an' happiness! It was a mistak, was it?--a mistak? I wasna the person at
a'! She thocht the letter was frae anither gentleman a'thegither! An',
pray, wha was this gentleman? A' that, an' a deal mair, I subsequently
fand oot. The gentleman was a certain Willie Smith--a young, guid-lookin
fallow, who sat in the same kirk wi' us, an' between whom an' Lizzy
there had lang existed the telegraphic correspondence o' looks an'
smiles, an' sighs, an' blushes--in fact, just such a correspondence as I
had carried on mysel, wi' this important difference, however, that it
wasna a' on ae side, as it noo appeared it had been in my case. The
other Willie Smith's returns were real, while mine were only imaginary.
I needna enlarge on the subject o' my feelins under this grievous an'
heart-rendin disappointment. It will be aneuch to say that it pat me
nearly beside mysel, an' that it was amaist a hale week before I tasted
a morsel o' food o' ony kind. I was in a sad state; but time, that cures
a' ills, at length cured mine, too, although it didna remove my regret
that a name so unhappily frequent as Willie Smith had ever been bestowed
on me.
Havin already described mysel as bein o' a susceptible nature, and bein
at this time in the prime o' youth, it winna surprise the reader to
learn that I soon after this fell in love a second time. The object o'
my affections, on this occasion, was a pretty girl, whom I met wi' at
the house o' a mutual freen. She was a stranger in oor toun, an' had
come frae Glasgow--o' which city she was a native--on a short visit to a
relation. The acquaintance which I formed wi' this amiable creature soon
ripened into the most ardent affection, an' I had every reason, very
early, to believe that my love was returned. The subsequent progress of
our intimacy established the delightful fact. We eventually stood on the
footin o' avowed, an' all but absolutely betrothed lovers. Soon after
this, Lucy Craig, which was the name of my beloved, returned to Glasgow,
but not before we had settled to maintain a close and regular
correspondence.
The correspondence wi' Lucy, to which I hae alluded, subsequently took
place; an', for several months--durin which I had made, besides, twa or
three runs to Glasgow, to see her--mony a sweet epistle passed between
us--epistles fu' o' lowin love, an' sparklin hopes, an' joy. I may as
weel here remark, too, that, on the occasions o' my visits to Lucy, I
was maist cordially an' kindly received by her mother--a fine, decent,
motherly body, an' a widow--Lucy's father havin died several years
before. Aweel, as I said, our correspondence went on closely an'
uninterruptedly; but I maun noo add, wi' a restriction as to time, an'
say for aboot five months, at the end o' which time it suddenly ceased,
on the pairt o' Lucy, a'thegither. She was due me a letter at the time;
for I had written three close on the back o' each other, which were yet
unanswered. In the greatest impatience an' uneasiness, I first waited ae
week, an' then anither, an' anither, an' anither, till they ran up to
aboot six, whan, unable langer to thole the misery which her seemin
negligence, or it micht be something waur, had created, I determined on
puttin my fit in the coach, an' gaun slap richt through mysel, to
ascertain the cause o' her extraordinary silence. To this
proceedin--that is, my gaun to Glasgow--I was further induced by anither
circumstance. There was a mercantile hoose there, wi' which my faither
had dealt for twenty years, an' which had gotten, frae first to last,
mony a thoosan pounds o' his money--a' weel an' punctually paid. Noo, it
happened that, twa or three days before this, my faither had dispatched
an order to this house for a fresh supply o' guids, whan, to oor
inexpressible amazement, we received, instead o' the guids, a letter
plumply refusin ony further credit, an' demandin, under a threat o'
immediate prosecution, payment o' oor current account--amountin to aboot
L150. To us this was a most extraordinary affair, an' wholly
inexplicable, an' we resolved to know what it meant, by personal
application to the firm. This, then, was anither purpose I had to serve
in gaun to Glasgow, to which I accordingly set out, wi' the folks
hunner-an'-fifty pounds in my pocket.
On arrivin in the city just named, my first ca', of course, was on Lucy.
But this wasna accomplished withoot a great deal o' previous painfu
feelin. It was twa or three minutes before I could rap. At length I
raised the knocker, an' struck. Lucy opened the door. She stared wildly
at me, for a second, an' then, utterin a scream, ran into the house,
exclaimin, distractedly--"O James, James! mother, mother! here's Mr.
Smith's ghost!" And she screamed again more loudly than ever, an' flung
herself on the sofa, in a violent fit o' hysterics.
Here, then, was a pretty reception. I was confounded, but stepped
leisurely into the hoose, after Lucy, whom I found extended on the sofa,
an' her mother an' a strange gentleman beside her--a stranger to me at
least--endeavouring to soothe her, and calm her violence. On the mother,
my presence seemed to hae nearly as extraordinary an effect as on the
dochter. Whan I entered the room, she, too, set up a skirl, and fled as
far back frae me as the apartment wad admit, exclaimin--
"Lord be aboot us, Mr. Smith! is that you? Can it be possible? Are ye in
the body, or are ye but a wanderin spirit? Lord hae a care o' us, are ye
really an' truly leevin, Mr. Smith?"
"Guid folks," said I, as calmly as I could, in reply to this strange
rhapsody, "will ye be sae kind as tell me what a' this means?" An' first
I looked at the dochter, wha was still lyin on the sofa, wi' her face
buried wi' fricht in the cushions, and then at the mother, wha was
sittin in a chair, starin at me, an' gaspin for breath, but noo
evidently satisfied that I was at least nae ghaist.
"Means, Mr. Smith!" said she, at intervals, as she could get breath to
speak; "oh, man, didna we hear that ye were dead! Haena we thocht that
ye were in yer grave for this month past! Dear me, but this is
extraordinar! But will ye just step this way wi' me a minnit." An' she
led the way into another room, whither I followed her, in the hope o'
getting an explanation o' the singular scene which had just taken place;
an' this explanation I did get. On our entering the apartment, my
conductress shut the door, an', desirin me to tak a seat, thus
began--"Dear me, Mr. Smith, but this is a most extraordinar, an' I maun
say, a most unlucky affair. Werena we tell't, a month ago, that ye were
dead an' buried, an' that by mair than ane--ay an' by the carrier frae
yer ain place, too, at whom Lucy made inquiry the moment we heard it?
An', mair than a' that," continued Mrs. Craig, "here's yer death
mentioned in ane o' the newspapers o' yer ain place." Saying this, she
took an auld newspaper frae a shelf, an', after lookin for the place to
which she wanted to direct my attention, put it into my hands, wi' her
thoom on the following piece o' intelligence:--"Died, on the 16th
current, at his father's house, ----, Mr. William Smith, in the 23d year
of his age."
"Noo, Mr. Smith," said Mrs. Craig, triumphantly, "what were we to think
o' a' this, but that ye were really an' truly buried? The place, yer
name, yer age, a' richt to a tittle. What else could we think?"
"Indeed, Mrs. Craig," said I, smilin, "it is an odd business, an' I
dinna wunnur at yer bein deceived; but it's a' easily aneuch explained.
It's this confounded name o' mine that's at the bottom o' a' the
mischief. The Willie Smith here mentioned, I need hardly say, I suppose,
is no me; but I kent him weel aneuch, an' a decent lad he was--he just
lived twa or three doors frae us; an', as to the carrier misleadin ye, I
dinna wunnur at that either--for he wad naturally think ye were inquirin
after the deceased. But there's nae harm dune, Mrs. Craig," continued I.
"I'm no sure o' that," interrupted my hostess, wi' a look an' expression
o' voice that rather took me aback, as indeed, had also the _triumphant_
manner in which she had appealed to me if they could be blamed for havin
believed me dead. This she was aye pressin on me, an' I was rather
surprised at it; but it was to be fully accounted for.
"No!" said I, whan Mrs. Craig expressed her uncertainty as to there bein
ony mischief dune; "isna there Lucy to the fore, lookin as weel an' as
healthy as ever I saw her, an'"----
"Lucy's married!" interposed Mrs. Craig, firmly and solemnly.
"Married!" exclaimed I, starting frae my seat, in horror an'
amazement--"Lucy married!"
"'Deed is she, Mr. Smith, an' yon was her husband ye saw; an' ye canna
blame her, puir thing! I'm sure mony a sair heart she had after ye. I
thocht she wad hae gratten her een oot; but, bein sure ye were dead, an'
a guid offer comin in the way, ye ken, she couldna refuse't. It wad hae
been the heicht o' imprudence. Sae she juist dried her een, puir thing,
an' buckled to."
"Exactly, Mrs. Craig--exactly," said I, here interruptin her; "I
understan ye--ye need sae nae mair." An' I rushed oot o' the door like a
madman, an' through the streets, withoot kennin either what I was doin
or whar I was gaun. On recovering my composure a little, I fand mysel in
the Green o' Glasgow, an' close by the river side. The clear, calm, deep
water tempted me, in the desperation o' my thochts. Ae plunge, an' a'
this distractin turmoil that was rackin my soul, an' tearin my bosom
asunder, wad be stilled. In this frame o' mind, I gazed gloomily on the
glidin stream; but, as I gazed, better thochts gradually presented
themsels, an' finally, resentment took the place o' despondency, whan I
reflected on the heartless haste o' Lucy to wed anither, thereby
convincin me that, in losin her, my loss was by nae means great. So
then, to mak a lang story short, in place o' jumpin into the Clyde, I
hied me to a tavern, ate as hearty a supper as ever I ate in my life,
drank a guid, steeve tumbler o' toddy, tumbled into bed, sleepit as
sound as a caterpillar in winter, an' awoke next mornin as fresh as a
daisy an' as licht as a lark, free frae a' concern aboot Lucy, an'
perfectly satisfied that I had acted quite richt in no droonin mysel on
the previous nicht.
Havin noo got quit o' my love affairs, my first business, next day, was
to ca' on the mercantile firm alluded to in another part o' the
narrative; and to their countin-hoose I accordingly directed my
steps--and thae steps, when I entered their premises, were a wee
haughty, for I felt at once the strength o' the money in my pouch, and a
sense o' havin been ill-used by them. On enterin the countin-hoose, I
fand the principal there alane, seated at a desk.
This gentleman I knew personally, and he kent me too; for I had
frequently ca'ed at his office in the way o' business, and on these
occasions he had aye come forrit to me wi' extended hand and a smilin
countenance. On the present, however, he did naething o' the kind. He
sat still, and, lookin sternly at me as I approached him--
"Well, Mr. Smith," he said, "are ye come to settle that account? Short
accounts make long friends, you know," he added, but wi' a sort o'
ferocious smile, if there be such a thing.
"I wad like first to ken, sir," I replied, "what was the meanin o' yer
writin us sic a letter as we had frae ye the ither day?"
"Why, Mr. Smith," said Mr. Drysdale, which was the gentleman's name,
"under the peculiar circumstances of the case, I don't see there was
anything in that letter that ought to have surprised you. It was a
perfectly natural and reasonable effort on our part to recover our own."
"A reasonable effort, sir, to recover your own!" said I indignantly.
"What do you mean? My faither has dealt wi' ye these twenty years, and I
don't suppose ye ever fand it necessary to mak ony effort to recover
your money oot o' his hands. I rather think ye were aye paid withoot
askin."
"Oh, yes, yes," replied Mr. Drysdale, doggedly; "but I repeat that
recent circumstances have altered the case materially."
"What circumstances do ye allude to, sir?" said I, wi' increasin
passion.
"What circumstances, sir, do I allude to?" replied Mr. Drysdale,
fiercely. "I don't suppose you required to come here for that
information; but you shall have it nevertheless, since you ask it." And,
proceeding to a file of newspapers, he detached one, and, throwing it on
the desk before me, placed his finger, as Mrs. Craig had done on another
occasion, on the bankrupt list, and desired me to look at _that_. I did
so, and read, in this catalogue of unfortunates, the name of "William
Smith, merchant, ----. Creditors to meet," &c. &c.
"Now, sir," said Mr. Drysdale, with a triumphant sneer, "are you
satisfied?"
"Perfectly, sir," I replied; "but you will please to observe that that
William Smith is not my father. He's a totally different person."
"What!" exclaimed Mr. Drysdale, "not your father! Who is he, then? I
didn't know there was any other William Smith, of any note in trade, in
your town. I did not, indeed, look particularly at the designation; but
took it for granted it was your father, as, to my certain knowledge,
many others have also done."
"Indeed!" replied I; "why, that is mair serious. Some steps maun be taen
to remedy that mischief."
"Without a moment's delay," said Mr. Drysdale, who was already a changed
man. "Your father must advertise directly, saying he's not the William
Smith whose name appears in the bankrupt list of such a date. Lose not a
moment in doing this, or your credit'll be cracked throughout the three
kingdoms. It has already suffered seriously here, I can assure you."
Having paid Mr. Drysdale his account, which he wasna noo for
acceptin--sayin that, if we had the sma'est occasion for the money, to
use it freely, without regardin them--and havin thanked him for his
advice as to counteracting the evil report that had gane abroad
respectin us, I hurried awa to put it in execution; and thinkin it very
hard to be subjected to a' this trouble sae innocently, and to hae, at
ane and the same time, a pair o' such calamities sae oddly thrust upon
me, as my ain death, and the bankruptcy o' my faither. However, sae it
was. But my business noo was to remedy, as far as possible, the mischief
that had been done by the unfounded rumour o' oor insolvency. Wi' this
view I hastened awa to a newspaper office, to begin the cure by an
advertisement; and, in doin this, I had occasion to pass the
coach-office whar I had landed the day before. Observin the place, I
thocht I micht as weel step in and secure my ticket for the following
day, when it was my intention to return hame. Accordingly, into the
office I gaed; and, whan I did sae, I fand the clerk in earnest
conversation wi' twa men, ane o' whom was busily employed in lookin owre
the way-book or register o' passengers' names. They didna at first
observe me enter; but, whan they did, there was an instant pause in
their conversation; and I observed the clerk, after he had glanced at
me, tippin a significant wink to ane, and gently punchin the other wi'
his elbow. Then a' three glanced at me. I couldna understand it.
However, I said nothing; thinkin they were settlin some private business
thegither, and, oot o' guid nature, wad rather wait a minute or twa than
interrupt them. But my waiting wasna lang. Before I had been an instant
in the office, ane o' the men cam roun to whar I was stan'in, and,
lookin me fiercely in the face, said--
"What's your name, sir, if you please?"
"My name, sir!" replied I, as angrily--for I thocht the fellow put the
question in a very impertinent sort o' way--"what business hae ye wi' my
name?"
"Oh, mair than ye're aware o', p'raps," says he. "An' it's a bad sign o'
a man whan he'll no tell his name," says he. This touched me to the
quick, an' I dare say the vagabond kent it wad, an' did it on purpose.
It was a wipe at my character which I could by nae means submit to. So
says I to him, says I--
"Freen, ye'll observe that I'm no denyin my name--I'm only disputin yer
richt to demand it. I'm no ashamed o' my name, sir, although it
certainly has cost me some trouble in my day. My name, sir, is William
Smith--sae mak o't what ye like."
"I should mak a couple o' guineas o't, at the very least," said the
fellow, wi' a smile; and at the same time catchin me by the breast o' my
coat, and sayin that I was his prisoner.
"Prisoner!" exclaimed I, in amazement, "prisoner! what do you mean?"
"I mean just exactly what I say," said the fellow, quite coolly; and,
thinkin he saw in me some show o' a spirit o' resistance, whilk there
really was, he touched me wi' a bit thing like a wean's whistle, and
winked to his neebor to come to his assistance, which the latter
immediately did, and catched me by the ither breast o' my coat.
"Come along," said baith, now beginnin to drag me wi' them.
"No a fit," said I, resistin, "till I ken what for I'm used this way."
"Oh! ye don't know, Mr. Innocence!" said the fellow wha first took hand
o' me; "not you--you're amazed, an't you? You can't suppose there's such
a thing as fugae warrants out against you! And you can't believe I should
have such a thing in my pocket," added the scoonril, takin' a piece o'
paper oot o' his pouch, and haudin't up before my een, but oot o' my
reach. "There, my lad, are you satisfied now? That's the thing I walks
by."
Then, havin replaced the paper in his pouch, he went on, but now,
apparently, more for the information of the bystanders (of whom there
was, by this time, a considerable number gathered together), than for
mine.
"You're apprehended, Mr. Smith, by virtue of a fugae warrant, obtained at
the instance of Messrs. Hodgson, Brothers, & Co., on the evidence of two
credible witnesses--namely, Robert Smart and Henry Allan--who have
deponed that you were going beyond seas; you being indebted to the said
Hodgson, Brothers, & Co., in the sum of L74. 15s. 9d. sterling money.
There's cause and ground for yer apprehension, Mr. Smith," continued the
fellow; "so, no more about it, but come along quietly, and at once, or it
may be worse for you."
"I'll see you shot first," said I. "I ken naething aboot your Hodgson,
Brothers--never heard o' them before. I owe them nae money, nor onybody
else, but what I can pay; and I haena, nor ever had, ony intention
whatever o' leavin my ain country."
"A' quite natural statement'; these, Mr. Smith," said the man wha first
took haud o' me; "but ye'll observe we're no bound to believe them. All
that we have to do, is to execute our duty. If you are wronged, you may
have your redress by legal process. In the meantime, ye go with us." And
again the two commenced draggin me oot o' the office.
"May I be hanged if I do, then!" said I, passionately; for my blood was
noo gettin up. It wad hae been far better for me, in the end, if I had
taen things calmly--for I could easily hae proven my identity, and, of
course, the messengers' error in apprehendin me; but my prudence and
patience baith gave way before the strong feelin o' resentment, which a
sense o' the injustice I was sufferin had excited.
"May I be hanged if I do, then!" said I; and wi' that I hit ane o' the
fellows a wap on the face that sent him staggerin to the other side o'
the office. Havin done this, I turned roun', quick as thocht, and
collared the ane that still held by me, a proceedin which was
immediately followed by a wrestle o' the most ferocious and determined
character. I was the stouter man o' the twa, however, and wad sune hae
laid my antagonist on the breadth o' his back, but for his neebor, who,
now rendered furious by the blow which I had gien him, sprang on me like
a tiger; and, between them I was borne to the groun', the twa fa'in on
the tap o' me. Here, again, however, the battle was renewed. I continued
to kick and box richt and left, wi' a vigour that made me still
formidable to my enemies; while they, to do them justice, lent me kicks
and blows in return, that nearly ca'ed the life out o' me. There, then,
were we a' three rowin on the floor, sometimes ane uppermost an'
sometimes anither, wi' oor faces streamin o' blude, and oor coats a'
torn in the most ruinous manner. It was an awfu' scene, and such a ane
as hadna been seen often in that office before, I dare say. As micht be
expected, we had a numerous audience, too The office was filled wi'
folk, the door was choked up wi' them, and there was an immense crowd in
the street, and clusters at the window, a' tryin to get a sicht or a
knowledge o' what was proceedin within. Baith the commotion and the
concourse, in fact, was tremendous--just appallin to look at. But this
was a state o' matters that couldna last lang. My assailants havin ca'ed
in the assistance o' a couple o' great, big, stout fallows o' porters, I
was finally pinned to the floor, whan my hauns bein secured by a pair o'
handcuffs, I was raised to my feet, again collared by the twa officers,
and a cry havin been made to clear the road, I was led oot o' the office
in procession; a messenger on each side o' me, the twa porters ahint,
and ane before, openin a passage through the crowd, whose remarks, as I
gaed alang, were highly flatterin to me:--
"What an awfu'-like ruffian!" said ane. "What a murderous-lookin
scoonril!" said anither.
"What's he been doin?" inquired a third.
"Robbin the mail-coach," answered a fourth; "and they say he has
murdered the guard an' twa passengers."
"Oh! the monster!" exclaimed an auld wife, whom this piece of accurate
information had reached; "the savage, bloody monster! Was ever the like
heard tell o'! The gallows is owre guid for him."
In short, I heard mysel, as I was led alang, charged wi' every crime
that human wickedness is capable o', although I perceived that the
robbery o' the mail, and the murders o' the guard and passengers, was
the favourite and prevailing notion; a notion which, I presumed, had
arisen frae the circumstance o' the row's havin had its origin in a
coach office. Some reports hae been waur founded. As to the reflections
on my appearance, I couldna reasonably quarrel wi' them: for, really, it
was far frae bein prepossessin; and o' this I was quite sensible. My
coat was hingin in tatters aboot me; my hat was crushed oot o' a' shape;
and my face was hideously disfigured wi' blude, and wi' unnatural
swellins frae the blows I had gotten.
Wi' the reflections on my appearance, then, as I hae said, greatly
improved as it was by the display o' my handcuffs, I couldna justly fin'
faut. By-and-by, however, we reached the jail; and into ane o' its
strongest and best secured apartments was I immediately conducted. Havin
seen me fairly lodged here, my captors took their leave o' me; ane o'
them sayin, as he quitted the cell, and shakin his head as he spoke--
"If ye don't rue this job, friend, my name's not what it is--that's
all."
The door bein noo closed on me, an' a fine opportunity bein thus
presented me for indulgin in a little reflection on my present
circumstances an' situation, I accordingly began to do so; but I fand it
by nae means a very agreeable employment. Amang ither things, it struck
me that I had exposed mysel' sadly, and very unnecessarily, since I
could easily, as I believe I hae before remarked, hae shown that they
had put the saddle on the wrong horse; but I had allowed my passion to
get the better o' me, an' instead o' takin the richt and prudent course
o' establishin this by a quiet procedure, had resisted, an' foucht like
a thief taen in the fact. However, the business was noo hoo to mend the
matter, an' it was some time before I could discover precisely hoo this
was to be done--at least wi' a' that expedition I wad hae liked. At last
it struck me that I couldna do better than intimate my situation to Mr.
Drysdale, an' request o' him to come an' see me. This, then, I
immediately did--the jailor furnishin me wi' paper, pen, an' ink, an'
undertakin to have my letter delivered as directed, which was faithfully
executed; for, in less than half-an-hour, Mr. Drysdale, laughin' like to
split his sides, entered my cell.
"What's this, Mr. Smith?--what's this has happened ye, man?" said he,
when the laughing would let him speak. "Ye see what it is to hae a bad
name. I tell't ye there was mair than me mistaen aboot this affair. It's
a most unlucky name yours."
"Confound the name, sir!" said I. "It's like to be baith the ruin an'
the death o' me. But what can I do? I canna get quit o't, an' maun just
fecht oot wi't the best way I can."