In the course of the same summer in which we commenced those
grammar-school acquirements, that, in after-life, have been so
deservedly celebrated, our revered relative, the late old Lady Havers,
carried us in her infirm dowagerian chariot to pay her annual visit to
Miss Christiana Heritage. In the admiration with which we contemplated
the venerable mansion and its ancient mistress, an indistinct vision
rises in our fancy of a large irregular whitewashed house, with a tall
turnpike staircase; over the low and dwarfish arched door of which a
huge cable was carved in stone, and dropped in a knotted festoon at
each side. The traditions of the neighbourhood ascribed this carving to
the Pictish sculptors, who executed the principal ornaments of the High
Kirk of Glasgow.
On entering under this feudal arch we ascended a spiral stair, and were
shown into a large and lofty room, on three sides of which, each far in
a deep recess, was a narrow window glazed with lozens of yellow glass,
that seemed scarcely more transparent than horn. The walls were hung
with tapestry, from which tremendous forms, in warlike attitudes and
with grim aspects, frowned in apparitional obscurity.
But of all the circumstances of a visit, which we must ever consider
as a glimpse into the presence-chamber of the olden time, none made
so deep and so vivid an impression upon our young remembrance as the
appearance and deportment of Miss Christiana herself. She had been
apprised of Lady Havers’ coming, and was seated in state to receive
her, on a large settee adorned with ancestral needlework. She rose as
our venerable relation entered the room. Alas! we have lived to know
that we shall never again behold the ceremonial of a reception half so
solemnly performed.
Miss Christiana was dressed in a courtly suit of purple Genoese velvet;
her petticoat, spread by her hoop, extended almost to arms-length at
each side. The ruffle cuffs which hung at her elbows loaded with lead,
were coëval with the Union, having been worn by her mother when she
attended her husband to that assembly of the States of Scotland, which
put an end to the independence and poverty of the kingdom. But who, at
this distance of time, shall presume to estimate the altitude of the
Babylonian tower of toupees and lappets which adorned Miss Christiana’s
brow?
It is probable that the reception which she gave to poor Maudge and
Claud was not quite so ceremonious as ours; for the substantial
benison of the visit was but half-a-crown. Mrs. Gorbals, on hearing
this, exclaimed with a just indignation against the near-be-gawn Miss
Christiana, and setting herself actively to work, soon collected, among
her acquaintance, a small sum sufficient to enable Maudge to buy and
furnish a pack for Claud. James Bridle the saddlemaker, who had worked
for his father, gave him a present of a strap to sling it over his
shoulder; and thus, with a judicious selection of godly and humorous
tracts, curtain rings, sleeve buttons, together with a compendious
assortment of needles and pins, thimbles, stay-laces and garters, with
a bunch of ballads and excellent new songs, Claud Walkinshaw espoused
his fortune.
His excursions at first were confined to the neighbouring villages,
and as he was sly and gabby, he soon contrived to get in about the
good-will of the farmers’ wives, and in process of time, few pedlars
in all the west country were better liked, though every one complained
that he was the dearest and the gairest.
His success equalled the most sanguine expectations of Maudge, but
Mrs. Gorbals thought he might have recollected, somewhat better than
he did, the kindness and care with which the affectionate old creature
had struggled to support him in his helplessness. As often, however,
as that warm-hearted lady inquired if he gave her any of his winnings,
Maudge was obliged to say, ‘I hope, poor lad, he has more sense than to
think o’ the like o’ me. Is na he striving to make a conquest of the
lands of his forefathers? Ye ken he’s come o’ gentle blood, and I am
nae better than his servan’.’
But although Maudge spoke thus generously, still sometimes, when she
had afterwards become bedrid, and was left to languish and linger
out the remnant of age in her solitary garret, comforted only by the
occasional visits and charitable attentions of Mrs. Gorbals, the wish
would now and then rise, that Claud, when he was prospering in the
traffic of the Borders, would whiles think of her forlorn condition.
But it was the lambent play of affection, in which anxiety to see him
again before she died was stronger than any other feeling, and as often
as she felt it moving her to repine at his inattention, she would turn
herself to the wall, and implore the Father of Mercies to prosper his
honest endeavours, and that he might ne’er be troubled in his industry
with any thought about such a burden as it had pleased Heaven to make
her to the world.
After having been bedrid for about the space of two years, Maudge
died. Claud, in the meantime, was thriving as well as the prigging
wives and higgling girls in his beat between the Nith and the Tyne
would permit. Nor was there any pedlar better known at the fairs of
the Border towns, or who displayed on those occasions such a rich
assortment of goods. It was thought by some, that, in choosing that
remote country for the scene of his itinerant trade, he was actuated by
some sentiment of reverence for the former consequence of his family.
But, as faithful historians, we are compelled to remind the reader,
that he was too worldly-wise to indulge himself with any thing so
romantic; the absolute fact being, that, after trying many other parts
of the country, he found the Borders the most profitable, and that the
inhabitants were also the most hospitable customers,--no small item in
the arithmetical philosophy of a pedlar.