II.

With him, how delightful, to stray o'er the lawn,

When spring all its odours is blending!

Together to mark the sweet blush of the dawn,

Or the sun in his glory descending!

Soon after her little song was finished, Helen's attention was caught by a

green plat of ground, about fifty or sixty feet in breadth, surrounded by

circular earthen walls; and pointing to it, she asked her father what

_that_ was. He told her it was called a _birren_ in that country, where

there were several of them, and that they were supposed to have been

intended for places of safety for the cattle at the time of the border

wars. They were now arrived at Muirkirk, a small church, which belongs to

the parish adjoining Mr. Martin's. It is pleasantly situated on the banks

of the river, near a stone bridge, consisting of three arches. The

building is very neat, and adds greatly to the beauty of the country. Near

it is the mausoleum of the family of Craigie Hall, a very elegant piece of

architecture. The manse stands at a little distance from the church. Mr.

Martin called on his friend the clergyman, but found the family were all

gone on a visit farther up the dale;--so our party did not stop, but went

on to Craigie Hall to get the flower-seeds.

When they reached the hall, they fortunately found Mr. Scott, the

gardener, at home, who received them with great pleasure, and invited

them, as the family were not at home, to walk into his own house and take

some refreshment before he showed them the garden and grounds. Our young

people were glad to find him so considerate, for they began, particularly

John, to be rather hungry. Mrs. Scott produced a nice bason of cream, some

excellent butter, oaten cakes, and a beautiful large ewe-milk cheese. She

invited Mr. Martin and Helen to sit down and partake of her humble fare,

which they very readily complied with. John was not forgotten, for she had

put a pretty good portion for him on a seat at the outside of the door,

her small house not affording two sitting apartments, and she conceived it

would not be respectful to the Minister to bring the herd-boy inside the

house. Mr. Scott, as they sat eating their luncheon, told them that a

curious thing had occurred that morning, about a mile up the dale, at the

_Roman camp_. This is a place, the like of which is to be found in many

parts both of England and Scotland, being a small grassy hill, on the top

of which are long ditches and mounds of earth, seemingly intended for

fortifications, and supposed to have been made by the Romans, when they

first invaded Britain. Near this spot, some labourers had been employed

digging a piece of ground, and one of them, in the course of his work,

struck upon something hard, which, after much labour, he succeeded in

raising, when it proved to be an urn, or large sort of earthen vessel, in

which were a number of gold and silver coins and other rarities. Mr.

Martin, who had found great amusement in his retired manner of living, in

collecting whatever was curious in the neighbourhood, said, he should much

like to see this urn, and inquired of Mr. Scott if he thought it were

possible to get a sight of the labourer who found it. "Oh yes, Sir,"

answered Mrs. Scott, "that you may easily do, for it was Archie Kerr who

found it, and his mother lives only about a mile and a half from this

place; but I think, if your honour wants to see it, you had better send up

to him at once, for it is most likely that some of the neighbouring gentry

will buy it from him, as soon as they hear of it." Mr. Martin thought she

was very right, and began considering how he could send a message, as he

felt it was rather further than he liked to walk. At last he determined on

sending John upon the pony, Mrs. Scott assuring him he could not miss his

way to Jenny Kerr's, it being the first house he came to after passing the

_Shaw rigg_, where a large stone stood on his left hand. John was no

sooner applied to, than he willingly undertook to deliver the message, and

taking Miss Helen's side-saddle off, and throwing one of Mrs. Scott's

horse-rugs over the pony's back, jumped upon it very alertly, and trotted

off with a grin of delight on his face, proud at heart in being trusted to

ride Miss Helen's pony. As soon as it was gone, Helen asked her father

what was the reason of calling the place where the great stone described

by Mrs. Scott stood, the Shaw rigg? Her father told her the tradition of

the country was, that it took its name from _Shaw_, a Pictish king, to

whom that part of the land belonged. "I am glad, my dear," added he, "that

you take care to ask about what you do not perfectly understand. Many

children are so foolish as to be ashamed to let those they converse with

discover that they do not comprehend every thing said to them, by which

means they often imbibe erroneous ideas, and perhaps remain in a state of

ignorance on many essential subjects, when, by questioning their relatives

or friends, they might easily have obtained correct information."

Mr. Scott now proposed a walk in the garden, which was planted in the

Dutch style of stiff walks with high hedges, and was, according to the

present taste, any thing but admirable. Its appearance, however, was

extremely curious, contrasted with the natural and luxuriant beauties of

the country by which it was surrounded. The house was small, considering

the rank and consequence of the family to whom it belonged. It is said

that they originally came from Clydesdale, and brought with them a thorn,

which still grows on a little mount before the door, though they have been

settled there several centuries. The gardener, after leading them through

the garden and grounds, took them into the greenhouse to notice some

curious plants, such as the aloe, that blossoms only once in a century;

the beautiful oleander, a native of Spain and Italy, which thrives in

British greenhouses; the prickly pear, which is without a stem, the leaves

growing out of each other; they are large, broad, and thick, and covered

with prickles. In warm climates, this plant grows wild, and may be trained

to form an almost impenetrable fence. It bears a sort of fruit somewhat

resembling a pear, to which the natives are partial, but strangers

generally consider it insipid, and not worth the trouble of getting at it.

On quitting the greenhouse, they began to wonder at John's not returning.

Mr. Scott advised them, after their fatigue, to enter the house and seat

themselves with his wife, while he would walk towards the _Shaw rigg_ in

search of John. On their entrance they found with Mrs. Scott a little

girl, about seven years old, whom she introduced to them as her daughter

Marion. Helen begged she would go on with her work, she having timidly

risen to quit the room; and as a little encouragement to her, Helen asked

what she was doing; Marion immediately came to her, and showed her part of

a shirt she was making for her father. Helen was surprised to see it so

neatly done, as needlework is very little practised by the peasants in

that country; the children, both girls and boys, being employed till the

age of sixteen or eighteen in tending their father's or their master's

sheep. Mrs. Scott, observing Helen's surprise, said, "Marion is a good

needle-woman, Miss; she has to thank the housekeeper at the hall for

teaching her that and many other useful things. Mrs. Smith is an

Englishwoman, and has taken a great fancy to Marion. She has persuaded her

father and me not to send her to the hills, like the other children

around; assuring us, that if Marion does not forget in the winter what she

has learnt in the summer from her, she has no doubt, when she is old

enough, to be able to get my lady to take her to wait on one of her

daughters; and indeed, Miss, I shall like this much better, if we can make

it out, for Marion is not strong; she is our only child, and it would

break both her father's heart and mine should any evil happen to her; such

as falling down the rocks, being frost-bitten, or lost in the snow, which

happens sometimes to our neighbour's children, who are sent out herding in

the winter." Helen said she was very glad that Marion was not to be sent

to the hills; and Mr. Martin added, if Mr. Scott considered Marion able to

undertake the walk to his house, he would lend her some improving books to

read. For though Mr. Scott was competent to instruct his daughter in

common reading, writing, and arithmetic, which sort of knowledge all

gardeners in that country acquire while young, his collection of books was

not altogether calculated to improve a child's taste or understanding.

Meanwhile, Mr. Scott had walked nearly a mile without seeing any thing of

John. At last, on turning a corner of the road, he perceived him at a

distance, not mounted in triumph as he had set off on his excursion, but

walking slowly, and leading Bob, who did not seem at all inclined to

quicken his pace. As soon as he thought he could be heard, he called to

John to know what was the matter. John did not answer very readily, but

waited till he had got quite close to Mr. Scott before he said a word.

Then dropping his head, and looking very confused, he gave the following

account of himself. He said that Bob trotted nicely about half a mile,

after which he could not get him to go a pace faster than a walk; he tried

all he could do to make him move, but Bob was so obstinate, that he became

afraid of keeping Mr. Martin waiting. He then wished for a spur, and after

thinking and thinking, he recollected having some large pins stuck in the

sleeve of his coat. He thought they would do, could he contrive to fix

them on his feet, but how to do this he did not very well know, as he had

no shoes to fasten them to; at last he thought he would try to fix them on

with a piece of twine which he had in his pocket, and after many attempts,

succeeded so far as to drive one of his pins into poor Bob's side, who by

no means relishing this method of coercion, set off instantly at a hand

gallop. John courageously kept his seat, holding fast, first by the

bridle, but, as the velocity of the motion increased, at last by the mane;

when perceiving a good wide ditch cut in the road, he flattered himself

that Bob would stop, and would content himself with going at a quieter

pace the rest of the way. Scarcely had he formed this wise resolution,

when Bob cleared the ditch at one spring; the jerk came so suddenly, and

was so little expected by John, that he made the finest somerset in the

world over Bob's head, and was set down quite safely on his feet, about

four yards beyond the ditch. Bob, in the mean time, seemed quite satisfied

with the revenge he had had, and stopped directly; and he was busy

regaling himself on the fresh grass that grew around him by the time John

had regained sufficient composure to know where he was.

As soon as he could think, he became convinced he had been a very foolish

boy; and, therefore, determined he would mount Bob no more that day, as it

was better for Mr. Martin to wait a little longer for him, than to risk

giving him the trouble of nursing him with a broken leg, like poor David

Little. He therefore took hold of the bridle and led Bob along the road,

till he reached Jenny Kerr's, where he found that Archie was not at home,

but gone up the glen as far as Mr. Hume's, to show him the urn and the

coins. John thought he could not go back and have nothing to tell but his

own disaster. He therefore begged Jenny to direct him towards Mr. Hume's;

and, having fastened Bob up safely, he set out on foot in search of

Archie. As he had to cross the water in order to get to Mr. Hume's house,

Jenny advised him to take Archie's stilts, two long pieces of wood, with a

sort of step fastened on each, about the middle, wide enough to hold a

man's foot, and which are in common use among all ranks in that country

for crossing the river, where the depth will not admit of stepping stones.

She said, he must on no account attempt crossing the river without them,

for the danger was increased by the rains which had swollen the river

considerably.

John had never before _stilted_ the water, as it is called, but he

determined that, as he had acted very foolishly in the affair of Bob, he

would take great care with the stilts, and, therefore, when he arrived at

the edge of the river, he mounted cautiously, as Jenny had advised him to

do. For the first half of the way, he went very well; but, when in the

middle of the stream, he found her precautions very necessary, for the

water was nearly above his feet, and the current was so rapid as to

require all his strength to move the stilts. As the difficulty increased,

he was obliged to stop and rest himself. "Aha!" said he, "a fall here

would be worse than even over Bob's ears. Surely this is a bad beginning

for my practice in service. I think if I meet with many days like this, I

am likely to have but little comfort in it; however, my poor father has

often told me, there is nothing like perseverance, and I am sure I found

it in learning my letters; for, when I first began, I thought it nearly

impossible that I should remember the names of those crooked ill-shaped

things, and yet I became sooner acquainted with them than I thought I

should; so I will even try again to get out of this scrape." So resolving,

he began to move forward, and at last, by taking great care, reached the

opposite side in safety.

He soon ran on to Mr. Hume's where he found Archie, and delivered Mr.

Martin's message. Archie said he could not go down so far as Craigie Hall

that day, being obliged to finish his day's work at the Roman Camp. He had

already spent all his spare time with Mr. Hume; but he promised faithfully

to bring his new-found treasure down to Mr. Martin's the next evening,

after work hours; and he bade John tell Mr. Martin that he would not part

with the urn, or any of the coins till he had seen them. He then good

naturedly said he would see John over the river, for it was not safe for

such a little boy as he to cross it alone, while it was so full and

strong. As soon as John got over the water, he set off as fast as he could

walk to Jenny's for the pony, and putting the bridle round his arm, he

contrived to coax Bob into a gentle trot, which he kept up till he came in

sight of Mr. Scott, when remembering what a story he had to relate of his

own mishaps, he slackened his pace, and began to feel very foolish and

unwilling to tell what had happened to him.

It is but justice to say, that, however unwilling he felt to have his

folly known, he never once thought of disguising the truth. He had been

too well taught for that. At the time when John's father was living, there

was no race of men, of any rank or country, that took more pains, (if

indeed so much,) as the Scottish peasantry did in instructing their

children, both in their moral and religious duties; and John had been

taught early, that the shadow of a lie was contrary to the duty of a

Christian, and that a child who, in the slightest degree, deceived his

parents, masters, or companions, would never merit or obtain the character

of an honest and just man. "Well, my lad," said Mr. Scott, after he had

heard his story, "I think you have got wonderfully well off, considering

your rash conduct; you should be thankful to Providence that you are alive

to relate it: I only hope it will be a warning to you never to be guilty

again of the like folly: so, cheer up, we will say no more about it, if

you promise to behave better the next time you are sent on an errand."

John said, what he very sincerely thought at the time, he would never

again try to wear spurs: he had had quite enough of them, and he hoped Mr.

Martin would not be very angry, or that would be the worst thing he had

met with yet, and what with the pony and the stilts, he had had quite

enough for one day.

Mr. Martin and Helen now came to meet them, for they had become seriously

alarmed for the boy: but when the disaster was related, Helen could not

refrain from laughing at the comical figure John must have made when

flying over Bob's head; and even Mr. Martin, though he tried to look

grave, found it difficult to keep his countenance while he represented to

him the impropriety and hazard of his late conduct. Little Marion, who had

come out to the door to see the pony, was the only person that seemed to

enter into John's feelings. She sidled up to him, and said, "never mind,

John, Mr. Martin is not very angry, and you are not hurt; but," continued

she in a whisper, "you have torn the sleeve of your coat; I don't think

any of them have seen it yet; slip into the stable, and I will run and get

a needle and thread, and soon mend it, so that it can never be seen. It

will be done before the pony finishes his corn, that I saw my father

taking to him."

John followed Marion's advice, who, from that day, was enthroned in his

heart, and considered by him as the best little girl he had ever been

acquainted with. Bob having eaten his corn, and Marion having mended

John's coat, quite to her own satisfaction, John led him out, ready

equipped, for Miss Helen, who mounted him directly. "Now, my dears," said

Mr. Martin, "we must make a little haste, for I am afraid your mother,

Helen, will be getting uneasy at our long absence. Only look! there is the

moon rising. We shall be quite late before we reach home." By the time

they got near the holm, the moon was shining in full grandeur. Her rays

played beautifully on the sparkling waters of the Esk, occasionally

intersected by the branches of the trees which grew on the banks of the

river. The night was clear; the stars shone above their heads with

brilliant splendor. Altogether Mr. Martin was so entranced, that,

forgetting the children were his only companions, he broke silence,

repeating the following lines: a translation of his own from Homer's

Iliad:

As when around the full bright moon, in heaven,

The stars shine glorious; breathless is the air;

The lofty watch-towers, promontories, hills,

Far off are visible; the boundless sky

Opens above, displaying all its host

Of fires; and in the shepherd's heart is joy.

Mr. Martin, when he had finished, smiled internally at his own enthusiasm:

the children were too much fatigued with the various adventures of the day

to offer any remark. They therefore continued silent till they arrived on

the green plat before the Manse, where they found Mrs. Martin waiting most

anxiously for their appearance. "Where can you have been, my dear Helen?"

asked her mother, as she assisted her to alight. "I really began to be

afraid some accident had happened to some of you." "No accident, my dear

wife, at least none of any consequence," said Mr. Martin, glancing a look

towards John, who made a hasty retreat with Bob into the stable. "But ask

no questions to-night, Helen will tell you all her adventures to-morrow

morning; at present she is too much fatigued to be kept out of her bed

longer than is necessary to eat her supper; let her have it directly, if

you please; and if you will give me a cup of tea, I think it will refresh

me. I am almost tired myself, which is not a usual thing." Helen ate her

supper, Mr. Martin had his tea; and, after a prayer by the Minister, at

which, as was customary, the whole family were present, they all retired

to bed.