As though all the tin pots on a tinker's wagon had been jolted and
jangled, the bells of St. Giles's steeple in Edinburgh town, had just
told the hour of noon. It was the time for the Queensferry diligence
(which is to say, omnibus) to set out for the passage of the Firth, if
it were to catch the tide of that day, and connect with the boat which
sets passengers from the capital upon the shores of Fife.
A young man had been waiting some time. An old one had just bustled up.
"Deil's in it!" cried the latter, with a glance at the dial of the
church clock, "I am late, after all!"
But the young man, saluting, informed him that, instead of being late,
he was early--so far, that is, as the coach was concerned. It had not
yet appeared upon the stand. This information first relieved the mind of
the old gentleman, and then, after a moment or two, began (no difficult
matter) to arouse his anger.
"Good woman! good woman!" he cried down one of the area stairs, common
in the old town of Edinburgh. Then he added in a lower tone, "Doited old
hag! she's deaf as a post. I say, Mrs. Macleuchar!"
But Mrs. Macleuchar, the proprietress of the Queensferry diligence, was
in no hurry to face the wrath of the public. She served her customer
quietly in the shop below, ascended the stairs, and when at last on the
level of the street, she looked about, wiped her spectacles as if a mote
upon them might have caused her to overlook so minute an object as an
omnibus, and exclaimed, "Did ever anybody see the like o' this?"
"Yes, you abominable woman," cried the traveller, "many have seen the
like before, and all will yet see the like again, that have aught to do
with your trolloping sex!"
And walking up and down the pavement in front of Mrs. Macleuchar's
booth, he delivered a volley of abuse each time he came in front of it,
much as a battleship fires a broadside as she passes a hostile fortress,
till the good woman was quite overwhelmed.
"Oh! man! man!" she cried, "take back your three shillings and make me
quit o' ye!"
"Not so fast--not so fast," her enemy went on; "will three shillings
take me to Queensferry according to your deceitful programme? Or will it
pay my charges there, if, by your fault, I should be compelled to tarry
there a day for want of tide? Will it even hire me a pinnace, for which
the regular price is five shillings?"
But at that very moment the carriage lumbered up, and the two travellers
were carried off, the elder of them still leaning out of the window and
shouting reproaches at the erring Mrs. Macleuchar.
The slow pace of the broken-down horses, and the need to replace a shoe
at a wayside smithy, still further delayed the progress of the vehicle,
and when they arrived at Queensferry, the elder traveller, Mr. Jonathan
Oldbuck by name, saw at once, by the expanse of wet sand and the number
of the black glistening rocks visible along the shore, that the time of
tide was long past.
But he was less angry than his young companion, Mr. Lovel, had been led
to expect from the scolding he had bestowed upon Mrs. Macleuchar in the
city. On the way the two had discovered a kindred taste for antique
literature and the remains of the past, upon which last Mr. Jonathan
Oldbuck was willing to discourse, as the saying is, till all was blue.
The Hawes Inn sat (and still sits) close by the wash of the tides which
scour the Firth of Forth on its southern side. It was then an
old-fashioned hostelry, overgrown on one side with ivy, and with the
woods of Barnbogle growing close down behind it. The host was very
willing to provide dinner and shelter for the two guests, and, indeed,
there was a suspicion that Mr. Mackitchinson of the Hawes was in league
with Mrs. Macleuchar of the Tron, and that this fact went far to explain
the frequent late appearance of the coach with "the three yellow wheels
and a black one" belonging to that lady, upon the High Street of
Edinburgh.
At the Hawes Inn, therefore, the time of waiting before dinner was
sufficient for young Mr. Lovel to step out and discover who his amusing
and irascible companion of voyage might be. At South Queensferry every
one knew Mr. Oldbuck of Monkbarns. Bred a lawyer, he had never
practised, being ever more interested in the antiquities of his native
country than in sitting in an office among legal documents and quill
pens. The death of his brother had made him heir to all his father's
property, and in due time he had settled comfortably down to country
life and Roman inscriptions at the family seat of Monkbarns, near by to
the town of Fairport, the very town to which Mr. Lovel was at that
moment making his way.
Mr. Oldbuck, though equally anxious, was unable to discover anything
about his travelling companion. He had, however, discussed the elder
dramatists with him, and found him so strong in the subject, that his
mind, always searching for the reasons of things, promptly set the young
man down as an actor travelling to Fairport, to fulfil an engagement at
the theatre there.
"Yes," he said to himself, "Lovel and Belville--these are just the names
which youngsters are apt to assume on such occasions--on my life I am
sorry for the lad!"
It was this thought which made Mr. Oldbuck, though naturally and of
habit very careful of his sixpences, slip round to the back of the Hawes
Inn and settle the bill with the landlord. It was this which made him
propose to pay two-thirds of the post-chaise which was to carry them
across to Fairport, when at last they set foot on the northern side of
the Firth. Arrived at their destination, Mr. Oldbuck recommended Lovel
to the care of a decent widow, and so left him with many friendly
expressions, in order to proceed to his own house of Monkbarns.
But no Mr. Lovel appeared on the boards of the theatre at Fairport. On
the contrary, not even the town gossips, who, having no business of
their own to attend to, take charge of other people's, could find out
anything about him. Furthermore they could say no evil. The Sheriff
called upon him, but the stranger had evidently fully satisfied the man
of law, for on his return home he sent him an invitation to dinner,
which was, however, civilly declined. He paid his bills and meddled with
no one. All which being reported, more or less faithfully, to the
proprietor of Monkbarns, caused the young man to rise in his estimation,
as one who had too much good sense to trouble himself with the "bodies"
of Fairport.
It was five days before Lovel made his way out to the House of Monkbarns
to pay his respects. The mansion had once on a time been the storehouse
of the vanished Abbey. There the monks had stored the meal which the
people dwelling on their lands brought to them instead of rent. Lovel
found it a rambling, hither-and-thither old house, with tall hedges of
yew all about it. These last were cut into arm-chairs, crowing cocks,
and St. Georges in the act of slaying many dragons, all green and
terrible. But one great yew had been left untouched by the shears, and
under it Lovel found his late fellow-traveller sitting, spectacles on
nose, reading the _London Chronicle_.
The old gentleman immediately rose to welcome his guest, and having
taken him indoors, he guided him with some difficulty to the "den," as
he called his study. Here Mr. Oldbuck found his niece in company with a
serving-maid, both in the midst of a thick cloud of dust, endeavouring
to reduce the place to some order and cleanliness.
The Antiquary instantly exploded, as is the manner of all book-lovers
when their "things" are disarranged.
"How dare you, or Jenny either, presume to meddle with my private
affairs? Go sew your sampler, you monkey, and do not let me find you
here again as you value your ears--"
"Why, uncle," said the girl, who still stood her ground, "your room was
not fit to be seen, and I just came to see that Jenny laid everything
down where she took it up."
In the midst of a second discharge of great guns the young lady made her
escape, with a half-humorous courtesy to Lovel. It was, indeed, some
time before the young man could see, through the dense clouds of dust
(which, as the Antiquary said, had been ancient and peaceful enough only
an hour ago) the chamber of Mr. Oldbuck, full of great books, littered
with ancient maps, engravings, scraps of parchment, old armour,
broadswords, and Highland targets.
In the midst of all crouched a huge black cat, glaring steadily with
great yellow eyes out of the murky confusion, like the familiar spirit
of this wizard's den.
So, after showing Lovel many of his most valuable antiquities, and in
especial his treasured books, Mr. Oldbuck gladly led the way into the
open air. He would take his visitor, he said, to the Kaim of Kinprunes.
It was on his own land, he affirmed, and not very far away. Arrived at a
little barren eminence, the Antiquary demanded of his friend what he
saw.
"A very fine view!" said Lovel, promptly.
But this was not the response for which the proud owner was waiting. He
went on to ask Lovel if he did not see anything remarkable on the
surface of the ground.
"Why, yes," said Lovel, readily, "I do see something like a ditch,
indistinctly marked."
At this, however, the Antiquary was most indignant.
"Indistinct!" he cried, "why, the indistinctness must be in your own
eyes. It was clear even to that light-headed lassie, my niece, at the
first glance. Here on this very Kaim of Kinprunes was fought out the
final conflict between Agricola and the Caledonians! The record
says--let me remind you--'in sight of the Grampian Hills.' Yonder they
are! _In conspectu classis_,--'in sight of the fleet,'--and where will
you find a finer bay than that on your right hand? From this very
fortification, doubtless, Agrippa looked down on the immense army of
Caledonians occupying the slopes of the opposite hill, the infantry
rising rank over rank, the cavalry and charioteers scouring the more
level space below. From this very _prætorium_--"
But a voice from behind interrupted the Antiquary's poetic description,
for his voice had mounted almost into a kind of ecstasy.
"_Prætorian here--Prætorian there--I mind the bigging o't!_"
Both at once turned round, Lovel surprised, and the Antiquary both
surprised and angry. An old man in a huge slouched hat, a long white
grizzled beard, weather-beaten features of the colour of brick-dust, a
long blue gown with a pewter badge on the right arm, stood gazing at
them. In short, it was Edie Ochiltree, the King's Blue-Gownsman, which
is to say, privileged beggar.
"What is that ye say, Edie?" demanded Oldbuck, thinking that his ears
must have deceived him.
"About this bit bower, Monkbarns," said the undaunted Edie, "I mind the
biggin' (building) o' it!"
"The deil ye do!" said the Antiquary with scorn in his voice; "why, you
old fool, it was here before ye were born, and will be here after ye are
hanged."
"Hanged or drowned, alive or dead," said Edie, sticking to his guns, "I
mind the biggin' o't!"
"You--you--you," stammered the Antiquary, between confusion and anger,
"you strolling old vagabond, what ken ye about it?"
"Oh, I ken just this about it, Monkbarns," he answered, "and what profit
have I in telling ye a lie? It was just some mason-lads and me, with
maybe two or three herds, that set to work and built this bit thing here
that ye call the prætorian, to be a shelter for us in a sore time
of rain, at auld Aiken Drum's bridal. And look ye, Monkbarns, dig down,
and ye will find a stone (if ye have not found it already) with the
shape of a spoon and the letters A.D.L.L. on it--that is to say Aiken
Drum's Lang Ladle."
The Antiquary blushed crimson with anger and mortification. For indoors
he had just been showing that identical stone to Lovel as his chiefest
treasure, and had interpreted the ladle as a Roman sacrificing vessel,
and the letters upon it as a grave Latin inscription, carved by Agrippa
himself to celebrate his victory.
Lovel was inclined to be amused by the old beggar's demolishing of all
the Antiquary's learned theories, but he was speedily brought to himself
by Edie Ochiltree's next words.
"That young gentleman, too, I can see, thinks little o' an auld carle
like me, yet I'll wager I could tell him where he was last night in the
gloaming, only maybe he would not like to have it spoken of in company!"
It was now Lovel's turn to blush, which he did with the vivid crimson of
two-and-twenty.
"Never mind the old rogue," said Mr. Oldbuck, "and don't think that I
think any the worse of you for your profession. They are only prejudiced
fools and coxcombs who do that."
For, in spite of Lovel's interest in ancient history, it still remained
in the Antiquary's mind that his young friend must be an actor by
profession.
But to this Lovel paid no attention. He was engaged in making sure of
Edie's silence by the simple method of passing a crown-piece out of his
own pocket into the Blue-Gown's hand; while Monkbarns, equally willing
to bridle his tongue as to the building of the prætorian, was
sending him down to the mansion house for something to eat and a bottle
of ale thereto.
* * * * *