THE LAIRD OF WINEHOLM.
"Have you heard any thing of the apparition which has been seen about
Wineholm Place?" said the Dominie.
"Na, I never heard o' sic a thing as yet," quoth the smith; "but I
wadna wonder muckle that the news should turn out to be true."
The Dominie shook his head, and uttered a long "h'm-h'm-h'm," as if he
knew more than he was at liberty to tell.
"Weel, that beats the world," said the smith, as he gave over blowing
the bellows, and looked anxiously in the Dominie's face.
The Dominie shook his head again.
The smith was now in the most ticklish quandary; eager to learn
particulars, that he might spread the astounding news through the
whole village, and the rest of the parish to boot, but yet afraid to
press the inquiry, for fear the cautious Dominie should take the
alarm of being reported as a tattler, and keep all to himself. So the
smith, after waiting till the wind-pipe of the great bellows ceased
its rushing noise, covered the gloss neatly up with a mixture of small
coals, culm, and cinders; and then, perceiving that nothing more was
forthcoming from the Dominie, he began blowing again with more energy
than before--changed his hand--put the other sooty one in his
breeches-pocket--leaned to the horn--looked in a careless manner to
the window, or rather gazed on vacancy, and always now and then stole
a sly look at the Dominie's face. It was quite immovable. His cheek
was leaned on his open hand, and his eyes fixed on the glowing fire.
It was very teasing this for poor Clinkum the smith. But what could he
do? He took out his glowing iron, and made a shower of fire sweep
through the whole smithy, whereof a good part, as intended, sputtered
upon the Dominie; but that imperturbable person only shielded his face
with his elbow, turned his shoulder half round, and held his peace.
Thump, thump! clink, clink! went the hammer for a space; and then when
the iron was returned to the fire, "Weel, that beats the world!" quoth
the smith.
"What is this that beats the world, Mr Clinkum?" asked the Dominie,
with the most cool and provoking indifference.
"This story about the apparition," quoth the smith.
"What story?" said the Dominie.
Now really this perversity was hardly to be endured, even in a learned
Dominie, who, with all his cold indifference of feeling, was sitting
toasting himself at a good smithy fire. The smith felt this, (for he
was a man of acute feeling,) and therefore he spit upon his hand and
fell a-clinking and pelting at the stithy with both spirit and
resignation, saying within himself, "These dominie bodies just beat
the world!"
"What story?" reiterated the Dominie. "For my part, I related no
story, nor have ever given assent to a belief in such a story that any
man has heard. Nevertheless, from the results of ratiocination,
conclusions may be formed, though not algebraically, yet corporately,
by constituting a quantity, which shall be equivalent to the
difference, subtracting the less from the greater, and striking a
balance in order to get rid of any ambiguity or paradox."
At the long adverb, _nevertheless_, the smith gave over blowing, and
pricked up his ears; but the definition went beyond his comprehension.
"Ye ken, that just beats the whole world for deepness," said the
smith; and again began blowing the bellows.
"You know, Mr Clinkum," continued the Dominie, "that a proposition is
an assertion of some distinct truth, which only becomes manifest by
demonstration. A corollary is an obvious, or easily inferred
consequence _of_ a proposition; while an hypothesis is a
_sup_-position or concession made, during the process of
demonstration. Now, do you take me along with you? Because, if you do
not, it is needless to proceed."
"Yes, yes, I understand you middling weel; but I wad like better to
hear what other folks say about it than you."
"And why so? Wherefore would you rather hear another man's
demonstration than mine?" said the Dominie, sternly.
"Because, ye ken, ye just beat the whole world for words," quoth the
smith.
"Ay, ay! that is to say, words without wisdom," said the Dominie,
rising and stepping away. "Well, well, every man to his sphere, and
the smith to the bellows."
"Ye're quite mistaen, master," cried the smith after him; "it isna the
want o' wisdom in you that plagues me, it is the owerplush o't."
This soothed the Dominie, who returned, and said, mildly--"By the by,
Clinkum, I want a leister of your making; for I see there is no other
tradesman makes them so well. A five-grained one make it; at your own
price."
"Very weel, sir. When will you be needing it?"
"Not till the end of close-time."
"Ay, ye may gar the three auld anes do till then."
"What do you wish to insinuate, sir? Would you infer, because I have
three leisters, that therefore I am a breaker of the laws? That I, who
am placed here as a pattern and monitor of the young and rising
generation, should be the first to set them an example of
insubordination?"
"Na, but, ye ken, that just beats the world for words! but we ken what
we ken, for a' that, master."
"You had better take a little care what you say, Mr Clinkum; just a
little care. I do not request you to take particular care, for of that
your tongue is incapable, but a very little is necessary. And mark
you--don't go to say that I said this or that about a ghost, or
mentioned such a ridiculous story."
"The crabbitness o' that body beats the world!" said the smith to
himself, as the Dominie went halting homeward.
The very next man that entered the smithy door was no other than John
Broadcast, the new Laird's hind, who had also been hind to the late
laird for many years, and who had no sooner said his errand than the
smith addressed him thus:--"Have _you_ ever seen this ghost that there
is such a noise about?"
"Ghost! Na, goodness be thankit, I never saw a ghost in my life, save
aince a wraith. What ghost do you mean?"
"So you never saw nor heard tell of any apparition about Wineholm
Place, lately?"
"No, I hae reason to be thankfu' I have not."
"Weel, that beats the world! Whow, man, but ye are sair in the dark!
Do you no think there are siccan things in nature, as folk no coming
fairly to their ends, John?"
"Goodness be wi' us! Ye gar a' the hairs o' my head creep, man. What's
that you're saying?"
"Had ye never ony suspicions o' that kind, John?"
"No; I canna say that I had."
"None in the least? Weel, that beats the world!"
"O, haud your tongue, haud your tongue! We hae great reason to be
thankfu' that we are as we are!"
"How as we are?"
"That we arena stocks or stones, or brute beasts, as the Minister o'
Traquair says. But I hope in God there is nae siccan a thing about my
master's place as an unearthly visitor."
The smith shook his head, and uttered a long hem, hem, hem! He had
felt the powerful effect of that himself, and wished to make the same
appeal to the feelings and longings after information of John
Broadcast. The bait took; for the latent spark of superstition, not to
say any thing about curiosity, was kindled in the heart of honest
John, and there being no wit in the head to counteract it, the
portentous hint had its full sway. John's eyes stelled in his head,
and his visage grew long, assuming something of the hue of dried clay
in winter. "Hech, man, but that's an awsome story!" exclaimed he.
"Folks hae great reason to be thankfu' that they are as they are. It
is truly an awsome story."
"Ye ken, it just beats the world for that," quoth the smith.
"And is it really thought that this Laird made away wi' our auld
master?" said John.
The smith shook his head again, and gave a strait wink with his eyes.
"Weel, I hae great reason to be thankfu' that I never heard siccan a
story as that!" said John. "Wha was it tauld you a' about it?"
"It was nae less a man than our mathewmatical Dominie," said the
smith; "he that kens a' things, and can prove a proposition to the
nineteenth part of a hair. But he is terrified the tale should spread;
and therefore ye maunna say a word about it."
"Na, na; I hae great reason to be thankfu' I can keep a secret as weel
as the maist feck o' men, and better than the maist feck o' women.
What did he say? Tell us a' that he said."
"It is not so easy to repeat what he says, for he has sae mony
lang-nebbit words, which just beat the world. But he said, though it
was only a supposition, yet it was easily made manifest by positive
demonstration."
"Did you ever hear the like o' that! Now, havena we reason to be
thankfu' that we are as we are? Did he say that it was by poison that
he was taken off, or that he was strangled?"
"Na; I thought he said it was by a collar, or a collary, or something
to that purpose."
"Then, it wad appear there is no doubt of it? I think, the Doctor has
reason to be thankfu' that he's no taken up. Is not that strange?"
"O, ye ken, it just beats the world!"
"He deserves to be torn at young horses' tails," said the ploughman.
"Ay, or nippit to death with red-hot pinchers," quoth the smith.
"Or harrowed to death, like the children of Ammon," continued the
ploughman.
"Na, I'll tell you what should be done wi' him--he should just be
docked and fired like a farcied horse," quoth the smith. "Od help ye,
man, I could beat the world for laying on a proper poonishment."
John Broadcast went home full of terror and dismay. He told his wife
the story in a secret--she told the dairymaid with a tenfold degree of
secrecy; and so ere long it reached the ears of Dr Davington himself,
the New Laird, as he was called. He was unusually affected, at
hearing such a terrible accusation against himself; and the Dominie
being mentioned as the propagator of the report, a message was
forthwith dispatched to desire him to come up to the Place, and speak
with the Laird. The Dominie suspected there was bad blood a-brewing
against him; and as he had too much self-importance to think of
succumbing to any man alive, he sent an impertinent answer to the
Laird's message, bearing, that if Dr Davington had any business with
him, he would be so good as attend at his class-room when he dismissed
his scholars.
When this message was delivered, the Doctor, being almost beside
himself with rage, instantly dispatched two village constables with a
warrant to seize the Dominie, and bring him before him; for the Doctor
was a justice of the peace. Accordingly, the poor Dominie was seized
at the head of his pupils, and dragged away, crutch and all, up before
the new Laird, to answer for such an abominable slander. The Dominie
denied every thing concerning it, as indeed he might, save having
asked the smith the simple question, "if he had heard ought of a ghost
at the Place?" But he refused to tell why he asked that question. He
had his own reasons for it, he said, and reasons that to him were
quite sufficient; but as he was not obliged to disclose them, neither
would he.
The smith was then sent for, who declared that the Dominie had told
him of the ghost being seen, and a murder committed, which he called a
_rash assassination_, and said it was obvious, and easily inferred
that it was done by a collar.
How the Dominie did storm! He even twice threatened to knock down the
smith with his crutch; not for the slander,--he cared not for that nor
the Doctor a pin,--but for the total subversion of his grand
illustration from geometry; and he therefore denominated the smith's
head _the logarithm to number one_, a reproach of which I do not
understand the gist, but the appropriation of it pleased the Dominie
exceedingly, made him chuckle, and put him in better humour for a good
while. It was in vain that he tried to prove that his words applied
only to the definition of a problem in geometry,--he could not make
himself understood; and the smith maintaining his point firmly, and
apparently with conscientious truth, appearances were greatly against
the Dominie, and the Doctor pronounced him a malevolent and dangerous
person.
"O, ye ken, he just beats the world for that," quoth the smith.
"I a malevolent and dangerous person, sir!" said the Dominie,
fiercely, and altering his crutch from one place to another of the
floor, as if he could not get a place to set it on. "Dost thou call me
a malevolent and dangerous person, sir? What then art thou? If thou
knowest not I will tell thee. Add a cipher to a ninth figure, and what
does that make? Ninety you will say. Ay, but then put a cipher _above_
a nine, and what does that make? ha--ha--ha--I have you there. Your
case exactly in higher geometry! for say the chord of sixty degrees is
radius, then the sine of ninety degrees is equal to the radius, so the
secant of 0, that is nickle-nothing, as the boys call it, is radius,
and so is the co-sine of 0. The versed sine of 90 degrees is radius,
(that is nine with a cipher added, you know,) and the versed sine of
180 degrees is the diameter; then of course the sine increases from 0
(that is cipher or nothing) till it becomes radius, and then it
decreases till it becomes nothing. After this you note it lies on the
_contrary_ side of the diameter, and consequently, if positive before,
is negative now, so that it must end in 0, or a cipher above a nine at
most."
"This unintelligible jargon is out of place here, Mr Dominie; and if
you can show no better reasons for raising such an abominable
falsehood, in representing me as an incendiary and murderer, I shall
procure you a lodging in the house of correction."
"Why, sir, the long and short of the matter is this--I only asked at
that fellow there, that logarithm of stupidity! if he had heard aught
of a ghost having been seen about Wineholm Place. I added nothing
farther, either positive or negative. Now, do you insist on my
reasons for asking such a question?"
"I insist on having them."
"Then what will you say, sir, when I inform you, and declare my
readiness to depone to the truth of it, that I saw the ghost
myself?--yes, sir--that I saw the ghost of your late worthy
father-in-law myself, sir; and though I said no such thing to that
decimal fraction, yet it told me, sir--yes, the spirit of your
father-in-law told me, sir, that you are a murderer."
"Lord, now, what think ye o' that?" quoth the smith. "Ye had better
hae letten him alane; for od, ye ken, he's the deevil of a body that
ever was made! He just beats the world!"
The Doctor grew as pale as death, but whether from fear or rage, it
was hard to say. "Why, sir, you are mad! stark, raving mad," said the
Doctor; "therefore for your own credit, and for the peace and comfort
of my wife and myself, and our credit among our retainers, you must
unsay every word that you have now said."
"I'll just as soon say that the parabola and the ellipsis are the
same," said the Dominie; "or that the diameter is not the longest line
that can be drawn in the circle. And now, sir, since you have forced
me to divulge what I was much in doubt about, I have a great mind to
have the old Laird's grave opened to-night, and have the body
inspected before witnesses."
"If you dare disturb the sanctuary of the grave," said the Doctor
vehemently, "or with your unhallowed hands touch the remains of my
venerable and revered predecessor, it had been better for you, and all
who make the attempt, that you never had been born. If not then for my
sake, for the sake of my wife, the sole daughter of the man to whom
you have all been obliged, let this abominable and malicious calumny
go no farther, but put it down; I pray of you to put it down, as you
would value your own advantage."
"I have seen him, and spoke with him--that I aver," said the Dominie.
"And shall I tell you what he said to me?"
"No, no! I'll hear no more of such absolute and disgusting nonsense,"
said the Laird.
"Then, since it hath come to this, I will declare it in the face of
the whole world, and pursue it to the last," said the Dominie,
"ridiculous as it is, and I confess that it is even so. I have seen
your father-in-law within the last twenty hours; at least a being in
his form and habiliments, and having his aspect and voice. And he told
me, that he believed you were a very great scoundrel, and that you had
helped him off the stage of time in a great haste, for fear of the
operation of a will, which he had just executed, very much to your
prejudice. I was somewhat aghast, but ventured to remark, that he
must surely have been sensible whether you murdered him or not, and in
what way. He replied, that he was not absolutely certain, for at the
time you put him down, he was much in his customary way of
nights,--very drunk; but that he greatly suspected you had hanged him,
for, ever since he had died, he had been troubled with a severe crick
in his neck. Having seen my late worthy patron's body deposited in the
coffin, and afterwards consigned to the grave, these things overcame
me, and a kind of mist came over my senses; but I heard him saying as
he withdrew, what a pity it was that my nerves could not stand this
disclosure. Now, for my own satisfaction, I am resolved that
to-morrow, I shall raise the village, with the two ministers at the
head of the multitude, and have the body, and particularly the neck of
the deceased, minutely inspected."
"If you do so, I shall make one of the number," said the Doctor. "But
I am resolved that in the first place every mean shall be tried to
prevent a scene of madness and absurdity so disgraceful to a
well-regulated village, and a sober community."
"There is but one direct line that can be followed, and any other
would either form an acute or obtuse angle," said the Dominie;
"therefore I am resolved to proceed right forward, on mathematical
principles;" and away he went, skipping on his crutch, to arouse the
villagers to the scrutiny.
The smith remained behind, concerting with the Doctor, how to
controvert the Dominie's profound scheme of unshrouding the dead; and
certainly the smith's plan, viewed professionally, was not amiss. "O,
ye ken, sir, we maun just gie him another heat, and try to saften him
to reason, for he's just as stubborn as Muirkirk ir'n. He beats the
world for that."
While the two were in confabulation, Johnston, the old house-servant,
came in and said to the Doctor--"Sir, your servants are going to leave
the house, every one, this night, if you cannot fall on some means to
divert them from it. The old Laird is, it seems, risen again, and come
back among them, and they are all in the utmost consternation. Indeed,
they are quite out of their reason. He appeared in the stable to
Broadcast, who has been these two hours dead with terror, but is now
recovered, and telling such a tale down stairs, as never was heard
from the mouth of man."
"Send him up here," said the Doctor. "I will silence him. What does
the ignorant clown mean by joining in this unnatural clamour?"
John came up, with his broad bonnet in his hand, shut the door with
hesitation, and then felt twice with his hand if it really was shut.
"Well, John," said the Doctor, "what absurd lie is this that you are
vending among your fellow servants, of having seen a ghost?" John
picked some odds and ends of threads out of his bonnet, and said
nothing. "You are an old superstitious dreaming dotard," continued the
Doctor; "but if you propose in future to manufacture such stories, you
must, from this instant, do it somewhere else than in my service, and
among my domestics. What have you to say for yourself?"
"Indeed, sir, I hae naething to say but this, that we hae a' muckle
reason to be thankfu' that we are as we are."
"And whereon does that wise saw bear? What relation has that to the
seeing of a ghost? Confess then this instant, that you have forged and
vended a deliberate lie."
"Indeed, sir, I hae muckle reason to be thankfu'"--
"For what?"
"That I never tauld a deliberate lee in my life. My late master came
and spake to me in the stable; but whether it was his ghaist or
himsell--a good angel or a bad ane, I hae reason to be thankfu' I
never said; for I _do--not--ken_."
"Now, pray let us hear from that sage tongue of yours, so full of
sublime adages, what this doubtful being said to you?"
"I wad rather be excused, an it were your honour's will, and wad hae
reason to be thankfu'."
"And why should you decline telling this?"
"Because I ken ye wadna believe a word o't, it is siccan a strange
story. O sirs, but folks hae muckle reason to be thankfu' that they
are as they are!"
"Well, out with this strange story of yours. I do not promise to
credit it, but shall give it a patient hearing, provided you swear
that there is no forgery in it."
"Weel, as I was suppering the horses the night, I was dressing my late
kind master's favourite mare, and I was just thinking to mysell. An he
had been leeving, I wadna hae been my lane the night, for he wad hae
been standing over me cracking his jokes, and swearing at me in his
good-natured hamely way. Aye, but he's gane to his lang account,
thinks I, and we poor frail dying creatures that are left ahind hae
muckle reason to be thankfu' that we are as we are; when I looks up,
and behold there's my auld master standing leaning against the
trivage, as he used to do, and looking at me. I canna but say my heart
was a little astoundit, and maybe lap up through my midriff into my
breath-bellows--I couldna say; but in the strength o' the Lord I was
enabled to retain my senses for a good while. 'John Broadcast,' said
he, with a deep and angry tone,--'John Broadcast, what the d--l are
you thinking about? You are not currying that mare half. What a d--d
lubberly way of dressing a horse is that?'
"'L--d make us thankfu', master!' says I, 'are you there?'
"'Where else would you have me to be at this hour of the night, old
blockhead?' says he.
"'In another hame than this, master,' says I; 'but I fear me it is nae
good ane, that ye are sae soon tired o't.'
"'A d--d bad one, I assure you,' says he.
"'Ay, but, master,' says I, 'ye hae muckle reason to be thankfu' that
ye are as ye are.'
"'In what respects, dotard?' says he.
"'That ye hae liberty to come out o't a start now and then to get the
air,' says I; and oh, my heart was sair for him when I thought o' his
state! and though I was thankfu' that I was as I was, my heart and
flesh began to fail me, at thinking of my being speaking face to face
wi' a being frae the unhappy place. But out he briks again wi' a grit
round o' swearing about the mare being ill keepit; and he ordered me
to cast my coat and curry her weel, for that he had a lang journey to
take on her the morn.
"'You take a journey on her!' says I, 'I fear my new master will
dispute that privilege with you, for he rides her himsell the morn.'
"'He ride her!' cried the angry spirit; and then it burst out into a
lang string of imprecations, fearsome to hear, against you, sir; and
then added, 'Soon soon shall he be levelled with the dust! The dog!
the parricide! first to betray my child, and then to put down
myself!--But he shall not escape! he shall not escape!' cried he with
such a hellish growl, that I fainted, and heard no more."
"Weel, that beats the world!" quoth the smith; "I wad hae thought the
mare wad hae luppen ower yird and stane, or fa'en down dead wi'
fright."
"Na, na," said John, "in place o' that, whenever she heard him fa'
a-swearing, she was sae glad that she fell a-nickering."
"Na, but that beats the haill world a'thegither!" quoth the smith.
"Then it has been nae ghaist ava, ye may depend on that."
"I little wat what it was," said John, "but it was a being in nae good
or happy state o' mind, and is a warning to us a' how muckle reason we
hae to be thankfu' that we are as we are."
The Doctor pretended to laugh at the absurdity of John's narrative,
but it was with a ghastly and doubtful expression of countenance, as
though he thought the story far too ridiculous for any clodpole to
have contrived out of his own head; and forthwith he dismissed the two
dealers in the marvellous, with very little ceremony, the one
protesting that the thing beat the world, and the other that they had
both reason to be thankfu' that they were as they were.
The next morning the villagers, small and great, were assembled at an
early hour to witness the lifting of the body of their late laird, and
headed by the established and dissenting clergymen, and two surgeons,
they proceeded to the tomb, and soon extracted the splendid coffin,
which they opened with all due caution and ceremony. But instead of
the murdered body of their late benefactor, which they expected in
good earnest to find, there was nothing in the coffin but a layer of
gravel, of about the weight of a corpulent man!
The clamour against the new laird then rose all at once into a tumult
that it was impossible to check, every one declaring aloud that he had
not only murdered their benefactor, but, for fear of the discovery,
had raised the body, and given, or rather sold it, for dissection. The
thing was not to be tolerated! so the mob proceeded in a body up to
Wineholm Place, to take out their poor deluded lady, and burn the
Doctor and his basely acquired habitation to ashes. It was not till
the multitude had surrounded the house, that the ministers and two or
three other gentlemen could stay them, which they only did by assuring
the mob that they would bring out the Doctor before their eyes, and
deliver him up to justice. This pacified the throng; but on inquiry at
the hall, it was found that the Doctor had gone off early that
morning, so that nothing further could be done for the present. But
the coffin, filled with gravel, was laid up in the aisle, and kept
open for inspection.
Nothing could now exceed the consternation of the simple villagers of
Wineholm at these dark and mysterious events. Business, labour, and
employment of every sort, were at a stand, and the people hurried
about to one another's houses, and mingled their conjectures together
in one heterogeneous mass. The smith put his hand to the bellows, but
forgot to blow till the fire went out; the weaver leaned on his beam,
and listened to the legends of the ghastly tailor. The team stood in
mid furrow, and the thrasher agaping over his flail; and even the
Dominie was heard to declare that the geometrical series of events was
increasing by no _common_ measure, and therefore ought to be
calculated rather arithmetically than by logarithms; and John
Broadcast saw more and more reason for being thankful that he was as
he was, and neither a stock nor a stone, nor a brute beast.
Every new thing that happened was more extraordinary than the last;
and the most puzzling of all was the circumstance of the late Laird's
mare, saddle, bridle, and all, being off before day the next morning;
so that Dr Davington was obliged to have recourse to his own, on which
he was seen posting away on the road towards Edinburgh. It was thus
but too obvious that the ghost of the late Laird had ridden off on his
favourite mare, the Lord only knew whither! for as to that point none
of the sages of Wineholm could divine. But their souls grew chill as
an iceberg, and their very frames rigid, at the thoughts of a spirit
riding away on a brute beast to the place appointed for wicked men.
And had not John Broadcast reason to be thankful that he was as he
was?
However, the outcry of the community became so outrageous, of murder,
and foul play in so many ways, that the officers of justice were
compelled to take note of it; and accordingly the Sheriff-substitute,
the Sheriff-clerk, the Fiscal, and two assistants, came in two chaises
to Wineholm to take a precognition; and there a court was held which
lasted the whole day, at which, Mrs Davington, the late Laird's only
daughter, all the servants, and a great number of the villagers, were
examined on oath. It appeared from the evidence that Dr Davington had
come to the village and set up as a surgeon--that he had used every
endeavour to be employed in the Laird's family in vain, as the latter
detested him. That he, however, found means of inducing his only
daughter to elope with him, which put the Laird quite beside himself,
and from thenceforward he became drowned in dissipation. That such,
however, was his affection for his daughter, that he caused her to
live with him, but would never suffer the Doctor to enter his
door--that it was nevertheless quite customary for the Doctor to be
sent for to his lady's chamber, particularly when her father was in
his cups; and that on a certain night, when the Laird had had company,
and was so overcome that he could not rise from his chair, he had died
suddenly of apoplexy; and that no other skill was sent for, or near
him, but this his detested son-in-law, whom he had by will
disinherited, though the legal term for rendering that will competent
had not expired. The body was coffined the second day after death, and
locked up in a low room in one of the wings of the building; and
nothing farther could be elicited. The Doctor was missing, and it was
whispered that he had absconded; indeed it was evident, and the
Sheriff acknowledged, that according to the evidence taken, the matter
had a very suspicious aspect, although there was no direct proof
against the Doctor. It was proved that he had attempted to bleed the
patient, but had not succeeded, and that at that time the old Laird
was black in the face.
When it began to wear nigh night, and nothing farther could be
learned, the Sheriff-clerk, a quiet considerate gentleman, asked why
they had not examined the wright who made the coffin, and also placed
the body in it? The thing had not been thought of; but he was found in
court, and instantly put into the witness's box, and examined on oath.
His name was James Sanderson, a stout-made, little, shrewd-looking
man, with a very peculiar squint. He was examined thus by the
Procurator-fiscal.
"Were you long acquainted with the late Laird of Wineholm, James?"
"Yes, ever since I left my apprenticeship; for I suppose about
nineteen years."
"Was he very much given to drinking of late?"
"I could not say. He took his glass geyan heartily."
"Did you ever drink with him?"
"O yes, mony a time."
"You must have seen him very drunk then? Did you ever see him so drunk
that he could not rise, for instance?"
"O never! for, lang afore that, I could not have kenn'd whether he was
sitting or standing."
"Were you present at the corpse-chesting?"
"Yes, I was."
"And were you certain the body was then deposited in the coffin?"
"Yes; quite certain."
"Did you screw down the coffin-lid firmly then, as you do others of
the same make?"
"No, I did not."
"What were your reasons for that?"
"They were no reasons of mine--I did what I was ordered. There were
private reasons, which I then wist not of. But, gentlemen, there are
some things connected with this affair, which I am bound in honour not
to reveal--I hope you will not compel me to divulge them at present."
"You are bound by a solemn oath, James, which is the highest of all
obligations; and for the sake of justice, you must tell every thing
you know; and it would be better if you would just tell your tale
straight forward, without the interruption of question and answer."
"Well, then, since it must be so: That day, at the chesting, the
Doctor took me aside, and says to me, 'James Sanderson, it will be
necessary that something be put into the coffin to prevent any
unpleasant flavour before the funeral; for, owing to the corpulence,
and inflamed state of the body by apoplexy, there will be great danger
of this.'
"'Very well, sir,' says I--'what shall I bring?'
"'You had better only screw down the lid lightly at present, then,'
said he, 'and if you could bring a bucketful of quicklime, a little
while hence, and pour it over the body, especially over the face, it
is a very good thing, an excellent thing for preventing any
deleterious effluvia from escaping.'
"'Very well, sir,' says I; and so I followed his directions. I
procured the lime; and as I was to come privately in the evening to
deposit it in the coffin, in company with the Doctor alone, I was
putting off the time in my workshop, polishing some trifle, and
thinking to myself that I could not find in my heart to choke up my
old friend with quicklime, even after he was dead, when, to my
unspeakable horror, who should enter my workshop but the identical
Laird himself, dressed in his dead-clothes in the very same manner in
which I had seen him laid in the coffin, but apparently all streaming
in blood to the feet. I fell back over against a cart-wheel, and was
going to call out, but could not; and as he stood straight in the
door, there was no means of escape. At length the apparition spoke to
me in a hoarse trembling voice, enough to have frightened a whole
conclave of bishops out of their senses; and it says to me, 'Jamie
Sanderson! O, Jamie Sanderson! I have been forced to appear to you in
a d--d frightful guise!' These were the very first words it
spoke,--and they were far frae being a lie; but I hafflins thought to
mysell, that a being in such circumstances might have spoke with a
little more caution and decency. I could make no answer, for my tongue
refused all attempts at articulation, and my lips would not come
together; and all that I could do, was to lie back against my new
cart-wheel, and hold up my hands as a kind of defence. The ghastly and
blood-stained apparition, advancing a step or two, held up both its
hands, flying with dead ruffles, and cried to me in a still more
frightful voice, 'O, my faithful old friend! I have been murdered! I
am a murdered man, Jamie Sanderson! and if you do not assist me in
bringing upon the wretch due retribution, you will be d--d to hell,
sir.'"
"This is sheer raving, James," said the Sheriff, interrupting him.
"These words can be nothing but the ravings of a disturbed and heated
imagination. I entreat you to recollect, that you have appealed to the
great Judge of heaven and earth for the truth of what you assert here,
and to answer accordingly."
"I know what I am saying, my Lord Sheriff," said Sanderson; "and am
telling naething but the plain truth, as nearly as my state of mind at
the time permits me to recollect. The appalling figure approached
still nearer and nearer to me, breathing threatenings if I would not
rise and fly to its assistance, and swearing like a sergeant of
dragoons at both the Doctor and myself. At length it came so close on
me, that I had no other shift but to hold up both feet and hands to
shield me, as I had seen herons do when knocked down by a goshawk, and
I cried out; but even my voice failed, so that I only cried like one
through his sleep.
"'What the devil are you lying gaping and braying at there?' said he,
seizing me by the wrists, and dragging me after him. 'Do you not see
the plight I am in, and why won't you fly to succour me?'
"I now felt to my great relief, that this terrific apparition was a
being of flesh, blood, and bones, like myself; that, in short, it was
indeed my kind old friend the Laird popped out of his open coffin, and
come over to pay me an evening visit, but certainly in such a guise as
earthly visit was never paid. I soon gathered up my scattered senses,
took my old friend into my room, bathed him all over, and washed him
well in lukewarm water; then put him into a warm bed, gave him a glass
or two of warm punch, and he came round amazingly. He caused me to
survey his neck a hundred times I am sure; and I had no doubt he had
been strangled, for there was a purple ring round it, which in some
places was black, and a little swollen; his voice creaked like a door
hinge, and his features were still distorted. He swore terribly at
both the Doctor and myself; but nothing put him half so mad as the
idea of the quicklime being poured over him, and particularly over his
face. I am mistaken if that experiment does not serve him for a theme
of execration as long as he lives."
"So he is then alive, you say?" asked the Fiscal.
"O yes, sir! alive and tolerably well, considering. We two have had
several bottles together in my quiet room; for I have still kept him
concealed, to see what the Doctor would do next. He is in terror for
him somehow, until sixty days be over from some date that he talks of,
and seems assured that that dog will have his life by hook or crook,
unless he can bring him to the gallows betimes, and he is absent on
that business to-day. One night lately, when fully half-seas over, he
set off to the schoolhouse, and frightened the Dominie; and last night
he went up to the stable, and gave old Broadcast a hearing for not
keeping his mare well enough.
"It appeared that some shaking motion in the coffining of him had
brought him to himself, after bleeding abundantly both at mouth and
nose; that he was on his feet ere ever he knew how he had been
disposed of, and was quite shocked at seeing the open coffin on the
bed, and himself dressed in his grave-clothes, and all in one bath of
blood. He flew to the door, but it was locked outside; he rapped
furiously for something to drink; but the room was far removed from
any inhabited part of the house, and none regarded. So he had nothing
for it but to open the window, and come through the garden and the
back loaning to my workshop. And as I had got orders to bring a
bucketful of quicklime, I went over in the forenight with a bucketful
of heavy gravel, as much as I could carry, and a little white lime
sprinkled on the top of it; and being let in by the Doctor, I
deposited that in the coffin, screwed down the lid, and left it, and
the funeral followed in due course, the whole of which the Laird
viewed from my window, and gave the Doctor a hearty day's cursing for
daring to support his head and lay it in the grave.--And this,
gentlemen, is the substance of what I know concerning this enormous
deed, which is, I think, quite sufficient. The Laird bound me to
secrecy until such time as he could bring matters to a proper bearing
for securing of the Doctor; but as you have forced it from me, you
must stand my surety, and answer the charges against me."
The Laird arrived that night with proper authority, and a number of
officers, to have the Doctor, his son-in-law, taken into custody; but
the bird had flown; and from that day forth he was never seen, so as
to be recognised, in Scotland. The Laird lived many years after that;
and though the thoughts of the quicklime made him drink a great deal,
yet from that time he never suffered himself to get _quite_ drunk,
lest some one might have taken it into his head to hang him, and he
not know any thing about it. The Dominie acknowledged that it was as
impracticable to calculate what might happen in human affairs as to
square the circle, which could only be effected by knowing the ratio
of the circumference to the radius. For shoeing horses, vending news,
and awarding proper punishments, the smith to this day just beats the
world. And old John Broadcast is as thankful to Heaven as ever that
things are as they are.
FOOTNOTES:-
[A] A pin-cushion.
[B] Rapturous, _i.e._ outrageous.
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
EDINBURGH
PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY,
PAUL'S WORK, CANONGATE.
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| Transcriber's note:- |
| |
| Some punctuation errors were corrected. |
| |
| The following apparent printer's errors were addressed. |
| |
| Page 147. The letter 'a' was inserted into a gap in the original |
| text to make it read:- |
| (during the time of the hurricane, a London smack went down) |
| |
| Page 219. ha changed to had. |
| (Tibby had then acquired) |
| |
| Page 282. graandeur changed to grandeur. |
| (the vanity of worldly grandeur) |
| |
| The word saacred was spelled thus in both volumes and was left |
| unchanged. |
| |
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