[_MAGA._ MARCH 1839.]
A plain dark-coloured chariot, whose dusty wheels gave evidence of a
journey, stopped to change horses at Fushie Bridge, on the 7th of
August 1838. The travellers seemed listless and weary, and remained,
each ensconced in a corner of the carriage. The elder was a lady of
from forty to fifty years of age--thin, and somewhat prim in her
expression, which was perhaps occasioned by a long upper lip, rigidly
stretched over a chasm in her upper gum, caused by the want of a front
tooth. Her companion had taken off her bonnet, and hung it to the
cross strings of the roof. The heat and fatigue of the journey seemed
to have almost overcome her, and she had placed her head against the
side, and was either asleep or very nearly so. It is impossible to say
what her appearance might be when her eyes were open; all that we can
say under present circumstances is, that the rest of her features
were beautifully regular--that what appeared of her form was
unimpeachable--that her hair was disengaged from combs and other
entanglement, and floated at its own sweet will over cheek, and neck,
and shoulders. In the rumble were seated two servants, who seemed to
have a much better idea of the art of enjoying a journey than the
party within. A blue cloak, thrown loosely over the gentleman's
shoulders, succeeded (as was evidently his object) in concealing a
certain ornamental strip of scarlet cloth that formed the collar of
his coat; but revealed, at the same time, in spite of all the efforts
he could make to draw up the apron, the upper portion of a pair of
velvet integuments, which, according to Lord Byron's description of
them, were "deeply, darkly, beautifully blue." The lady, reclining on
his arm, which was gallantly extended, so as to save her from bumping
against the iron, requires no particular description. She was dressed
in very gay-coloured clothes--had a vast quantity of different-hued
ribbons floating like meteors on the troubled air--from the top and
both sides of her bonnet; while a glistening pink silk cloak was in
correct keeping with a pair of expansive cheeks, where the roses had
very much the upperhand of the lilies. While Mistress Wilson, the
respectable landlady of the posting-house, was busy giving orders
about the horses, a carriage was heard coming down the hill at a
prodigious rate, and, with a sort of prophetic spirit, the old woman
knew in an instant that four horses more would be required; and then
she recollected as instantaneously that there would only be one pair
in the stable. Under these circumstances, she went directly to the
door of the plain chariot, whose inmates still showed no signs of
animation, and tried to set their minds at rest as to the further
prosecution of their journey--though, as they had no knowledge of the
possibility of any difficulty arising, they had never entertained any
anxiety on the subject.
"Dinna be fleyed, my bonny burdy," she said, addressing the
unbonnetted young lady, who was still apparently dozing in the corner.
"Ye sal hae the twa best greys in Fussie stables; they'll trot ye in
in little mair than an hour; an' the ither folk maun just be doin' wi'
a pair, as their betters hae dune afore them."
The young lady started up in surprise, and looked on the shrewd
intelligent features of the well-known Meg Dods, without understanding
a syllable of her address.
"Haena ye got a tongue i' yer head, for a' ye're sae bonny?" continued
the rather uncomplimentary landlady--"maybe the auld wife i' the
corner'll hae mair sense. Hear ye what I said? ye sall hae the twa
greys--and Jock Brown to drive them; steady brutes a' the three, an'
very quick on the road."
The elder lady gazed with lack-lustre eyes upon the announcer of these
glad tidings.
"Greys, did you say?" she asked, catching at the only words she had
understood in the address.
"Yes, did I. An' ye dinna seem over thankful for the same. I tell ye,
if ye hadna a woman o' her word to deal wi', ye wad likely hae nae
horses ava';--for here comes ane o' the things thae English idewuts
ca's a dug-cart that they come doon wi', filled inside an' out wi'
men, and dugs, an' guns--a' hurryin' aff to the muirs, an' neither to
haud nor bind if they haena four horses the minute they clap their
hands. They'll mak' a grand fecht, ye'll see, to get your twa greys;
but bide a wee--the twa greys ye sall hae, if it was the laird o'
Dalhousie himsell."
And in fact in a very few seconds after the venerable hostess had
uttered these sybilline vaticinations, they received an exact
fulfiment--
"Four horses on!" exclaimed a voice from the last arrived vehicle,
which sorely puzzled the knowing ones of Fushie Brig to determine to
what genus or species it belonged. It was a long high carriage, fitted
for the conveyance both of men and luggage; and its capabilities in
both these respects were, on this occasion, very severely tried. On
the high driving-seat were perched two gentlemen, counterbalanced on
the dicky-seat behind by two sporting-looking servants. Inside, four
other gentlemen found ample room; while a sort of second body swinging
below, seemed to carry as many packages, trunks, and portmanteaus, as
the hold of a Leith smack. "Four horses on!" repeated the voice, which
proceeded from one of the sporting-looking servants on the seat
behind.
"Blaw awa', my man," murmured Mrs Wilson; "it'll be a gey while or the
second pair comes out, for a' yer blawin'. Did ye want onything,
sirs?" she inquired, going up to the equipage.
"To be sure," answered one of the gentlemen; "four horses
immediately--we're pushed for time."
"Hech, sirs, so are we a', but time'll hae the best o't," replied the
hostess. "Ye maun just hae patience, sirs, for ye canna get on this
three hours."
"Three hours!" exclaimed the gentleman; "why, what's the matter? Why
the deuce don't they get out the horses?"
"Just for the same raison the Hielanman couldna' get out the bawbee,"
replied the imperturbable Meg Dods; "the deil a plack was in his
pouch, puir body--an' sae, ye see, ye maun just stay still."
"My lord," interposed one of the servants, touching his hat, "there's
a pair of very natty greys just coming out of the stable, and a pair
of bays with the harness on. I have seen them in stall"--
"Then let us have them, Charles, by all means," replied his lordship.
"Yes, my lord."
In a very short time high words were heard, from which it was evident
that by no means a complimentary opinion was entertained of the
gentlemanly conduct of the nobleman's dependant by the guard and
ornament of the plain chariot.
"I say, my fine chap, you leave them there grey 'osses alone, will ye?
they ain't none o' yourn."
"Quite a mistake, Johnny," replied the noble retainer, with a
supercilious glance at our friend, who was still perched high in air.
"Oh! if ye come to go to be a-leaving off of names, old Timothy,
you'll find I've a way of writing my card with my five fingers here in
a text hand as no gentleman can mistake."
While boasting of his literary acquirements, our Hector in livery
slewed himself down from the side of the red-cheeked Andromache, and
presented an appearance which apparently induced the gentleman in the
cockade to believe that the mistake might possibly be on his own side.
"My lord is in a great hurry."
"So is my ladies."
"He must have four horses."
"They must have two."
"Lauds!" exclaimed the voice of the hostess, addressing three or four
stable-men who had been gaping spectators of this altercation, "bring
yer grapes and pitchin' forks here, an' lift this birkie wi' the
cockaud in his head back till his seat again. Tell Jock Brown to get
his boots on wi' a' his micht, and drive thir ladies to Douglas's
Hotel. An' I'm sayin', if ony o' thae English bit craturs, wi' their
clippy tongues, lays hand on bit or bridle o' ony o' my horses, dinna
spare the pitchin' fork--pit it through them as ye wad a lock strae;
I'll hae nae rubbery in my stable-yaird--I'm braw freens wi' the
Justice-Clerk."
As affairs now appeared to grow serious, the Noah's Ark disembogued
the whole of its living contents, and a minute inspection of the
stables was commenced by the whole party. The ladies, in the mean
time, who had some confused idea that all was not right, were looking
anxiously from the windows; and if the elder lady had been an
attentive observer of her companion's looks, she would have seen a
flush of surprise suffuse her whole countenance as her eyes for an
instant rested on one of the gentlemen, who stood apparently an
uninterested spectator of the proceedings of his friends. A similar
feeling of amazement seemed to take possession of the champion of the
ladies, as he recognised the same individual. He left his antagonist
in the very middle of a philippic that ought to have sunk that
gentleman in his own estimation for ever, and walking hurriedly up to
the gentleman, who was still in what is called a reverie, said--
"Mr Harry!--hope ye're quite well, sir?"
"What?--Copus?" replied the gentleman. "I'm delighted to see you
again. Who are you with just now?"
"Family, sir--great family--equal to a duke, master says;--lady's-maid
uncommon pleasant, and all things quite agreeable."
"Do you mean you are with a duke, Copus?"
"Bless ye! no, sir, only equal to it. Master has bought a Scotch
chiefship, and we're all a-going down to take possession. Master made
all the tartans himself afore we left off trade."
"I don't understand you--what is he?"
"Smith, Hobbins, and Huxtable, they called us at Manchester,--great
way of business--but master, old Smith, has retired, and bought this
here Scotch estate, and makes us all call him Ben-na-Groich."
"And his family, Copus?"
"Only his old sister, and our young lady."
"Well,--her name?"
"Miss Jane. She's a niece, they say, of old Smith--Ben-na-Groich, I
means; but I don't b'lieve it. She's a real lady, and no mistake; and,
they say, will have a prodigious fortin. By dad, our old 'ooman takes
prodigious care of her, and is always a snubbing."
"My dear Copus, say not a word of having seen me; you can be the
greatest friend I ever had in my life--you'll help me?"
"Won't I?--that's all;--'clect all about Oriel, Mr Harry, and
Brussels? Ah! them was glorious days!"
"We shall have better days yet, Copus, never fear."
After a few minutes' conversation, the face of affairs entirely
changed. An apology was made by his lordship in person for the mistake
of his servant; that individual was severely reprimanded, greatly to
the satisfaction of Mr Copus; the two greys were peaceably yoked to
the plain chariot, and Jock Brown cracked his whip and trotted off at
a pace that set loose the tongues of all the dogs in the village.
"What a barbarous set of people these Lowlanders are!" exclaimed the
senior lady--"so different from the brave and noble mountaineers. My
brother, the chieftain, is lucky in having such a splendid set of
retainers, and the tartan he invented is very becoming."
"Vell, only to think of picking up my old master in a inn-yard!"
murmured Mr Copus, resuming his old position, and fixing his guarding
arm once more inside of the rumble-rail; "after all the rum goes we
had together at Oxford and Brussels. Nothing couldn't be luckier than
meeting a old friend among them Scotch savages. Do ye know, Mariar,
they haven't no breeches?"
"For shame, Mr Copus!"