping, running.

SEANNACHIE, a Highland antiquary.

SHEARING, reaping, harvest.

SHILPIT, weak, sickly.

SHOON, shoes.

SIC, siccan, such.

SIDIER DHU, black soldiers, independent companies raised to keep

peace in the Highlands; named from the tartans they wore.

SIDIER ROY, red soldiers, King George's men.

SIKES, small brooks.

SILLER, silver, money.

SIMMER, summer.

SLIVER, slice, slit.

SMOKY, suspicious.

SNECK, cut.

SNOOD, a fillet worn by young women.

SOPITE, quiet a brawl.

SORNERS, sornars, sojourners, sturdy beggars, especially those

unwelcome visitors who exact lodgings and victuals by force.

SORTED, arranged, adjusted.

SPEIR, ask, investigate.

SPORRAN-MOLLACH, a Highland purse of goatskin.

SPRACK, animated, lively.

SPRING, a cheerful tune.

SPURRZIE, spoil.

STIEVE, stiff, firm.

STIRK, a young steer or heifer.

STOT, a bullock.

STOUP, a jug, a pitcher.

STOUTHREEF, robbery.

STRAE, straw.

STRATH, a valley through which a river runs.

SYBOES, onions.

TA, the. TAIGLIT, harassed, loitered.

TAILZIE, taillie, a deed of entail.

TAPPIT-HEN, a pewter pot that holds three English quarts.

TAYOUT, tailliers-hors; in modern phrase, Tally-ho!

TEIL, the devil.

TEINDS, tithes.

TELT, told.

TILL, to. TOUN, a hamlet, a farm.

TREWS, trousers.

TROW, believe, suppose.

TWA, two.

TYKE, a dog, a snarling fellow.

UNCO, strange, very.

UNKENN'D, unknown.

USQUEBAUGH, whiskey.

WA', wall.

WARE, spend.

WEEL, well.

WHA, who.

WHAR, where.

WHAT FOR, why.

WHILK, which.

WISKE, whisk, brandish.

END OF VOLUME I