Part of Captain Clydesdale's little plan, on this occasion, was to rent

or purchase a small house in the neighbourhood of the village of

Fernlee, his native place, in the west of Scotland; to furnish it, and

to take his adopted daughter to live with him as his housekeeper. All

this was accordingly done; a house, a very pretty little cottage, with

garden behind, and flower-plot in front, was taken, furnished, and

occupied by Mr Clydesdale and his protegee. Here, for two years, they

enjoyed all the happiness of which their position and circumstances were

capable--and it was a happiness of a very enviable kind. No daughter,

however deep her love, could have conducted herself towards her parent

with more tenderness, or with more anxious solicitude for his ease and

comfort, than did Maria Clydesdale towards her protector. Nor could any

parent more sensibly feel, or more gratefully mark the affectionate

attentions of a child, than did Captain Clydesdale those of his Maria.

He doated on her, and to such a degree, that he never felt happy when

she was out of his sight.

More than satisfied with her lot, Maria sought no other scenes of

enjoyment than those of her humble home; and coveted no other happiness

than what she found in contributing to that of her benefactor.

Thus happily, then, flew two delightful years over the old man and his

adopted child; and, wrapped up in their felicity, they dreamt not of

reverses. But reverses came; Misfortune found her way even into their

lonely retirement. Within one week, Captain Clydesdale received

intelligence of the total loss of two vessels of which he was the

principal owner, and in which nearly all that he was worth was invested.

The blow was a severe and unexpected one, and affected the old man

deeply. Not on his own account, as he told his Maria, with a tear

standing in his eye, but on hers. "I had hoped," he said, "to leave you

in independence--an humble one indeed, but more than sufficient to place

you far beyond the reach of want. But now----" And the old man wrung his

hands in exquisite agony of grief.

Infinitely more distressed by the sight of her benefactor's unhappiness

than by the misfortune which occasioned it, Maria flung her arms about

his neck, and said everything she could think of to assuage his grief

and to reconcile him to what had happened. Amongst other things, she

told him that the accomplishments which his generosity had put her in

possession were more than sufficient to secure her an independence, or,

at least, the means of living comfortably; and that she would

immediately make them available for their common support.

"There are a number of wealthy families around us, my dear father," she

said, "from which I have no doubt of obtaining ample employment. I can

teach music, drawing, French, sewing, etc.; and will instantly make

application to the various quarters where I am likely to succeed in

turning them to account. Besides, father," she continued, "it is

probable that we shall soon have some great family in Park House; and,

in such case, I might calculate on obtaining some employment

there--perhaps enough of itself to occupy all my time."

To all this the old man made no reply--he could make none. He merely

took the amiable girl in his arms, embraced her, and bade God bless her.

Although the mention by Miss Clydesdale of the particular residence

above named appears a merely incidental circumstance, and one,

seemingly, of no great importance, it is yet one, as the sequel will

shew, so connected with our story, that a particular or two regarding it

may not be deemed superfluous.

Park House was a large, a magnificent mansion, with a splendid estate

attached, both of which were, at this moment, in the market. The house

was within a quarter of a mile of Captain Clydesdale's cottage, and the

reference in the advertisements to those who wished to see the house and

grounds, was made to the captain, who, with his usual readiness to

oblige, had undertaken this duty--a duty which he had already discharged

towards several visitors--none of whom, however, had become purchasers.

It was about a week after the period last referred to--namely, that

marked by the circumstance of Mr Clydesdale's losses--that a gentleman's

carriage drove up to the little gate which conducted to that worthy

man's residence. From this carriage descended a tall military-looking

man, of apparently about sixty years of age, who immediately advanced

towards the house. Captain Clydesdale, who saw him approaching, hastened

out to meet him. The latter, on seeing the captain, bowed politely, and

said--

"Captain Clydesdale, I presume, sir?"

"The same, at your service, sir," replied the honest seaman.

"You are referred, to, sir, I think, as the person to whom those wishing

to see Park House and grounds should apply."

"I am," replied Mr Clydesdale; "and will be happy to shew them to you,

sir."

"Thank you," said the visitor. "It is precisely for that purpose I have

taken the liberty of calling on you. I have some idea of purchasing the

estate, if I find it to answer my expectations."

"Will you have the goodness to step into the house, sir, for a few

moments, and I will then be at your service?" said Captain Clydesdale.

The gentleman bowed acquiescence, and, conducted by the former, walked

into the house, and was ushered into a little front parlour, in which

Miss Clydesdale was at the moment engaged in sewing. On the entrance of

the visitor, she rose, in some confusion, and was about to retire, when

the latter, entreating that he might not be the cause of driving her

away, she resumed her seat and her work. Having also seated himself, the

stranger now made some remarks of an ordinary character, by way of

filling up the interval occasioned by the absence of Captain Clydesdale.

Many words, however, had he not spoken, nor long had he looked on the

fair countenance of his companion, when he seemed struck by something in

her appearance which appeared at once to interest and perplex him. From

the moment that this feeling took possession of the stranger, he spoke

no more, but continued gazing earnestly at the downcast countenance of

Maria Clydesdale; who, conscious of, and abashed by the gaze, kept her

face close over the work in which she was engaged. From this awkward

situation, however, she was quickly relieved by the entrance of Captain

Clydesdale, who came to say that he was now ready to accompany his

visitor to Park House. The latter rose, wished Miss Clydesdale a good

morning; accompanying the expressions, however, with another of those

looks of interest and perplexity with which he had been from time to

time contemplating her for the last five or ten minutes, and followed

the captain out of the apartment.

"That interesting and very beautiful young lady whom I saw at your house

is your daughter, sir, I presume?" said the stranger to Captain

Clydesdale, as they proceeded together towards Park House.

"Yes, sir, she is: that is, I may _say_ she is; for I have brought her

up since she was a child; and she has never, at least, not since she was

five or six years of age, had any other protector than myself. She never

knew her parents."

"Ah! a foundling," said the gentleman.

"Yes, but under rather extraordinary circumstances. I found her amongst

the savages of the coast of Guinea."

"On the coast of Guinea!" exclaimed the stranger, in much amazement.

"Very extraordinary, indeed. What are the circumstances, if I may

inquire?"

Captain Clydesdale related them as they are already before the reader;

not omitting to mention the fragment of shift, with the initials on it,

and the locket with hair and miniature, which he still carefully kept.

On Captain Clydesdale concluding, the stranger suddenly stopped short,

and, looking at the former with a countenance pale with emotion,

said--"Good God, sir, what is this? I am bewildered, confounded. I know

not what to think. It is possible. Yet it cannot be. My name, sir, is

Elderslie, General Elderslie. I have just returned from the East Indies,

where I have been for the last seventeen years. Shortly after my going

out, my wife and child, a daughter, embarked on board the _Isabella_

from Greenock, to join me at Calcutta. The ship never reached her

destination; she was never more heard of; but there was a report that

she was seen, if not bespoken, off the Gold Coast; and from there being

no trace of her afterwards, it is more than probable that she was

wrecked on these shores; and, O God! it is probable also, although I

dare not allow myself to believe it, that this girl is--is my child! Let

us return, let us return instantly," he added, with increasing

agitation, and now grasping Captain Clydesdale by the arm, "that I may

see this locket you speak of. I gave such a trinket to my beloved, my

unfortunate wife. The initials you mention correspond exactly. My

child's name was Julia Elderslie; my own Christian name is James; and

the same initials are thus also on the rim of the locket."

"It is precisely so!" said Captain Clydesdale, with a degree of surprise

and emotion not less intense than those of the general's. "There _are_

the initials of J. E. also on the locket; and now that my attention is

called to the circumstance, there is a strong resemblance between the

miniature it encloses, and the person now before me."

"Let us hasten to the house, for God's sake! captain," said the general,

with breathless eagerness, "and have this matter cleared up, if

possible."

They returned to the house. Captain Clydesdale put the locket and the

fragment of the little shift, which bore the initials J. E., into the

hands of the general. He glanced at the latter, examined the former for

an instant with trembling hands, staggered backwards a pace or two, and

sank into a chair. It was the identical locket which, some twenty years

before, he had given to his wife. The miniature it contained, introduced

into the trinket at a subsequent period, was his own likeness.

"Bring me my child, Captain Clydesdale," said the general, on recovering

his composure; "for I can no longer doubt that your adopted daughter is,

indeed, my Julia."

Captain Clydesdale left the apartment, and in a moment returned leading

in Julia Elderslie, who had hitherto been kept in ignorance of what was

passing. On her entrance the general rushed towards her, took her by the

left hand, gently pushed the sleeve of her gown a little way up the

wrist, saw that the latter exhibited a small brown mole, and

exclaiming--"The proof is complete; you are--you are my daughter, the

image of your darling but ill-fated mother," took her in his arms in a

transport of joy.

The feelings of Julia Elderslie, on this extraordinary occasion, we need

not describe, they will readily be conceived. Neither need we detain the

reader with any further detail; seeing that, with the incident just

mentioned, the interest of our story terminates.

It will be enough now, then, to say, that General Elderslie, who had

amassed a princely fortune, bought the estate and mansion of Park House.

That he took every opportunity, and adopted every means he could think

of, of shewing his gratitude to Captain Clydesdale, for the generous

part he had acted towards his daughter. That this daughter ultimately

inherited his entire fortune; the general having never married a second

time; and that she finally married into a family of high rank and

extensive influence in the west of Scotland.

THE ASSASSIN.

At a late hour of an evening in the beginning of the year 1569, mine

host of the Stag and Hounds--the principal hostelry of Linlithgow at the

period referred to--was suddenly called from his liquor--the which

liquor he was at the moment enjoying with a few select friends who were

assembled in the public room of the house--to receive a traveller who

had just ridden up to the door.

Much as Andrew Nimmo--for such was the name of mine host--much, we say,

as Andrew loved custom, it was not without reluctance that he rose to

leave his party to attend the duties of his calling on the present

occasion. He would rather he had not been disturbed; for he was in the

middle of an exceedingly interesting story, when the summons reached

him, and was very unwilling to leave it unfinished. But business must be

attended to; its demands are imperative; and no man, after all, could be

more sensible of this than mine host of the Stag and Hounds. So, however

reluctant, from his seat he rose, and, telling his friends he would

rejoin them presently, hastened out of the apartment.

On reaching the door, Andrew found the traveller had dismounted. He was

standing by the head of his horse--a powerful black charger--and

seemingly waiting for some one to relieve him of the animal.

This duty Andrew now performed; he took hold of the bridle, after a word

or two of welcome to his guest, and asked whether he should put up the

horse and supper him?

"What else have I come here for?" replied the stranger, gruffly. "Surely

put him up; but I must see myself to his being properly suppered and

tended. If we expect a horse to do his duty, we must do our duty by

him. So lead the way, friend!"

Damped by the uncourteous manner of the traveller, Andrew made no

further reply than a muttered acquiescence in the justice of the remark

just made, but instantly led the horse away towards the stable; calling

out, as he went, on John Ramsay, the ostler, to come out with the

buet--_i.e._ lantern; for it was pitch dark, and a light, of course,

indispensable.

With the scrutinizing habits of his calling, mine host of the Stag and

Hounds had been secretly but anxiously endeavouring to make out his

customer; to arrive at some idea of his rank and profession, if he had

any; but the darkness of the night had prevented him from noting more

than that he was a man of tall stature, and, he thought, of a singularly

stern aspect.

When Ramsay had brought the light, however, mine host obtained farther

and better opportunities of pursuing his study of the stranger; and,

besides having his former remarks confirmed, now discovered that he had

the appearance of a person of some consideration, his dress being that

of a gentleman.

"Fine beast that, sir!" adventured mine host, after a silence of some

time, during which the latter and his guest had been standing together

overlooking the operation of John Ramsay as he fed and littered the

animal, whose noble proportions had elicited the remark. "Poorfu' beast,

sir," continued Mr Nimmo. "I think I hae never seen a better."

"Not often, friend, I daresay," replied the stranger, who was standing

erect, with folded arms, and carefully marking every proceeding of the

ostler. "For a long run and a swift, he is the animal for a man to trust

his life to."

Mine host was startled a little by the turn given to this remark: it

smelt somewhat, he thought, of the highway; or, at any rate, seemed to

carry with it a somewhat suspicious sort of reference. He was, however,

much too prudent a man to exhibit any indication of an opinion so

injurious to the character of his guest, and, therefore, merely said

laughingly--

"That he weel believed that if a man war in sic jeopardy as required his

trusting to horse legs for his life, he wad be safe aneuch on sic a

beast as that, especially if he got onything o' a reasonable start."

"Yes, give him ten minutes of a start, and there's not a witch that ever

rode over North Berwick Law on a broomstick that'll throw salt on his

tail, let alone a horse and rider of flesh and blood!" replied the

stranger, with a grim smile. "_I'll_ trust my life to him," he added,

emphatically, "and have no fears for the result."

The tendence on the much prized animal which was the subject of these

remarks having now been completed, mine host and his guest left the

stable, and proceeded to the house, which having entered, the former

ushered the latter into the public room, being the best in the house,

and the only one fit for the reception, as our worthy landlord deemed

it, of a personage of the stranger's apparent quality.

The latter at first shewed some reluctance to enter an apartment in

which there was already so many people assembled; for it was still

occupied by the company formerly alluded to; but, on being told by mine

host that he should have a table to himself, in a distant part of the

room, if he did not wish for society, he expressed himself reconciled to

the arrangement, and, walking into the apartment, took his place at its

upper end; then throwing himself down in a chair, having previously laid

aside his hat, cloak, and sword, he commenced a vigilant but silent

scrutiny of the party by which the table that occupied the centre of the

apartment was surrounded. While he was thus employed, the landlord, who

had gone for a moment about some household business, approached him to

receive his orders regarding his night's entertainment. The result of

the conference on this subject, was an order for supper, and for a

measure of wine to be brought in, in the meantime, until the former

should be prepared. The landlord bowed, and retired to execute his

commissions. In a minute after, a pewter measure of claret, with a tall

drinking glass, stood before the stranger. He filled up the latter from

the former, drank it off, and again set himself to the task of

scrutinizing the company before him--a task to which he now added that

of listening to their conversation, which seemed to be of a nature to

interest him much, if one might judge from the earnest intensity of his

look, and the varying but strongly marked expression of countenance with

which he listened to the various sentiments of the various speakers. The

subject of the conversation was the Regent Murray--his proceedings,

government, and character.

"Aweel, folk may say what they like o' the Regent," said one of the

speakers, "but I think he's managing matters very weel on the whole, and

I wish we may never hae a waur in his place. He's no a man to be trifled

wi'; and if he keeps a tight rein hand, he doesna o'erride the strength

o' his steed. He's a strict, justice-loving man; that I'll say o' him."

"Then ye say mair o' him than I wad, deacon," said another of the party.

"His strictness I grant ye; but as to his justice, there was unco little

o't, I think, in his treatment o' his sister: his conduct to that poor

woman has been most unnatural, most savage, selfish, and unfeelin.

That's my opinion o't, and it's the opinion o' mony a ane besides me."

"Weel, weel; every are has his ain mind o' thae things, Mr Clinkscales,"

replied the first speaker; "but for my part, I'll ay ride the ford as I

find it; that's my creed."

"Has ony o' ye heard," here interposed another of the party, "o' that

cruel case o' Hamilton's o' Bothwellhaugh? Ane o' the Queen's

Hamilton's," added the querist.

Some said they had, others that they had not. For the benefit of the

latter, the speaker explained. He said that Hamilton of Bothwellhaugh

was one of those who had been forfeited for the part he took at the

battle of Langside. That the person to whom his property was given by

the Regent, had turned Hamilton's wife out of her home, unclothed, and

in a wild and stormy night; and that the poor woman had died in

consequence of this cruel treatment.

"An' what's Hamilton sayin to that?" inquired one of the party.

"They say he's in an awfu takin about it," replied the first speaker,

"an' threatenin vengeance, richt an' left; particularly against the

Regent."

"I think little wonder o't," said another of the party. "It's a shamefu

business, and aneuch to mak ony man desperate."

"But is't true?" here inquired another.

The reply to this question came from a very unexpected quarter: it came

from the stranger, who, starting fiercely to his feet, and stretching

towards the company with a look and gesture of great excitement,

exclaimed--

"Yes, gentlemen, true it is--true as God is in heaven--true in every

particular. An eternal monument to the justice and clemency of the

tyrant Murray. The wife of Bothwellhaugh was turned naked out of her own

house in a cold and bitter night, and died of bodily suffering and a

broken heart. She did--she did. But"--and the stranger ground his teeth

and clenched his fist as he pronounced the word--"there will be a day of

count and reckoning. The vengeance, the deadly vengeance of a ruined,

deeply injured, and desperate man, will yet overtake the ruthless,

remorseless tyrant."

Having thus delivered himself, the stranger again retired to his former

place, reseated himself, and relapsed into his former silence; although

the deep and laboured respiration of recent excitement, which he could

not subdue, might still be distinctly heard even from the farthest end

of the apartment.

It was some time after the stranger had retired to his place before the

company felt disposed to resume their conversation. The incident which

had just occurred, the energy with which the stranger had spoken, and

the extreme excitement he had evinced, had had the effect of throwing

them all into that silent and reflective mood which the sudden display

of anything surprising or interesting is so apt to produce even in our

merriest and most thoughtless moments.

At length, however, the chill gradually wore off; the conversation was

resumed, at first in an under tone, and by fits and starts; by and by it

became more continuous; and, finally, began to flow with all its

original volume and freedom. No more allusion, however, was made by any

of the party to the case of Bothwellhaugh. This was a subject to which,

after what had taken place, none seemed to care about returning. Neither

did the stranger evince any desire to hold farther correspondence with

the revellers; but, on the contrary, appeared anxious to avoid it; nay,

one might almost have supposed that he regretted having obtruded himself

upon them at all, and that he could have wished that what he had uttered

in an unguarded moment had remained unsaid. Be this as it may, however,

he sought no farther intercourse with the party, but having hastily

despatched the supper which was placed before him, and finished his

measure of wine, he glided unobserved out of the apartment, and,

conducted by his host, retired to the sleeping chamber which had been

appointed for him.

On the following morning, the stranger, who was sojourning at the Stag

and Hounds, went out to transact, as he told his landlord, some business

in the town; saying, besides, that he would not probably return till

evening.

Strongly impressed by the manner and appearance of his guest, and not a

little awed by his grim and fierce aspect, he of the Stag and Hounds

could not help following him to the door, when he departed, and

furtively looking after him as he stalked down the main street of the

town; and much, as he looked at him, did he marvel what sort of business

it could be he was going about. This, however, was a point on which the

worthy man had no means of enlightening himself, and he was therefore

obliged to be content with the privilege of muttering some expressions

of the wonder he felt.

In the meantime, the stranger had turned an angle of the street, and

disappeared--at least from the view of the landlord of the Stag and

Hounds. Not from ours; for we shall follow and keep sight of him, and

endeavour to make out what he was so curious to know.

Having passed about half-way down the main street of the town, the

former suddenly halted before a large unoccupied house, with a balcony

in front. It was a residence of the Archbishop of St Andrew's. Standing

in front of this house, the stranger seemed to scan it with earnest

scrutiny. He looked from window to window with the most cautious and

deliberate vigilance, and appeared to be noting carefully their various

heights and positions. While pursuing this inquiry, he might also have

been frequently observed glancing, from time to time, on either side, as

if to see that no one was marking the earnestness of his examination of

the building.

Having apparently completed his survey of the front of the house, the

stranger passed round to the back part of the building, and proceeded to

the gate of the garden, which lay behind, and through which only was the

house accessible on that side. On reaching the gate, the stranger

paused, looked cautiously around him for a few seconds, when, observing

no one in sight, he hastily plunged his hand beneath his cloak, drew out

a key, applied it to the lock, opened the gate, passed quickly in, and

closed the door cautiously behind him.

With hurried step the intruder now proceeded to the house, drew forth

another key, inserted it into the lock of the main door, turned it

round, applied his foot to the latter, pushed it open, and entered the

building; having previously, as in the former instance, secured the door

behind him. Ascending the stair in the inside of the house, the

mysterious visitant now commenced a careful examination of the various

apartments on the second floor; and at length adopting one--a small

room, with one window to the front--made it the scene of his future

operations. These were, the laying on the floor a straw mattress, which

he dragged from another apartment, and hanging a piece of black

cloth--which he also found in the lumber-room, from whence he had taken

the mattress--against the wall of the apartment opposite the window.

Having completed these preparations, the secret workman went up to the

window, knelt down on the mattress, and levelling a stick, or staff,

which he found in the apartment, as if it had been a musket, seemed to

be trying where he might be best situated for firing at an object

without. This experiment he tried repeatedly; shifting his position from

place to place, until he appeared to have hit upon one that promised to

suit his purpose.

This ascertained, he rose from his knees; threw down the staff; glanced

around the apartment, as if to see that all was right; descended the

stair; came out of the house, locking the door after him; crossed the

garden, and passed out at the gate, locking that also before he left,

and with the same precaution that he had used at entering; that is,

looking around him to see that no one marked his proceedings.

The guest of the Stag and Hounds now returned to his inn, from which he

had been absent about two hours. At the door he was met by mine host,

who, touching his cap, asked if "his honour intended dining at his

house, as it was now about one of the clock," the general dinner-hour of

the period.

Without noticing the inquiry of his landlord--

"Be there any armourers in this town of yours, friend?" he said, "where

I could fit me with some weapons I want."

"Yes, indeed, there be one, and a main good one he is," replied the

other. "Tom Wilson, I warrant me, will fit your honour with any weapon

you can desire, from a pistolet to a culverin; from a two-handed sword

of six feet long, to a dagger like a bodkin. And as for armour, you may

have anything, everything from head-piece to leg-splent; all of the best

material, and first-rate workmanship."

"Where is this man Wilson's shop?" inquired the stranger.

"See you, sir," replied the other; "see you yonder projecting corner,

beyond the palace entrance?"

"I do."

"Well, sir, three doors beyond that, you will find Wilson's shop; and,

if your honour chooses, you may use my name with him, and he will not

serve you the worse, or the less reasonably, I warrant me. It is always

a recommendation to Tom to be a guest at the Stag and Hounds."

Without saying whether or not he would avail himself of the privilege

offered him of using his name, the mysterious stranger hastened away in

the direction pointed out to him, and, in half a minute after, he was in

the workshop of Wilson the armourer.

"Your pleasure, sir," said that person, advancing towards his customer

from an inner apartment.

"Have you a good store of fire-arms, friend?" inquired the latter.

"Pretty fair, sir; pretty fair," replied the armourer "What description

may you want?"

"Why, I want a carbine, friend--something of a sure piece--that will

carry its ball well to the mark. None of your bungling articles, that

first hang fire, and then throw their shot in every direction but the

right one. I would have a piece of good and certain execution."

"Here, then, sir, here is your commodity," said the armourer,

disengaging a short and heavy gun from an arms'-rack that occupied one

side of the shop. "Here is a piece that I can recommend. It will be the

fault of the hand or the eye when this barker misses its mark, I warrant

ye. I'd take in hand myself to smash an egg with it, with single ball,

at fifty yards distance. I have done it before now with a worse gun."

"I will not require any such feat from the piece as that, friend," said

Wilson's customer, drily; and having taken the gun in his hand, he began

to examine the lock, and to see that the piece was otherwise in

serviceable condition. Being satisfied that it was, he demanded the

price. It was named. The money was tendered, and accepted, and the

stranger departed with his purchase; having, however, previously

received from the armourer, in lieu of luck's-penny, although he offered

to pay for them, half a dozen balls, and a few charges of powder, to put

the capability of the gun to immediate trial. This, however, its new

proprietor did not think necessary; but, instead, returned to the

archbishop's house with it; and, after loading and priming it, placed it

in a corner of the apartment, which we have described him as having put

into so strange a state of preparation.

Leaving the house with the same cautious and stealthy step as before,

the stranger again returned to his inn; but it was now to leave it no

more for the night.

"What news stirring, friend?" said he to the landlord.

"Naething, sir," replied he, as he laid the cloth for his dinner; "only

that the Regent will pass through the town to-morrow. I hear he'll be

this way about twelve o'clock. The magistrates, I understand, hae gotten

notice to that effect."

"So," replied the stranger. "Then we shall have a sight."

"A brave sight, sir, for he is to be accompanied by a gallant cavalcade,

and the trades of the town are to turn out with banners and music to do

him honour. It will be a stirring day, sir, and I trust a good one for

my poor house here; for such doings make people as thirsty as so many

dry sponges."

To these remarks the guest made no reply, but proceeded with his dinner;

the materials for which having, in the meantime, been brought in, and

placed on the table by another attendant.

On the following morning, the little town of Linlithgow exhibited a

scene of unusual bustle. Hosts of idlers were seen gathered here and

there, along the whole line of the main street; and persons carrying

trades' banners--as yet, however, carefully rolled up--might be seen

hurrying in all directions to the various mustering-places of their

crafts. An occasional discharge of a culverin too; and, as the morning

advanced, a merry peal of bells heightened the promise of some impending

event of unusual occurrence. By and by, these symptoms of public

rejoicing became more and more marked: the groups of idlers increased;

the banners were unfurled; the firing of the culverins became more

frequent; and the bells either really did ring, or appeared to ring more

furiously.

It was when matters thus bespoke the near approach of a crisis--which

crisis, we may as well say at once, was the advent of the Regent--that

the mysterious lodger at the Stag and Hounds ordered his horse to be

brought to the door. The horse was brought; the stranger settled his

bill; and, saying to his landlord that he would witness the sight from

horseback more advantageously than on foot, mounted, and rode off in the

direction of the approaching cavalcade. In this direction, however, he

did not ride far; for, on gaining the eastern extremity of the town, he

suddenly wheeled round, and rode back in rear of the line of street,

until he reached the gate of the garden behind the mansion of the

Archbishop of St Andrew's, in which the mysterious preparation before

described had been made.

Having arrived at the gate, he dismounted, opened it, led in his horse,

and fastened him to a tree close by. This done, he removed the lintel,

or cross-bar, over the gate. The latter, contrary to his practice on

former occasions, he now left wide open, and proceeded towards the

house, into which he disappeared.

In less than a quarter of an hour after, the Regent had entered the

town. He was on horseback, surrounded by a number of friends, also

mounted, and followed by a numerous party of armed retainers.

As the cavalcade penetrated into the town, the crowd, which the occasion

had assembled, gradually became more and more dense, and the progress of

the Regent and his party consequently more slow; until, at length, they

were so packed in the narrow street, with the human wedges that were

forcing themselves around them, that it was with great difficulty they

could make any forward progress at all.

Becoming impatient with the delay thus occasioned, although carefully

concealing this impatience, the Regent, who was now directly opposite

the house of the Archbishop of St Andrew's, kept waving his hand to the

crowd, as if entreating them not to press so closely, that he might pass

on with more speed. The crowd endeavoured to comply with the wishes of

the Regent, but their efforts only added to the confusion, without

mending the matter in other respects. It was at this moment that all

eyes were suddenly directed towards the house of the Archbishop of St

Andrew's, in consequence of a shot being fired from one of the windows.

When these eyes looked an instant after again towards the Regent, he was

not to be seen; he had fallen from his horse, mortally wounded: a ball

had passed through his body. It was Hamilton of Bothwellhaugh who had

fired the fatal shot.

The friends and retainers of the Regent, seconded by the town's people,

flew to the house of the archbishop, and endeavoured to force the door,

in order to get at the murderer but it had been barricaded by the wily

assassin, and resisted their efforts long enough to allow of his

escaping from the house, mounting his horse, and darting through the

garden gate at the top of his utmost speed. He was pursued; but, thanks

to his good steed, pursued in vain, and subsequently escaped to France;

having done a deed which the moralist must condemn, but which cannot be

looked upon as altogether without palliation.

THE PRISONER OF WAR.

I had been preserved, through divine mercy, from one of the most

lingering and fearful deaths. I was rescued, I scarce knew how, after

the grim king of terror held me in his embrace, and all hope had fled.

As consciousness returned, my heart thrilled at the recollection of the

miseries I had endured while floating, a helpless being, on the bosom of

the ocean.[3] I shuddered to think, while I lay feeble as an infant in

the cabin of the vessel which was bearing me to my home, and whose

humane crew had been the means of my deliverance, that I was still at

the mercy of the winds and waves; but kind nursing, aided by youth and a

good constitution, quickly brought strength; and I was enabled, after a

few days, to come upon deck. On my first attempt, when my head rose

above the deck as I ascended the companion-ladder, and my eyes fell upon

the boundless waste of waters, a chill of horror shot through my frame.

Like a lone traveller who had suddenly met a lion in his path, I stood

paralysed; every nerve and muscle refused to act. I must have fallen

back into the cabin, had not my hand instinctively clung to their hold

for a few seconds. I could not withdraw my fixed gaze, while all I had

suffered rushed upon me like a hideous dream. Slowly my faculties

returned, when I ascended the deck, where I sat for a few hours. Each

day after this brought additional strength; so that, before we made

soundings, I was as strong and cheerful as I had ever been in my life.

The weather was squally, and I assisted the crew as much as was in my

power; and, when not so occupied, lay listlessly looking over the ship's

bows that bravely dashed aside the waves that rolled between me and the

home I now longed to reach, or walked the deck musing upon the joy my

return would impart to my over-indulgent parents.

As we neared the shores of Scotland, a circumstance occurred that both

greatly surprised and alarmed me. This was a sudden change in the

manners and temper of the crew. Care and anxiety took the place of their

wonted cheerfulness; the joyous laugh, or snatch of song, no longer

broke the monotonous hissing of the waves that rippled along the sides

of the vessel, or the dull whistle of the wind through the rigging. At

the first appearance of every sail that hove in sight, I could perceive

every eye turned to it with a look of alarm until she was made out.

Fearful of giving offence to my benefactors, I made no remark on the

subject for some time, although I felt disappointed at what I

saw--attributing it to cowardice; yet they were all stout, young,

resolute-looking fellows at other times. This scene of alarm, and

appearance of a wish to skulk below or conceal themselves, had occurred

twice in the course of the forenoon. After the last ship we encountered

was made out to be a merchant-brig, I could no longer refrain from

delivering my sentiments of the greater number of the crew, but

addressing the mate, said--

"Mr Ross, it is fortunate for us that these strange sails have turned

out to be British merchantmen. Had they proved to be French privateers,

we should have made but a poor stand, I fear, notwithstanding our eight

carronades."

"What makes you think so?" said he.

"Why, there is not a vessel that heaves in sight," said I, "but the men

look as if they wished themselves anywhere but where they are."

"Avast there, my man!" said he. "What! do you mean to say that they

would not stand by their guns while there was a chance? Yes, they would,

and long after; and, if you think otherwise, all I say is, you form

opinions and talk of what you know nothing about."

Casting an angry look at me--the only one he ever gave--he squirted his

quid over the bulwarks, and was walking away, when I stopped him.

"If I have given you offence, Mr Ross, nothing was farther from my

intention. I cannot but observe the alarm caused by every sail that

heaves in sight until she is made out to be a friend. Now, the little

time I was at sea, before I fell overboard and was saved by you, every

sail that hove in sight made the hearts of all on board leap for joy."

"Ho! ho!" and he laughed aloud. "Are you on that tack, my messmate? You

are quite out in your reckoning, and becalmed in a fog; but I shall soon

blow it away. There is not a man on board with whom I would not go into

action with the fullest reliance upon his courage; and, were we to meet

a French privateer, you would quickly see such a change as would satisfy

you that my confidence is not misplaced. Every face, that the moment

before expressed anxiety and alarm, would brighten up with joy; every

man would stand to his gun as cheerfully as to the helm. It is their

liberty the poor fellows are afraid of being deprived of by our own

men-of-war--the liberty to toil for their parents or wives where they

can get better wages than the Government allows. Danger, in any form,

they meet undaunted when duty calls; it is for their countrymen they

quail. Were the smallest sloop-of-war in the British navy to heave in

sight, and a boat put off from her with a boy of a midshipman and eight

or ten men, every one on board, who had not a protection, would shake in

his shoes at her approach; yet, against an enemy, every man would stand

to his gun until his ship was blown out of the water."

A new and painful feeling came over me as he spoke. I was myself an

entered seaman, and, of course, liable to impressment; but the idea of

being taken had never occurred to me. I wondered that it had not, after

the scenes I had witnessed in the frigate; but my longing for home had

entirely engrossed my mind. I was, indeed, home-sick, and weary of the

sea. From this moment, no one on board felt more alarm than I did at the

sight of a top-royal rising out of the distant waters. My feelings were

near akin to those of a felon in concealment.

At length we reached the Moray Firth, in the evening, and arrangements

were made for as many of the crew as could be spared to be landed at

Cromarty, where the vessel was to put in. This was to avoid the danger

of impressment in the Firth of Forth. I gave the captain an order upon

my father for my passage, and the expense he had been at on my account,

as I was to leave, with the others in the boat, as soon as we were off

the town, which we hoped to reach in the morning. My anxiety was so

great that I had kept the deck since nightfall. It was intensely dark;

nothing broke the gloom but the flashes of light that gleamed for a

moment upon the waves, as they rippled along the sides of the vessel,

and the dull rays of the binnacle-lamp before the man at the helm. Bell

after bell was struck, still I stood at the bows, leaning upon the

bowsprit, unmindful of the chill wind from under the foretopsail,

anxiously watching for the first tints of dawn. Tediously as the night

wore on, I thought, when morning dawned, it had fled far too fast.

The dark clouds began at length to melt away in the east, and the

distant mountain-tops to rise like grey clouds above the darkness that

still hid the shores from our view. Gradually the whole face of nature

began to emerge from the morning mists. We were just off the Sutors of

Cromarty. My heart leapt for joy at the near prospect of being once more

on firm ground, and so near home. Several of the crew had now joined

me, and all eyes were directed to the entrance of the bay. Only a few

minutes had elapsed in this pleasing hope--for it was still dullish on

the horizon--when the report of a gun from seaward of us, so near that I

thought it was alongside, made us start and look round. Each of us

seemed as if we had been turned into stone by the alarming sound; while,

so sudden was the revulsion of feeling, in my own case, that my heart

almost ceased to beat. There, not half-a-league to windward of us, lay a

frigate, with her sails shaking in the wind, and a boat, well-manned,

with an officer in her stern, putting off from her.

So completely were we overcome by the sudden appearance of this dreaded

object, which seemed to emerge from darkness, as the sun's first rays

fell upon and whitened her sails, that we stood incapable of thought or

action. The well-manned barge was carried, by the faint breeze and

impetus of her oars, almost as swift as a gull on the wing. The report

of the gun brought the captain and mate upon deck before we had

recovered from our stupor.

"Bear a hand, men!" cried Ross, as he sprung upon deck. "Man the

tacklefalls! clear the boat! and give them a run for it at least."

Roused by his voice, every nerve was strained, the boat lowered, and we

in her, ready to push off, when the captain called over the side--

"My lads, do as you think for the best; but it is of no use to try. The

frigate's boat will be under our stern ere you can gain way."

I stood in the act of pushing off, when the object we were going to

strain every nerve to avoid swept round the stern, and grappled us. We

hopelessly threw our oars upon the thwarts, and prepared to reascend the

vessel, to settle with the captain and bring away our chests. As for

myself, I had no call to leave the boat. All I possessed in the world

was upon my person, and half-a-guinea given me by the captain to carry

me home. The other three were getting their bags and chests ready to

lower into the boat, having got their wages from the captain, when he

called me to come on deck. I obeyed; when he said to the midshipman in

command of the boat--

"Sir, to prevent any unpleasant consequences arising to this poor

fellow, Elder, here, I shall let you know how he came on board of us. He

belonged to the _Latona_, and is no deserter, I assure you. Ross, bring

here our log-book, and satisfy the gentleman if he wishes." Ross obeyed;

and having examined it, the captain told the wretched state in which I

had been picked up, and the way in which I had accounted to him for the

accident. During the recital, he looked hard at me, no muscle of his

face indicating either pity or surprise. When the captain ceased to

speak, he only said--

"Well, my lad, you have for once had a narrow escape--you must hold

better on in future. I shall report to the captain, and get the D from

before your name. Tumble into the boat, my lads. Good day, captain."

And, in a few minutes afterwards, I was on board the _Edgar_,

seventy-four, and standing westwards for the Firth of Forth.

It was strange the change that came over the impressed men, when there

was no longer any hope of escape. Like true seamen, they bent to the

circumstance they could not remedy, and were, as soon as they got on

board, as much at home, and more cheerful, than they had been for many

days before. As for myself, I took it much to heart, and was very

melancholy when we entered the Firth and stood up to the roadstead. I

could hardly restrain my feelings when the city of Edinburgh came in

sight, and when I thought of the short distance in miles that divided me

from my parents and home--that home I had left so foolishly in the hopes

of being back at the conclusion of the war, which I now found was raging

more furiously, if possible, than when I left, and with much less

prospect of its termination. I would stand for hours gazing upon the

White Craig, the eastern extremity of the Pentland Hills, and wish I was

upon it, until my eyes were suffused with tears. I begged hard for the

first lieutenant to give me leave to go on shore, if only for

eight-and-forty hours, to visit my parents; but he refused my request,

fearful of my not returning. Several of the hands on board, natives of

Edinburgh, who had been long in the _Edgar_, obtained leave. With one of

them I sent a letter to my father, who came the following day. It was a

meeting of sorrow, not unmixed with upbraidings, on his part, for what I

had done; but we parted with regret--he to do what he could to obtain my

discharge, I under promise not to act so precipitately in future, if I

was once more a free agent. What steps were taken I know not, for next

morning we received orders to sail for the Nore. We had many faces on

board that looked as long as my own, for there were still several who

had obtained promise of leave whose turn had not come round. Wallace,

one of the mess I was in, had not been in his native city for ten years,

having been all that time voluntarily on board of men-of-war, either at

home or on foreign stations. He was to have had two days' leave the very

morning we sailed, and had doomed ten gold guineas, which he had long

kept for such purpose, to be expended in a blow-out in Edinburgh, among

his relations and friends. When the boatswain piped to weigh anchor,

Wallace, who was captain of the foretop, ran to his berth, opened his

chest, took out his long-hoarded store, and came on deck with it in his

hand. His looks bespoke rage and disappointment, bordering upon

insanity. He gazed upon the distant city that shone upon the gently

swelling hills glancing back the sun's rays, then at the purse of gold

in his hand. He seemed incapable of speech. A bitter smile curled his

lip, bespeaking the most intense scorn. I looked on, wondering what he

meant to do. It was but the scene of a minute. Suddenly raising his

hand, he threw the purse and gold over the side with all his force,

exclaiming:--"Go, vile trash! what use have I for you now? The first

action may lay me low!" Then, as if relieved from some oppressive load,

he mounted the rattlings to his duty with a smile of satisfaction; and

we bore away for the Nore, where I was draughted on board the _Repulse_,

sixty-four, and departed upon a cruise along the coast of Brittany; at

times lying off Brest harbour, and at others, standing along the coast

in search of the enemy. Employed in this monotonous duty, month followed

month, and year after year passed away.

It was now the year 1799. The century was drawing to a close; but the

interminable war seemed only commencing. I had become almost callous to

my fate. We were standing along, under a steady breeze, as close in

shore as we could with safety to the vessel. It was the dog-watch; and I

had only been a short time turned in when our good ship struck upon some

sunken rocks with such force that I thought she had gone to pieces.

Every one in a moment turned out. The night was as dark as pitch, and

the sea breaking over us, while we lay hard and fast. Everything was

done to lighten her in vain. She was making water very fast, in spite of

all our exertions at the pumps. Still there was not the smallest

confusion on board. Our discipline was as strict, and our officers as

promptly obeyed, as they were before our accident. As the tide rose, the

wind shifted, and blew a gale right upon the shore, causing the ship to

beat violently. Day at length dawned, and there, not one hundred fathoms

from our deck, lay a rocky and desolate-looking shore. We had been

forced over a reef of sunken rocks that were not in our charts; and,

during the darkness, as was supposed, had been carried in-shore by some

current; but, however it had happened, there we were, in a serious

scrape, the sea breaking over our decks, and our hold full of water.

Soon after daybreak we could perceive the peasantry crowding down to the

water's edge. Everything had been done that skill and resolution could

accomplish, to save the vessel, but in vain. We had nothing before our

eyes but instant death. The sea ran so high that no boat could live for

a moment in the broken water between us and the shore. The French

peasantry were making no effort for our safety, but running about and

looking on our deplorable situation, with apparently no other feeling

than that of curiosity. At this time, James Paterson, an Edinburgh lad,

volunteered to make the attempt to swim to the shore with a log-line,

and fearlessly let himself over the side. It was, to all appearance, a

hopeless attempt; for every one felt assured that he would be beat to

death against the rocks that lined the beach, on which the waves were

beating with great fury.

It was a period of fearful suspense; yet, dreadful as our situation was,

there was not the least unnecessary noise on board. All was prompt

attention and obedience. The weather was extremely cold, and the sea, at

times, making a complete breach over the ship, which we expected every

moment to go to pieces. As for myself, I meant to stow below and perish

with her, rather than to float about, bruised and maimed, and drown at

last. One half of the crew were only dressed in their shirts and

trousers, without shoes or stockings, as they had leaped from their

hammocks. When she struck, we had no leisure to put on more than our

trousers. Thus we stood, holding on by the nettings, or anything we

could lay hold of, to prevent our being washed off the decks, with our

eyes anxiously watching the progress of the brave Paterson, who swam

like an otter, the boatswain and his mates serving out the line to him.

We saw him near the rocks, and the people making signs to him. This was

the point of greatest danger, but, by the aid of the peasants, he

surmounted it.

Those on the beach gave a shout, which we replied to from the deck. A

hawser was made fast to the line, and secured on shore. It was not until

now that we began to hope; and with this hope arose an anxiety on the

part of every one to save what they could. I strove to reach my chest,

in which were a pair of new shoes and five guineas, but my efforts, like

those of the others, were vain; our under decks were flooded several

inches, and everything was loose and knocking about in the most furious

manner, from the rolling and pitching of the vessel upon the rocks, so

that I was but too happy to reach the decks without being crushed to

death. All I regretted was my shoes; the money I cared not for, and do

not think I would have taken it, as we expected to be plundered as soon

as we got to the beach.

After a great deal of fatigue, we all got safe to land, and now the

plundering began. There were no regular soldiers on the spot, but a

great many of the peasantry had firelocks and bayonets, and stood over

us, stripping those of the men, who had them, of their jackets and hats.

At first, we were disposed to resist, but soon found it to be of no use.

One of the fellows seized the chain of the watch belonging to one of our

men, and was in the act of pulling it from the pocket, when the owner,

Jack Smith, struck him to the ground with a blow of his fist. The next

moment poor Smith lay a lifeless corpse upon the sand, felled by a

stroke from the butt end of a musket.

There was no one present who seemed to have or who assumed any

authority, to whom our officers might appeal for protection; they were

not more respected than the men; all were searched and robbed as soon as

they arrived from the wreck. Poor Smith's fate taught us submission,

even while our bosoms burned with a desire for vengeance. One of my

messmates said aloud--"I would cheerfully stand before the muzzle of one

of the old _Repulse's_ thirty-twos, were she charged to the mouth with

grape well laid, to sweep these French robbers from the face of the

earth." As for myself, they took nothing from me. I had twopence in the

pocket of my trousers; when I saw what was going on, I took it out and

held it in my hand while they searched me. I more than once thought they

were going to strip me of my nether garments, and give me in exchange a

pair of their own gun-mouthed rags, which would scarcely have reached my

knees; for several of them looked at them as if they felt inclined to

make the exchange; but I escaped, and felt thankful.

We stood for several hours shivering upon the beach without food, fire,

or water, while the plunderers were busy picking up anything that

drifted ashore, but still keeping a strict watch over us; at length, the

chief magistrate of a neighbouring small town arrived, and to him our

officers complained of the usage we had received. He only shook his

head, and shrugged his shoulders, when the body of Smith was pointed out

to him. What could we do? A grave was dug for him on the spot where he

was murdered, and we were marched off into the interior. It was well on

in the afternoon before we reached the place where we were to halt. It

was a small poverty-stricken-like town, with an old ruinous church and

churchyard, surrounded by high walls, with an iron gate close by. Into

this chill, desolate place, we were crowded by the soldiers, the gate

locked upon us, and sentinels placed around the building. Here we

remained until the evening, when there was served out to every man a

small loaf, black as mud; yet, black as it was, I never ate a sweeter

morsel; for neither I nor any of my companions had tasted any food since

the evening before.

But how shall I express the horror we felt when we found we were to

remain where we were, in this old, ruined charnel-house of a church,

which could scarcely contain us all, unless we stood close together. To

lie down was out of the question; and, although we could, there were

neither straw, blankets, nor covering of any kind, to screen us from the

cold. We implored in vain to be removed; but these privations, bad as

they were, did not annoy us so much as the idea of spending the long

dark night in such a miserable place. By far the greater number of us

believed as firmly in the reality of ghosts as we did in our own

existence; and, of all places in the world, a church and churchyard,

from time immemorial, have been their favourite haunts, and the terror

of all who believe in their reality--even those who affect to disbelieve

in the visits of spirits to this earth, feel sensations which they would

not choose to own, when in a churchyard, in a dark night, with

gravestones and crumbling human bones around them. Of all men seamen are

the most superstitious, and give the most ready credence to ghost

stories. The unmanning feeling of fear, that had not touched a single

heart in the extremity of our danger from the storm, was now strongly

marked in every face, exaggerated by a horror of we knew not what. Fear

is contagious--we huddled together, and peered fearfully around,

expecting every moment to see some appalling vision or hear some

dreadful sound. Our sense of hearing was painfully acute--the smallest

noise made us start; but our feelings were too much racked to remain

long at the same intensity--they gradually became more obtuse as the

night wore on, until we at length began to entertain each other with

fearful stories of ghosts; feeling a strange satisfaction in increasing

the gloomy excitement under which we laboured. Had any of us begun a

humorous story, with the view of diverting our thoughts from their

present bent, and the circumstances we were in, I am certain he would

have been silenced in no gentle manner.

We might have been about two hours or less in this state, in the most

intense darkness--our own whispers being all that we could recognise of

each other, even although in contact--when a low pleasant murmur

suddenly fell upon our ears: It was the voice of Dick Bates, who, having

either been requested, or, moved by his present situation, had, of his

own accord, commenced singing in an under tone his favourite ballad of

"Hozier's Ghost." Now, Dick was the best singer in the whole crew, with

a voice like a singing bird; it was at this moment so low that, had it

been broad daylight, he would have appeared only to have been breathing

hard; yet it was at this time distinctly heard by all, and made our

flesh creep upon our bones, although a strange kind of pleasure was

mingled with the feeling. We scarcely breathed when he came to the

lines--

"With three thousand ghosts beside him,

And in groans did Vernon hail--

Heed, O heed my fatal story,

I am Hozier's injured Ghost."

I thought the whole was present before me, and I could see the scene the

poet described, and shuddered when he breathed forth--

"See these ghastly spectres sweeping

Mournful o'er this hated wave,

Whose pale cheeks are stained with weeping--

These were English captains brave.

"See these numbers pale and horrid!

These were once my seamen bold.

Lo! each hangs his drooping forehead

While his mournful tale is told."

I believe there was not a man in the old church who did not think he saw

the ghastly train of spectres flitting before his eyes, and who did not

feel every nerve thrill, and every hair of his head stand on end. Many

were the tales of superstition and of terror related, until overpowered

nature sank into sleep; but I have since often reflected that, of all

the accounts of fearful sights I heard, they were all related at second

hand, from the authority of others. No one asserted they themselves had

ever seen anything out of the ordinary course of nature except Bob

Nelson, and his was calculated to lead a more prejudiced observer

astray. It was as follows--

"It was during a voyage I made to New York from Greenock, in the brig

_Cochrane_, that I once saw, with my own eyes, a strange sight, such as

I hope never to witness again. Our cargo consisted of dry goods, and we

had several emigrants as passengers; in particular, a family of six in

the cabin, the husband and wife, with four children; they were wealthy,

and had sold off their farm stock to purchase land, and settle somewhere

in America. When they came on board at the quay of Greenock, they were

accompanied by a great many relations and friends, who took a most

affectionate leave of them; in particular one old woman, the mother of

the emigrant's wife. Her wailings were most pitiable; she wrung her

hands, and stood as if rooted to our decks. I heard her say more than

once--

"'Mary, I feel I shall never see you more, nor these lovely babes. O why

will you leave your aged mother to go mourning to her grave?'

"Her daughter looked more like one dead than alive, as she lay sobbing

upon the breast of her husband, her mother holding one of her hands

between both of her's. Poor soul, she looked as if her heart was

breaking, but spoke not; at length, the husband said--

"'O woman, have you no feeling for your daughter?'

"The old woman's grief seemed, all at once, turned into rage: she let

her daughter's hand drop, and, raising her hands, cursed him for

depriving her of her daughter; concluding with--

"'But, James, remember what I say; dead or alive, I shall yet see my

Mary.'

"The poor young woman was carried below in a faint and the old dame was

conveyed from the deck by the friends, for we were by this time cast

loose, and leaving our berth. For several days I saw nothing of the

farmer's family, as they were very sick; but the children had now begun

to play about the deck, and their father would leave the cabin for a

short time, once or twice a-day, for his wife remained very ill, and

confined to her bed. The haglike appearance of the old woman, in her

rage, had made a great impression on me, and had evidently sunk the

spirits of the young people; for I often saw, when the husband came on

deck, that he was much dejected. I felt it strange that the figure of

the old woman often occurred to my mind when I looked at him; and I

several times dreamed I saw her in my sleep, as I had seen her in

Greenock, but her appearance was more pale and hideous, and had so great

an effect upon me, that I always awoke in an agony, and cursed her from

my heart.

"About mid-passage we met with westerly gales and rough weather, which

caused the passengers to keep below for several days, and retarded our

passage much. It was blowing very hard. It was my turn at the wheel. In

the midwatch we had occasional showers. The clouds were scudding along

in immense bodies over the face of the moon, which was just at the full,

so that we had, at times, bright moonlight for a minute or two, then

gloom; but the night was not dark. I might have been at the wheel half

my time or so. My eye was fixed ahead to watch the set of the waves,

save when I glanced to the compass. I thought I saw something upon the

bowsprit in the gloom that was not there a moment before. I looked aloft

to see for a break in the clouds that the moon might shew me more

distinctly what it was. I looked ahead again, and there it still was,

but nearer the bows of the vessel. Still I could not make out what it

was. Soon a burst of moonlight shone forth, and I saw it resembled a

human figure, but whether man or woman I could not tell, for the moon

was as suddenly obscured as it had shone forth. I felt very queer; being

certain it was none of the crew--for the whole watch was aft at the

time--and I was sure that all the passengers were below, and no one had

come on deck since the watch had been changed. I looked at the spot

where I had seen it, and it was gone. I felt the greatest inclination to

tell what I had seen; but the fear of being laughed at, made me say

nothing of it at this time; I, however, never wished so much for

anything in my life as that my spell at the wheel was over, and the

watch passed. When, at length, I was released, I crept to the foxa, and

tumbled into my hammock, but could not close an eye for thinking of what

I had seen.

"Well, my mates, I was then, as I am now, in a pretty mess, and wished

myself as heartily out of the _Cochrane_ as we all do ourselves out of

this old foundered hulk of a church. I was fairly aground with fear, and

felt all of a tremble for the nights I must pass on board before we

reached New York, where I was determined to leave the brig if I saw any

more such sights. For a few days the gale continued, sometimes blowing

very hard, at others more moderate, but nothing uncommon occurred. At

length it abated, and we had pleasant weather. I began to think I had

been deceived, and was glad I had not spoken of what I had seen to any

of the crew. It was the afternoon, towards evening. I was again at the

wheel. The sun was setting in a bed of clouds, as gaily coloured as a

ship rejoicing--the colours of all nations floating aloft, from the

point of her bowsprit to the end of her jib-boom. The four children were

playing upon deck, laughing and full of joy at being once more relieved

from their long confinement in the cabin. I looked at their innocent

gambols and at the beautiful sky by turns, as much as my duty would

allow, and felt more happy than I had done since we sailed. It was so

pleasant to look ahead; for every face on deck wore a pleasing and

happy aspect. I looked again at the children's gambols; but I almost

dropped at the wheel. My hands and limbs refused to do their office.

There, before me, close by the children, stood the exact representation

of the old woman--so stern, so unearthly was her look, that I cannot

express it; but she was pale as the foam on the crest of a wave. I could

not call out. I had no power either to move tongue or limb. The yawing

of the vessel called the attention of the mate to me, who sung out to

hold her steady. I heard him, but could not obey. My whole faculties

were engrossed by the fearful vision. My eyes appeared as if they would

have started out of my head. One of the crew seized the wheel. All

looked at me with astonishment. I stood rivetted to the spot, pointing

to where the spectre stood; but no one saw anything but myself. The

captain was below in the cabin, with the farmer and his wife--the latter

of whom was known to all the crew to be very ill. As I looked to the

unearthly figure, attracted by a power I could not resist, the children

continued their play. The features of the old woman, I thought, relaxed,

and a sadness came over them, but it was of unearthly expression. The

figure glided from the children to the cabin-companion, and disappeared

below, when it as suddenly came again upon deck, accompanied by the

farmer's wife, pale and wasted. Both gazed upon the children. The young

woman appeared to wring her hands in great distress, as I had seen her

before she was carried below; but the old woman hurried her over the

side of the brig, and I saw no more of them. When they disappeared, my

faculties returned. I trembled as if I had been in an ague, and the cold

sweat stood in large drops upon my forehead. The mate and crew thought

that I had been in a fit, until I told them what I had seen. They looked

rather serious, but were much inclined to laugh at me. The mate began to

jaw me a little on my fancies. All had passed in a minute or two.

Scarce had the mate spoken a dozen of words, when the captain hurried

upon deck, much affected, and called to one of the female steerage

passengers to go instantly to the cabin and assist, as he feared the

farmer's wife was dead. The mate ceased to speak, and the rest of the

crew looked as amazed as I did at the strange occurrence. The captain

came to us. When he heard my strange story, he shook his head, and only

said it was a remarkable occurrence; but I had been deceived by some

illusion, and commanded us not to speak of it, for distressing the poor

husband. We resolved to obey him, as we were by this time nearly in with

the land, and expected to make it next day, which we did; and the poor

farmer was helped ashore, almost as death-like as the body of his wife,

which was buried in New York. I sailed several trips afterwards in the

_Cochrane_, but never saw anything out of the common afterwards in her

or anywhere else."

The first rays of the rising sun shone upon us all sound asleep, as

quiet and undisturbed as if we had passed the night under the roofs of

our fathers' houses; but I was cold, stiff, and sore when I awoke. I had

passed the night upon a flat gravestone outside of the church, for want

of room within, without any covering but my shirt and trousers--all I

had saved from the wreck. There was not a character engraved on the

stone that was not as distinctly marked on my body. It was of no use

grumbling or being cast down--we were fairly adrift, and must go with

the current. It was now that the buoyancy of a sailor's mind burst

forth. The old church and churchyard resounded with shouts and laughter,

that made the French sentinels think we had all gone mad. Some were busy

at leap-frog, others were pursuing each other among the ruins and

tomb-stones--all were in active exertion for the sake of warmth, and to

beguile the time; while the French gathered outside wherever they could

obtain a sight of us, and looked on in amazement at our frolics. I am

certain they were not without fear for us; for a few of the lads had

contrived to clamber to the top of the ruins; and were amusing

themselves by antics, at the hazard of their necks, and throwing small

pieces of lime at us below. The officer in command called to them to

come down; but they knew not what he said. Some of them cried out, in

answer to his call--"Speak like a Christian if you want us to understand

you, and don't wow like a dog." At this moment, Nick Williams, one of

our maintop men, had scaled the highest point of the walls, and had, at

the risk of his life, contrived to perch himself upon the crumbling

stone, and was huzzaing most vociferously. It was a daring and foolhardy

feat. A shout of admiration rose from the outside of the walls, when a

real British cheer answered it from within. Whether the officer was

enraged at the apparent defiance and disobedience to his commands, I

know not, but several muskets were fired through the rails of the gate,

and the balls recoiled from the walls. A shout of rage burst from us;

and a serious conflict was only prevented by the prudence of the petty

officers who were among us; for the enraged seamen had begun to collect

stones from the base of the ruined walls to hurl at the dastardly

guards, who were shouting, _"Vive la Nation!" "Vive la Republique!"_ Our

boatswain, who was a cool and resolute old tar, seeing that the storm

was still on the verge of bursting out--for we looked upon their cries

as insulting as their balls--by a happy thought, struck up the national

air, "God save the King," which we sung with an enthusiasm and strength

of lungs never, I am certain, surpassed before or since. If it had no

melody, it had a tone and sound equivalent to both. Many who still held

the stones in their hands, which they had lifted to hurl at the guards,

struck them together like cymbals, in regular time, to increase the

noise. The effect was most exhilarating and produced the desired effect

of turning our angry feeling into good-humour. So pleased were we, that

we gave them "Rule Britannia" in the same style, until we forgot, in our

enthusiasm, that we were prisoners, hungry, cold, and naked. Scarce had

the last loud cadence died away, when the gate was thrown open, and a

miserable allowance of the same black bread was served out to us, with

plenty of water, and the gate once more shut against us.

It was very strange that, among more than five hundred of us, not one

knew a word of French, and there were none of those who entered the

enclosure could speak a word of English, so that we knew not what those

who had the power over us meant to do. We conjectured that they intended

to keep us where we were until we were exchanged; and had already begun

to canvass the possibility of breaking out of the hated church and yard,

and making a bold push for our liberty, in the following night, by

overpowering our guards, seizing their arms, and passing along the

coast, until we reached some of the small ports, and making prizes of

all the vessels in it, and setting sail for England. A council was

actually deliberating in the church, composed of the petty officers and

a few of our picked hands, when our attention was roused by the sound of

martial music approaching the churchyard, where it halted, and we were

soon after turned out, and numbered to the officer in command.

The party who had just arrived consisted of two companies of soldiers of

the line, regularly clothed and armed, as the French troops were; while

those under whose charge we had been were only the armed peasantry of

the neighbourhood. We hoped the change would be for our advantage. We

saw at once we were going to be conveyed into the interior. Go where we

must, we felt we could not be worse fed, lodged, or used than we had

been. No harsh word was used to us by the regular troops; and, before we

had been a few hours on the road, we understood each other well enough

by dumb show, and marched on in good humour; we walking in the middle of

them like a drove of bullocks, as frolicsome as children, singing,

laughing, and putting practical jokes upon each other, to beguile the

way. Scarce had we travelled a couple of miles, until my bare feet

became sore from the small stones and bruises; yet I limped on in the

best manner I could, and as cheerfully as possible. I was in the front

as we were on the point of entering a village; the soldiers in file

enclosing us on either side, and bringing up the rear, so that we could

not walk faster or slower than they chose. A few hundred yards from the

entrance of the village, those in front turned round, and pointing to

the fowls of various kinds that were feeding on the highway before us,

made signs which we readily understood, and nodded significantly; they

then drew to each side of the road, and we behind them, leaving a gap in

the middle of the way like the prongs of a fork closed at the base. The

ducks, hens, and other fowls became alarmed as we came close upon them,

and ran for shelter to the vacant space in the middle, when the front

closed, and all were secured by those in the centre; the poor people,

their owners, calling in vain for restitution of their property. The

soldiers would not allow them to come within their ranks; and, at night,

when we stopped, the former procured wood for us to dress the stolen

fowls, after having received their proportion. This, I confess, was a

species of robbery; but we were starved by the allowance of government,

and we were in an enemy's country, who had plundered the shipwrecked

mariner cast upon their shores. We thought, therefore, although, of

course, the reasoning was wrong, that, in appropriating whatever we

could lay hands upon, we were merely making fair and just reprisals for

the losses we had sustained at the hands of our captors; but, the truth

is, we troubled ourselves very little about the right or wrong of the

matter, for we were lodged either in large empty barns, or ruined

churches, all the way to Rennes, and could, from hunger, have eaten a

jackass when we were allowed to rest for the night. Even yet, I remember

the relish a small piece of a roast pig or fowl had, without either

bread or salt, at this time, for we were not scrupulous what we lifted

that would eat, if we could carry it. In one village, five pigs

disappeared in this manner, and only the great weight of the parent

prevented her following them. At the time, it had not the appearance of

theft; there was so much fun in it that it resembled a great hunt, for

every eye was in quest of game, and all was done so quietly and

dexterously that there was not the least confusion or noise. We closed

so rapidly that the prey had no means of escape, nor room to move until

it was despatched; yet the people, as we passed, were often very kind to

us, so far as was in their power, for they appeared to be miserably

poor. When we reached Rennes my feet were so sore, swelled, and cut,

that I walked with great pain; numbers of us were in the same situation.

We did not pass straight through the town, but were halted, for some

time, in the market-place, while the inhabitants came in crowds to gaze

at the English prisoners; and a miserable sight we were. We might have

been here about half an hour, when a beautiful young lady came to where

we were, with a young woman behind her carrying a large basket filled

with shoes. I thought she had come to sell them, as so many were

barefoot. I saw her giving them to the men, and hirpled to the spot, and

looked with an anxious eye at the store which was diminishing fast. I

had still retained the twopence, and resolved to make an effort to

obtain a pair, but felt backward, conscious I had no equivalent to give

for them; holding out my coppers, I pointed to a pair which I thought

would answer me; I felt ashamed, and looked to the ground, pointing to

my feet when I had attracted her attention, for she was looking in

another direction. She took the shoes and gave them to me. I proffered

my little cash; she gently put my hand aside, and, by a sign, made me

know that I was welcome to them. I never saw a female so lovely as this

young lady; her clear, black eyes were swimming in tears, and her face

covered with blushes; her looks were so mild, so benevolent, she looked

like an angel sent from heaven to administer to our wants. Never before

or since have I felt the same sensation so intensely. It was delightful;

it was painful. I felt a choking in my throat. I could have wept, and

have found relief in it, but I was surrounded by those who would have

made sport of my emotion. I retired a few paces to make way for others,

in silence. I dared not utter a sound, lest my feelings had overpowered

me, but stood and gazed at the lovely creature until she retired. I felt

as if everything to be esteemed on earth was concentrated in her person

and mind. Had I been an admiral I would have gloried in calling her

mine; had it been necessary I could have faced death or any danger, to

free her from trouble or grief, with a feeling of joy and exultation.

Many a time has this fair creature been embodied in my mind's eye, as

fair and lovely as she was then, but I never saw her again.

Many others of the good inhabitants of Rennes administered to our wants.

I got, besides the shoes, a substitute for a jacket, and a straw hat

from an old man. Indeed, we saw in our route scarce any others except

old men, women, and boys. Women were driving the carts, and working in

the fields, and doing the work done by the men in Britain. From Rennes

we were marched to Perche, our final destination, in the same manner as

we had been from the coast, and lodged in prison; but I found it no

prison to me: men were so scarce at this time in France that we were

allowed to work out of prison if we chose, and only visited once a-week

to pass muster, and receive our allowance--so I soon found a master, or,

more properly, he found me in prison--a cart and plough-wright residing

a short distance from town.

Citizen Vauquin, in secret, was a staunch Royalist; but, in his common

conversation, a Republican. To me he was extremely kind, but our

communications were very limited, from my want of knowledge of French;

but I was picking it up with rapidity, and we soon contrived to

understand each other pretty well.

It was now well on in the spring, and the weather warm and agreeable. I

was busy at my work, when Vauquin, who was a stout, hale old man, came

to me; there was something comic in the expression of his countenance,

joy and vexation seemed by turns to pass over it, and at times to

struggle for mastery; he looked cautiously around lest any one might

overhear us, then said--

"Ah, France! beautiful France! these cursed Democrats have dimmed your

glory, and ruined you! We have lost our fleet in Egypt, and we fly

before the Germans. What can we have but defeat, while the best blood in

France either has been shed by her sons, or languishes in obscurity.

Could we be freed from the ruffians that tyrannize over us in any way

but this? We have suffered much, and must suffer more, before we see the

glories of France shine as they once shone in the courts of her kings.

Ha! Elder, your sailors are the devils that humble France; from your

riches the seas are covered with your ships, and the brave French,

plundered by their rulers, have few. What could be done with sixteen

ships when fifty were upon them?"

Piqued by his national vanity, I replied--

"Had Nelson had half the number, there would have been no fighting."

"Why no fighting, Monsieur?" said he.

"Because they would have run if they could," replied I; "or struck when

they saw no chance--that's all I have to say on the subject. If you

please let us change it, my friend."

"By all means," said he, "let us change it. We are a ruined and undone

people since we lost our King. The great nation are a people without a

head; and, when a house wants the head, all goes wrong."

"You and I are at one on this point," replied I. "But how comes it that

you are as democratic as any one in the neighbourhood when politics is

the subject of discourse? It is not so in Britain. Every man speaks his

mind; yet we have a king and a kingly government. I was led to believe,

before I left home, that in France alone there was liberty: for all men

were equal--freedom and equality being the law of the land."

"O Monsieur Elder!" exclaimed he, "freedom and equality are the worst

tyranny, as I shall shew you by my sad experience. When all men make the

law, who is to obey? Better one tyrant than one million; for, when every

one thinks he is a law-maker, no one thinks of obeying the law farther

than it pleases himself. Listen to me; and you shall hear the truth as I

have experienced it, and many thousands in France as well as I:--

"When first the people of France began to give attention to the writers

and haranguers against the oppression which we, no doubt, suffered, no

one was more enthusiastic than I was for the removal of the abuses; and

I thought no sacrifice could be too great to have them removed. I was,

at the time, carpenter to the great chateau which you see in the

distance. Our old lord, who was a severe master, had died only a few

years before, and had not the love of a single peasant in his wide

domains; but his son was the reverse of his parent--the friend and

benefactor of every one on his estate; yet he inherited a fund of

animosity which it would have taken years of his kindness and humanity

to have obliterated. In this state of matters, the troubles broke out.

He was on the side of the people, and aided, as far as in him lay, the

cause of improvement in the state, until the factions in Paris--who,

ruling the silly multitude, led them to believe that they were ruled by

them--struck at the root of all good government by insulting and

imprisoning the King. From this time, he took no active part in the

commotions, but remained at his chateau. I was his overseer, and managed

his affairs. I loved him with all my soul, for he was worthy of my love.

My ideas went still farther than his went, and I felt not displeased

with anything that had as yet occurred; for I knew the tenacity with

which the aristocracy clung to their privileges; but the cunning and

designing men who, under the faint shew of obeying the people, ruled

them at their will for mischief and disorder, ultimately, by taking the

life of the King, took the key-stone out of the arch which sheltered the

people, and brought the whole fabric of civil order about their ears. I

was confounded at the blindness I had laboured under; and, from that

hour, my whole ideas changed. But, alas! it was too late; and even those

that had lent a willing hand trembled at the mischief they had done.

Benefits are soon forgot; but the remembrance of injuries are indelible.

Numbers of needy plunderers had arrived from Paris, and overspread these

peaceful plains like evil spirits, rousing the worst feeling of our

peasantry into action. As yet, no serious outrage had been committed in

this quarter; but I too plainly saw that it would not long be deferred.

I requested my dear master to fly, as many others had done; for blood

had begun to flow like water in Paris and the provinces--not the blood

of the guilty, but the blood of the noble and virtuous; for, alas!

France had become the arena in the remorseless war of poverty against

property. The whole fabric of social order had been dissolved, and men

had returned to their original state of barbarism; like jackalls or

wolves, only banding together when they scented plunder. To be rich or

nobly born was a crime of the deepest dye, only to be atoned by blood.

I, with extreme pain, saw the storm gathering, and could only deplore

it; and what added to my anguish, was, I dared not argue against them;

for our old and worthy magistrates had been deposed, and others, more in

the spirit of the times, appointed. As yet, no blood had been shed in

Perche, but numbers were immured in prison; and, had I given the least

cause of suspicion, I would have been placed beyond the power of lending

that aid to the distressed which I was resolved to afford them, or

perish in the attempt. Several times I had entreated my young lord to

fly, and avoid the storm; but my entreaties were in vain. He thought far

too well of his fellow-men.

"At length a rumour reached us that two commissioners were on their way

to the chateau to sequestrate it for the use of the state: immediately

there was a violent commotion amongst the people--fearful of losing

their share of the plunder, all marched in a tumultuous manner to

assault it. Aware of what might ensue--for blood had begun to flow--I

got my young lord disguised as one of my workmen, and set to his

bench--that very one at which you work--and joined the crowd as they

approached the chateau. To prevent suspicion, no one shouted louder than

I, 'Down with the Tyrants!'--'Down with the Aristocrats!'--'_Vive la

Nation!_'--'_Vive la Republique!_' We entered the chateau, which was

searched in vain for my young lord. It was now that the true spirit of

the peasantry shewed itself in all its deformity; everything of value

was in a short time carried off or destroyed; while every quarter

resounded with execrations and cries for blood--the oppressions of the

father were alone remembered. How it occurred I have yet to learn, but

the youthful aristocrat was discovered in my shop; this was a severe

blow to me, for I was immediately seized by the furious crowd, charged

by them with the worst of crimes in their eyes, the concealing from them

a victim of their rage. It was a fearful hour. I expected to have been

torn to pieces upon the spot. My presence of mind did not forsake me: I

begged to be heard before the fatal daggers that were brandished around

reached my heart. I stood firm until a pause of the storm, when I

appealed to them not for mercy, but for revenge--revenge upon my lord

before I died. "I have been betrayed," I cried, "by some one. I appeal

to yourselves for my former love of my country. Let me die, but let it

be for my country, and let me be revenged upon the tyrants. Fire the

chateau!--'_Vive la Nation_,' '_A bas les Aristocrats_,' '_Vive la

Republique_'--and let me die by the light of the stronghold of tyranny

enveloped in flames."

"I now breathed more freely. Shouts rent the air; for like a weathercock

is a mob--ever pointing as the last breath of wind blows. '_Vive

Vauquin!_' resounded from every lip; the chateau was enveloped in

flames; its owner immersed in a dungeon to await his doom, already fixed

before the mock forms of justice were gone through. Think not the worse

of me for the part I acted; every paper and article of plate had been

concealed for some days before. To save, if possible, his life, no one

was louder in denouncing my lord than myself, for his having dared to

conceal himself in my shop. At my return, I began seriously to turn over

in my mind what steps I was next to pursue for his safety, now rendered

difficult, almost beyond my power to overcome. I feared not death, nor

any danger to myself, could my object have been attained by it. There

was not a moment to be lost; the following day was to have been the day

of his trial and death. The commissioners had arrived from Paris, and a

fete was resolved to be got up to welcome them. In a state of anxiety I

can hardly describe, I bustled about and waited upon the commissioners;

but my chief object was to ascertain the exact spot where the

aristocrats were confined. My lord was my chiefest care, for however

much I had, at the commencement of the revolution, wished for the

abused power of the nobles to be reduced, I had no wish for their ruin,

far less their murder; judge my horror when I learned that he was in the

lower dungeon of the prison, to which there was only one entrance

through the guard-room, which was constantly filled by the soldiers on

guard. With a heart void of hope I returned to my home. In an agony of

mind I threw myself upon my couch, that if possible I might exclude

every other thought but the one that I wished to fix my whole attention

upon: while I walked about, I felt like one distracted. At length, I was

so fortunate as to call to mind having, when a boy, heard my father tell

that he had assisted my grandfather in securing a door into the lower

dungeon, that led into another even more loathsome, where the Huguenots

were wont to be confined in the time of Louis the Fourteenth; this had a

door which led into the outer court of the prison, the walls of which

were in the hinder part, ruinous and neglected, as few of the present

people in authority knew of such a dungeon; the old door having been

long built up. A faint ray of hope shot through my mind; I started from

my bed, and, concealing what tools I judged to be necessary, proceeded

to the jail without being perceived--this was rendered the more easy as

every one was engaged preparing for the fete. I remained under the

shelter of the ruined wall until it was quite dark. A voice of mirth and

revelry sounded in the front of that prison, whose gloomy walls and

strong iron barred windows might, and no doubt did, enclose hearts more

sorrowful than mine, but none more anxious. My situation, solitary as it

was, was full of peril--I might be missed at the fete, and suspicion

roused if I was so fortunate as to succeed; but I allowed no selfish

thought to intrude. I was so fortunate as to find the low arched door I

had heard my father speak of; after considerable labour it yielded to my

efforts, and I entered the low and noisesome vault which had heard and

re-echoed the groans of so many victims of tyranny whose only fault was

adhering to the dictates of their consciences against an intolerant

priesthood. So baleful was the air I breathed, that I was forced to

retire, or I had fallen to the damp floor; again I entered, for I heard

the voice of my lord in prayer, and felt a new sort of assurance arise

in my mind; there was no distinguishing one object from another, so

impenetrable was the darkness, and the faint sound appeared to come from

no particular side of the dungeon. I commenced groping with my hands,

from the entrance, along the walls; it was a loathsome task, for they

were damp and ropy, and loathsome reptiles ever and anon made me

withdraw my fingers; still I groped on. At length I succeeded; the door

was forced to yield to my skill and efforts; all that divided me from

him I sought was the strong planks and plaster. I struck a sharp single

blow upon it, and paused--the voice of my master had ceased from the

commencement of my work upon the second door. It was a period of intense

anxiety, lest he should alarm his guards, if any of them had been in his

dungeon. To my first signal no answer was made: he knew not that he had

a friend so near, willing to sacrifice everything for his rescue. I

struck a second blow, and again listened; I heard him utter a faint

exclamation of surprise, and all was again still. The third time I

struck, and I heard a movement on the other side: the plaster was

struck, piercing a small hole, and we were enabled to communicate. I

found he was alone in his dismal dungeon. It was agreed that I was to

return in two hours with a disguise for him, after I had appeared at the

fete; and, in the meantime, I loosened the fastening so as he could

easily force it away should any thing happen to prevent my return; and,

these arrangements being made, I took my departure, in the same stealthy

manner in which I had reached him.

"With my heart still anxious but more at ease, I joined the festive

throng, and, joining in the dance for a short time, then retired, got

all ready, returned, with a view to relieve my lord from his dungeon,

and had the unspeakable pleasure to see him beyond its walls, dressed as

a peasant girl. Our parting was brief but sincere, my wishes for his

safety were equal to the extent of my love, but I have never heard of

him since; whether he went for La Vendee, or joined the allied army, I

never knew. As soon as I saw him safe out of the town, I returned to the

joyous group, and was among the last to leave it. My share in the escape

of my noble master was never even suspected; but from this time I have

wished the fall of the tyrants that have ruled France with a rod of

iron, and for the return of our King and nobility, until which time we

can never hope for tranquillity. I am not displeased at what can assist

in aiding their overthrow but I feel, as a true Frenchman, humbled at

every defeat our brave forces sustain. I love the beautiful fields of

France and all her sons, but I hate the demagogues who at present rule

her destinies."

Had I not been an exile against my will, I never had been more happy in

my life than I was at this time. I, no doubt, was a prisoner of war; but

it was only in name. I never saw my prison but once a-week, when I

appeared at the muster to receive my jail allowance, and returned to

citizen Vauquin's in a few hours after, or strayed where I chose within

the proscribed distance. Our visits to the prison always gave rise to an

afternoon of merriment and pleasure--a meeting of friends. Not one of us

wished to escape, or desired an exchange.

I was always a fortunate fellow. The four months I was here I improved

much in my drawing, and found the instructions of poor Walden of the

utmost service to me; and I was much benefited by a relation of

Vauquin's, who had studied the arts at Paris. It was thus I spent my

evenings; but I was never as yet allowed to enjoy my good fortune long.

We were ordered to be marched to the coast at Saint Malos, where a

cartel was to be in readiness to receive us. I bade adieu to my kind

friend, Citizen Vauquin, not without regret, and set out for the coast.

There was not a trace of pleasure at our release among us; we had no

cause, at least nine-tenths of us. For, as Bill Wates had foretold, off

Jersey we were brought too by the _Ramillies_, and crowded on board her.

The greater part were draughted to other men-of-war, but in her I

remained until she was paid off, at the peace.

[Footnote 3: See "The Man-of-war's Man."]

WILLIE WASTLE'S ACCOUNT OF HIS WIFE.

"Sic a wife as Willie had!

I wadna gie a button for her."

BURNS.[4]

"It was a very cruel dune thing in my neebor, Robert Burns, to mak a

sang aboot my wife and me," said Mr William Wastle, as he sat with a

friend over a jug of reeking toddy, in a tavern near the Bridge-end in

Dumfries where he had been attending the cattle market; "I didna think

it was neebor-like," he added; "indeed it was a rank libel upon baith

her and me; and I took it the worse, inasmuch as I always had a very

high respect for Maister Burns. Though he said that I 'dwalt on Tweed,'

and that I 'was a wabster,' yet everybody kenned wha the sang was aimed

at. Neither did my wife merit the description that has been drawn o'

her; for, though she was nae beauty, and hadna a face like a wax-doll,

yet there were thousands o' waur looking women to be met wi' than my

Kirsty; and to say that her mither was a 'tinkler,' was very

unjustifiable, for her parents were as decent and respectable people, in

their sphere o' life, as ye would hae found in a' Nithsdale. Her faither

had a small farm which joined on with one that I took a lease o', when I

was about one-and-twenty. Kirsty was about three years aulder; and,

though not a bonny woman, she was, in many respects, as ye shall hear in

the coorse o' my story, a very extraordinary one. I was in the habit o'

seeing her every day, and as I sometimes was working in a field next to

her, I had every opportunity o' observing her industry, and that, frae

mornin' till nicht, she was aye eident. This gave me a far higher

opinion o' her than if I had seen her gaun about wi' a buskit head; and

often, at meal-times, I used to stand and speak to her owre the dyke.

But, after we had been acquainted in this manner for some months, when

the cheerfu' summer weather came in, and the grass by the dyke-sides was

warm and green, and the bonny gowans blossomed among it, I louped owre

the dyke, and we sat doun and took our dinners together. I couldna have

believed it possible that a bit bare bannock and a drap skim milk wad

gang doun sae deliciously, but never before had I partaken o' onything

that was sae pleasant to the palate. One day I was quite surprised, when

I found that my arm had slipped unconsciously round her waist, and,

drawing her closer to my side, I seighed, and said--'O Kirsty, woman!'

"She pulled away my hand from her waist, and looking me in the face,

said--'Weel, Willie, man, what is't?'

"'Kirsty,' said I, 'I like ye.'"

"'I thocht as meikle,' quoth she, 'but could ye no hae said sae at

ance.'"

"'Perhaps I could, dear,' said I; 'but ye ken true love is aye blate;

however, if ye hae nae objections, I'll gang yont, after fothering time

the micht, and speak to yer faither and mither; and if they hae nae

objections, and ye have yer providin' ready, wi' yer guid-will and

consent, I shall gie up oor names, and we shall be cried on Sabbath

first.'

"'Oh,' said she, 'I haena lived for five-and-twenty years without

expectin' to get a guidman some day; and I hae had my providin' ready

since I was eighteen, an' a' o' my ain spinnin' and bleachin', an' the

lint bocht wi' what I had wrocht for; so that I am behauden to naebody.

My faither and mither have mair sense than to cast ony obstacle in the

way o' my weelfare; and, as ye are far frae bein' disagreeable to me, if

we are to be married, it may as weel be sune as syne, and we may be

cried on Sunday if ye think proper.'

"'O Kirsty, woman!' cried I, and I drew my arm round her waist again,

'ye hae made me as happy as a prince! I hardly ken which end o' me is

upmost!'

"'Na, Willie,' said she, 'there is nae necessity for ony nonsensical

raptures, ye ken perfectly weel that yer head is upmost, though I hae

heard my faither talk about some idiots that he ca's philosophers, who

say that the world whirls roond aboot like a cart-wheel on an axle-tree,

and that ance in every twenty-four hours our feet are upmost, and our

head downmost; but it will be lang or onybody get me to believe in sic

balderdash! As to yer being happy at present, it shall be nae faut o'

mine if ye are not aye sae; and if ye be aye as I would wish ye to be,

ye will never be unhappy.'

"Such, as near as I can recollect, is not only the history, but the

exact words o' oor courtship. Her faither and mither gied their consent

without the slightest hesitation. I remember her faither's words to me

were--'Weel, William, frae a' that I hae seen o' ye, ye appear to be a

very steady and industrious young man, and ane that is likely to do weel

in the world. I hae seen, also, wi' great satisfaction, that ye are very

regular in yer attendance upon the ordinances; there hasna been a

Sabbath, since ye cam to be oor neebor, that I hae missed ye oot o' yer

seat in the kirk. Frae a' that I hae heard concernin' ye, also, ye hae

always been a serious, sober, and weel-behaved young man. These things

are a great satisfaction to a faither when he finds them in the lad that

his dochter wishes to marry. Ye hae my consent to tak Kirsty; and,

though I say it, I believe ye will find her to mak as industrious,

carefu', and kind a wife, as ye would hae found if ye had sought through

a' broad Scotland for ane. I will say it, however, and before her face,

that there are some things in which she takes it o' her mother, and in

which she will hae her ain way. But this is her only faut. I'm sure

ye'll ne'er hae cause to complain o' her wasting a bawbee, or o' her

allowing even the heel o' a kebbuck to gang to unuse. It is needless for

me to say mair; but ye hae my full and free consent to marry when ye

like.'

"Then up spoke the auld guidwife, and said--'Weel, Willie, lad, if you

and Kirsty hae made up yer minds to mak a bargain o' it, I am as little

disposed to oppose yer inclinations as her faither is. A guid wife, I

sincerely believe, ye will find her prove to ye; and though her faither

says that in some things she will be like me, and have her ain way, let

me tell ye, lad, that is owre often necessary for a woman to do, wha is

striving everything in her power for the guid o' her husband and the

family, and sees him, just through foolishness, as it were, striving

against her. Ye are strange beings you men-folk to deal wi'. But ye

winna find her a bare bride, for she has a kist fu' o' linen o' her ain

spinnin', that may serve ye a' yer days, and even when ye are dead,

though ye should live for sixty years.'

"I thought it rather untimeous that the auld woman should hae spoken

aboot linen for oor grave-claes, before we were married; and I suppose

my countenance had hinted as much, for Kirsty seemed to hae observed it,

and she said--'My mother says what is and ought to be. It is aye best

to be provided for whatever may come; and as Death often gies nae

warning, I wadna like to be met wi' it, and to hae naething in the house

to lay me out in like a Christian.'

"I thought there was a vast deal o' sense and discretion in what she

said; and though I didna like the idea o' such a premature providing o'

winding-sheets, yet, after she spoke, I highly approved o' her prudence

and forethought.

"It was on a Monday afternoon, about three weeks after the time I have

been speaking o', that Kirsty, wi' her faither, and mother, and another

young lass, an acquaintance o' hers, that was to be best-maid, cam yont

to my house for her and me to be married. I had sent for ane o' my

brothers to be best-man, and he was with me waiting when they came. She

was not in the least discomposed, but behaved very modestly. In a few

minutes the minister arrived, when the ceremony immediately began, and

within a quarter of an hour she was mine, and I was hers, for the term

o' oor natural lives.

"From the time that I took the farm, I had no kind o' dishes in the

house, save a wooden bowie or twa, four trenchers, three piggins, and

twa bits o' tin cans, that I had bought from a travelling tinker for

twopence a-piece, and which Kirsty afterwards told me, were each a

halfpenny a-piece aboon their value. I dinna think that I had tasted tea

aboon a dozen times in the whole course o' my life; but, as it was

coming into general use, I thought it would look respectfu' to my bride,

before her faither and mother, if I should hae tea upon oor marriage

day, and I could ask the minister to stop and tak a dish wi' us. I

thought it would gie a character o' respectability to oor wedding.

Therefore, on the Saturday afore the marriage, I went to Dumfries, and

bought half a dozen o' bonny blue cups and saucers. I never durst tell

Kirsty how meikle I gied for them. It was with great difficulty that I

got them carried hame without breaking. I also bought two ounces o' the

best tea, and a whole pound o' brown sugar.

"I had a servant lassie at the time, the doohter o' a hind in the

neighbourhood; she was necessary to me to do the work about the house,

and to milk twa kye that I kept, to mak the cheese, and a part o' the

day to help the workers out wi' the bondage.

"'Lassie,' said I, when I got hame; 'do ye ken hoo to mak tea?'

"'I'm no very sure,' said she; 'but I think I do. I ance got a cup when

I wasna weel, frae the farmer's wife that my faither lives wi'. I'll

try.'

"'Here, then,' says I; 'tak care o' thir, and see that ye dinna break

them, or it will mak a breaking that ye wouldna like in your quarter's

wages.' So I gied her the cups and saucers to put awa carefully into the

press.

"'O maister,' says she; 'but noo, when I recollect, ye'll need a

tea-kettle, and a tea-pat, and a cream-pat, and teaspoons.'

"'Preserve me!' quoth I, 'the lassie is surely wrang in the head! Hoo

mony articles o' _tea_ and _cream_ hae ye there? The parritch kettle

will do as weel as a tea-kettle--where can be the difference? Your

tea-pats I ken naething aboot, and as for a cream-pat, set down the

cream-bowie; and as for spoons, ye fool, they dinna sip tea--they drink

it--just sirple it, as it were, oot o' the saucer.'

"'O sir,' said she; 'but they need a little spoon to stir it round to

mak the sugar melt--and that is weel minded, ye'll also require a

sugar-basin.'

"'Hoots! toots! lassie,' cried I, 'do ye intend to ruin me? By yer

account o' the matter, it would be almost as expensive to set up a tea

equipage, as a chariot equipage. No, no; just do as the miller's wife o'

Newmills did.'

"'And what way micht that be, sir?' inquired she.

"'Why,' said I, 'she took such as she had, and she never wanted! Just

ye tak such as ye have--cogie, bowie, or tinniken, never ye mind--show

ye your dexterity.'

"'Very weel, sir,' said she; 'I'll do the best I can.'

"But, just to exemplify another trait in my wife's character, I will

tell ye the upshot o' my cups and saucers. I confess that I was in a

state of very considerable perturbation; not only on account o' what the

lassie had told me about the want o' a tea-kettle, tea-pat, and so

forth, but also that, including the minister, there were seven o' us,

while I had but six cups; and I consoled mysel by thinking that, as

Kirsty and I were now _one_, she might drink oot o' the cup and I wad

tak the saucer, so that a cup and saucer would serve us baith; and I was

trustin to the ingenuity o' the lassie to find substitutes for the other

deficiencies, when she came ben to where we were sitting, and going

forward to Kirsty, says she--'Mistress, I have had the twa ounces o' tea

on boiling in a chappin o' water, for the last twa hoors--do ye think it

will be what is ca'ed _masked_ noo?'

"'Tea!' said my new-made wife, wi' a look o' astonishment; 'is the

lassie talking aboot _tea_? While I am to be in this house--and I

suppose that is to be for my life--there shall nae poisonous foreign

weed be used in it, nor come within the door, unless it be some drug

that a doctor orders. Take it off the fire, and throw the broo awa. My

certes! if young folk like us were to begin wi' sic extravagance, where

would be the upshot? Na, na, Willie,' said she, turning round to me,

'let us just begin precisely as we mean to end. At all events, let us

rather begin meanly, than end beggarly. I hae seen some folk, no aboon

oor condition in life, mak a great dash on their wedding-day; and some

o' them even hire gigs and coaches, forsooth, to tak a jaunt awa for a

dozen o' miles! Poor things! it was the first and last time that ony o'

them was either in gig or coach. But there shall be nae extravagance o'

that kind for me. My faither and mither care naething about tea, for

they hae never been used to it, and I'm sure that our friends here care

as little; and, asking the minister's pardon, I am perfectly sure and

certain, that tea can be nae treat to him, for he has it every day, and

it will be standing ready for him when he gangs hame. The supper will be

ready by eight o'clock, and those who wish it, may tak a glass o'

speerits in the meantime--as it isna every day that they are at my

wedding.'

"Her faither and mother looked remarkable proud and weel-pleased like at

what she said, just as if they wished to say to me--'There's a wife for

ye!' But I thought the minister seemed a good deal surprised, and in a

few minutes he took up his hat, wished us much joy, and went away. For

my part, I didna think sae much aboot my bride's lecture, as I rejoiced

that she thereby released me from the confusion I should have

experienced in exposing the poverty o' my tea equipage.

"It was on the very morning after oor marriage, and just as I was gaun

oot to my wark--'Willie,' says she, 'I think we should single the

turnips in the field west o' the hoose the day. The cotters' twa bondage

lasses, and me, will be able to manage it by the morn's nicht.'

"'O, my dear,' quoth I, 'but I hae nae intention that ye should gang out

into the fields to work, noo that ye are my wife. Let the servant-lass

gang out, and ye can look after the meat.'

"'Her! the idle taupie!' said she, 'we hae nae mair need for her than a

cart has for a third wheel. Mony a time it has grieved me to observe her

motions, when ye were out o' the way--and there would she and the other

twa wenches been standing, clashing for an hour at a time, and no

workin' a stroke. I often had it in my mind to tell ye, but only I

thought ye might think it forward in me, as I perceived ye had a

kindness for me. But I can baith do all that is to do in-doors, and

work out-by also, and at the end o' the quarter she shall leave.'

"'Wi' a' my heart,' says I, 'if ye wish it;' for it struck me she micht

be a wee thocht jealous o' the lassie; 'but there is no the sma'est

necessity for you working out in the fields; for though she leaves, we

can get a callant at threepence a-day, that would just do as muckle

out-work as she does, and ye would hae naething to attend to but the

affairs o' the hoose.'

"'O William!' replied she, 'I'm surprised to hear ye speak. Ye talk o'

threepence a-day just as if it were naething. Hoo mony starving families

are there, that threepence a-day would mak happy? It is my maxim never

to spend a penny unless it be laid out to the greatest possible

advantage. Ye should always keep that in view, every time ye put yer

hand in your pocket. He that saves a penny has as mony thanks, in the

lang run, as he that gies it awa. Threepence a-day, not including the

Sabbath, is eighteenpence a-week; noo, you that are a scholar, only

think how much that comes to in a twelvemonth. There are fifty-twa weeks

in the year--that is fifty-twa shillings; and fifty-twa sixpences

is--how much?'