they could only be travelled on with safety in broad daylight. The
dangers which the tourist had to encounter did not arise from the
lawless dispositions of the people; for Scotland was then a highly moral
and highly hospitable country. But, ere the genius of road-making had
visited it, the benighted wanderer had more reason to apprehend
destruction from the delusive light of the "moss-traversing spunkie,"
than from the sudden flash of the robber's pistol. Vast undrained
marshes were common in every part of the country. From these marshes
many a goodly peat-stack had been delved, and the holes were soon filled
up with stagnant water--covered with zoophytes and other aquatic plants,
and surrounded by tall rushes, which concealed from the eye those
dangerous pits, where a whole regiment of soldiers might have found an
inglorious grave.
The roads, in many places, passed so close to these unwholesome bogs,
that a false step in the dark was often equal to stepping out of this
world. Nor was this the only risk that a traveller had to calculate
upon, when settling the propriety of making his will before he undertook
a journey; for the highways--properly so called, at that
period--frequently ascended in the most abrupt manner from the swampy
valley to the rocky hill-side, where they winded along the edges of
precipices, which afforded admirable facilities for despairing lovers to
take the _loup_ without being suspected of suicide.
Besides the actual danger which attended travelling in those days, there
were many inconveniences, which, though less appalling, were even more
perplexing to a forward spirit, than the risk of tumbling from a
rock-head, or plunging into a peat-bog. The roads in many places
branched out in different directions upon lonely muirs, where no
information could be obtained concerning the places to which they led;
and the consequence was, that many a weary wight, after cogitating
half-an-hour upon the propriety of turning to the right hand or the
left, dashed into one of the doubtful paths, and proceeded for another
hour at his utmost speed, to no better purpose than simply to receive
information that he had walked four miles out of his way. Inns, too,
were almost unknown, except in the towns and upon the most frequented
roads; and even there the accommodation was so meagre, that equestrians
had often the greatest difficulty in finding lodgings for themselves and
horses. Steam-waggons and stage-coaches, as yet, lay packed up in the
heads of their inventors; and the traveller, though otherwise in
comfortable circumstances, had no other means of conveyance but his own
two legs, and an oaken or hazel staff, with which he urged them onward
when ascending, and prevented them running away with him when descending
the hill-side. Thus equipped, he could find lodgings in the first
cottage which he came to; and, if his mind was not too refined for the
conversation of simple, social, warm-hearted men, nor his taste too
delicate for the "halesome parritch, chief o' Scotia's food," he could
generally pass the night with tolerable comfort, and very little
expense. In this way, many of the most eminent men of the time became
acquainted with the humble homes and virtuous habits of the peasantry of
their native land; and the information which they thus acquired formed a
link of connection between the different classes of society, which the
prejudices of fashion could never afterwards wholly destroy. But we have
a simple story to narrate, which will sufficiently illustrate the kindly
hospitality which characterised the poorest of our rural population, and
the generous feeling with which the greatest could remember and requite
the little services which inclination _induced_, or necessity _forced_,
them to accept.
Upon the banks of one of the most beautiful little lakes which is to be
found in the Lowlands of Scotland, and not far from the ancient and now
half-forgotten village of Lindores, stand four humble cottages, which
are still the abodes of men; though, to the eyes of a modern traveller,
their low walls and moss-covered roofs would present the idea of
sheep-cots or cattle-sheds, rather than that of human habitations. The
fields around them are now in the highest state of cultivation; and the
gentle hills with which they are on all sides surrounded, where
inaccessible to the plough, are, for the most part, covered with
thriving plantations, which give a sheltered and picturesque appearance
to the little world in which they are situated. These simple shielings
seem to have outlasted many of their humble contemporaries, the sites of
which are now only indicated by two or three decaying trees, which, in
the greenness of youth, must have beautified the little gardens of sober
old men, who are long ago in their graves, and shaded the sports of
children, who are now, perhaps, tottering with bleached locks through
the crowded streets of some smoky town, forgetful alike of the quiet
fields upon which they danced away the innocent morning of existence,
and the spreading trees beneath whose branches they had imitated the
voice of the cuckoo, and listened to the song of birds, with spirits as
light and musical as their own.
About fifty years ago, one of these cottages was occupied by James
W---- and his wife, a most respectable and industrious pair, whose humble
virtues are still remembered with esteem by the elderly part of the
community in the neighbourhood where they lived. James was a weaver,
and, like most of his craft at that time, he manufactured his own yarn,
and sold his own cloth. But, besides this little business, which he
carried on for himself, he was often employed by the country people in
what was called customer work. He also farmed a small piece of ground,
which afforded him a healthful occupation in the spring months, and
supported a cow, whose produce, to use his own language, "keepit a fu'
house a' the year round."
James was rather an intelligent man for his station. Besides being
deeply versed in all that Biblical knowledge which was then so happily
cultivated by the labouring class in Scotland, he had read Josephus and
some other old historians, whose writings he quoted with so much
promptness and propriety, that many of his simple listeners believed him
to be almost inspired, and some of them went even so far as to say that
his speech wanted only a little polishing to make him a match for the
minister. But, though James really possessed a greater amount of
knowledge than most of those with whom he mingled, he never exhibited
that arrogant, overbearing manner, which is too often allied to superior
abilities. His good-nature was equal to his other acquirements, and he
was a special favourite with all who knew him. He could explain an
abstruse doctrine to the satisfaction of the old gudemen, and enlarge
with great animation on the merits of good housewifery, not forgetting,
in the course of discussion, to pay a delicate compliment to the thrifty
dames who intrusted him with the manufacturing of their linen. Nor was
he less admired by the younger part of the community; for, while the old
and sober asserted that James was a _canny_ man, and a learned man, the
young and frolicsome assured one another that he was a droll man, and a
funny man. On the harvest field he was the very "soul of all;" for he
never wanted a queer story or a witty jest, to cheer the spirits of his
fellow-labourers, when they began to flag under the heat and toil of the
day. His wit, however, was of that quiet, inoffensive kind, which
delights those who listen, without wounding the feelings of those upon
whom it is exercised. He possessed a happy turn, too, for settling the
disputes which frequently arose among the young and fiery spirits
composing the little army of reapers with whom he was engaged. When a
competition, or _campe_, as it was called, occurred, James's mediation
was often necessary to reconcile the contending parties to the results
of the contest; and his talent was seldom exerted in vain. While the
pride of the vanquished brought forth charges of unfair play to cover
the shame of defeat, and while these charges were repelled by the
boasting of the victors, James stepped forward with some humorous
remark, or displayed some piece of ludicrous mimicry, which overpowered
the spirit of contention, and united both parties in a harmonious roar
of laughter. He was not only umpire in their quarrels, and master of the
ceremonies at their feasts, but chaplain in ordinary at their common
breakfasts and dinners among the stooks. Upon these occasions, it was
pleasing to remark the solemnity which prevailed in the usually noisy
assembly, when James took off his old dimpled hat, and, with a
devotional gravity, which contrasted finely with the cheerful expression
of his ordinary countenance, solicited the blessing of God upon the
simple repast of which they were about to partake. If at any time the
sly winks of some mischievous wag succeeded in raising a titter among
the younger part of the company, it was suppressed in a moment; for,
though James was extremely good-natured, he was always severe in
rebuking the conduct of those who showed the least disrespect to
religion.
Having thus given a general account of James's character, we must now
proceed to narrate a simple anecdote in his life, which we consider
worthy of being known, not only on account of the generosity of feeling
which it exhibits, but also on account of the opportunity which it
affords for displaying the genuine simplicity of manners prevailing
among the class to which he belonged at the period when it occurred.
One fine afternoon, in the beginning of the winter of 1776, as James was
busily employed at his occupation in the shop, Nanny, his wife, entered
with a handful of pirns, and a countenance which betokened something of
importance. She was evidently in a hurry, and needed her husband's
assistance; but hesitated about the propriety of asking it.
"When Jamie's aff the loom," said she to herself, "neither beam-traddles
nor bore-staff'll budge a single bit; and, if he fa's in wi' onybody by
the gate, wha kens when he may come back again?--for the greatest faut
that oor Jamie has, is just that he likes a crack owre weel."
Notwithstanding of these prudential considerations, Nanny did broach the
subject in a most becoming and delicate manner, by asking her husband's
advice in her present perplexity.
"What are we to do noo, Jamie?" said she, in a rather depressed tone.
"There's no a pickle meal i' the barrel; and I hae the cow's supper to
get in, and the butter to mak, and the bed to mak, and the milk to
'earn, forby mony a ither thing that _maun_ be done--sae, ye see, I hae
nae time to gang for meal the nicht."
"Hout, lassie!" said James, with a smile; "I'll tell ye what we'll do.
I'll just get a pock, and set up by to Sandy Laing's for a peck or twa
to keep oor teeth gaun till oor ain melder come frae the mill."
"Weel, aweel, Jamie," said the guidwife, glad to find such a ready
remedy for all her difficulties. "If ye'll bring the meal, I'll mak the
parritch, lad; but it wad hae been a braw thing if we had haen a bit
cratur o' oor ain to gang an errant like this, and we micht hae been
makin something at oor wark i' the time."
"It's very true, lassie," said James; "but, if we hae nae bairn to carry
meal, we hae nane to eat it--let's aye be content, woman."
James was soon provided with a clean linen bag, which he deposited in
his pocket; and, crossing his arms upon his back, he set off to the
neighbouring village of Lindores for the necessary supply of meal. As he
was proceeding along the ridge of a natural embankment, which forms the
north-eastern boundary of the loch, he saw a well-dressed young man
advancing towards him. The stranger seemed to be in a hurry--at least
one might have supposed so from the rapidity of his motion; but he
occasionally stopped and looked down upon the frozen lake, which
expanded to the sky like a mighty mirror for the passing clouds to
behold their own shadows in. After gazing for a few minutes, as if he
had forgotten the length of his journey in contemplating the beauty of
the prospect which extended beneath him, he would start off at a quicker
pace, as if anxious to redeem the time which he had lost in gratifying
an idle curiosity. When he drew near, James could easily discover, from
his superior dress, slender make, and pale, meditative countenance, that
he did not belong to that class "who drudge through wet and dry with
never-ceasing toil;" and, notwithstanding of his itch for conversation,
he would have passed the stranger without making any remark upon the
state of the weather, the beauty of the scenery, or the antiquities of
the parish. But the young man, who seemed to be as inquisitive as James
was communicative, addressed him in a tone of frank cordiality, which at
once removed every feeling of reserve.
After a few questions had been asked and answered, James, recollecting
his errand, pulled out the bag which he had received from his wife, and,
exhibiting it to his new-found acquaintance, remarked--
"I'm just gaun doon by to Sandy Laing's here, to get twa pecks o' meal;
and gin ye'll stap at leisure for a wee, I'll gae doon the hill wi' ye,
and point oot a' the curiosities o' the place by the gate."
The stranger agreed to this proposal, and James marched off with most
ungentlemanly strides to the merchant's, from which he returned in an
incredibly short time, with his meal on his back, his hat in his hand,
and his body bent forward several degrees beyond its usual perpendicular
position.
"Ugh!" said James, as he again came up with the stranger, "I'm clean oot
o' breath wi' my hurry; but an auld body's blast's sune blawn, and
that's a stiff brae to climb wi' a burden; but mine's no a heavy ane."
"Permit me to carry it a bit till you recover yourself," said the
stranger, taking hold of the bag.
"Na, na, sir," said James, laughing. "I'm muckle obliged--greatly
obliged, sir; but ye dinna ken the penalty o' carryin a pock o' meal
yet. Only look at my back, and think hoo sic a melvyin wad suit on your
fine black coat. It wad mak ye look like a miller athegither; and the
ladies, whan they saw ye neist, wadna ken that it was just yersel again.
But I'll gather wund in a wee; and, i' the meantime, as I promised to
gie ye an account o' the curiosities o' the place, I'll just begin wi'
the nearest first; and, I assure ye, if onything short o' real
richteousness can hallow the dust o' the earth, we noo stand on hallowed
ground. This very spot where we noo breathe bears the name o' M'Duff's
Hill; and thae auld stumps o' wa's, that ye see lookin oot amang the
grass there, are the remains o' what was ance a castle or a palace
belangin to the Thanes o' Fife. It wad be a very _unpregnable_ place
afore the invention o' gunpowther; for ye'll observe that it has
Lindores Loch on the south, the Dog Loch on the wast, the Boistart Loch
on the north, and the Childert Loch on the east; and there's nae doot
but they wad hae ditches atween, to prevent their enemies frae gettin in
upon them by surprise. I could tell ye some fine stories about the
sieges and battles that hae happened here; but, as it wad tak owre
muckle o' yer time, I shall just mention hoo the lochs cam to get their
names. About Lindores Loch I need say naething. A'body kens that it's
just ca'ed after the little towny there, that stands on the north side
o't. But the Dog Loch's rather a darker subject. It's supposed to hae
derived its name frae the purpose it was devoted to. In auld times, ilka
great chief had twa or three packs o' hounds, for huntin boars, and
deers, and men wi'; and it's believed that the dogs frae the castle were
aye driven to that loch to drink, when the chase was done; and the auld
anes, that were owre sair bursten to rin again, were thrown into the
middle o't, wi' stanes about their necks, to droon. Sae, ye see, frae
this circumstance it got the name o' the Dog Loch. The Boistart Loch,
again, as ye'll observe, lies atween twa hills; and when the wind blaws
frae the east or the wast, it gathers into great gusts i' the glen, and
maks the water jaw, and jawp, and foam like a caldron; and for this
reason it has been ca'ed Boistart, or Boisterous, Loch. But there's a
better story than this connected wi' the name o' the Childert Loch; and
I aye like to tell't, on account o' the generosity that it displays, and
the honour that it reflects upon oor countrywomen, wha, even in the
maist savage times, werena athegither withoot some gliffins o' natural
affection. It was the custom, it seems, in thae rude ages, for the
leddies to engage in oot-door sports as weel as the men; and a very
common amusement hereabout, wi' mothers and nurses o' a' descriptions,
was the drawin o' their bairns, in a sort o' boxes or cradles, upon the
smooth ice o' the loch. This diverted the women folk, and exercised the
little anes, wha were thus prepared for the hardships o' the wild life
that they afterwards led. Aweel, ae fine winter afternoon, as ane o' the
bairns' maids frae the castle was pu'in a young Macduff, in a braw
silver-mounted cradle, upon the loch, and his mother lookin at them frae
the hill here--maybe frae the very place where we noo stand--the ice
brak, and doon gaed the cradle, bairn and a', to the bottom o' the loch.
The puir lassie, wha stood upon a stronger part o' the ice, and still
had the broken leadin-strings in her hand, heard the screams o' the
distracted mother, and saw the muddy water risin owre the head o' the
helpless wean; and, castin a confused look around, to see if ony
assistance was at hand, she plunged into the same hole; and, in tryin to
save the bairn, lost hersel. The watchman on the castle-tower heard the
screams o' the leddy, and saw the melancholy accident; and ae tout o'
his horn sent a hunder hardy callants to the place; but they were owre
late. The bairn and his nurse were pu'ed oot o' the loch clasped in ane
anither's arms; but the life had gaen oot o' them baith. It's said,
however, that the body o' the bit lassie wha had perished in tryin to
save that young sprout o' nobility received a' the honour that the
gratitude o' its high-minded parents could confer. The last act o' her
life was noble, and she was buried in the same grave wi' the son o'
Macduff. But, noo that I've recovered my breath, we'll be joggin awa, if
ye like; for ye'll be clean wearied oot wi' waitin upon an auld man's
havers."
"I assure you I am not," said the stranger. "I have been much delighted
with your recital; and I shall never think that time lost which is spent
listening to such interesting anecdotes. But, pray, what is the name of
that old, grey-roofed house upon the bank, at the western extremity of
the loch?"
"Ou, that's just oor auld kirk," said James; "and a very venerable
biggin it is, too. It was ance a Roman Catholic chapel; but the altar
and the images hae been a' demolished; and the only vestige o'
superstition that remains noo is the cross upon the riggin, and the
jugs, and a stane basin for the holy water, in the porch. But that's a
fine, solemn situation, ye'll alloo, for a kirk; and that's a bonny
burying-ground around it, too. It's just a pleasure to puir bodies like
me to think that they hae a claim to sic a quiet inheritance, when a'
the toils and troubles o' life are past."
"Tis indeed a sweetly-retired spot," said the stranger; "and it wants
only that 'cheerless, unsocial plant,' the sepulchral yew, to make it
accord exactly to the description given by Gray in these beautiful
lines of the Elegy--
'Beneath these rugged elms--that yew-tree's shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.'"
"The description agrees unco weel, sir," said James; "for mony a sober
Christian and mony a royit callant lie thegither below yon grassy divot,
withoot bein sensible o' the company they keep. But, noo that we're
speakin o' kirks, gin y'll just turn a wee bit to the richt wi' me, I'll
let ye see a kirk construckit by the hands o' the _Creawtor_ himsel;
and, I'm sure, he has been mony a time as devootly worshipped there as
ever he was in temples built by human hands."
The distance was but a few steps out of the way; and, as the stranger
was enthusiastic in his desire to see every curiosity, he readily agreed
to accompany James to the place. They accordingly turned into a narrow
footpath, which diverged to the right, and winded among the gorse in a
more southerly direction. The lake, which had been for some time
concealed by a shoulder of the hill, again appeared; and the hill
itself, divided into two ridges--forming a capacious amphitheatre,
covered by smooth grass, and surrounded on all sides by tall broom and
impenetrable furze. At the head or northern end of this dingle, the
ground rises into a mound of considerable height and regularity of form;
and from this mound the prospect in all directions is unobstructed and
extensive.
"There," said James, "is the kirk o' the Covenanters; and mony a guid
sermon has been preached there, in defiance o' the winter's cauld and
the summer's heat, and the persecution o' cruel men, that was waur to
bide than them baith. In that howe stood the minister, upon a muckle
stane that has been lang syne removed; and the congregation sat upon the
brae around him. The sentry stood upon this knowe here, at yer richt
hand; and it still bears the name o' the Watchman's Tower. His business,
as ye'll maybe ken, was to watch for the appearance o' an enemy, and gie
warnin to the preacher and his hearers to provide for their safety, by
standin to their arms or takin to their heels. Mony a time I picture to
mysel the confusion that wad tak place amang the women folk, when a
party o' wild dragoons were seen scamperin in this direction. I think I
hear the watchman fire his gun, as he rins to the congregation; I think
I see the minister faulding up the Word o' God, and descendin to his
audience wi' the composed dignity o' ane that has settled his account
wi' time, and is prepared to dee for the doctrines he has advanced; then
there is the animatin address that he delivers to his little flock, as
they gather around him, wi' their swords in their richt hand, and their
Bibles in the left; the tears o' their greetin wives, and dochters, and
sisters, and sweethearts, fa'in thick as a simmer shower, while they
stand tremblin and sabbin, and pleadin wi' their freens to flee frae the
dangers o' the comin storm. I think I see them wringin their hands and
rivin their hair wi' agony, when their entreaties are answered by the
deliberate determination o' the auld, and the fiery resolution o' the
young, wi' the fearfu assurance that they will conquer or dee. I think I
see that little company o' matrons and maidens retirin slowly frae the
scene o' confusion; while aye noo and then some kind-hearted youth, wha
convoys and comforts them, fa's oot frae the band, and rins back to the
ranks. Then they begin singin a hymn o' praise to the God o' battles,
wha is able to withstand the powerfu, and protect the oppressed; and
immediately--when the crack o' the guns and the clang o' the swords has
convinced them that the deadly wark is indeed begun--they are kneelin
doon on the grass, wi' their een turned up to heaven, and sabbin oot
wordless prayers for the success and the safety o' their freens; there
is that little band o' heroes, noo broken and driven back by superior
numbers, noo rallyin around their leader, and returnin to the charge wi'
a shout o' triumph that maks a' the hills ring; they are noo ance mair
repulsed, and nearly borne down by the heavy onset o' their mair skilfu
enemies--and, just as my heart begins to tremble for their sakes, I hear
the cheers o' a fresh reinforcement o' countrymen, and see their swords
brandishin owre the brae, as they rush down to the assistance o' their
freens, wha welcome them to the ranks wi' the inspirin war-cry o' the
party, 'God and oor country!' The bluidy persecutors are at last broken
and dispersed afore the irresistible charge o' the united _pawtriots_;
and, while they are scamperin frae the field wi' mony a toom saddle in
their train, the victors are busy, devoutly offerin up thanks to Heaven
for the battle they hae won.