ken, and some things I dinna. I dinna ken what ye're guid for; and I ken
that ye're the biggest aul' rogue in the County o' Renfrew--a litigious,
leein, cheatin rascal."
"Revise that condescendence, frien," replied the laird. "Mr Quirkum and
Skimclean, I tak ye to witness what that man has said. Defamation o'
character as clean's a leek--a thumpin action cut and dry. I tak
instruments in your hauns, Mr Quirkum, an' employ you to do the needfu'
in this case. Ye baith distinctly heard what was said, an' 'll testify
to the fact when ca'ed upon in due coorse o' law."
Both Quirkum and Skimclean at once declared their willingness to do
so--the latter from a wish to serve his friend, the former from a wish
to serve himself, as he saw in the affair something like the promise of
a very tolerable job.
In the meantime, Moffat, rather alarmed at the formal and business-like
manner in which his complimentary remarks on the laird's character had
been taken up, first endeavoured to back out of the scrape, and, in
default of success in this, sneaked out of the room, leaving the laird
an infinitely happier man than he had found him; for he was now provided
with a most unexceptionable ground for an action-at-law. It was a most
unexpected piece of good fortune; chance having done for him in a moment
what a long period of anxiety, directed to the same end, had failed to
accomplish. It was truly delightful, and the laird _was_ delighted,
delighted beyond measure. But, alas! by how frail a tenure is all
earthly felicity held! By how frail a thread is life itself suspended!
We make the remark, and the sequel illustrates it.
The laird having given instructions on the spot to Quirkum to commence
an action immediately against his defamer, the party broke up. The
professional member repaired to his own house, and the laird and
Skimclean mounted the Greenock coach, which passed within a short
distance of their respective residences. Fatal proceedings. The coach
was overturned, and the laird, falling on his head, received an injury
which, in half-an-hour, proved fatal to him. Skimclean, more fortunate,
escaped with some slight bruises. The latter was the first to come to
the poor laird's assistance after the vehicle had capsised. He found him
lying on his face on the road, bleeding profusely, and apparently
insensible. On turning him round, however, and raising him up a little,
he opened his eyes, and, recognising Drumwhussle, said, in a slow and
scarcely audible tone--"The record's closed wi' me, Skimclean. I hae
gotten my mittimus. Fate has decerned against me. It was an irregular
summons; but it maun be obeyed, for a' that."
The poor laird was now conveyed to an adjoining house, where he was
assiduously attended by his friend, Skimclean, to whom his last request
was, that he would consult Quirkum, and see whether it would not be
competent for him, Skimclean, to carry on the action against Moffat
after his own decease. Shortly after making this request, the poor laird
sank into a state of insensibility; and, just before he expired, having
lain for some time previously without moving, scarcely breathing, he
began muttering, evidently in delirium, something which the bystanders
could not make out. Skimclean stooped down to catch the words. They were
quivering on his lip, and proved to be, "_Clo-clo-close the Record_."
THE PROFESSOR'S TALES.
FAMILY INCIDENTS.
There is a beautiful glen in Dumfries-shire, which I would willingly
point out to any as the very beau-ideal of all glens whatever. It is, in
fact, entirely surrounded by high grounds, rising ultimately, towards
the north in particular, into hills, or, more properly speaking,
mountains, making part of the Queensberry range. In the centre of this
glen, or vale, there is a round and conical green eminence, around which
a small mountain-stream winds and wanders, as if unwilling to encounter
the tossings and turmoil of the linn and precipitous course beneath. I
could never behold, or even think, of this snug quietude in the bosom of
unadulterated nature, without, at the same time, considering it as
emblematic, in a striking degree, of man's experience in life. In
infancy and youth all is snug, sunny, and peaceful as this little
sheltered stream; but the linns and precipices of after-life assimilate
but too closely to the foam, and tossing, and tumbling of the passage
beneath. On the summit of that grassy mound, there once stood a thatched
cottage, with which my story is connected.
It was evening, or rather twilight, or, as emphatically expressed in
Scottish dialect, it was the "gloaming," when Janet Smith, a poor widow
woman, sat in her own doorway--
"E'en drawing out a thread wi' little din,
And beaking her auld limbs afore the sun."
A large grey cat occupied the other side of the passage, and a few hens,
with the necessary accompaniment, clucked and chuckled, and crowed
around. Janet sat there in her solitude, an old, infirm, and
comparatively helpless creature; but she was wonderfully contented and
happy. Her own industry supplied her little wants; and she was
protected, in a free house and kail-yard, by Sir Thomas Kirkpatrick,
the princely and humane laird of Closeburn. The wheel had just ceased
its revolution, and her spectacles had just been assumed, with the view
of reading, by the light of a cheery spark, her evening chapter. A cake
of oat-bread was toasting at the fire, and a bowl of pure whey was set
upon a stool, when Janet's ear was arrested by the approach of a
horseman, who with difficulty urged his steed up the somewhat
precipitous ascent. The horseman had no sooner attained the doorway,
than he alighted, and giving his horse to be held by a little urchin,
whom he had beckoned from the wood for this purpose, he was at once in
the presence of the aged inmate of this humble dwelling. The scene I
shall never forget; for I was, in fact, the little boy whom he had
enlisted in his service, by the tempting reward of sixpence. The
horseman was tall and well-built; he might be about fifty years of age,
and every way wearing the garb and the aspect of a gentleman. Having
advanced towards the old woman, he looked steadily and keenly into her
face, while his bosom heaved, and the tears began to indicate deep and
tender emotion. The old woman seemed petrified with astonishment, and
fell back into her arm-chair, as if some one had rudely pushed her down
into it. At last, old Janet found utterance in these words, pronounced
in a quavering and almost inarticulate voice, "In the name of God, who
or what art thou?" These words, however, had not been pronounced, when
the stranger had already dropped down on his knees, and had actually
flung himself into the arms of his mother. Yes, of his mother--for so it
proved to be, that this was the first meeting betwixt mother and child
for the space of upwards of forty years. The old woman's mind seemed for
a time bewildered. She endeavoured to clear her eyes, pushed the
stranger feebly from her, looked him intensely in the face for an
instant, and then, uttering a loud scream, became altogether
insensible.
"Oh, what shall I do!" exclaimed the stranger; "what have I done? I have
murdered--I have murdered the mother that bore me! Oh, that I had staid
at Brownhill inn till morning, and had apprised my poor parent--alas! my
only parent--of my approach!"
Whilst he was ejaculating in this manner, the old woman's lips began to
resume their usual colour, and she opened her eyes and her arms at once,
exclaiming, in an agony of transport--
"My son! oh, my son! My long-lost, long-dead, long-despaired-of son!"
The scene now became more calm and rational. The stranger passed, with
his mother, into the humble dwelling. I tied the horse to the
door-sneck, and followed, more from curiosity than humanity. The
stranger sat down on what he termed his old creepy stool, from which, in
days long past, he had taken his porridge. He drew his mother nearer and
nearer him, kissed her again and again, and the tears fell fast and full
over his manly and withered cheeks; and, ever and anon, as old Janet
would eye her tall and manly son, she would exclaim, looking into his
face at all the distance which her withered arms could place him--
"Ay, me, an' is that my wee Geordie?"
The facts of Geordie's history I have often listened to with more than
boyish interest; for this stranger ultimately took up his abode in a
beautiful cottage, built on the spot where his original dwelling stood;
and, as I came and went to Closeburn School, Mr George Smith would take
me into his parlour, and discourse with me for hour after hour, and day
after day, on all the varied incidents of a stirring and eventful life.
His father died early, having lost his life by the fall of a tree which
he was assisting in cutting down, or felling, as it is termed. George
was a first-born, and, indeed, an only child; and the kindness of the
laird, with the industry of his mother, combined to rear him into
boyhood. Being, however, under no paternal authority, he became wild and
wayward, and, ere he had gained his thirteenth year, he was a greater
adept in fishing, orchard-breaking, and cock-fighting, than in Ovid and
Virgil. It was his early fortune to become acquainted with an old
sailor, who had been in various engagements, particularly in that
betwixt Rodney and De Grasse, in the western seas. This sailor, whose
name was Bill Wilson, and whose trade in his old age was that of
smuggling tea and brandy from the Solway to the Clyde, used to fill his
head with adventure, and daring purpose, and successful execution. He
had listened, he said, for hours to Bill's account of niggers, and
buccaneers, and dare-devils, who fed on gunpowder, and walked,
whistling, amidst cannon and musket shots. And then, prize-money, and
Plymouth, and fun, and frolic, all night long! The thing was
irresistible; so, with a letter in his pocket from Bill to an old
comrade in the Isle of Man, then the centre of smuggling, George Smith
took a moonlight leave of his mother, and his youthful associates, and
the bonny braes of Dunsyette, and was on board a smuggler at Glencaple
Key ere day dawned. He was conveyed, in the course of forty-eight hours,
to the Isle of Man, and fairly stowed into the warehouse of Dick
Davison, in the neighbourhood of the town of Douglas. His first
adventure was the landing of a cargo of French brandy in the Bay of
Glenluce; but the night was dark and stormy, and the boat upset; and,
according to a published account, all in the boat--namely, three
souls--had perished. The fact, however, was, that, whilst clinging to
the inverted boat, he had been picked up by a West Indian ship from
Greenock, which had been driven into the bay by stress of weather, and
carried out incontinent, as no land could be made, to the island of
Jamaica. In the meantime, Bill Wilson thought proper to get sick, and to
die, and to confess the whole truth, with the dreadful catastrophe, to
the poor distracted mother.
When George arrived off Kingston, in Jamaica, he resolved upon pushing
his way, in one course or another, upon land; so, having bid his captain
good-by, and thanked him sincerely for the small trifle of saving his
life, he set his foot on shore, almost naked, friendless, penniless. As
he entered Kingston, he encountered a runaway steed, which, with a young
lady screaming on its back, was plunging forwards, and entirely without
control. George, acting on a natural impulse, threw himself in the way
of the unruly animal, and, by getting hold of the bridle, at last
brought it up; but not without several severe bruises, as he hung
betwixt its fore-feet, unable, for want of weight, all at once to check
the horse's career. The father of the young lady had now overtaken them;
and, having alighted, extricated first his daughter, and then poor
George Smith, from their perilous position. The young lady, who had in
fact sustained no bodily injury, was loud in praise of him who, by his
promptitude and intrepidity, had rescued her, in all probability, from
much serious injury, or even from death; and George was immediately
invited to accompany the party (for there was a well-mounted servant
likewise) home to their villa, in the neighbourhood of the town. As they
walked slowly (the young lady refusing to mount anew) up the rising
ground to the south of Kingston, George had sufficient time to unfold
the particulars of his short but eventful history; and to interest the
father not less by his good sense and sagacity, than he had the daughter
by his intrepidity and self-devotion. In a word, George found favour in
the great man's eyes, and was introduced to the overseer of an extensive
plantation, with instructions to have him clothed, employed as a clerk
or slave-driver, and properly attended to in all respects. This seeming
accident George used always to consider as one of those arrangements of
divine Providence, by which good is brought out of seeming evil; and a
total destitution of all the necessaries of life was in his case
prevented. For three years, George continued to act on these
plantations, receiving many acts of kindness from his really humane
employer; and waxing into vigorous manhood, without seasoning fever, or
any disease whatever. It was Mr Walker's habit (such was the name of his
benefactor) to have George up with him to dine every Saturday, when he
had renewed opportunities of becoming acquainted with the young lady
whom he had rescued; and who was now budding sweetly into the perfect
and accomplished woman. The distance in point of wealth, and
consequently station (in a country where wealth is the only rank),
betwixt George and Miss Walker, kept the eyes of the parent long blind
to the actual position of affairs. But true it was, and of verity, that
Miss Walker's heart was fairly won, and George's was as fairly lost,
without one word on the subject of love having been exchanged on either
side. Wonderful, unsearchable passion!--the electric fluid does not more
universally penetrate nature herself, than does this passion the whole
framework of society; and yet the ethereal agency is not more remote and
inscrutable in its workings and doings, than in love--
"Sae, lang ere bonny Mary wist,
Her peace was lost, her heart was won."
It was the employment of Miss Walker, on warm, yet refreshing evenings,
to sit in her open verandah or balcony, playing on the harp, and wooing
all the sea-breezes with the witchery of sweet sounds. To George Smith,
who had never been accustomed to such refined and overpowering
entertainment, this performance and exhibition (for what is there in
nature so graceful as a fine female hand and arm sweeping the strings of
the harp?) was perfect magic. A thousand times, as he sat and gazed,
trembling all over, he felt inclined to grasp the fair performer, harp
and all, to his bosom; and to squeeze them incontinently into himself.
Again and again he has arisen, and partly withdrawn, as one would from a
house on fire. Nor was Miss Smith, on her part, insensible to the
presence of a youth, uncommonly handsome, who had so early recommended
himself to her good graces. Her walks and rides over the plantation were
frequent; and she took particular pleasure in observing the progress of
that part of her father's property over which George Smith more
immediately presided. Her questions and inquiries were truly
astonishing; and she seemed as anxious to learn all about the process of
cane-cutting and sugar-boiling, as if her own happiness had depended on
this knowledge. But George was conscientious; and although loving the
"bonny lassie" (as he said) to distraction, he understood it as a crime
worse than that of witchcraft--namely, of ingratitude--to disclose his
feelings. For some months, matters were in this position--the young
lady's health manifestly suffering, and George evidently visited by
strange and unaccountable fits of silence and mental absence. The
overseer, who happened to be more quick-sighted than even the father,
from repeated observations, guessed at the truth; and, thinking it his
duty, immediately apprised Mr Walker of his suspicions. As Mary had been
destined for some time to another--to a neighbouring planter, whose
property was adjoining to that of Mr Walker--steps were immediately
devised to prevent the lovers from coming to any more definite
understanding on the subject; and, one night, when George had just
fallen asleep, after having penned a few lines to "Mary, flower of
sweetest hue," &c., he was forcibly seized upon, manacled, and carried
on board a ship, which was lying at some distance from the harbour. By
daylight the vessel was under weigh, and, ere noon, not a blue hill of
Jamaica could be seen from the deck of His Majesty's ship Spitfire. It
was needless to remonstrate or grumble--his fate, and the cause of it,
were but too manifest; and he almost felt inclined to justify an act,
which at once put it out of his power to prove ungrateful to so kind a
benefactor. Still, still the bright idea of Mary haunted his
imagination, and would not depart from his heart.
In this frigate of forty-four guns, there was a countryman, and even
countryman of his own; who, having more recently left the sweet banks of
the silver Nith, was enabled to give him more recent information
respecting affairs in Drumfries-shire; and from him he learned that his
poor mother's heart had broken, and that she was reported to have died a
few days before he had left the place. This distressed George
exceedingly; for, though he had been an idle and wayward boy, under more
strict management it might have been otherwise; and he manifestly bore
in his bosom a kind and a feeling heart. But who can recall the past, or
the dead from their appointment? So, in the active discharge of duty as
a seaman, and in the enjoyment of the company of one or two intimate
companions, George confessed that he soon chased, in a great measure,
the mournful tidings from his recollection. It was not so easy, however,
to get rid of Mary: and he used to entertain his friend Tom Harkness
with all the outs and ins, the hopes and fears, the pulsations and
ecstasies, of his love passion. In this ship, George sailed first to Rio
Janeiro, then across the Atlantic to Cape Town, back again to the
Azores, and ultimately, by the coast of France, into Plymouth. Although,
during the whole of these voyages, they had no windfalls, no prizes, yet
his pay had accumulated, and he landed with fifty guineas in his pocket.
Having no friend or home, as he now conceived, to return to, he
immediately took coach for London, resolved to make the most, in sailor
phrase, of his fifty guineas. Over this part of Mr George Smith's
history he himself ever preserved a veil; but I could easily gather,
that his conduct, during four weeks spent in London, was, like that of
many others similarly situated, anything but prudent, moral, or
praiseworthy. Having at last got rid of the yellow boys, he bethought
himself of returning to Plymouth, and of obtaining a berth as purser, if
possible, in one of the many ships-of-war then lying in that port. When
on his way down to Plymouth, he became the fellow-traveller, in the
stage-coach, of a lady of a _certain age_, fair, fat, and forty, who was
on a visit to a relative in the neighbourhood of Portsmouth. As his
manners and person were both agreeable, he contrived to get into the
good graces of the fair dame, who was yet ignorant of the "betters and
the worse" of matrimony. So much was the buxom damsel taken with her
travelling companion, that she invited him to visit her at "View
Cottage," about a mile from Plymouth. This invitation was willingly
accepted of--the visit was paid, the reception was most flattering, and,
in the course of a fortnight, George was in possession of the charming
Miss Higgenbottom, with one thousand pounds for her portion. With this
money and the wife, George contrived to spend a couple of months at a
place near Exeter, as unhappily as possible. His wife was the daughter
of a rich butcher in Whitechapel, and as unlike her husband in tastes,
temper, and pursuits, as possible. She was, moreover, miserably addicted
to the bottle, which, with the help of a sufficient quantity of opium,
brought her to the grave in the course of the time mentioned. As George,
during this period, had lived upon the principal of his wife's money, he
was just now where he was before--ready to step on board ship, and to
push his fortune. On board ship, therefore, he went, and was immediately
in the western seas, keeping a sharp look-out after some privateers,
which had been, for some time past, harassing our traders, and making
prizes of our merchantmen. At this stage of his narrative, the hero of
my tale used to get so animated, that I can still recall nearly the very
words which I have heard, I am sure, fifty times at least.
"We had steered off and on for more than a month, betwixt Demerara and
St Domingo, all along the stretch of the Leeward Islands. Our commander,
Captain Broughton, was beginning to pet a little at our inactivity, and
to thrust the tobacco into his left instead of his right cheek--a sure
mark that he was out of tune. At last a sail appeared on the horizon,
which, from her rigging, seemed of a suspicious character, and the
orders were immediately issued to bear down upon her. As we neared, she
hoisted British colours, and slipped quietly across our bows.
"'Oh ho!' exclaimed old 'Broughty;' 'none of your tricks upon
travellers, my lad--you are no more British than I am a kail-stock; and
that we will very soon ascertain, by putting a few homethrust questions
to you.' So saying, he ordered two shots to be fired across her bows.
Upon finding that we were disposed to grapple with her, she instantly
hoisted her own colours, and sent a broadside right across our quarters.
The battle now began in good earnest, and, for a full half-hour, we
bowled away as if all hell had been on deck. When the smoke cleared a
little, we could see that we had disabled our adversary, by shooting
away part of his rigging; and the captain's orders were to arm and board
instantly. We rushed on board like furies; but, in the desperate
struggle, our captain fell, and almost every officer on board. There was
the hesitation of a moment, which determined our fate; for the
dare-devils rushed in upon us, fore and aft, and made sad work of it.
Not a man, with the exception of myself, the first lieutenant, and the
steward, was spared; the cutlass and the deep soon obliterated the
gallant crew of the Thunderer. It was, indeed, an awful sight; and,
expecting every moment to be put to some horrid death by the monsters, I
leaped from the deck into the sea, and remember nothing more till I
awoke, as I conceived, in a state of future punishment. But over me
there hung a countenance with which I was too well acquainted ever to
mistake it: it was that of Mary Walker, my first, and dearest, and never
entirely forgotten love. Her father sat by, wrung his hands in absolute
despair; and Mary's face was strangely altered--wan, shrunk, and full of
extreme misery. I scarcely could credit my senses, and was on the point
of coming to some explanation, when a terrible tramping and bustle on
board bespoke some approaching crisis. It was so. A British seventy-four
was in the act of bearing straight down upon the crippled privateer, and
the scarcely less disabled Thunderer, and all on board was despair and
distraction. Resistance was found to be out of the question; so, in less
than an hour, we were all conveyed safely on board of the
Neptune--Captain Briggs commander. We were immediately carried into
Kingston, and landed, at our own desire--Mr Walker having satisfied
Captain Briggs in regard to my discharge from His Majesty's service."