"My dear," cried Mr Sudberry to his wife, abruptly entering the parlour
of his villa, near Hampstead Heath, "I have done the deed!"
"Dear John, you _are_ so violent; my nerves--really--_what_ deed?" said
Mrs Sudberry, a weak-eyed, delicate woman, of languid temperament, and
not far short of her husband's age.
"I have written off to secure a residence in the Highlands of Scotland
for our summer quarters this season."
Mrs Sudberry stared in mute surprise. "John! my dear! are you in
earnest? Have you not been precipitate in this matter? You know, love,
that I have always trusted in your prudence to make arrangements for the
spending of our holiday; but really, when I think--"
"Well, my dear, `When you think,'--pray, go on."
"Don't be hasty, dear John; you know I have never objected to any place
you have hitherto fixed on. Herne Bay last year was charming, and the
year before we enjoyed Margate _so_ much. Even Worthing, though rather
too long a journey for a family, was delightful; and, as the family was
smaller then, we got over the journey on the whole better than could
have been expected. But Scotland!--the Highlands!"--Mr Sudberry's look
at this point induced his wife to come to a full stop. The look was not
a stern look,--much less a savage look, as connubial looks sometimes
are. It was an aggrieved look; not that he was aggrieved at the dubious
reception given by his spouse to the arrangement he had made;--no, the
sore point in his mind was that he himself entertained strong doubts, as
to the propriety of what he had done; and to find these doubts reflected
in the mind of his faithful better half was perplexing.
"Well, Mary," said the worthy merchant, "go on. Do you state the
_cons_, and I'll enumerate the _pros_, after which we will close the
account, and see on which side the balance lies."
"You know, dear," said Mrs Sudberry, in a remonstrative tone, "that the
journey is fearfully long. I almost tremble when I think of it. To be
sure, we have the railroad to Edinburgh now; but beyond that we shall
have to travel by stage, I suppose, at least I hope so; but perhaps they
have no stage-coaches in Scotland?"
"Oh, yes, they have a few, I believe," replied the merchant, with a
smile.
"Ah! that is fortunate; for wagons are fearfully trying. No, I really
think that I could _not_ stand a wagon journey after my experience of
the picnic at Worthing some years ago. Think of our large family--seven
of us altogether--in a wagon, John--"
"But you forget, I said that there _are_ stage-coaches in Scotland."
"Well; but think of the slow and wearisome travelling among great
mountains, over precipices, and through Scotch mists. Lady Knownothing
assures me she has been told that the rain never ceases in Scotland,
except for a short time in autumn, just to give the scanty crops time to
ripen. You know, dear, that our darling Jacky's health could never
stand the Scotch mists, he is so _very_, delicate."
"Why, Mary!" exclaimed Mr Sudberry, abruptly; "the doctor told me only
yesterday that for a boy of five years old he was a perfect marvel of
robust health--that nothing ailed him, except the result of over-eating
and the want of open-air exercise; and I am sure that I can testify to
the strength of his legs and the soundness of his lungs; for he kicks
like a jackass, and roars like a lion."
"It is _very_ wrong, _very_ sinful of the doctor," said Mrs Sudberry,
in a languidly indignant manner, "to give such a false report of the
health of our darling boy."
At this moment the door burst open, and the "darling boy" rushed into
the room--with a wild cheer of defiance at his nurse, from whom he had
escaped, and who was in full pursuit--hit his head on the corner of the
table, and fell flat on the floor, with a yell that might have sent a
pang of jealousy to the heart of a Chippeway Indian!
Mr Sudberry started up, and almost overturned the tea-table in his
haste; but before he could reach his prostrate son, nurse had him
kicking in her arms, and carried him off howling.
"Darling child!" said Mrs Sudberry, with her hand on her heart. "How
you do startle me, John, with your violence! That is the fifteenth
tea-cup this week."
The good lady pointed to a shattered member of the set that lay on the
tray beside her.
"I have just ordered a new set, my dear," said her husband, in a subdued
voice. "Our poor dear boy would benefit, I think, by mountain air. But
go on with the _cons_."
"Have I not said enough?" replied Mrs Sudberry, with an injured look.
"Besides, they have no food in Scotland."
This was a somewhat staggering assertion. The merchant looked
astonished.
"At least," pursued his wife, "they have nothing, I am told, but
oatmeal. Do you imagine that Jacky could live on oatmeal? Do you
suppose that your family would return to London in a condition fit to be
looked at, after a summer spent on food such as we give to our horses?
No doubt you will tell me they have plenty of milk,--buttermilk, I
suppose, which I abhor. But do you think that I could live with
pleasure on sawdust, just because I had milk to take to it?"
"But milk implies cream, my dear," interposed the merchant, "and
buttermilk implies butter, and both imply cows, which are strong
presumptive evidence in favour of beef. Besides--"
"Don't talk to me, Mr Sudberry. _I_ know better; and Lady Knownothing,
who went to Scotland last year, in the most unprejudiced state of mind,
came back absolutely horrified by what she had seen. Why, she actually
tells me that the natives still wear the kilt! The very day she passed
through Edinburgh she met five hundred men without trousers! To be
sure, they had guns on their shoulders, and someone told her they were
soldiers; but the sight was so appalling that she could not get rid of
the impression; she shut her eyes, and ordered the coachman to drive
straight through the town, and let her know when she was quite beyond
its walls. She has no doubt whatever that most, if not all, of the
other inhabitants of that place were clothed--perhaps I should say
unclothed--in the same way. What surprised poor Lady Knownothing most
was, that she did not see nearly so many kilts in the Highlands as she
saw on that occasion in Edinburgh, from which she concluded that the
natives of Scotland are less barbarous in the north than they are in the
south. But she _did_ see a few. One man who played those hideous
things called the pipes--which, she says, are so very like little pigs
being killed--actually came into her presence one day, sat down before
her with bare knees, and took a pinch of snuff with a salt-spoon!"
"That is a dreadful account, no doubt," said Mr Sudberry, "but you must
remember that Lady Knownothing is given to exaggerating, and is
therefore not to be depended on. Have you done with the _cons_?"
"Not nearly done, John, but my nervous system cannot stand the sustained
contemplation of such things. I should like to recover breath, and hear
what you have to say in favour of this temporary expatriation, I had
almost said, of your family."
"Well, then, here goes for the _pros_," cried Mr Sudberry, while a
gleam of excitement shot from his eyes, and his clinched hand came
heavily down on the table.
"The sixteenth cup--_as near as possible_," observed his wife,
languidly.
"Never mind the cups, my dear, but listen to me. The air of the
Highlands is salubrious and bracing--"
"And piercingly cold, my dear John," interrupted Mrs Sudberry.
"In summer," pursued her husband, regardless of the interruption, "it is
sometimes as clear and warm as it is in Italy--"
"And often foggy, my dear."
"The mountain scenery is grand and majestic beyond description--"
"Then why attempt to describe it, dear John?"
"The hotels in most parts of the Highlands, though rather expensive--"
"Ah! think of _that_, my dear."
"Though rather expensive, are excellent; the food is of the best
quality, and the wines are passable. Beds--"
"_Have_ they beds, my dear?"
"Beds are generally found to be well aired and quite clean, though of
course in the poorer and more remote districts they are--"
"Hush! pray spare my feelings, my dear John."
"Remote districts, they are not so immaculate as one would wish. Then
there are endless moors covered with game, and splendid lakes and rivers
full of fish. Just think, Mary, what a region for our dear boys to
revel in! Think of the shooting--"
"And the dreadful accidents, my dear."
"Think of the fishing--"
"And the wet feet, and the colds. Poor darling Jacky, what a prospect!"
"Think of the glorious sunrises seen from the mountain-tops before
breakfast--"
"And the falling over precipices, and broken necks and limbs, dear
John."
"Think of the shaggy ponies for our darling Lucy to ride on--"
"Ah! and to fall off."
"And the dew of early morning on the hills, and the mists rolling up
from the lakes, and the wild uncultivated beauty of all around us, and
the sketching, and walking, and driving--"
"Dreadful!"
"And bathing and boating--"
"And drowning!"
"Not to mention the--"
"Dear John, have pity on me. The _pros_ are too much for me. I cannot
stand the thought--"
"But, my dear, the _place is taken_. The thing is _fixed_," said Mr
Sudberry, with emphasis. Mrs Sudberry was a wise woman. When she was
told by her husband that a thing was _fixed_, she invariably gave in
with a good grace. Her powers of dissuasion having failed,--as they
always did fail,--she arose, kissed Mr Sudberry's forehead, assured him
that she would try to make the most of it, since it _was_ fixed, and
left the room with the comfortable feeling, of having acted the part of
a dutiful wife and a resigned martyr.
It was towards the close of a doubtful summer's evening, several weeks
after the conversation just detailed, that a heavy stage-coach, of an
old-fashioned description, toiled slowly up the ascent of one of those
wild passes, by which access is gained into the highlands of Perthshire.
The course of the vehicle had for some time lain along the banks of a
turbulent river, whose waters, when not brawling over a rocky bed in
impetuous velocity, or raging down a narrow gorge in misty spray, were
curling calmly in deep pools or caldrons, the dark surfaces of which
were speckled with foam, and occasionally broken by the leap of a yellow
trout or a silver salmon.
To an angler the stream would have been captivating in the extreme, but
his ardour would have been somewhat damped by the sight of the dense
copsewood which overhung the water, and, while it added to the wild
beauty of the scenery, suggested the idea of fishing under difficulties.
When the coach reached the narrowest part of the pass, the driver pulled
up, and intimated that, "she would be obleeged if the leddies and
gentlemen would get down and walk up the brae."
Hereupon there descended from the top of the vehicle a short, stout,
elderly gentleman, in a Glengarry bonnet, green tartan shooting-coat,
and shepherd's-plaid vest and pantaloons; two active youths, of the ages
of seventeen and fifteen respectively, in precisely similar costume; a
man-servant in pepper and salt, and a little thin timid boy in blue, a
sort of confidential page without the buttons. All of them wore drab
gaiters and shoes of the thickest conceivable description. From the
inside of the coach there issued a delicate elderly lady, who leaned, in
a helpless manner, on the arm of a young, plain, but extremely fresh and
sweet-looking girl of about sixteen, whom the elder lady called Lucy,
and who was so much engrossed with her mother, that some time elapsed
before she could attend to the fervent remarks made by her father and
brothers in regard to the scenery. There also came forth from the
interior of the coach a large, red-faced angry woman, who dragged after
her a little girl of about eight, who might be described as a modest
sunbeam, and a little boy of about five, who resembled nothing short of
an imp incarnate. When they were all out, the entire family and
household of Mr Sudberry stood in the centre of that lovely Highland
pass, and the coach, which was a special one hired for the occasion,
drove slowly up the ascent.
What the various members of the family said in the extravagance of their
excited feelings on this occasion we do not intend to reveal. It has
been said that the day was doubtful: in the south the sky was red with
the refulgent beams of the setting sun, which gleamed on the mountain
peaks and glowed on the purple heather. Towards the north dark leaden
clouds obscured the heavens, and presaged stormy weather. A few large
drops began to fall as they reached the crest of the road, and opened up
a view of the enclosed valley or amphitheatre which lay beyond, with a
winding river, a dark overshadowed loch, and a noble background of
hills. In the far distance a white house was seen embedded in the blue
mountains.
"Yonder's ta hoose," said the driver, as the party overtook the coach,
and resumed their places--the males on the top and the females inside.
"Oh, my dear! look! look!" cried Mr Sudberry, leaning over the side of
the coach; "there is our house--the white house--our Highland home!"
At this moment a growl of distant thunder was heard. It was followed by
a scream from Mrs Sudberry, and a cry of--
"You'd better send Jacky inside, my dear."
"Ah, he may as well remain where he is," replied Mr Sudberry, whose
imperfect hearing led him to suppose that his spouse had said, "Jacky's
inside, my dear!" whereas the real truth was that the boy was neither
out nor inside.
Master Jacky, be it known, had a remarkably strong will of his own.
During the journey he preferred an outside seat in all weathers. By
dint of much coaxing, his mother had induced him to get in beside her
for one stage; but he had made himself so insufferably disagreeable,
that the good lady was thereafter much more disposed to let him have his
own way. When the coach stopped, as we have described, Jacky got out,
and roundly asserted that he would never get in again.
When the attention of the party was occupied with the gorgeous scenery
at the extremity of the pass, Jacky, under a sudden impulse of
wickedness, crept stealthily into the copse that lined the road,
intending to give his parents a fright. In less than five minutes these
parents were galloping away at the rate of ten miles an hour, each happy
in the belief that the sweet boy was with the other.
Somewhat surprised at the prolonged and deathlike silence that reigned
around him, Jacky returned to the road, where he actually gasped with
horror on finding himself the solitary tenant of an apparently
uninhabited wilderness. Sitting down on a stone, he shut his eyes,
opened wide his mouth, and roared vehemently.
At the end of about five minutes he ventured to re-open his eyes. His
face instantly assumed an expression of abject terror, and the roar was
intensified into a piercing shriek when he beheld a fierce little black
cow staring at him within a yard of his face.
A drove of shaggy Highland cattle had come suddenly round a turn in the
pass while Jacky's eyes had been shut. They now filed slowly and
steadily past the transfixed boy, as if they were a regiment and he a
reviewing general. Each animal as it came up, stopped, stared for a few
seconds, and passed slowly on with its head down, as if saddened by the
sight of such a melancholy spectacle.
There were upwards of a hundred animals in the drove; the prolonged and
maddening agony which Jacky endured may therefore be conceived but
cannot be described.
Last of all came the drover, a kilted, plaided, and bonneted Highlander,
quite as shaggy as the roughest of his cattle, and rather fiercer in
aspect. He was not so in reality however, for, on coming to the place
where the poor boy sat, he stopped and stared as his predecessors had
done.
"Fat is she doin' there?" said he.
Jacky paused, and gazed for one moment in mute surprise, then resumed
his roar with shut eyes and with tenfold vigour.
As it was evident that any farther attempt at conversation must prove
fruitless, the drover took Jacky in his arms, carried him to the
extremity of the pass, set him down, and, pointing to the white house in
the blue distance, said--
"Yonder's ta hoose; let her see how she can rin."
Jacky fixed his eyes on the house with the stare of one who regarded it
as his last and only refuge, and ran as he had never done before,
roaring while he ran.
"She's a clever callant," observed the drover with a grim smile, as he
turned to follow his cattle.
Meanwhile the Sudberry Family reached the White House in the midst of
increasing rain and mists and muttering thunder. Of course Jacky's
absence was at once discovered. Of course the females screamed and the
males shouted, while they turned the mail-coach entirely inside out in a
vain search for the lost one. The din was increased by nine shepherd
dogs, which rushed down the mountain-side, barking furiously with
delight, (probably), and with excitement, (certainly), at the unwonted
sight of so many strangers in that remote glen. Presently the coach was
turned round, and the distracted father galloped back towards the pass.
Of course he almost ran over his youngest son in less than five minutes!
Five minutes more placed the recovered child in its mother's arms.
Then followed a scene of kissing, crying, laughing, barking, and
excitement, which is utterly indescribable, accompanied by thunder,
lightning, and rain, in the midst of which tempestuous mental and
elemental commotion, the Sudberry Family took possession of their
Highland home.