Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland.
HISTORICAL, TRADITIONARY, & IMAGINATIVE.
WITH A GLOSSARY.
REVISED BY ALEXANDER LEIGHTON,
_One of the Original Editors and Contributors_.
VOL. XXII.
1884.
CONTENTS.
UPS AND DOWNS; OR, DAVID STUART'S ACCOUNT OF HIS PILGRIMAGE, (_John
Mackay Wilson_),
THE BURGHER'S TALES. THE ANCIENT BUREAU. (_Alexander Leighton_),
LADY RAE, (_Alexander Campbell_),
THE DIAMOND EYES, (_Alexander Leighton_),
DAVID LORIMER, (_Anon_.)
THE CONVICT, (_Anon_.)
THE AMATEUR ROBBERY, (_Alexander Leighton_),
THE PROCRASTINATOR, (_John Mackay Wilson_),
THE TEN OF DIAMONDS, (_Alexander Leighton_),
WILSON'S TALES OF THE BORDERS, AND OF SCOTLAND.
* * * * *
UPS AND DOWNS; OR, DAVID STUART'S ACCOUNT OF HIS PILGRIMAGE.
Old David Stuart was the picture of health--a personification of
contentment. When I knew him, his years must have considerably exceeded
threescore; but his good-natured face was as ruddy as health could make
it; his hair, though mingled with grey, was as thick and strong as if he
had been but twenty; his person was still muscular and active; and,
moreover, he yet retained, in all their freshness, the feelings of his
youth, and no small portion of the simplicity of his childhood. I loved
David, not only because he was a good man, but because there was a great
deal of _character_ or _originality_ about him; and though his brow was
cheerful, the clouds of sorrow had frequently rested upon it. More than
once when seated by his parlour fire, and when he had finished his pipe,
and his afternoon tumbler stood on the table beside him, I have heard
him give the following account of the ups and downs--the trials, the
joys, and sorrows--which he had encountered in his worldly pilgrimage;
and, to preserve the interest of the history, I shall give it in David's
own idiom, and in his own words.
"I ne'er was a great traveller," David was wont to begin: "through the
length o' Edinburgh, and as far south as Newcastle, is a' that my legs
ken about geography. But I've had a good deal o' crooks and thraws, and
ups and downs, in the world for a' that. My faither was in the droving
line, and lived in the parish o' Coldstream. He did a good deal o'
business, baith about the fairs on the Borders, at Edinburgh market
every week, and sometimes at Morpeth. He was a bachelor till he was
five-and-forty, and he had a very decent lass keep'd his house, they
ca'd Kirsty Simson. Kirsty was a remarkably weel-faur'd woman, and a
number o' the farm lads round about used to come and see her, as weel as
trades' chields frae about Coldstream and Birgham--no that she gied them
ony encouragement, but that it was her misfortune to hae a gude-looking
face. So, there was ae night that my faither cam' hame frae Edinburgh,
and, according to his custom, he had a drap in his e'e--yet no sae
meikle but that he could see a lad or twa hingin' about the house. He
was very angry; and, 'Kirsty,' said he, 'I dinna like thae youngsters to
come about the house.'
"'I'm sure, sir,' said she, 'I dinna encourage them.'
"'Weel, Kirsty,' said he, 'if that's the way, if ye hae nae objections,
I'll marry ye mysel'.'
"'I dinna see what objections I should hae,' said she, and, without ony
mair courtship, in a week or twa they were married; and, in course o'
time, I was born. I was sent to school when I was about eight years
auld, but my education ne'er got far'er than the rule o' three. Before I
was fifteen, I assisted my faither at the markets, and in a short time
he could trust me to buy and sell. There was one very dark night in the
month o' January, when I was little mair than seventeen, my faither and
me were gaun to Morpeth, and we were wishing to get forward wi' the
beasts as far as Whittingham; but just as we were about half a mile doun
the loanin' frae Glanton, it cam' awa ane o' the dreadfu'est storms that
e'er mortal was out in. The snaw literally fell in a solid mass, and
every now and then the wind cam' roarin' and howlin' frae the hills, and
the fury o' the drift was terrible. I was driven stupid and half
suffocated. My faither was on a strong mare, and I was on a bit powney;
and amang the cattle there was a camstairy three-year-auld bull, that
wad neither hup nor drive. We had it tied by the foreleg and the horns;
but the moment the drift broke ower us, the creature grew perfectly
unmanageable; forward it wadna gang. My faither had strucken at it, when
the mad animal plunged its horns into the side o' the mare, and he fell
to the ground. I could just see what had happened, and that was a'. I
jumped aff the powney, and ran forward. 'O faither!' says I, 'ye're no
hurt, are ye?' He was trying to rise, but before I could reach
him--indeed, before I had the words weel out o' my mouth--the animal
made a drive at him! 'O Davy!' he cried, and he ne'er spak mair! We
generally carried pistols, and I had presence o' mind to draw ane out o'
the breast-pocket o' my big coat, and shoot the animal dead on the spot.
I tried to raise my faither in my arms, and, dark as it was, I could see
his blood upon the snaw--and a dreadfu' sight it was for a son to see! I
couldna see where he had been hurt; and still, though he groaned but
once, I didna think he was dead, and I strove and strove again to lift
him upon the back o' the powney, and take him back to Glanton; but
though I fought wi' my heart like to burst a' the time, I couldna
accomplish it. 'Oh, what shall I do?' said I, and cried and shouted for
help--for the snaw fell sae fast, and the drift was sae terrible, that I
was feared that, even if he werena dead, he wad be smothered and buried
up before I could ride to Glanton and back. And, as I cried, our poor
dog Rover came couring to my faither's body and licked his hand, and its
pitiful howls mingled wi' the shrieks o' the wind. No kennin' what to
do, I lifted my faither to the side o' the road, and tried to place him,
half sitting like, wi' his back to the drift, by the foot o' the hedge.
'Oh, watch there, Rover,' said I; and the poor dog ran yowlin' to his
feet, and did as I desired it. I sprang upon the back o' the powney, and
flew up to the town. Within five minutes I was back, and in a short time
a number o' folk wi' lichts cam' to our assistance. My faither was
covered wi' blood, but without the least sign o' life. I thought my
heart wad break, and for a time my screams were heard aboon the ragin'
o' the storm. My faither was conveyed up to the inn, and, on being
stripped, it was found that the horn o' the animal had entered his back
below the left shouther; and when a doctor frae Alnwick saw the body
next day, he said he must have died instantly--and, as I have told ye,
he never spoke, but just cried, 'O Davy!'
"My feelings were in such a state that I couldna write mysel', and I got
a minister to send a letter to my mother, puir woman, stating what had
happened. An acquaintance o' my faither's looked after the cattle, and
disposed o' them at Morpeth; and I, having hired a hearse at Alnwick,
got the body o' my faither taen hame. A sorrowfu' hame-gaun it was, ye
may weel think. Before ever we reached the house, I heard the shrieks o'
my puir mither. 'O my faitherless bairn!' she cried, as I entered the
door; but before she could rise to meet me, she got a glent o' the
coffin which they were takin' out o' the hearse, and utterin' a sudden
scream, her head fell back, and she gaed clean awa.
"After my faither's funeral, we found that he had died worth only about
four hundred pounds when his debts were paid; and as I had been bred in
the droving line, though I was rather young, I just continued it, and my
mother and me kept house thegither.
"This was the only thing particular that happened to me for the next
thirteen years, or till I was thirty. My mother still kept the house,
and I had nae thoughts o' marrying: no but that I had gallanted a wee
bit wi' the lasses now and then, but it was naething serious, and was
only to be neighbour-like. I had ne'er seen ane that I could think o'
takin' for better for warse; and, anither thing, if I had seen ane to
please me, I didna think my mother would be comfortable wi' a young wife
in the house. Weel, ye see, as I was telling ye, things passed on in
this way till I was thirty, when a respectable flesher in Edinburgh that
I did a good deal o' business wi', and that had just got married, says
to me in the Grassmarket ae day: 'Davy,' says he, 'ye're no gaun out o'
the toun the night--will ye come and tak' tea and supper wi' the wife
and me, and a freend or twa?'
"'I dinna care though I do,' says I; 'but I'm no just in a tea-drinkin'
dress.'
"'Ne'er mind the dress,' says he. So, at the hour appointed, I stepped
awa ower to Hanover Street, in the New Town, where he lived, and was
shown into a fine carpeted room, wi' a great looking-glass, in a gilt
frame, ower the chimley-piece--ye could see yoursel' at full length in't
the moment you entered the door. I was confounded at the carpets and the
glass, and a sofa, nae less; and, thinks I, 'This shows what kind o'
bargains ye get frae me.' There were three or four leddies sitting in
the room; and 'Mr. Stuart, leddies,' said the flesher; 'Mr. Stuart, Mrs.
So-and-so,' said he again--'Miss Murray, Mr. Stuart.' I was like to drap
at the impudence o' the creatur--he handed me about as if I had been a
bairn at a dancin' school. 'Your servant, leddies,' said I; and didna
ken where to look, when I got a glimpse o' my face in the glass, and saw
it was as red as crimson. But I was mair than ever put about when the
tea was brought in, and the creatur says to me, 'Mr. Stuart, will you
assist the leddies?' 'Confound him,' thought I, 'has he brought me here
to mak' a fule o'me!' I did attempt to hand round the tea and toast,
when, wi' downright confusion, I let a cup fall on Miss Murray's gown. I
could have died wi' shame. 'Never mind--never mind, sir!' said she;
'there is no harm done;' and she spoke sae proper and sae kindly, I was
in love wi' her very voice. But when I got time to observe her face, it
was a perfect picture; and through the hale night after, I could do
naething but look at and think o' Miss Murray.
"'Man,' says I to the flesher the next time I saw him, 'wha was yon Miss
Murray?' 'No match for a Grassmarket dealer, Davy,' says he. 'I was
thinkin' that,' says I; 'but I wad like to be acquainted wi' her.' 'Ye
shall be that,' says he; and, after that, there was seldom a month
passed that I was in Edinburgh but I saw Miss Murray. But as to
courtin', that was out o' the question.
"A short time after this, a relation o' my mither's, wha had been a
merchant in London, dee'd, and it was said we were his nearest heirs;
and that as he had left nae will, if we applied, we would get the
property, which was worth about five thousand pounds. Weel, three or
four years passed awa, and we heard something about the lawsuit, but
naething about the money. I was vexed for having onything to say to it.
I thought it was only wasting a candle to chase a will-o'-the-wisp.
About the time I speak o', my mither had turned very frail. I saw there
was a wastin' awa o' nature, and she wadna be lang beside me. The day
before her death, she took my hand, and 'Davy,' says she to me--'Davy,'
poor body, she repeated (I think I hear her yet)--'it wad been a great
comfort to me if I had seen ye settled wi' a decent partner before I
dee'd; but it's no to be.'
"Weel, as I was saying, my mither dee'd, and I found the house very
dowie without her. It wad be about three months after her death--I had
been at Whitsunbank; and when I cam' hame, the servant lassie put a
letter into my hands; and 'Maister,' says she, 'there's a letter--can it
be for you, think ye?' It was directed, 'David Stuart, _Esquire_ (nae
less), for----, by Coldstream.' So I opened the seal, and, to my
surprise and astonishment, I found it was frae the man o' business I had
employed in London, stating that I had won the law-plea, and that I
might get the money whene'er I wanted it. I sent for the siller the very
next post. Now, ye see, I was sick and tired o' being a bachelor. I had
lang wished to be settled in a comfortable matrimonial way--that is,
frae e'er I had seen Miss Murray. But, ye see, while I was a drover, I
was very little at hame--indeed I was waur than an Arawbian--and had
very little peace or comfort either, and I thought it was nae use takin'
a wife until something better might cast up. But this wasna the only
reason. There wasna a woman on earth that I thought I could live happy
wi' but Miss Murray, and she belanged to a genteel family: whether she
had ony siller or no, I declare, as I'm to be judged hereafter, I never
did inquire. But I saw plainly it wadna do for a rough country drover,
jauped up to the very elbows, and sportin' a handfu' o' pound-notes the
day, and no' worth a penny the morn--I say, I saw plainly it wadna do
for the like o' me to draw up by her elbow, and say 'Here's a fine day,
ma'am,' or, 'Hae ye ony objections to a walk?' or something o' that
sort. But it was weel on for five years since I had singled her out; and
though I never said a word anent the subject o' matrimony, yet I had
reason to think she had a shrewd guess that my heart louped quicker when
she opened her lips than if a regiment o' infantry had stealed behint me
unobserved, and fired their muskets ower my shouther; and I sometimes
thought that her een looked as if she wished to say, 'Are ye no gaun to
ask me, David?'
"But still, when I thought she had been brought up a leddy in a kind o'
manner, I durstna venture to mint the matter; but I was fully resolved
and determined, should I succeed in getting the money I was trying for,
to break the business clean aff hand. So, ye see, as soon as I got the
siller, what does I do but sits down and writes her a letter--and sic a
letter! I tauld her a' my mind as freely as though I had been speakin'
to you. Weel, ye see, I gaed bang through to Edinburgh at ance, no three
days after my letter; and up I goes to the Lawnmarket, where she was
living wi' her mother, and raps at the door without ony ceremony. But
when I had rapped, I was in a swither whether to staun till they came
out or no, for my heart began to imitate the knocker, or rather to tell
me how I ought to have knocked; for it wasna a loud, solid drover's
knock like mine, but it kept rit-tit-tat-ting on my breast like the
knock of a hairdresser's 'prentice bringing a bandbox fu' o' curls and
ither knick-knackeries, for a leddy to pick and choose on for a fancy
ball; and my face lowed as though ye were haudin' a candle to it; when
out comes the servant, and I stammers out, 'Is your mistress in?' says
I. 'Yes, sir,' says she; 'walk in.' And in I walked; but I declare I
didna ken whether the floor carried me, or I carried the floor; and wha
should I see but an auld leddy wi' spectacles--the maiden's mistress,
sure enough, though no mine, but my mother-in-law that was to be. So she
looked at me, and I looked at her. She made a low curtsey, and I tried
to mak' a bow; while all the time ye might hae heard my heart beatin' at
the opposite side o' the room. 'Sir,' says she. 'Ma'am,' says I. I wad
hae jumped out o' the window had it no been four stories high; but since
I've gane this far, I maun say something, thinks I. 'I've ta'en the
liberty o' callin', ma'am,' says I. 'Very happy to see ye, sir,' says
she. Weel, thinks I, I'm glad to hear that, however; but had it been to
save my life, I didna ken what to say next. So I sat down; and at length
I ventured to ask, 'Is your daughter, Miss Jean, at hame, ma'am?' says
I. 'I wate she is,' quo' she. 'Jean!' she cried wi' a voice that made
the house a' dirl again. 'Comin', mother,' cried my flower o' the
forest; and in she cam', skippin' like a perfect fairy. But when she saw
me, she started as if she had seen an apparition, and coloured up to the
very e'ebrows. As for me, I trembled like an ash leaf, and stepped
forward to meet her. I dinna think she was sensible o' me takin' her by
the hand; and I was just beginning to say again, 'I've taken the
liberty,' when the auld wife had the sense and discretion to leave us by
our-sel's. I'm sure and certain I never experienced such a relief since
I was born. My head was absolutely ringing wi' dizziness and love. I
made twa or three attempts to say something grand, but I never got
half-a-dozen words out; and finding it a' nonsense, I threw my arms
around her waist, and pressed her beatin' breast to mine, and stealing a
hearty kiss, the whole story that I had made such a wark about was ower
in a moment. She made a wee bit fuss, and cried 'Oh fie!' and 'Sir!' or
something o' that kind; but I held her to my breast, declaring my
intentions manfully--that I had been dying for her for five years, and
now that I was a gentleman, I thought I might venture to speak. In fact,
I held her in my arms until she next door to said 'Yes!'
"Within a week we had a'thing settled. I found out she had nae fortune.
Her mother belanged to a kind o' auld family, that, like mony ithers,
cam' down the brae wi' Prince Charles, poor fallow; and they were baith
rank Episcopawlians. I found the mither had just sae muckle a year frae
some o' her far-awa relations; and had it no been that they happened to
ca' me Stuart, and I tauld her a rigmarole about my grandfaither and
Culloden, so that she soon made me out a pedigree, about which I kenned
nae mair than the man o' the moon, but keept saying 'yes' and
'certainly' to a' she said--I say, but for that, and confound me, if she
wadna hae curled up her nose at me and my five thousand pounds into the
bargain, though her lassie should hae starved. But Jeannie was a perfect
angel. She was about two or three and thirty, wi' light brown hair,
hazel e'en, and a waist as jimp and sma' as ye ever saw upon a human
creature. She dressed maist as plain as a Quakeress, but was a pattern
o' neatness. Indeed, a blind man might seen she was a leddy born and
bred; and then for sense, haud at ye there, I wad matched her against
the minister and the kirk elders put thegither. But she took that o' her
mither; o' whom mair by-and-by.
"As I was saying, she was an Episcopawlian,--a downright, open-day
defender o' Archbishop Laud and the bloody Claverhouse; and she wished
to prove down through me the priority and supremacy o' bishops ower
presbyteries,--just downright nonsense, ye ken; but there's nae
accounting for sooperstition. A great deal depends on how a body's
brought up. But what vexed me maist was to think that she wad be gaun to
ae place o' public worship on the Sabbath, and me to anither, just like
twa strangers; and maybe if her minister preached half an hour langer
than mine, or mine half an hour langer than hers, or when we had nae
intermission, then there was the denner spoiled, and the servant no
kenned what time to hae it ready; for the mistress said ane o'clock, and
the maister said twa o'clock. Now, I wadna gie tippence for a cauld
denner.
"But, as I was telling ye about the auld wife, she thocht fit to read
baith us a bit o' a lecture.
"'Now, bairns,' said she, 'I beseech ye, think weel what ye are about;
for it were better to rue at the very foot o' the altar, than to rue it
but ance afterwards, and that ance be for ever. I dinna say this to cast
a damp upon your joy, nor that I doubt your affection for are another;
but I say it as ane who has been a wife, and seen a good deal o' the
world; an,' oh bairns! I say it as a _mother_! Marriage without love is
like the sun in January--often clouded, often trembling through storms,
but aye without heat; and its pillow is comfortless as a snow-wreath.
But although love be the principal thing, remember it is not the only
thing necessary. Are ye sure that ye are perfectly acquainted wi' each
other's characters and tempers? Aboon a', are ye sure that ye esteem and
respect ane anither? Without this, and ye may think that ye like each
other, but it's no real love. It's no that kind o' liking that's to
last through married years, and be like a singing bird in your breasts
to the end o' your days. No, Jeannie, unless your very souls be, as it
were, cemented thegither, unless ye see something in him that ye see in
naebody else, and unless he sees something in you that he sees in
naebody else, dinna marry still. Passionate lovers dinna aye mak'
affectionate husbands. Powder will bleeze fiercely awa in a moment; but
the smotherin' peat retains fire and heat among its very ashes. Remember
that, in baith man and woman, what is passion to-day may be disgust the
morn. Therefore, think now; for it will be ower late to think o' my
advice hereafter.'
"'Troth, ma'am,' said I, 'and I'm sure I'll be very proud to ca' sic a
sensible auld body _mither_!'
"'Rather may ye be proud to call my bairn your _wife_,' said she; 'for,
where a man ceases to be proud o' his wife, upon all occasions, and at
all times, or where a wife has to blush for her husband, ye may say
fareweel to their happiness. However, David,' continued she, 'I dinna
doubt but ye will mak' a gude husband; for ye're a sensible, and I
really think a deservin' lad; and were it nae mair than your name, the
name o' Stuart wad be a passport to my heart. There's but ae thing that
I'm feared on--just ae fault that I see in ye; indeed I may say it's the
beginning o' a' ithers, and I wad fain hae ye promise to mend it; for it
has brought mair misery upon the marriage state than a' the sufferings
o' poverty and the afflictions o' death put thegither.'
"'Mercy me, ma'am!' exclaimed I, 'what de ye mean? Ye've surely been
misinformed.'
"'I've observed it mysel', David,' said she seriously.
"'Goodness, ma'am! ye confound me!' says I; 'if it's onything that's
bad, I'll deny it point blank.'
"'Ye mayna think it bad,' says she again, 'but I fear ye like a _dram_,
and my bairn's happiness demands that I should speak o' it.'
"'A dram!' says I; 'preserve us! is there ony ill in a _dram?_--that's
the last thing that I wad hae thought about.'
"'Ask the broken-hearted wife,' says she, 'if there be ony ill in a
dram--ask the starving family--ask the jailer and the gravedigger--ask
the doctor and the minister o' religion--ask where ye see roups o'
furniture at the cross, or the auctioneer's flag wavin' frae the
window--ask a deathbed--ask eternity, David Stuart, and they will tell
ye if there be ony ill in a dram.'
"'I hope, ma'am,' says I,--and I was a guid deal nettled,--'I hope,
ma'am, ye dinna tak' me to be a drunkard. I can declare freely, that
unless maybe at a time by chance (and the best o' us will mak' a slip
now and then), I never tak' aboon twa or three glasses at a time.
Indeed, three's just my set. I aye say to my cronies, there is nae luck
till the second tumbler, and nae peace after the fourth. So ye perceive,
there's not the smallest danger o' me.'
"'Ah, but, David,' replied she, 'there _is_ danger. Habits grow
stronger, nature weaker, and resolution offers less and less resistance;
and ye may come to make four, five, or six glasses your set; and frae
that to a bottle--your grave--and my bairn a broken-hearted widow.'
"'Really, ma'am,' says I, ye talked very sensibly before, but ye are awa
wi' the harrows now--quite unreasonable a'thegither. However, to satisfy
ye upon that score, I'll mak' a vow this very moment, that, except'----
"'Mak' nae rash vows,' says she; 'for a breath mak's them, and less than
a breath unmak's them. But mind that, while ye wad be comfortable wi'
your cronies, my bairn wad be frettin' her lane; and though she might
say naething when ye cam hame, that wadna be the way to wear her love
round your neck like a chain of gold; but, night after night, it wad
break away link by link, till the whole was lost; and if ye didna hate,
ye wad soon find ye were disagreeable to each other. Nae true woman will
condescend to love ony man lang, wha can find society he prefers to hers
in an alehouse. I dinna mean to say that ye should never enter a
company; but dinna mak' a practice o't.'
"Weel, the wedding morning cam, and I really thocht it was a great
blessin' folk hadna to be married every day. My neckcloth wadna tie as
it used to tie, and but that I wadna swear at onybody on the day o' my
marriage, I'm sure I wad hae wished some ill wish on the fingers o' the
laundress. She had starched the muslins!--a circumstance, I am perfectly
certain, unheard of in the memory o' man, and a thing which my mother
ne'er did. It was stiff, crumpled, and clumsy. I vowed it was
insupportable. It was within half an hour o' the time o' gaun to the
chapel. I had tried a 'rose-knot,' a 'witch-knot,' a 'chaise-driver's
knot,' and a 'running-knot,' wi' every kind o' knot that fingers could
twist the neckcloth into, but the confounded starch made every ane look
waur than anither. Three neckcloths I had rendered unwearable, and the
fourth I tied in a 'beau-knot' in despair. The frill o' my sark-breast
wadna lie in the position in which I wanted it! For the first time my
very hair rose in rebellion--it wadna lie right; and I cried, 'The
mischief tak' the barber!' The only part o' my dress wi' which I was
satisfied, was a spotless pair o' nankeen pantaloons. I had a dog they
ca'ed Mettle--it was a son o' poor Rover, that I mentioned to ye
before, Weel, it had been raining through the night, and Mettle had been
out in the street. The instinct o' the poor dumb brute was puzzled to
comprehend the change that had recently taken place in my appearance and
habits, and its curiosity was excited. I was sitting before the
looking-glass, and had just finished tying my cravat, when Mettle cam
bouncing into the room; he looked up in my face inquisitively, and, to
unriddle mair o' the matter, placed his unwashed paws upon my unsoiled
nankeens. Every particular claw left its ugly impression. It was
provoking beyond endurance. I raised my hand to strike him, but the poor
brute wagged his tail, and I only pushed him down, saying, 'Sorrow tak'
ye, Mettle, do ye see what ye've dune?' So I had to gang to the kitchen
fire and stand before it to dry the damp, dirty footprints o' the
offender. I then found that the waistcoat wadna sit without wrinkles,
such as I had ne'er seen before upon a waistcoat o' mine. The coat, too,
was insupportably tight below the arms; and, as I turned half round
before the glass, I saw that it hung loose between the shouthers! 'As
sure as a gun,' says I, 'the stupid soul o' a tailor has sent me hame
the coat o' a humph-back in a mistak'!' My hat was fitted on in every
possible manner, ower the brow and aff the brow, now straight, now
cocked to the right side and again to the left, but to no purpose; I
couldna place it to look like mysel', or as I wished. But half-past
eight chimed frae St. Giles'. I had ne'er before spent ten minutes to
dress, shaving included, and that morning I had begun at seven! There
was not another moment to spare; I let my hat fit as it would, seized my
gloves, and rushed down stairs, and up to the Lawnmarket, where I
knocked joyfully at the door o' my bonny bride.
"When we were about to depart for the chapel, the auld leddy rose to
gie us her blessing, and placed Jeannie's hand within mine. She shed a
few quiet tears (a common circumstance wi' mithers on similar
occasions); and 'Now, Jeannie,' said she, 'before ye go, I have just
anither word or twa to say to ye'--
"'Dearsake, ma'am!' said I, for I was out o' a' patience, 'we'll do very
weel wi' what we've heard just now, and ye can say onything ye like when
we come back.'
"There was only an elderly gentleman and a young leddy accompanied us to
the chapel; for Jeannie and her mother said that that was mair genteel
than to have a gilravish o' folk at our heels. For my part, I thought,
as we were to be married, we micht as weel mak' a wedding o't. I,
however, thought it prudent to agree to their wish, which I did the mair
readily, as I had nae particular acquaintance in Edinburgh. The only
point that I wad not concede was being conveyed to the chapel in a
coach. That my plebeian blood, notwithstanding my royal name o' Stuart,
could not overcome. 'Save us a'!' said I, 'if I wadna _walk_ to be
married, what in the three kingdoms wad tempt me to walk?'
"'Weel,' said the auld leddy, 'my daughter will be the first o' our
family that ever gaed on foot to the altar.'
"'An' I assure ye, ma'am,' said I, 'that I would be the first o' my
family that ever gaed in ony ither way; and, in my opinion, to gang on
foot shows a demonstration o' affection and free-will, whereas gaun in a
carriage looks as if there were unwillingness or compulsion in the
matter.' So she gied up the controversy. Weel, the four o' us walked awa
doun the Lawnmarket and High Street, and turned into a close by the tap
o' the Canon gate, where the Episcopawlian chapel was situated. For
several days I had read ower the marriage service in the prayer-book, in
order to master the time to say 'I will,' and other matters.
Nevertheless, no sooner did I see the white gown of the clergyman, and
feel Jeannie's hand trembling in mine, than he micht as weel hae spoken
in Gaelic. I mind something about the ring, and, when the minister was
done, I whispered to the best man, 'It's a' ower now?' 'Yes,' said he.
'Heeven be thankit!' thought I.
"Weel, ye see, after being married, and as I had been used to an active
life a' my days, I had nae skill in gaun about like a gentleman wi' my
hands in my pockets, and I was anxious to tak' a farm. But Jeannie did
not like the proposal, and my mother-in-law wadna hear tell o't; so, by
her advice, I put out the money, and we lived upon the interest. For six
years everything gaed straight, and we were just as happy and as
comfortable as a family could be. We had three bairns: the eldest was a
daughter, and we ca'ed her Margaret, after her grandmother, who lived
wi' us; the second was a son, and I named him Andrew, after my faither;
and our third, and youngest, we ca'ed Jeannie, after her mother. They
were as clever, bonnie, and obedient bairns as ye could see, and
everybody admired them. There was ane Luckie Macnaughton kept a tavern
in Edinburgh at the time. A' sort o' respectable folk used to frequent
the house, and I was in the habit o' gaun at night to smoke my pipe and
hear the news about Bonaparte and the rest o' them; but it was very
seldom that I exceeded three tumblers. Weel, among the customers there
was ane that I had got very intimate wi'--as genteel and decent a
looking man as ye could see; indeed I took him to be a particular
serious and honest man. So there was ae night that I was rather mair
than ordinary hearty, and says he to me: 'Mr Stuart,' says he, 'will
you lend your name to a bit paper for me?' 'No, I thank ye, sir,' says
I; 'I never wish to be caution for onybody.' 'It's of no consequence,'
said he, and there was no more passed. But as I was rising to gang hame,
'Come, tak' anither, Mr. Stuart,' said he; 'I'm next the wa' wi'
ye--I'll stand treat.' Wi' sair pressing I was prevailed upon to sit
doun again, and we had anither and anither, till I was perfectly
insensible. What took place, or how I got hame, I couldna tell, and the
only thing I remember was a head fit to split the next day, and Jeannie
very ill pleased and powty-ways. However, I thought nae mair about it,
and I was extremely glad I had refused to be bond for the person who
asked me; for within three months I learned that he had broken and
absconded wi' a vast o' siller. It was just a day or twa after I had
heard the intelligence, I was telling Jeannie and her mother o' the
circumstance, and what an escape I had had, when the servant lassie
showed a bank clerk into the room. 'Tak' a seat, sir,' said I, for I had
dealings wi' the bank. 'This is a bad business, Mr. Stuart,' said he.
'What business?' said I, quite astonished. 'Your being security for Mr.
So-and-so,' said he. 'Me!' cried I, starting up in the middle o' the
floor--'Me!--the scoundrel--I denied him point blank!' 'There is your
own signature for a thousand pounds,' said the clerk. 'A thousand
furies!' exclaimed I, stamping my foot; 'it's a forgery--an infernal
forgery!' 'Mr. Such-a-one is witness to your handwriting,' said the
clerk. I was petrified; I could hae drawn down the roof o' the house
upon my head to bury me! In a moment a confused recollection o' the
proceedings at Luckie Macnaughton's flashed across my memory, like a
flame from the bottomless pit! There was a look o' witherin' reproach in
my mother-in-law's een, and I heard her mutterin' between her teeth, 'I
aye said what his three tumblers wad come to.' But my dear Jeannie bore
it like a Christian, as she is. She cam forward to me, an', poor thing,
she kissed my cheek, and says she, 'Dinna distress yoursel', David,
dear--it cannot be helped now--let us pray that this may be a lesson for
the future.' I flung my arm round her neck--I couldna speak; but at last
I said, 'Oh Jeannie, it will be a lesson, and your affection will be a
lesson!' Some o' your book-learned folk wad ca' this conduct philosophy
in Jeannie; but I, wha kenned every thought in her heart, was aware that
it proceeded from her resignation as a true Christian, and her affection
as a dutiful wife. Weel, the upshot was, I had robbed mysel' out o' a
thousand pounds as simply as ye wad snuff out a candle. You have heard
the saying, that sorrow ne'er comes singly; and I am sure, in a' my
experience, I have found its truth. At that period I had two thousand
pounds, bearing six per cent., lying in the hands o' a gentleman o'
immense property. Everybody believed him to be as sure as the bank.
Scores o' folk had money in his hands. The interest was paid punctually,
and I hadna the least suspicion. Weel, I was looking ower the papers one
morning at breakfast, and I happened to glance at the list o' bankrupts
(a thing I'm no in the habit o' doing), when, mercy me! whose name
should I see but the very gentleman's that had my twa thousand pounds! I
had the paper in one hand and a saucer in the other. The saucer and the
coffee gaed smash upon the hearth! I trembled frae head to foot. 'Oh
David! what's the matter?' cried Jeannie. 'Matter!' cried I; 'matter!
I'm ruined!--we're a' ruined!' But it's o' nae use dwelling on this. The
fallow didna pay eighteenpence to the pound; and there was three
thousand gaen out o' my five! It was nae use, wi' a young family, to
talk o' living on the interest o' our money now. 'We maun tak' a farm,'
says I; and baith Jeannie and her mother saw there was naething else for
it. So I took a farm which lay partly in the Lammermoors and partly in
the Merse. It took the thick end o' eight hundred pounds to stock it.
However, we were very comfortable in it; I found mysel' far mair at hame
than I had been in Edinburgh; for I had employment for baith mind and
hands, and Jeannie very soon made an excellent farmer's wife. Auld
grannie, too, said she never had been sae happy; and the bairns were as
healthy as the day was lang. We couldna exactly say that we were making
what ye may ca' siller, yet we were losing nothing, and every year
laying by a little. There was a deepish burn ran near the onstead. We
had been about three years in the farm, and our youngest lassie was
about nine years auld. It was the summer time, and she had been paidling
in the burn, and sooming feathers and bits o' sticks; I was looking
after something that had gaen wrang about the threshin' machine, when I
heard an unco noise get up, and bairns screamin'. I looked out, and I
saw them runnin' and shoutin'--'Miss Jeannie! Miss Jeannie!' I rushed
out to the barnyard. 'What is't, bairns?' cried I. 'Miss Jeannie! Miss
Jeannie!' said they, pointing to the burn. I flew as fast as my feet
could carry me. The burn, after a spate on the hills, often cam awa in a
moment wi' a fury that naething could resist. The flood had come awa
upon my bairn; and there, as I ran, did I see her bonnie yellow hair
whirled round and round, sinking out o' my sight, and carried awa doun
wi' the stream. There was a linn about thirty yards frae where I saw
her, and oh! how I rushed to snatch a grip o' her before she was carried
ower the rocks! But it was in vain--a moment sooner, and I might hae
saved her; but she was hurled ower the precipice when I was within an
arm's length, and making a grasp at her bit frock! My poor little
Jeannie was baith felled and drowned. I plunged into the wheel below the
linn, and got her out in my arms. I ran wi' her to the house, and I laid
my drowned bairn on her mother's knee. Everything that could be done was
done, and a doctor was brought frae Dunse; but the spark o' life was out
o' my bit Jeannie. I felt the bereavement very bitterly; and for many a
day, when Margaret and Andrew sat down at the table by our sides, my
heart filled; for as I was helpin' their plates, I wad put out my hand
again to help anither, but there was nae ither left to help. But Jeannie
took our bairn's death far sairer to heart than even I did. For several
years she never was hersel' again, and just seemed dwinin' awa.
Sea-bathing was strongly recommended; and as she had a friend in
Portobello, I got her to gang there for a week or twa during summer. Our
daughter Margaret was now about eighteen, and her brother Andrew about
fifteen; and as I thought it would do them good, I allowed them to gang
wi' their mither to the bathing. They were awa for about a month, and I
firmly believe that Jeannie was a great deal the better o't. But it was
a dear bathing to me on mony accounts for a' that. Margaret was an
altered lassie a'thegither. She used to be as blithe as a lark in May,
and now there was nae gettin' her to do onything; but she sat couring
and unhappy, and seighin' every handel-a-while, as though she were
miserable. It was past my comprehension, and her mother could assign nae
particular reason for it. As for Andrew, he did naething but yammer,
yammer, frae morn till night, about the sea; or sail boats, rigged wi'
thread and paper sails, in the burn. When he was at the bathing he had
been doun aboot Leith, and had seen the ships, and naething wad serve
him but he would be a sailor. Night and day did he torment my life out
to set him to sea. But I wadna hear tell o't--his mother was perfectly
wild against it, and poor auld grannie was neither to hand nor to bind.
We had suffered enough frae the burn at our door, without trusting our
only son upon the wide ocean. However, all we could say had nae
effect--the craik was never out o' his head; and it was still, 'I will
be a sailor.' Ae night he didna come in as usual for his four-hours, and
supper time cam, and we sent a' round about to seek him, but naebody had
heard o' him. We were in unco distress, and it struck me at ance that he
had run to sea. I saddled my horse that very night and set out for
Leith, but could get nae trace o' him. This was a terrible trial to us,
and ye may think what it was when I tell ye it was mair than a
twelvemonth before we heard tell o' him; and the first accounts we had
was a letter by his ain hand, written frae Bengal. We had had a cart
down at Dunse for some bits o' things, and the lad brought the letter in
his pocket; and weel do I mind how Jeannie cam' fleein' wi' it open in
her hand across the fields to where I was looking after some workers
thinnin' turnips, crying, 'David! David! here's a letter frae Andrew!'
'Read it! read it!' cried I, for my een were blind wi' joy. But Andrew's
rinnin' awa wasna the only trial that we had to bear up against at this
time. As I was tellin' ye, there was an unco change ower Margaret since
she had come frae the bathin'; and a while after, a young lad that her
mother said they had met wi' at Portobello began to come about the
house. He was the son o' a merchant in Edinburgh, and pretended that he
had come to learn to be a farmer wi' a neighbour o' ours. He was a wild,
thoughtless, foppish-looking lad, and I didna like him; but Margaret,
silly thing, was clean daft about him. Late and early I found him about
the house, and I tauld him I couldna allow him nor ony person to be
within my doors at any such hours. Weel, this kind o' wark was carried
on for mair than a year; and a' that I could say or do, Margaret and him
were never separate; till at last he drapped off comin' to the house,
and our daughter did naething but seigh and greet. I found that, after
bringing her to the point o' marriage, he either wadna or durstna fulfil
his promise unless I wad pay into his loof a thousand pounds as her
portion. I could afford my daughter nae sic sum, and especially no to be
thrown awa on the like o' him. But Jeannie cam to me wi' the tears on
her cheeks, and 'O David!' says she, 'there's naething for it but
partin' wi' a thousand pounds on the ae hand or our bairn's death--and
her--shame on the ither!' Oh! if a knife had been driven through my
heart, it couldna pierced it like the word _shame_! As a faither, what
could I do? I paid him the money, and they were married.
"It's o' nae use tellin' ye how I gaed back in the farm. In the year
sixteen my crops warna worth takin' aff the ground, and I had twa score
o' sheep smothered the same winter. I fell behint wi' my rent; and
household furniture, farm-stock, and everything I had, were to be sold
off. The day before the sale, wi' naething but a bit bundle carrying in
my hand, I took Jeannie on my ae arm and her puir auld mither on the
other, and wi' a sad and sorrowfu' heart we gaed out o' the door o' the
hame where our bairns had been brought up, and a sheriff's officer
steeked it behint us. Weel, we gaed to Coldstream, and we took a bit
room there, and furnished it wi' a few things that a friend bought back
for us at our sale. We were very sair pinched. Margaret's gudeman ne'er
looked near us, nor rendered us the least assistance, and she hadna it
in her power. There was nae ither alternative that I could see; and I
was just gaun to apply for labouring wark when we got a letter frae
Andrew, enclosing a fifty-pound bank-note. Mony a tear did Jeannie and
me shed ower that letter. He informed us that he had been appointed mate
o' an East Indiaman, and begged that we would keep ourselves easy; for
while he had a sixpence, his faither and mither should hae the half o't.
Margaret's husband very soon squandered away the money he had got frae
me, as weel as the property he had got frae his faither; and, to escape
the jail, he ran off, and left his wife and family. They cam to stop wi'
me; and for five years we heard naething o' him. We had begun a shop in
the spirit and grocery line, and really we were remarkably fortunate. It
was about six years after I had begun business, ae night just after the
shop was shut, Jeannie and her mother, wha was then about ninety, and
Margaret and her bairns, and mysel', were a' sittin' round the fire,
when a rap cam to the door; ane o' the bairns ran and opened it, and twa
gentlemen cam in. Margaret gied a shriek, and ane o' them flung himsel'
at her feet. 'Mother! faither!' said the other, 'do ye no ken me?' It
was our son Andrew, and Margaret's gudeman! I jamp up, and Jeannie jamp
up; auld grannie raise totterin' to her feet, and the bairns screamed,
puir things. I got haud o' Andrew, and his mother got haud o' him, and
we a' grat wi' joy. It was such a night o' happiness as I had never
kenned before. Andrew had been made a ship captain. Margaret's husband
had repented o' a' his follies, and was in a good way o' doing in India;
and everything has gane right and prospered wi' our whole family frae
that day to this."
THE BURGHER'S TALES.
THE ANCIENT BUREAU.
The sources of legends are not often found in old sermons; and yet it
will be admitted that there are few remarkable events in man's history,
which, if inquired into, will not be found to embrace the elements of
very impressive pulpit discourses. Even in cases which seem to disprove
a special, if not a general Providence, there will always be found in
the account between earth and heaven some "desperate debt," mayhap an
"accommodation bill," which justifies the ways of God to man. It may
even be said that the fact of our being generally able to find that item
is a proof of the wonderful adaptability of Christianity to the fortunes
and hopes of our race. That ministers avoid the special topics of
peculiar destinies, may easily be accounted for otherwise than by
supposing that they cannot explain them so as to vindicate God's
justice; but if ever there was a case where that difficulty would seem
to the eye of mere reason to culminate in impossibility, it is that
which I have gleaned from a veritable pulpit lecture. I have the sermon
in my possession, but from the want of the title-page, I am unable to
ascertain the author. The date at the end is 1793, and the text is,
"Inscrutable are _his_ judgments."
Inscrutable indeed in the case to which the words were applied--no other
than an instance of death by starvation, which occurred in Edinburgh in
the year we have just mentioned. In that retreat of poverty called
Middleton's Entry, which joins the dark street called the Potterrow, and
Bristo Street, the inhabitants were roused into surprise, if not a
feeling approaching to horror, by the discovery that a woman, who had
lived for a period of fifteen years in a solitary room at the top of one
of the tenements, had been found in bed dead. A doctor was called, but
before he came it was concluded by those who had assembled in the small
room that she had died from want of food; and such was the fact. The
body--that of one not yet much past the middle of life, and with fair
complexion and comely features--was so emaciated, that you might have
counted the ribs merely by the eye; and all those parts where the bones
are naturally near the surface exhibited a sharpness which suggested the
fancy, that as you may see a phosphorescent skeleton through the glow,
you beheld in the candle-light the figure of death under the thin
covering of the bones. She realized, in short, the description which
doctors give of the appearance of those unfortunate beings who die of
what is technically called _atrophia familicorum_--that Nemesis of
civilisation which points scornfully to the victim of want, and then
looks round on God's bountiful table, set for the meanest of his
creatures. So we may indite; but rhetoric, which is useless where the
images cannot rise to the dignity or descend to the humiliation of the
visible fact, must always come short of the effect of the plain words
that a human creature--perhaps good and amiable and delicate to that
shyness which cannot complain--has died in the very midst of a
proclaimed philanthropy, and within the limits of a space comprehending
smoking tables covered with luxuries, and surrounded by Christian men
and women filled with meat and drink to repletion and satiety.
Some such thoughts might have been passing through the minds of the
assembled neighbours; and they could not be said to be the less true
that a shrunk and partially-withered right arm showed that the doom of
the woman had been so far precipitated by the still remaining effects of
an old stroke of palsy. And the gossip confirmed this, going also into
particulars of observation,--how she had kept herself so to herself as
if she wished to avoid the neighbours,--a fact which to an extent
justified their imputed want of attention; how almost the only
individual who had visited her was a peculiar being, in the shape of a
very little man, with a slight limp and thin pleasant features,
illuminated by a pair of dark, penetrating eyes. For years and years had
he been seen, always about the same hour of the day, ascending her
stair, and carrying a flagon, supposed to contain articles of food. Then
the gossiping embraced the furniture and other articles in the room,
which, however they might have been unnoticed before, had now assumed
the usual interest when seen in the blue light of the acted tragedy: the
small mahogany table and the two chairs--how strange that they should be
of mahogany!--and some of the few marrowless plates in the rack over the
fireplace, why, they were absolute china! but above all, the exquisite
little bureau of French manufacture, with its drawers, its desk, and
pigeon-holes, and cunning slides--what on earth was it doing in that
room, when its value even to a broker would have kept the woman alive
for months? Questions these put by a roused curiosity, and perhaps not
worth answer. Was not she a woman, and was not that enough?