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VOL. I. 




The greater number of the Tales contfuned 
in these volames appeared originally in Black- 
wood's Edinburgh Magazine. They have 
been revised with care; and to complete the 
Collection, several Tales hitherto unpublished 
have been added. 


Chap. I. Rob Dodds 1 

II. Mr Adamson of LaTeibope, 33 

III. The Prodigal Son, (S» 

IV. The School of Miifortone, 112 

V. George Dobson's Expedidon to Hell, . . 131 

VI. The Soutera of Sdkirk, 148 

VII. The Laird of Gassway, 176 

VIII. Tibby Hyalop's Dream, 212 

IX. Mary Burnet, 247 

X. The Brownie of ihe Black Uaggs, . . . SSi 

XI. The Laird of Wineholm, 311 



caaiAPTER I. 


It was on the 13th of Fehrnary 1823, on a cold 
stormy day, the snow lying from one to ten feet deep 
on the hiUs, and nearly as hard as ice, when an exten- 
sive store-fanner in the outer limits of the county of 
Peebles went up to one of his led farms, to see how 
his old shepherd was coming on with his flocks. A 
partial thaw had blackened some spots here and there 
on the brows of the mountains, and oyer these the 
half-starving flocks were scattered, picking up a scanty 
sustenance, while all the hollow parts, and whole sides 
of mountains that lay sheltered from the winds on the 
preceding week, when the great drifts blew, were 
heaped and over-heaped with immense loads of snow, 
80 that every hill appeared to the farmer to havo 
changed its form. There was a thick white base, on 

VOL. I. A 

THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

the sky, Gorresponding exactly with the wan frigid 
colour of the high mountains, so that in casting one's 
eye up to the heights, it was not apparent where the 
limits of the earth ended, and the heavens hegan. There 
was no horizon — ^no blink of the sun lookiog through 
the pale and impervious mist of hearen ; but there, in 
that elevated and sequestered hopey the old shepherd 
and his flock seemed to be left out of nature and all 
its sympathies, and embosomed in one interminable 
chamber of waste desolation.— So his master thought; 
and any stranger beholding the scene, would have been 
still more deeply impressed that the case was so in 

But the old shepherd thought and felt otherwise* 
He saw God in the clouds, and watched his arm in 
the direction of die storm^ He perceived, or thought 
he perceived, one man's flocks suffering on accoimt of 
their owner's transgi'ession ; and though he bewiuled 
the hardships to which the poor harmless creotTires 
were reduced, he yet acknowledged in his heart the 
justness of the pimishment. << These temporal scourgea 
are laid upon sinners in mercy," said he^ << and it will 
be well for them if they get bo away. It will teach 
them in future how to drink and carouse, and speak 
profane things of the name of Him in whose hand are 
ihe issues of life, and to regard his servants as the 
dogs of their flock." 


Again, he beheld from his heightt, whan the days 
were clear, the flocks of others more favourably situ- 
ated, which he interpreted as a reward for their acta 
of charity and beney<^«ice ; for this old man believed 
that all temporal benefits are sent to men as a reward 
for good woilfiB ; and all temporal deprivations as a 
scourge for evil ones. 

'^ I hae been a herd in this hope, callant and man, 
for these fifty years now, Janet,'' said he to his old 
wife, ^^ and I diink I never saw the face o* the coon- 
try look wanr.'* 

*^ Hont, gudeman, it is but a clud o' the despond* 
ency o' anld age come ower your een ; for I hae seen 
wanr storms than this, or else my sight deceives me* 
This time seven and thirty years, when you and I 
were married, there was a deeper, and a harder snaw 
faattk,.tfaan this. There was mony a bom dammed op 
wi' dead hogs that year I And what say ye to this 
time nine years, gudeman ?" 

** Ay, ay, Janet, these were hard times when they 
were present. But I think there's something in oar 
eormpt nature that gars us aye trow the |H:esent burden 
is the heaviest. However, it is either my strength 
hSao^y that I canna won sae weel through the snaw, 
or I never saw it lying sae deep before. I canna steer 
the poor cre a t ur es frae ae knowe-head to another, with- 
out rowing them ower the body. And tometimea 

THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

when they wad spraughle away, then I stick firm and 
fast mysell, and the mair I fight to get out, I gang aye 
the deeper. This same day, nae farther gane, at ae 
step up in the Grait Cleuch, I slumpit in to the neck. 
Peace he wi' us, quo' I to myself, where am I now ? 
If my axdd wife wad but look up the hill, she wad see 
nae mair o' her poor man but the bannet. Ah I Janet, 
Janet, I'm rather feared that our Maker has a craw to 
pook wi' us even now 1" 

. << I hope no, Andrew ; we're in good hands ; and if 
he shoxdd e'en see meet to pook a craw wi' us, he'U 
maybe fling us buth the bouk and the feathers at the 
end. Ye shouldna repine, gudeman. Ye're something 
ill for thrawing your mou' at Providence now and 

<< Na, na, Janet ; far be't free me to grumble at 
Providence. I ken ower weel that the warst we get 
is far aboon our merits. But it's no for the season 
that I'm sae feared, — ^that's ruled by Ane that canna 
err ; only, I dread that there's something rotten in the 
government or the religion of the country, that lays it 
under His curse. There's my fear, Janet. The scourge 
•f a land often fa's on its meanest creatures first, and 
advances by degrees, to gie the boonmost orders o' 
society warning and time to repent. There, for in- 
stance, in the saxteen and seventeen, the scourge fell 
on our flocks and our herds. Then, in aughteen and 


nineteen, it fell on the weayeny^-theyre tlie neu»t 
class, je ken ; then our merchants, — they're the neist 
again ; and last of a* it has fidlen on the farmers and 
the shepherds, — ^theyre the first and maist sterling 
class of a country. Na, ye needna smudge and laugh, 
Janet ; for it's true. They art the boonmost, and hae 
aye been the boonmost sin' the days o' Abel ; and 
that's nae date o' yesterday. And ye'U observe, Janet, 
that whenever they began to fa' low, they gat aye 
another lift to keep up their respect. But I see our 
downfa' coming on us wi' rapid 8trides.~-There*s a 
heartlessness and apathy croppen in amang the sheep- 
fiumersy that shows their warldly hopes to be nearly 
extinct. The maist o' them seem no to care a bodle 
whether their sheep die or live. There's our master, 
for instance, ndien times were g^ann weel, I hae seen 
him up ilka third day at the farthest in the time of a 
storm, to see how the sheep were doing ; and this 
winter I hae never seen his face sin' it came on. He 
seems to hae forgotten that there are sic creatures 
existing in this wilderness as the sheep and me. — His 
presence be about us, gin there be nae the very man 
come by the window !" 

Janet sprung to her feet, swept the hearth, set a 
chair on ihe cleanest side, and wiped it with her check 
apron, all ere one could well look about him. 

THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

<< Come away, master ; come in by to the fire here ; 
lang-lookit-for comes at leogthJ' 

<< How are you, Jaiaet ?— still living, I see. It is a 
pity that you had not popped off before diis great storm 
came on." 

« Dear, what for, master ?" 

<^ Because if you should take it into your head to 
coup the creels just now, you know it woxdd be out 
of the power of man to get you to a Christian burial. 
•We would be obliged to huddle you up in the nook of 
the kail-yard." 

<^ Ah, master, what's that you're saying to my sold 
wife ? Aye the auld man yet, I hear! a great deal 
o' the leaven o' corrupt nature aye sprouting out noiw 
and then. I wonder you're no fear'd to speak in that 
regardless manner in these judgment-looking times !'* 

^' And you are still the old man too, Andrew ; a 
great deal of cant and hypocrisy sprouting out at times. 
But tell me, you old sinner, how has your Maker 
been serving you this storm ? I have been right tw- 
nfied about your sheep ; for I know you will have been 
very impertinent with him of evenings." 

<< Hear to that now I There's no hope, I see I. I 
thought to find you humbled wi' a' thir trials and 
warldly losses ; but I see the heart is hardened like 
Pharaoh's, and you will not let the multitude of your 
sins go. As to the storm, I can teU you, my sheep 


are just at ane mae wi*t. I am wanr than oay o' mj 
neighbours, as I lie higher on the hills ; but I may hae 
been as it dianced, for yon ; for ye hae nerer lookit 
near me mair than yon had had no concern in the 

<' Indeed, Andrew, it is becanse neither yon nor the 
creatvres are mnch worth looking after now-a-daya. 
If it hadna be^ the fear I was in for some mishiy 
coming over the stock, on acoonnt of these hypocriti* 
eal prayers of yoms, I would not haye come to look 
after yon so soon." 

^^ Ah, there's nae mense to be had o' you I It*s a 
good thing I ken the heart's better than the tongue, or 
ane wad hae little face to pray either for you, or aught 
that belangs t'ye. But I hope ye hae been nae the 
wmnr o' anld Andrew's prayers as yet. An some didna 
pray for ye, it wad maybe be the waur for ye. I 
prayed for ye udien ye couldna pray for yoursell, and 
had hopes that, when I turned auld and doited, yon 
might say a Idnd word for me ; but I'm fear'd that 
warld's wealth and warld's pleasures hae been leading 
you ower lang in their tnun, and that ye hae been 
trusting to that which will soon take wings and flee 

<< If you mean riches, Andrew, or warld's wealth, as 
you call it, you nerer said a truer word in your life ; 
for the little that my forbears and I have made, is ac- 


tiially, under the influence of these long prayers of 
yours, melting away from among my hands faster than 
ever the snow did from the dike.'' 

<< It is perfectly true, what you're saying, master. 
I ken the extent o' your hits o' sales weel enough, and 
I ken your rents ; and weel I ken you're telling me nae 
lee. And it's e'en a hard case. But I'll tell you what 
I would do— I woxdd throw their tacks in their teeth, 
and let them mak aught o' them they likit." 

" Why, that would he ruin at once, Andrew, with 
a vengeance. Don't you see that stocks of sheep are 
frdlen so low, that if they were put to sale, they woidd 
not pay more than the rents, and some few arrears that 
erery one of us have got into ; and thus, hy throwing 
up our farms, we would throw ourselves out heggare? 
We are all willing to put off the evil day as long as 
we can, and rather trust to long prayers for a while." 

^' Ah I you're th^e again, are you ?— canna let 
alane profanity I It's hard to gar a wicked cout leave 
off flinging. But I can tell you, master mine — An 
you farmers had made your hay when the sun shone, 
ye might a' hae sitten independent o' your screwing 
lairds, wha are maistly sur out at elhows ; and ye ken, 
sir, a hungry louse hites wicked sair. But this is but 
a just judgment come on you for your behaviour. Ye 
had the gaun days o' prosperity for twenty years I But 
instead o' laying by a little for a sair leg, or making 


provision for an evil day, ye gaed on like madmen. 
•Ye biggit houses, and ye plantit vineyards, and threw 
away money as ye had been sawing sklate-stanes. Ye 
drank wine, and ye drank punch ; and ye roared and 
ye sang, and spake unseemly things. And did ye 
nev^ think there was an ear that heard, and an ee 
that saw, a' thae things ? And did ye never think that 
they wad be visited on your heads some day when ye 
couldna play paw to help yonrsells? If ye didna 
think sae then, yell think sae soon. And yell maybe 
see the day when the like o' auld Andrew, wi* his 
darned hose, and his cloutit shoon ; his braid bannet, 
instead of a baiver; his drink out o' the clear spring, 
instead o' the punch bowl ; and his good steeve ait- 
meal parritch and his horn spoon, instead o* the drapa 
e' tea» that costs sae muckle — I say, that sic a' man wi' 
a' thae, and his worthless prayers to boot, will maybe 
keep the crown o' the causeway langer than some that 
carried their heads higher." 

^< Hout fie, Andrew I" quoth old Janet; ^* Gude- 
ness be my help, an I dinna think shame o' you I Our 
master may weel think ye'll be impudent wi' your 
Maker; for troth youre very impudent wi* himsell. 
Dinna ye see that ye hae made the douce sonsy lad 
that he disna ken where to look ?" 

>^ Ay> Janet, your husband may weel crack. He 


10 THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

kens he has feathered his nest off my father and me. 
He is independent, let the world wag as it wilL" 

<< It's a' fairly come hy, master, and the maist part 
o*t came through your ain hands. But my bairns are 
a* doing for themsells, in the same way that I did ; 
and if twa or three himder poimds can beet a mister 
for you in a strait, ye sanna want it, come of a' what 

<' It is weel said of you, Andrew, and I am obliged 
- to you. There is no class of men in this kingdom so 
independent as you shepherds. You have your sheep, 
your cow, your meal and potatoes ; a regular income 
of from sixteen to thirty pounds yearly, without a 
&rthing of expenditure, except for shoes; for your 
clothes are all made at home. If you would eren 
wish to spend it, you cannot get an opportunity, and 
every one of you is rich, who has not lost money by 
lending it. It is therefore my humble opinion, that 
all the farms over this country will soon change occu- 
pants ; and that the shepherds must xdtimately become 
the store-farmers." 

<< I hope in God 111 never live to see that, master, 
for the sake of them that I and mine hae won our 
bread frae, as weel as some others that I hae a great 
respect for. But that's no a thing that hasna happened 
afore this day. It is little mair than a hundred and 
forty years, sin' a' the land i' this country changed 


maat&ra already; sin' ereiy fiumer in it was reduced, 
and the farms were a' ta'en by common people and 
strangcars at half naething. The Wekhes came here 
tba^ out o' a place they ca' Wales, in England ; the 
Andersons came frae a place they ca' Rannoch, some 
gate i' the north ; and yoor ain fiamily came first to 
this country then frae some bit lairdship near Glasgow. 
There were a set o' MacGregors and MacDoogals, 
said to hare been great thieves, came into Yarrow 
then, and changed their names to Scotts; bnt they 
didna thrive ; for they wama likit, and the hinderend 
o' them were in the Catslackbum. They ca'd them 
aye the Pmolys, frae the place they came frae ; but I 
diona ken where it was. The Ballantynes came frae 
GaUoway ; and for as flourishing folks as they are now, 
the first o' tiiem came out at the Birkhill-path, riding 
on a haltered pony, wi' a goat-skin aneath him for a 
saddle. The Cunninghams, likewise, began to spread 
dieir wings at the same time ; they came a' frae a little 
fat curate that came out o' Glencaim to Ettrick. But 
that's nae disparagement to ony o' thae families ; fov 
an there be merit at a' inherent in man as to warldly 
thingB, it is certainly in raising himsell frae naething to 
reject. There is nae very ancient name amang a' our 
formers now, but the Tweedies and the Murrays ; I 
mean of them that apciently belanged to this district. 
The Tweedies are very auld, and took the name frae 

12 THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

the water. They were lairds o' Drommelzier hunders 
o' years afore the Hays got it, and hae some o' the 
best blood o' the land in their veins ; and sae also have 
the Murrays ; but the maist part o' the rest are up- 
starts and come-o'-wills. Now ye see, for as far out- 
bye as I live, \ can tell ye some things that ye dinna 
hear amang your drinking cronies." 

^< It is when you begin to these old traditions that I 
like to listen to you, Andrew. Can you tell me what 
was the cause of such a complete overthrow of the 
fanners of that age ?" 

• ** Oh, I caona tell, sir — ^I caona tell ; some overturn 
o' affairs, like the present, I fancy. The farmers had 
outher lost a' their sheep, or a' their siller, as they are 
like to do now ; but I canna tell how it was ; for the 
general diange had ta'en place, for the maist part, afore 
the Revolution. My ain grandfather, who was the son 
of a great farmer, hired himsell for a shepherd at that 
time to yoimg Tarn Linton; and mony ane was 
wae for the downcome. But, speaking o' that, of a 
the downcomes that ever a coimtry kenn'd in a farm- 
ing name, there has never been ought like that o' the 
Lintons. When my grandfather was a young man, 
and ane o' their herds, they had a' the principal store- 
hrjpas o* Ettrick Forest, and a part in this shire. They 


had, when the great Mr Boston came to Ettrick, the 
farms o' Blackhouse, Dryhope, Henderland, Chapel- 


hope, Scabdeuch, Shorthope, iVCdgehope, Meggai- 
knowes, Buccleuch, and Gilmanscleachy that I ken of^ 
and likely as mony mae; and now there's no a man o' 
the name in a' the bounds aboon the nmk of a cow* 
herd, Thomas Linton rode to kirk and market^ wi' a 
lireryman at his back ; but wha% is a' that pride now ? 
— a* buried in the mools wi' the bearers o*t I and the 
last representatiye o' that great overgrown fEunily^ that 
laid house to house, and field to field, is now sair gane 
on a wee, wee farm o' the Duke o' Buccleuch's. The 
ancient curse had lighted on these men, if ever it 
lighted on men in this world. And yet they were 
redkoned good men, and kind men, in their day ; for 
the good Mr Boston wrote an epitaph on Thomas, in 
metre, when he died ; and though I have read it a huur 
der limes in St Mary's kirk-yard, where it is to be seen 
to this day, I canna say it ower. But it says that he 
was eyes to the blind, and feet to the lame, and that 
the Lord would reqidte him in a day to come, or 
something to that purpose* Now that said a great 
deal for him, master, although Providence has seen 
meet to strip his race of a' their worldly possessions. 
But take an auld fool's advice, and never lay farm 
to fjEurm, even though a fair opportunity should offer ; 
for, as sure as He lives who pronoimced that curse, it 
will take effect. Tm an auld man, and I hae seen 
mony a dash made that way ; but I never saw ane o* 

14 THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

them come to good I There was first Murray of 
Glemnth ; why, it was trntelling what land that man 
possessed* Now his family has not a furr in the twa 
counties. Then there was his neighbour Simpson of 
Possa: I hae seen the day that Simpson had two-and- 
twenty farms, the best o' the twa coimties, and a;' 
stockit wi' good sheep. Now there's no a drap o' his 
blood has a furr in the twa counties. Then there was 
Grieve of Willenslee ; ane wad hae thought that body 
imA gaun to take the haill kingdom. He was said to 
have had ten thousand sheep, a' on good farms, at ae 
time. Where are they a' now ? Neither him nor his 
hae a furr in the twa coimties. Let me tell ye, master 
—for ye're but a young man, and I wad aye fain have 
ye to see things in a right light — that ye may blame 
the wars ; ye may blame the Govemment ; and ye may 
blame the Parliamenters : but there's a hand that rules 
higher than a' these ; and gin ye dinna look to that, 
ye'U never look to the right source either o' your pros- 
perity or adversity. And I sairly doubt that the pride 
o' the farmers has been raised to ower great a pitch, 
that Providence has been brewing a day of humiliation 
for them, and that there will be a change o' hands 
amce mair, as there was about this time bunder and 
forty years." 

<< Then I suppose you shepherds expect to have cen- 


tnry about with us, or so ? Well, I don*t see any tfaiiig 
very unfair in it." 

^ Ajy but I fear we will be as far aneath the rigin 
medium f(Nr a while, as ye are startit aboon it. Well 
make a fine hand doing the honours o* the grand man* 
mon^ouses that ye4iae biggit for us ; the cavahy exeiw 
dses ; the guns and the pointers ; the wine and tha 
punch drinking ; and the singing o* the deboshed sanga f 
But well just come to the rig^t set again in a generup 
tion or twa ; and then, as soon as we get ower hee^ 
well get a downcome in our turn. — Bnt, master, I saf , 
how will you grand gentlemen tak wi' a shepherd's 
life ? How wiQ ye like to be turned into reeky holes 
like this, where ye can hardly see your fingers afore ye, 
and be reduced to the parritch and the horn spoon ?" 

^ I cannot tell, Andrew. I suppose it will have 
some adrantages — It will teach us to say long prayeia 
to put off the time ; and if we should haye the misfofu 
tone afterwards to pass into the bad place that yon 
shepherds are all so terrified about, why, we will scarce- 
ly know any difference. I account that a great adnM- 
tage in dwelling in such a place as this. We*ll scares 
ly know the one place from the other.*' 

'< Ay, but oh what a surprise ye will get when ye 
st^ out o' ane o* yonr grand palaces into hell I And 
gin ye dinna repent in time, yell maybe get a little ex- 
perbnent o' that sort. Ye think ye hae said a Tery 

16 THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

witty thing there : but a' profane wit is sinfd* ; and 
whatever is sinfu' is shamefu' ; and therefore it never 
suits to be said either afore God or man. Ye are just 
a good standing sample o' the young tenantry o' Scot- 
land at this time. Ye're ower genteel to be devout, 
and ye look ower high, and depend ower muckle on the 
arm o' flesh, to regard the rod and Him that hath ap- 
pointed it. But it will fa' wi' the mair weight for that ! 
A blow that is seen coming may be wardit off; but if 
ane*s sae proud as no to regard it, it's the less scaith 
that he suffer." 

^< I see not how any man can ward off this blow, 
Andrew. It has gathered its overwhelming force in 
springs over which we have no control, and is of that 
nature that no industry of man can avail against it— 
ttcertion is no more than a drop in the bucket : and I 
greatly fear that this grievous storm is come to lay the 
axe to the root of the tree." 

<< I'm glad to hear, however, that ye hae some Scrip- 
ture phrases at your tongue-roots. I never heard you 
use ane in a serious mode before ; and I hope there will 
be a reformation yet. If adversity hae that effect, I 
shall willingly submit to my share o' the loss if the 
storm should lie still for a while, and cut off a wheen 
o' the creatures, that ye aince made eedals o\ and now 
dow hardly bide to see. But that's the gate wi' a 
things that ane sets up for warldly worship in place o* 


the tnie object; they torn a' ont carses and causes o' 
shame and disgrace. As for warding off the blow, 
master, I see no resource but throwing up the farms 
ilk ane, and trying to save a renmant out o* the fire. 
The lairds want naething better than for ye to rin in 
arrears ; then they will get a' yonr stocks for neist to 
naetlvng) and have the land stockit themsells as they 
had langsyne ; and you will be their keepers, or vassals, 
the same as we are to you at present. As to hinging 
on at the present rents, it is madness — the very extre- 
mity of madness. I hae been a herd here for fifty 
years, and I ken as weel what the ground wiU pay at 
everj price of sheep as you do, and I daresay a great 
deal better. When I came here first, your father paid 
less than the third of the rent that you are bound to 
pay ; sheep of every description were dearer, lambs, 
ewes, and wedders ; and I ken weel he was making no 
money of it, honest man, but merely working his way, 
with some years a little over, and some naething. And 
how is it possible that you can pay three times the rent 
at lower prices of sheep ? I say the very presumptiim 
of the thing is sheer madness. And it is not only this 
ftam, but you may take it as an average of all the farms 
in the country, that before the French war began^ the 
$htep were dearer than they are now — the farms were 
not abgve one-third (fthe rents at an average^ and the 
farmers were not making any money. They have lost 

18 THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

their summer day during the French war, which will 
never return to them ; and the only resource they have, 
that I can see, is to abandon their farms in time, and 
try to save a remnant. Things will come to their true 
level presently, but, not afore the auld stock o' fiarmers 
are crushed past rising again. And then I little wat 
what's to come o' ye ; for an we herds get the land, we 
wmna employ you as our shepherds,— that you may 
depend on." 

<< Well, Andrew, these are curious facts that you tell 
me about the land having all changed occupiers about 
a certain period. I wish you could have stated the 
causes with certainty. Was there not a great loss on 
this farm once, when it was said the bum was so 
dammed up with dead carcasses that it changed its 
course ?" 

<< Ay, but that's quite a late story. It happened in 
my own day, and I believe mostly through mischance. 
.That was the year Rob Dodds was lost in the Eamey 
C!leuch. I remember it, but cannot tell what year it 
was, for I was but a little bilsh of a callant then." 

" Who was Rob Dodds ? I never heard of the inci- 
pient before." 

<< Ay, but your father remembered it weel ; for he 
aent a' his men mony a day to look for the corpse, but 
s' to nae purpose. I'll never forget it ; for it made an 
impression on me sae deep that I couldna get rest 

ROB ixmDs. 19 

i* my bed for months and days. He was a yoong hand- 
some bonny lad, an honest man's only son, and was 
herd wi' Tam Lint<»i in the BirkhilL The Lintons 
wetfb sair come down then ; for this Tam was a herd, 
and had Rob hired as his assistant. Weel, it sae happened 
diat Tarn's wife had occasion to cross the wild heights 
atween the Biridiill and Tweedsmuir, to see her mo> 
diery or sister, on some express ; and Tam sent the 
yomig man wi' her to see her ower Donald's Clench 
Edge. It was in the middle o' winter, and, if I mind 
ri^it, this time sixty years. At the time they set out, 
the morning was calm, frosty, and threatening snaw, 
but the ground clear of it. Rob had orders to set his 
nustress to the height, and return home ; but by the 
time they had got to the height, the snaw had come cm, 
so the good lad went all the way through Guemshope 
with her, and in sight of the water o* Fruid. He crossed 
all the wildest o' the heights on his return in safety; 
and on the Middle-End, west of Loch-Skene, he met 
with Robin Laidlaw, that went to the Highlands and 
grew a great farmer after that. Robin was gathering 
the Polmoody ewes ; and as they were neighbours, and 
both herding to ae master, Laidlaw testified some an- 
xiety lest the young man shoidd not find his way hame ; 
fcM* the blast had then come on very severe. Dodds 
leugh at him, and said, ' he was nae mair feared for find- 
ing the gate hame, than he was for finding the gate te 


20 THE shepherd's CALENDAR. I 


his mouth when he was hungry.' — < Weel, w^l/ quo' 
Robin, < keep the band o' the hill a' theway,for I}iae seen 
as clever a fellow waured on sic a day ; and be sure to 
hund the ewes out o' the Brand Law Scores as -ye gang 
by.' — < Tammy charged me to bring a backfu' o' peats 
wi' me,' said he ; ^ but I think I'll no gang near the 
peat stack the day.' — ^ Na,' quo' Robin, < I think ye'll 
no be sae mad I' — < But, O man,' quo' the l^d, ^ hae ye 
ony bit bread about your pouches ; for I'm imco hungry? 
The wife was in sic a hurry that I had to come away 
without getting ony breakfast, and I had sae far to gang 
wi' her, that I'm grown imco toom i' the inside.'— •< The 
fient ae inch hae I, Robie, my man, or ye should hae 
had it,' quo' Laidlaw. — < But an that be the case, gang 
straight hame, and never heed the ewes, come o* them 
what wilL' — ' O there's nae fear I' said he, < I'll turn 
the ewes, and be hame in good time too.' And with 
that he left Laidlaw, and went down the Middle-Craig- 
£nd, jumping and playing in a frolicsome way ower his 
stick. He had a large lang nibbit staff in his hand, 
which Laidlaw took particular notice of, thinking it 
would be a good help for the young man in the rough 
way he had to gang. 

« There was never another word about the matter 
till that day eight days. The storm having increased 
to a terrible drift, the snaw had grown very deep, and 
the herds, wha lived about three miles sindry, hadna 

BOB D0DD6. 21 

met for a' that time. But that day Tam Linton and 
Robin Laidlaw met at the Tail Born ; and after cnuJc- 
mg a lang time thither, Tam says to the tither, just 
as it war by chance, * Saw ye naething o' our yomig 
dinnagood this day eight days, Robin ? He gaed awa 
that mcmiing to set om* g^dewife ower the height, and 
has nerer sin' that time lookit near me, the careless 

^ < Tam Linton, what's that you're saying ? what's 
that I hear ye saying, Tam Linton?' quo' Robin, wha 
was dung clean stupid wi' horror. < Hae ye neTer 
seen Rob Dodds sin' that moining he gaed away wi* 
your wife ?' 

<< < Na, nerer,' quo' the tither. 

<< < Why then, sir, let me tell ye, youll never see 
lum again in this world alive,' quo' Robin ; < for he left 
me on the Middle-End on his way hame that day at 
eleven o'clock, just as the day was coming to the warst. 
— ^But, Tam Linton, what was't ye war saying ? Ye're 
telling me what canna be tme^-Do ye say that ye hae« 
na seen Rob Dodds sin' that day ?' 

<< < Haena I tauld ye that I hae never seen his fiace 
sinsyne ?' quo' Linton. 

^ < Sae I hear ye saying,' quo' Robin again. ^ But 
ye're telling me a downright made lee. The thing's 
no possible ; for ye hae the very staff i' your hand that 
he had in his, when he left me in the drift that day.' 

22 THE shepherd's calendar. 

^ < I ken naething about sticks or staves, Robin 
Laidlaw,' says Tarn, looking rather like ane catched in 
an ill turn. ^ The staff wasna likely to come hame 
without the owner ; and I can only say, I hae seen nae 
mair o' Rob Dodds sin' that morning ; ' and I had 
thoughts that, as the day grew sae ill, he had hadden 
forrit a' the length wi' our wife, and was biding wi* her 
folks a* this time to bring her hame again when the 
storm had settled.' 

<< < Na, na, Tam, ye needna get into ony o' thae 
lang-windit stories wi' me,' quo' Robin. < For I tell 
ye, that's the staff Rob Dodds had in his hand when 
I last saw him ; so ye have either seen him dead or li- 
ving — I'll gie my oath to that.' 

^< < Ye had better take care what ye say, Robin Laid- 
law,' says Tam, very fiercely, * or I'll maybe make ye 
blithe to eat in your words again.' 

<< < What I hae said, I'll stand to, Tam Linton,' saya 
Robin. — ' And mair than that,' says he, ^ if that young 
man has come to an imtimely end, I'll see his blood 
required at yotir hand.' 

<< Then there was word sent away to the Hope- 
house to his parents, and ye may weel ken, master, 
what heavy news it was to them, for Rob was their 
only son ; they had gien him a good education, and 
muckle muckle they thought o' him ; but naething wad 
serve him but he wad be a shepherd. His &tfaer 


came wi' the maist pairt o' Ettrick pariah at his back ; 
and mony sharp and threatening words past atween 
him and linton ; but idiat could they make o't ? The 
lad was lost, and nae Utw, nor nae revenge, could 
restore him again ; sae they had naething for t, but to 
8|nead athwart a' the hills loddng for the corpse* The 
baill oonntry rase for ten miles round, on ane or twa 
good days ihaA happened ; but the snaw was still lying, 
and a' their looking was in vain. Tam Linton wad look 
nane. He took the dorts, and never heeded the folk 
mair than they hadna been there. A' that height 
atween Loch-Skene and the Birkhill was just moving 
wi' folk for the space o* three weeks ; for the twa auld 
folk, the lad's parents, couldna get ony rest, and folk 
sympathized unco mudkle wi' them. At length the 
snaw gaed maistly away, and the weather turned fine, 
and I gaed out ane o' the days wi' my father to look 
for the body. But, aih wow I I was a feared wight I 
whenever I saw a bit sod, or a knowe, or a grey stane, 
I stood still and trembled for fear it was the dead man, 
and no ae step durst I steer farther, till my father gaed 
up to a' thae things. I gaed nae mair back to look for 
the corpse ; for I'm sure if we had found the body I 
wad hae gane out o' my judgment. 

^ At length every body tired o' looking, but the auld 
man himselL He travelled day after day, ill weather 
and good weathefi without intermission. They 

24 THE shepherd's calendar. 

it was the waesomest thing ever was seen, to see that 
aold grey-headed man gaun sae lang hy himsell, look- 
ing for the corpse o' his only son I The maist part o* 
his friends advised him at length to give np the search, 
as the finding o* the hody seemed a thing a'thegither 
hopeless. But he declared he wad look for his son till 
the day o* his death ; and if he could hut find his hones, 
he woidd carry them away from the wild moors, and 
lay them in the grave where he was to lie himselL Tarn 
Linton was apprehended, and examined afore the She- 
riff ; hut nae -proof could he led against him, and he 
wan off. He swore that, as far as he remembered, he 
got the staff standing at the mouth o* the peat stack ; 
and that he conceived that either the lad or himsell had 
left it there some day when bringing away a burden of 
peats. The shepherds' peats had not been led home 
that year, and the stack stood on a hill-head, half a 
mile frae the house, and the herds were obliged to carry 
them home as they needed them. 

" But a mystery hung ower that lad's death that was 
never cleared up, nor ever will a'thegither. Every 
man was convinced, ia his own mind, that Linton 
knew where the body was a* the time ; and also, that 
the young man had not come by his death fairly. It 
was proved that the lad's dog had come hame several 
times, and that Tam Linton had been seen kicking it 

fiae about his house; and as the dog could be nowhere 



all that time, but waiting on the body, if that had no 
been concealed in some more than ordinary way, tlie 
dog would at least hare been seen. At length, it was 
suggested to the old man, that dead-lights always ho- 
iFered over a corpse by night, if the body was left ex- 
posed to the air ; and it was a fact that two drowned 
men had been found in a field of whins, where the wa- 
ter had left the bodies, by means of the dead-lights, a 
very short while before. On the first calm night, there- 
f&re^ the old desolate man went to the Merk-Side-£dge, 
to the top of a high hill that overlooked all the ground 
where there was ony likelihood that the body wouhi 
be lying. He watched there the lee-lang night, keep- 
ing his eye constantly roaming ower the broken wastes 
before him ; but he never noticed the least glimmer of 
the dead-lights. About midnight, however, he heard 
a dog barking ; it likewise gae twa or three melancho- 
ly yowls, and then ceased. Robin Dodds was con- 
vinced it was his son's dog ; but it was. at such a dis- 
tance, being about twa miles off, that he couldna be 
sore where it was, or which o' the- hills on the oppo- 
site side of the glen it was on. The second night he 
kept watch on the Path Know, a hill which he sup- 
posed the howling o' the dog cam frae. But that hill be- 
ing all surrounded to the west and north by tremendous 
ravines and cataracts, he heard nothing o' the dog. In 
the course of the night, however, he saw, or fancied he 

VOL. I. B 


26 THE shepherd's calendaiu 

saw, a momentary glimmer o' light, in the depth of the 
great gulf immediately below where he sat ; and that 
at three different times, always in ^e same place. He 
now became convinced that the remains o' his son were 
in the bottom of the linn, a place which he conceived 
inaccessible to man ; it being so deep from the summit 
where he stood, that the roar o' the waterfall only 
reached his ears now and then wi* a loud whush / as if 
it had been- a sound wandenng across the hills by it* 
sell. But sae intent was Robin on this Willie-an-the- 
wisp light, that he took landmarks frae the ae summit 
to the other, to make sure o' the place ; and as soon 
as daylight came, he set about finding a passage down 
to the bottom of the linn. He effected this by coming 
to the foot of the linn, and tracing its course backward^ 
sometimes wading in water, and sometimes clambering 
ever rocks, till at length, with a beating heart, he reach- 
ed the very spot where he had seen the Hght ; and in 
the grey o* the morning, he perceived something lying 
there that differed in colour from the iron-hued stones, 
and rocks, of which the linn was composed. He was 
in great astonishment what this could be ; for, as he 
came closer on it, he saw it had no likeness to the dead 
body of a man, but rather appeared to be a heap o' bed- 
diothes. And what think you it turned out to be ? 
for I see ye re glowring as your een were gaun to loup 
eut-^ust neither more nor less than a strong mineral 

BOB DODD8. 27 

well ; or idiat the doctors ca' a callybit spring, a' 
bonstered about wi' hei^ o' so^y, limy kind o* stuff, 
that it seems had thrown out fiery Taponra i' the night* 

^ Howeyer, Robin, being nnable to do ony mair in 
the way o' searcimigy had now nae hope left bat in 
finding his dead son by some kind o' supematmal 
means. Sae he determined to watch a third nighty 
and that at the rery identical peat stack where it had 
been said his son's staff was found. He did sae ; and 
about midnight, ere ever he wist, the dog set up a 
howl close beside him. He called on him by his 
name, and the dog came, and fawned on his old ac- 
quaintance, and whimpered, and whinged, and made 
sic a wark, as could hardly hae been trowed. Robin 
keepit baud o' him a' the night, and fed him wi' pieces 
o' bread, and then as soon as the sun rose, he let him 
gang ; and the poor affectionate creature went straight 
to his dead master, who, after all, was lying in a little 
green spritty hoUow, not above a musketnshot from 
the peat stack. Tliis rendered the whole affur more 
mysterious than ever ; for Robin Dodds himself, and 
above twenty men beside, coidd all have made oath 
that they had looked into that place again and again, 
80 minutely, that a dead bird could not have been there 
without their having seen it. However, there the body 
of the youth was gott^ after having been lost for the 

28 THE shepherd's calendar. 

long space of ten weeks ; and not in a state of great 
decay neither, for it rather appeared swollen, as if it 
had heen lying among water. 

<< Conjecture was now driven to great extremities 
in accounting for all these circumstances. It was ma- 
nifest to every one, that the body had not been all the 
time in that place. But then, where had it been ? or 
what coidd have been the reasons for concealing it ? 
These were the puzzling considerations. There were 
a bunder different things suspectit ; and mony o' them, 
I dare say, a bunder miles frae the truth ; but on the 
whole, Linton was sair lookit down on, and almaist 
perfectly abhorred by the coimtry; for it was weel 
kenn d that he had been particularly churlish and se- 
vete on the young man at a' timds, and seemed to have 
a peculiar dislike to him. An it hadna been the wife, 
wha was a kind considerate sort of a body, if Tam had 
gotten his will, it was reckoned he wad hae hungered 
the lad to dead. After that, Linton left the place, and 
gaed away, I watna where ; and the countiy, I believe, 
came gayan near to the truth o' the story at last : 

<< There was a girl in the Birkhill house at the time, 
whether a daughter o' Tam's, or no, I hae forgot, 
though I think otherwise. However, she durstna for 
her life tell a* she kenn'd as lang as the investigation 
was gaun on ; but it at last spunkit out that Rob 
Dodds had got hame safe eneugh ; and that Tam got 

ROB DODD8. 29 

into a great rage at hiniy because he had not brought a 
burden o* peats, there being none in the house. The 
youth excused himself on the score of fatigue and 
hunger ; but Tam sw<M:e at him, and said, < The deil 
be in your teeth, gm they shall iH^ak bread, till ye 
gang back out to the hill-head and bring a burden o* 
peats r Dodds refused; on which Tam struck him, 
and forced him away ; and he went crying and greet- 
ing out at the door, but never came back. She also 
told, that after poor Rob was lost, Tam tried several 
times to get at his dog to fell it with a stick ; but the 
creature was terrified for biro, and made its escape. I> 
was therefore thought, and indeed there was little 
doubt, that Rob, through £atigue and hunger, and reck- 
less of death from the way he had been gnidit, went 
out to the hill, and died at the peat stack, the mouth 
of which was a shelter from the drifr-wind ; and that 
his cruel master, conscious o' the way in ^diich he had 
.used him, and dreading skaith, had trailed away the 
body, and sunk it in some pool in these unfiithomable 
iinns, or otherwise concealed it, wi' the intention, that 
the world might never ken whether the lad was ac- 
tually dead, m had absconded. If it had not been for 
th^dog, from which it appears he had been unable to 
conceal it, and the old man's perseverance, to whose 
search there appeared to be no end, it is probable he 
would never have laid the body in a place where it 

so THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

could have been found* But if he had allowed it to 
remain in the first place of concealment, it might have 
been discovered by means of the dog, and the inten- 
tional concealment of the corpse would then have been 
obvious ; so that Linton all that time coidd not be quite 
at his ease, and it was no wonder he attempted to fell 
the dog. But where the body could have been depo- 
sited, that the faithful animal was never discovered by 
the searchers, during the day, for the space of ten 
weeks, baffled a' the conjectures that ever could be 

<< The two old people, the lad^ father and mother, 
jk&yer got over their loss. They nev^ held up the^ 
heads again, nor joined in society ony mair, except in 
attending divine worship* It might be truly said o' 
them, that they spent the few years that they survived 
their son in constant prayer and humiliation ; but they 
soon died, short while after ene anither* As for Tarn 
Linton, he left this part of the country, as I told yon ; 
but it was said there was a curse hung ower him and 
his a' his life, and that he never mair did weeL— Thai 
was the year, master, on which our hvm was dammed 
wi' the dead sheep ; and in fixing the date^ you see, I 
hae been led into a lang sUny, and am just nae farther 
wi' the main poLut than when ] began." 

'< I wish from my heart, Andrew, that you would 
try to fibc a great many old dates in the same manner ; 


for I confess I «n more interested in your lang stories, 
than in either your lang prayers^ or yoiv lang sermons 
about r^ientanee and amendment. Bat pray, yo« 
were talking of the judgments that orertook Tarn Lin* 
ton — ^Was that the same Tarn lanton that was preci- 
pitated from the Brand Law by the break of a snaw- 
wreath, and he and all his sheep jammed into the hi- 
deous golf, called the Grey Mare's Tail ?*" 

*^ Hie Tery same, sir ; and that might be acooontit 
ane o' ihe first judgments tlurt befell him ; for there 
were many of his aia sheep in the flodc Tam assert- 
ed all his life, that he went into the linn along with 
his hirs^ but no man ever b^eved him ; for there 
was not one ^ the sheep came out alive, and how it 
was possible for the carl to have come safe out, nae- 
body could see. It was, indeed, quite impossible ; for 
it had been such a break of snaw as had scarcely ever 
been seen. The gulf was crammed sae fii', that ane 
could bae gane ower it like a pendit brig ; and no a 
single sheep could be gotten out, either dead or li- 
ving. When the thaw came, the bum wrought a pass- 
age for itself below the snaw, but the arch stood till 
summer. I have heard my father oft describe the ap- 
pearance of that vault as he saw it on his way from 
Moffat fair. Ane hadna gane far into it, he said, till it 
turned darkish, like an ill-hued twilight ; and sic a like 
ardi o* carnage be never saw I There were limbs o* 

32 THE shepherd's calendar. 

Rheep hinging in a* directions, the snaw was wedged 
sae firm. Some entire carcasses hung by the neck, 
some by a spauld ; then there was a haill forest o' legs 
sticking out in ae place, and horns in another, terribly 
mangled and broken; and it was a'thegither sic a 
frightsome^looking place, that he was blithe to get 
out o't again." 

After looking at the sheep, tasting old Janet's best 
kebbuck, and oatmeal cakes, and preeing the whisky 
bottle, the young farmer again set out through the 
deep snow, on his way home. But Andrew made him 
promise, that if the^ weather did not amend, he would 
come back in a few days and see how the poor sheep 
were coming on ; and, as an inducement, promised to 
tell him a great many old anecdotes of the shepherd s 




One of those events that have made, the deepest 
impression on the shepherds' minds for a century by- 
gone, seems to have been the fate of Mr Adamson, 
who was tenant in Laverhope for the space of twenty- 
seven years. It stands in their calendar as an era 
irmn which to date sunmer floods, water spouts, hail 
and thunder-storms, &c. ; and appears from tradition 
to have been attended with some awful circumstances, 
expressive of divine vengeance. This Adamson is re- 
presented, as having been a man of an ungovernable 
temper-^f irritabiHty so extreme, that no person 
could be for a moment certain to what excesses he 
might be hurried. He was otherwise accounted a 
good and upright man, and a sincere Christian ; but in 
these outbreakings of temper he often committed actM 
of cruelty and injustice, for which any good man 
ought to have been ashamed. Among other qualities, 
he had an obliging disposition, there being few to 


34 THE shepherd's calendar. 

whom a poor man would sooner have applied in a 
strait. Accordingly, he had been in the habit of as- 
sisting a less wealthy neighbour of his with a little 
credit for many years. This man's name was Imne^ 
and though he had a number of rich relations, he was 
never out of difficulties* Adamson, from some whim 
or caprice, sued this poor farmer for a few hundred 
merks, taking legal steps against him, even to the very 
last measures short of poinding and imprisonment. 
Irvine paid little attention to this, taking it for granted 
that his neighbour took these steps only for the pur- 
pose of inducing his debtor's friends to come forward 
and support hini. 

It happened one day about this period, that a ihot^tr 
less boy, belonging to Irvine's farm, hunted Adamson b 
cattle in a way that gave great offence to their owner, 
on which the two fiarmers differed, and some hard 
words passed between them. The next day Irvine 
was seized and thrown into jail ; and shortly after, has 
effects were poinded, and sold by auction for ready 
money. They were consequently thrown away, as 
the neighbours, not having been forewarned, were 
wholly unprovided with ready money, and unable to 
purchase at any price. Mrs Irvine came to the en- 
raged creditor with a child in her arms, and implored 
liim to put off the sale for « month, that she might 
try isrhat could be done amongst her friends to prevent 


a wredc so irretrieTable. He was at one time on the 
veiy pomt of yieldmg ; but sOlne bitter recollectioiMi 
ooming ova* his mind, at the moment, stimulated his 
spleen against her husband, and he resolyed that the 
sale dionld go on* William Carmders of Grindistoo 
beard the foUowing dialogue between them ; and he 
said that his heart almost trembled within him ; for 
Mrs Irvine was a violent woman, and her eloquence 
did more harm than good. 

" Ave ye veally gann to act the part of a devil, the 
day, Mr Adnnson, and turn me and thae bairns out to 
the bore high-road, hdpless as we are ? Oh, man, if 
yoBT bowels binna seared in hell-fire already, take some 
compassion ; for an ye dinna, they wUl be seared afore 
bakh men and angels yet, till that hard and cruel heart 
o' yours be nealed to an izle.** 

« Fm gaun to act nae part of a devil, Mrs Irvine ; 
Vm only gaun to take my ain in the only way I caa^ 
get it. . Fm no baith gaun to tine my siller, and hae 
my beasts abused into the bargain." 

<< Ye sail neither lose plack nor bawbee o' your 
ttller, man,. if ye will gie me but a. month to make a 
shift for it— I swear to you, ye sail neither lose, nor 
me the deedir But if ye winna grant me that wee 
wee while, when the bread of a iiaill family depends 
on it, ye're waur than ony deil that^s yammering and 
em:sing T the bottomless pit" 

36 THE siibpheud's calendar. 

" Keep your ravings to yoursell, Mrs Irvine, for I 
hae made up my mind what Tm to do; and Til do it; 
sae it's heedless for ye to pit yoursell into a bleeze ; 
for the surest promisers are aye the slackest payers. 
It isiia likely that your bad language will gar me alter 
my purpose." 

" If that be your purpose, Mr Adamson, and if you 
put that purpose in execution, I wadna change condi- 
tions wi' you the day for ten thousand times a' the 
gear ye are' worth. Ye*re gaim to do the thing that 
ye'll repent only aince — for a* the time that ye hae to 
exist baith in this world and the neist, and that's a 
lang lang look forrit and ayohd. Ye have assisted a 
poor honest family for the purpose of taking' them at 
a disadvantage, and crushing them to beggars ; and 
when ane thinks o' that, what a heart you must hae I 
Ye hae first put my poor man in prison, a place where 
he little thought, and less deserved, ever to be ; and 
now ye are reaving his sackless family out o' their last 
bit o' bread. Look at this bit bonny innocent thing 
in my arms, how it is smiling on ye I Look at a' the 
rest standing leaning against the wa's, ilka ahe wi' his 
een fixed on you by way o' imploring your pity I If 
ye reject thae looks, ye'll ^ee them again in some try- 
ing moments, that will bring this ane back to your 
mind ; ye will see them i* your dreams ; ye will see 
them on your death-bed, and ye will think ye see 


them gleaming on ye through the reek o* hell, — bat it 
'wimia be them," 

** Hand your longae, woman, for ye make me feared 
to hear ye." 

*< Ay, but better be feared in time, than torfelled 
for ever ! Better conqness your bad humour for aince, 
than be conquessed for it through sae mony lang ages. 
Ye pretend to be a reUgioua man, Mr Adamson, and 
a great deal mair sae than your neighbours— do yon 
' think that religion teaches you acts o' cruelty like^tliis ? 
Will ye hae the face to kneel afore your Maker the 
night, and pray for a blessing on you and yours, and that 
He will foigive you your debts as you forgire your 
debtors ? I hae nae doubt but ye will. But aih I how 
sic an appeal will heap the coals o' divine yengeance 
on your head, and tighten the belts o' burning yettlin 
ower your hard heart I Come forrit, bairns, and speak 
for yoursells, ilk ane o' ye." 

^< O, Maister Adamson, ye mannna turn my father 
and mother out o' their house and their farm ; or what 
think ye is to come o' us ?** said Thomas. 

No ccmsideration, however, was strong enough to 
turn Adamson from his purpose. The sale went on ; 
and still, on the calling off of every favourite animal, 
Mrs Irvine renewed her anathemas. 

<< Gentlemen, this is the mistress's favourite cow, 
and gives thirteen pints of milk every day. She is 


valued in my rovp-roll at fifteen jiounds ; bat we sbaU 
begin ber at ten. Does any body say ten pounds for 
this excellent cow ? ten pounds-*— ten poonds ? No- 
body says ten pounds ? Gentlemen, this is extiuor- 
dinary I Money is surely a scarce article here to-day. 
Well, then, does any gentleman say five pounds to 
begin this excellent cow that gives twelve pints of 
milk daily ? /Five ponnds-M>nly five pounds I— -No- 
body bids five pounds ? Well, the stock must posir 
^ tively be sold without reserve. Ten shillings for the 
cow'-'^ten shiUipgs—ten shillingB«-*-Will nobody bid 
ten dhiilings to set the sale a-going ?** 

" m gie five-and-twenty shillings fw her," cried 

<< Hiank you, sir. One pound five^-^one pfnmd five> 
and just a-going. Once — twice— Mrice. Mr Adam- 
son, one pound five." ■- ■ 

Mrs Irvine came forward, drowned in tears, with 
the babe in her arms, and patting the cow^ she said, 
'< Ah, poor lady Bell, this is my last sight o' you, 
and the last time I'll clap your honest side I And hae 
we really been deprived o' your support for the mi- 
serable sum o' five-and-twenty shillings? — my curse 
light on the head o' him that has done it I In the name 
of my destitute bairns I curse him ; and does he think 
that a mother's curse will sink fizzenless to the ground ? 
Na, na I I see an ee that's locking down here in pity 


and in anger ; and I 9ee a hand that's gathering the 
hfAta o' HeaTen thegither, for some purpose that I 
eoold divine, hut danma utter* But that hand is an- 
eniBg, and where ft throws the boh, there it will strike. 
Fareweel, poor beast I ye hae supplied ns wi^ mony a 
inesl, but ye will nerer supply ns wi' another*** 

Hhs sale at Kirkhengh was on the 11th of July. 
On the day following^ Mr Adamson went up to the 
folds in the hope, to shear his sheep, with no fewer 
than tweoty'^ve attendants, consisting of all his own 
seryants and cottars, and about as many neighbouring 
ihepherds whom he had collected ; it being customary 
for the iJEumers to assjst one pother reciprocally on 
these occasions. Adamson continued more than usu- 
aDy capricious and unreasonable all that forenoon. He 
W9S discontented with himself; and when a man is ill 
pleased with himself, he is seldom well pleased with 
othefs. He seemed altogether left to the influences of 
ihe Wicked One, running about in a rage, finding fault 
witli every thing, and every person, and at times cur* 
ong bitterly, a practice to which he was not addicted ; 
90 that the sheep-shearing, that used to be a scene of 
hilarity among so many young and old shepherds, lads, 
lasses, wives, and callants, was that day turned into 
oae of gloom and dissatisfaction. 

After a number of other provoking outrages, Adam^ 
son at length, with the buiBting-iron which he held in 


his handy struck a dog helonging to one of his own 
shepherd hoys, till the poor animal fell senseless on the 
ground, and lay sprawling as in the last extremity. 
This brought matters to a point which threatened no- 
thing but anarchy and confusion ; for every shepherd's 
blood boiled with indignation, and each almost wished 
in his heart that the dog had been his own, that he 
might have retaliated on the tyrant. At the time the 
blow was struck, the boy was tending one of the fold- 
doors, and perceiving the p%ht of his faithful animal, 
he ran to its assistance, lifted it in his arms, and hold- 
ing it up to recover its breath, he wept and lamented 
over it most piteously. " My poor little Nimble !" 
he cried ; ^^ I am feared that mad body has killed ye, 
and then what am I to do wanting ye ? I wad ten 
times rather he had strucken mysell !*' 

He had scarce said the words ere his master caught 
him by the hair of the head with the one hand, and be- 
gan to drag him about, while with the other he struck 
him most unmercifully. When the boy left the fold- 
door, the imshom sheep broke out, and got away, to 
the hill among the lambs and the clippies; and the far- 
mer being in one of his <^ mad tantrums," as the ser- 
vants called them, the mischance had almost put him 
beside himself; and that boy, or man either, is in a 
ticklish case who is in the hands of an enraged person 
far abdve him in strength. 


The sheep-shearers paused, and the girls screamed, 
when they saw their master lay hold of the boy. Bat 
Robert Johnston, a shepherd from an adjoining fiurm* 
flung the sheep from his knee, made the shears ring 
against the fold-dike, and in an instant had the farmer 
by both wrists, and these he heki with snch a grasp, 
that he took the power out of his arms ; for Johnston 
was as far above the farmer in might, as the letter was 
above the boy. 

'< Mr Adamson, what are ye abont?" he cried; 
" hae ye tint yonr reason a'thegither, that ye are gaon 
on rampauging like a madman that gate ? Ye hae done 
the thing, sir, in yonr iU-timed rage, that ye onght to 
be ashamed of baith afore God and man.'* 

<< Are ye for fighting, Rob Johnston?" said the 
fanner, struggling to free himself. '^ Do ye want to 
hae a fight, lad ? Because if ye do, I-ll maybe gie you 
mough o' that." 

^ Na, sir, I dinnia want to fight ; but I winna let yon 
fight either, unless wi' ane that's your equal ; sae gie 
ower spraughling, and stand still till I speak to ye ; for 
an ye winna stiand to hear reason^ T\\ gar ye lie till ye 
hear it. Do ye consider what ye hae been doing even 
now ? Do ye consider that ye hae been striking a poos* 
orphan callant, wha has neither fathier nor mother to 
protect him, or to right his tirrangs ? and a' for naething, 
but a bit start o' natural affection ? How wad ye like 

42 THE shepherd's CAIiENDAR. 

sir, an ony body were to gtiide a bairn o' yours that 
gate ? .and ye as little ken what they are to come to 
af<»B their deaths, as that boy's parents did when they 
were rearing and fondling ower him. Fie for shame^ 
Mr Adamson ! £e for shame I Ye first strak his po<ff 
dtunb brute, which was a greater sin than thetithery 
for it didna ken what ye were striking it for ; and then^ 
because the callant ran to assist the only creature he 
has on the earth, and Fm feared the <Hdy true and 
faitfafii' Mend beside, ye claught him by the hair o' the^ 
bead, and fell to tfaedadding him as he war your slave I 
Od, sur, my blood rises at sic an act o* cruelty and in* 
justice ; and gin I thought ye worth my while, I wad 
tan ye like a pellet for it*" 

The farmer struggled and fought so viciously, that 
Johnston was obliged to throw him down twice over/ 
somewhat roughly, and hold him by main force. But 
on laying him down the second time, Johnston aaid^ 
** Now, sir, I just tell ye, that ye deserve to hae your 
banes weel throoshen ; but ye're nae mal^ for m^ 
and 111 scorn to lay a tip on ye, Fl} leave ye to Him 
niioJiaa declared himself the stay jond. shield of the 
orphan; and gin some visible testimony o' his dispLeap 
sure dinna come ower ye for the abusing of his ward, 
I am right sair mistaken." 

Adamson, finding himself fairly mastered, and that 
no one seemed disposed to take his part, was obliged 


to give in, and went sullenly away to tend the hinei 
that stood beside the fold. In the mA^ntimf^ the sheep* 
liifimng went on as before, with a little more of hilarity 
sod glee. It is the business of the lasses to take the 
ewes, and carry them from the fold to the clippers ; 
and now might be seen every young shepherd's sweet- 
hearty or h,Yowntef waiting beside him^ helping him to 
dip, or holding the ewes by the hind legs to make 
Ibem lie easy , a great matter for the furtherance of the 
sperator. Others again, who thought themselves 
digfated, or loved a joke, would continue to act in a 
di&rait manner, and plague the youths by bringing 
them such sheep as it was next to impossible to dip. 

^< Aih, Jock lad, I hae brought you a grand ane tfaia 
tunel Ye will dank the shears ow^ her, and be the 
fim done o' them, a' I" 

^ My truly, Jessy, but ye hae gi*en me ane I I de* 
dare the beast b woo to the doots and the een holes ; 
and albre I gijBt the fleece broken up, the rest will bo 
dooew Ah, Jessy, Jessy I ye're working for a nusduef 
die day ; and yell maybe get it.** 

^ She's a baw sonsie sheep, Jodc I ken ye like 
to hae your ^rms wed filled. She'll amaist fill them 
SB weel as Tibby Tod«" 

"^ Th^e's for it nowl there's for it! What care I 
for Tibby Tod, dame? Ye are the most jedous el( 
Jessy, that ever drew coat ower head. But wba was't 

44 THE shepherd's calendar. 

that sat half a night at the side of a grey stane wi' tf 
crazy cooper ? And wha was't that gae the poor pre* 
centor the whiskings, and reduced a' his sharps to 
downright flats ? An ye cast up Tihhy Tod ony mair 
to me, I'll tell something that will gar thae wild eea 
reel i' your head, Mistress Jessy," 

" Wow, Jock, but I'm unco wae for ye now. Pooif 
fellow! It's really very hard usage! If ye cannft 
clip the ewe, man, gie me her, and I'll tak her to ani- 
ther ; for I canna bide to see ye sae sair put about. 1 
winna bring ye aiiither Tibby Tod the day, take my 
word on it. The neist shall be a real May Henderscxfr 
o' Firthhope-cleuch — ane, ye ken, wi' lang legs, and « 
good lamb at her fit." 

*^ Gudesake, lassie, baud your tongue, and dimift 
afiront baith yoursell and me. Ye are fit to gar ane'A 
cheek bum to the bane. I'm fairly quashed, and daur- 
na say anither word. Let us therefore hae let-a-be for 
let-a-be, which^s good baims's greement, till after thto 
close o' the day sky ; and then I'll tell ye my mind.'* 

*' Ay, but whilk o* your minds will ye tell me, 
Jock? For ye will be in five or six different anes 
afore that time. Ane, to ken your mind, wad need to 
be tauld it every hour o' the day, and then cast up the 
account at the year's end. But how wad she settle it 
then, Jock ? I femcy she wad hae to multiply ilk year's 


minds by dozens, and divide by four, and then we a' 
ken what wad be the quotient.** 

" Aih wow, sirs ! heard ever ony o* ye the like o' 
that ? For three things the sheep-faold is disquieted, 
and there are four which it cannot bear." 

" And what are they, Jock ?'* 

^< A witty wench, a woughing dog, a waukit-woo'd 
wedder, and a pair o' shambling shears.*' 

Afier this manner did the gleesome chat go oo, now 
that the surly goodman had withdrawn from the scene. 
Bat this was but one couple ; every pair being enga* 
ged according to their biasses, and after their kind- 
some settling the knotty points of divinity; others 
telling auld-warld stories about persecutions, forays, 
and fairy raids ; and some whispering, in half sen- 
tences, the soft breathings of pastoral love. 

But the farmer's bad humour, in the meanwhile 
was only smothered, not extinguished; and, like a 
flame that is kept down by an overpowering weight of 
fael, wanted but a breath to rekindle it ; or like a bar- 
rel of gunpowder, that the smallest spark will set in a 
blaze. That spark unfortunately fell upon it too soon. 
It came in the form of an old beggar, ycleped Patie 
Maxwell, a well-known, and generally a welcome 
guest, over all that district. He came to the folds for 
his annual present of a fleece of wool, which had ne- 
ver before been denied him ; and the farmer being the 

46 THE shepherd's calendar. 

first person he came to/ he approached him, as in 
spect hound, accosting him in his wonted ohseqiiiaas 

" Weel, gademan, how*s a* wi* ye the day ?"— (No 
answer.) — " This will he a thrang day w'ye ? Hott 
are ye getting on wi* the clipping ?" 

" Nae the hetter o' you, or the like o' you. Grang 
away hack the gate ye came. What are ye coming 
doiting up through amang the sheep that gate for, 
putting them a' tersyversy ?" 

*' Tut, gudemaOf what does the sheep mind an anld 
creeping hody like me ? I hae done nae ill to your 
pickle sheep ; and as for ganging hack the road I cam^ 
111 do that whan I like, and no till than.'' 

<< But ril make you hlithe to turn hack, auld vaga- 
hond I Do ye imagine I'm gaun to hae a' my clippers 
and grippers, huisters and hinders, laid half idle, gaff- 
ing and giggling wi' you ?" 

<^ Why, then, speak like a reasonable man, and a 
courteous Christian, as ye used to do, and Tse crack 
wi' yoursell, and no gang near them." 

" I'll keep my Christian cracks for others than auld 
Papist dogs,^ I trow." 

" Wha do ye ca* auld Papist dogs, Mr Adamson ? 
— ^Wha is it that ye mean to denominate by that fine- 
sounding title ?" 

" Just you, and the like o' ye. Pate. It is weel 


kenn'd that ye are as rank a Papist as ever kissed a 
crosier, and that ye were out in the very fore-end o* 
the unnatural Rebellion, in order to subvert our reli- 
^on^ and place a Popish tyrant on the throne. It is a 
shame for a I^testant parish like this to support ye, 
and gie you as liberal awmosses as ye were a Chris- 
tian saint. For me, I can tell you, yell get nae mae 
at my hand ; nor nae rebel Papist loun amang ye.** 

^^ Dear sir, ye're surely no yoursell the day ? Ye 
hae kenn'd I professed the Catholic religion these 
thretty years—it was the faith I was brought up in, 
and that in which I shall dee ; and ye kenn'd a' that 
time that I was out in the Forty-Five wi' Prince 
Charles, and yet ye never made mention o' the facts, 
nor refused me my awmos, till the day. But as I hae 
been obl^ed t ye, TU baud my tongue ; only, I wad 
advise ye as a friend, whenever ye hae occasion to 
speak of ony community of brother Christians, that ye 
will in fature hardly make use o' siccan harsh terms. 
Or, if ye will do't, tak care wha ye use them afore, 
and let it no be to the face o' an auld veteran.'* 

^ What, ye anld profane wafer-eater, and worship- 
pa: of graven images, dare ye heave your pikit kent at 

^ I hae heaved baith sword and spear against mony 
a better man ; and, in the cause o' my religion, I'll do 
It again. 

48 THE shepherd's calendar. 

He was proceeding, but Adamson's choler rising to 
an ungoyemable height, he drew a race, and, running 
against the gaberlunzie with his whole force, made 
him fly heels-oyer-head down the hill. The old man's 
bonnet flew oflF, his meal-pocks were scattered about, 
and his mantle, with two or three small fleeces of wool 
in it, rolled down into the bum. 

The servants obserred what had been done, and one- 
dderly shepherd said, ^< In troth, sirs, our master is no 
himsell the day. He maun really be looked to. It 
appears to me, that sin' he roupit out yon poor family 
yesterday, the Lord has ta'en his guiding arm frae 
about him. Rob Johnston, ye'U be obliged to rin to 
the assistance of the auld man." 

<< I'll trust the auld Jacobite for another shake wi' 
him yet," said Rob, " afore I steer my fit; for it 
strikes me, if he hadna been ta'en unawares, he wad 
hardly hae been sae easily coupit." 

The gaberlunzie was considerably astounded and 
stupified when he first got up his head ; but finding 
all his bones whole, and his old frame disencumbered 
of every superfluous load, he sprung to his feet, shook 
his grey burly locks, and cursed the aggressor in the 
name of the Holy Trinity, the Mother of our Lord, 
and all the blessed Saints above. Then approaching 
him with his cudgel heaved, he warned him to be on 
his guard, or make out of his reach, else he would 



send him to eternity in the twinkling of an eye. Tlie 
fiirmer held tip his staff across, to defend his head 
against the descent of old Patie's piked kent, and, at 
the same time, made a break in, with intent to dose 
with his assailant ; but, in so doing, he held down his 
head for a moment, on which the gaberlonzie made a 
swing to one side, and lent Adamson such a blow over 
tbe neck, or back part of the head, that he fell vio- 
lently on his face, after running two or three steps 
precipitately forward. The beggar, whose eyes gleam- 
ed with wild fury, while his grey locks floated over 
them like a winter cloud over two meteors of the 
night, was about to follow up his blow with another 
more efficient one on his prostrate foe ; but the farm- 
er, perceiving these unequivocal symptoms of danger, 
wisely judged that there was no time to lose in provi- 
ding for his own safety, and, roiling himself rapidly 
two or three times over, he got to his feet, and made 
his escape, though not before Patie had hit him what 
he called <^ a stiff lounder across the rumple.'* 

The farmer fled along the brae, and the gaberlunzie 
pursued, while the people at the fold were convulsed 
with laughter. The scene was highly picturesque, for 
the beggar could run none, and still the faster that he 
essayed to run, he made the less speed. But ever and 
anon he stood still, and cursed Adamson in the name 
of one or other of the Saints or Apostles, brandishing 

VOL. I. c 

50 THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

his cudgel, and stamping with his foot; The other, 
keeping still at a small distance, pretended to laugh 
at him, and at the same time uttered such bitter abuse 
against the Papists in general, and old Patie in parti- 
cular, that, after the latter had cursed himself into a 
proper pitch of indignation, he always broke at him 
again, making vain efforts to reach him one more blow. 
At length, after chasing him by these starts about half 
a mile, the beggar returned, gathered up the scattered 
implements and fruits of his occupation, and came to 
the fold to the busy group. 

Patie's general character was that of a patient, jo- 
cular, sarcastic old man, whom people liked, but da- 
red not much to contradict ; but that day his manner 
and mien had become so much altered, in consequence 

of the altercation and conflict which had just taken 


place, that the people were almost frightened to look 
at him ; and as for social converse, there was none to 
be had with him. His countenance was grim, haughty, 
and had something Satanic in its lines and deep wrinkles ; 
and eyer and anon, as he stood leaning against the 
fold, he uttered a kind of hollow growl, with a broken 
interrupted sound, like a war-horse neighing in his 
sleep, and then muttered curses on the farmer. 

The old shepherd before-mentioned, ventured, at 
length, to caution him against such profanity, saying, 
^ Dear Patie, man> dinna sin away your soul, venting 


siccan curses as these. Hiey will a' turn back on your 
ain head ; for what harm can the curses of a poor sin- 
fu' worm do to our master ?** 

^ My curse, sn*, has blasted the hopes of better men 
than either you or him," said the gaberlunzie, in an 
earthcpiake voice, and shivering with vehemence as he 
spoke. ^ Ye may think the like o' me can hae nae 
power wi' Heaven ; but an I hae power wi' hell, it is 
sufficient to cow ony that*s here. I sanna brag what 
effect my curse will have, but I shall say this, that 
either your master, or ony o* his men, had as good have 
anld Patie MarwelFs blessing as his curse ony time, 
Jacobite and Koman Catholic though he be.** 

It now became necessary to bring into the fold the 
sheep that the farmer was tending ; and they were the 
last hirsel that was to shear that day. The farmer's 
face was reddened with ill-nature ; but yet he now 
appeared to be somewhat humbled, by reflecting on 
the ridiculous figure he had made. Patie sat on the 
top of the fold-dike, and from the bold and hardy as- 
severations that he made, he seemed disposed to pro- 
voke a dispute with any one present who chose to 
take np the cudgels. While the shepherds, imder fire 
of the' gaberlunzie's bitter speeches, were sharping 
their shears, a thick black cloud began to rear itself 
over the height to the southward, the front of which 
seemed to be boiling — ^both its outsides rolling rapidly 

52 THE shepherd's calendar. 

forward^ and again wheeling in toward the centre. I 
have heard old Robin Johnston, the stout young man 
mentioned above, but who was a very old man when 
I knew him, describe the appearance of the cloud as 
greatly resembling a whirlpool made by the eddy of a 
rapid tide, or flooded river ; and he declared, to his 
dying day, that he never saw aught in nature have a 
more ominous appearance. The gaberlunzie was the 
first to notice it, and drew the attention of the rest to- 
wards that point of the heavens by the following sin- 
gular and profane remark : — << Aha, lads ! see what's 
coming yonder. Yonder's Patie Maxwell's curse co- 
ming rowing and reeling on ye already; and what 
will ye say an the curse of God be coming backing 

" Gudesake, baud your tongue, ye profane body ; ye 
mak me feared to hear ye," said one. — " It's a strange 
delusion to think that a Papish can hae ony influence 
wi' the Almighty, either to bring down his blessing or 
his curse." 

" Ye speak ye ken nae what, man," answered Pate ; 
" ye hae learned some rhames firae your poor cauld-rife 
Protestant Whigs about Papists, and Antichrist, and 
children of perdition ; yet it is plain that ye haena ae 
spark o' the life or power o' religion in your whole 
frame, and dinna ken either what's truth or what's false- 
hood.^-Ah ! yonder it is coming, grim and gurly ! Now 


I hae called for it, and it is coming, let me see if a' the 
Protestants that are of ye can order it back, or pray it 
away again I Down on your knees, ye dogs, and set 
your mou's up against it, like as many spiritual cannon, 
and let me see if you have influence to turn aside ane 
o' the faailstanes tliat the deils are flaying at chucks wi' 
in yon dark chamber I'* 

*^ I wadna wonder if our clipping were cuttit short," 
said one. 

^< Na, but I wadna wonder if something else were 
cuttit shdrt,'' said Patie ; << What will ye say an some 
o' your weaasons be cuttit short ? Hurraw I yonder it 
comes ! Now, there will be sic a hurly-burly in La- 
verhope as neyer was sin' the creation o' man !'' 

The folds of Larerhope were situated on a gently 
sloping plain, in what is called << the fm-kings of a bum.'* 
Laver-bum runs to the eastward, and Widehope-bum 
runs north, meeting the other at a right angle, a little 
below the folds. It was around the head of this Wide- 
hope that the cloud first made its appearance, and there 
its vortex seemed to be impending. It descended lower 
and lower, with uncommon celerity, for the elements 
were in a turmoiL The cloud laid first hold of one 
height, then of another, till at length it closed oyer and 
around the pastoral group, and the dark hope had the 
appearance of a huge chamber hung with sackcloth. 
The big clear drops of rain soon began to descend, on 

54< THE shepherd's calendar. 

which the shepherds cohered up the wool with hlankets, 
then huddled together under their plaids at tlie side pf 
the foldy to eschew the speat, which they saw was g<^ 
ing to he a terrihle one. Patie still kept undauntedly 
to the top of the dike, and Mr Adamson stood cower- 
ing at the side of it, with his plaid over his head, at a 
little distance from the rest. The haU and rain min- 
gled, now began to descend in a way that had been s^- 
dom witnessed ; but it was apparent to them all that 
the tempest raged with much greater fury in Widehope- 
head to the southward. — Anon a whole volume of light- 
ning burst firom the bosom of the darkness, and quivered 
through the gloom, dazzling the eyes of every b^H)ld- 
er ;^even old Maxwell clapped both his hands on las 
eyes for a space ; a crash of thimder followed the fladi, 
that made all the mountains chatter, and shook the fir- 
mament so, that the density of the cloud was broken 
up ; for, on the instant that the thunder ceased, a niah- 
ing sound began in Widehope, that soon increased to a 
loudness equal to the thunder itself; but it resembled 
the noise made by the sea in a storm. ^' Holy Virgin I" 
exclaimed Patie Maxwell, *< What is this ? What is 
this ? I declai'e we're a' ower lang here, for the dams 
of heaven are broken up ;" and with that he flung him- 
self from the dike, and fled toward the top of a rising 
ground. He knew that the sound proceeded from the 
descent of a tremendous waternspout ; but the rest, not 


conceiving what it was, remained where they were. 
The storm increased every minute, and in less than a 
qi^art^ of an hoar after the retreat of the gaberlonzie, 
they heard him calling out with the utmost earnestness ; 
and when they eyed him, he was jumping Hke a mad- 
man mk the top of the hillock, waving his honnet, and 
screaming omt, ^^ Ran, ye deil's buckies I Run for your 
bore lives I" One of the shepherds, jumping up on the 
dike, to see what was the matter, beheld the bum of 
Widdiope coming down in a manner that could be 
compared to nothiag but an ocean, whose boundaries 
had given way, descending into the abyss. It came with 
a cataract front more than twenty feet deep, as was 
afterwards ascertained by measurement ; for it left suf- 
ident marks to enable men to do this with precision. 
The shepherd called £or assistance, and leaped into the 
Md to drive out the sheep ; and just as he got the fore- 
most of them to take the door, the flood came upon the 
liead of the fold, on which he threw himself over the 
aide-wall, and esciq^ in safety, as did all the rest of 
the people. 

. Not so Mr Adamson's ewes ; the greater part of the 
fairsel being involved in this mighty current. The 
large. fi^d nearest the bum was levelled with the earth 
in one second. Stones, ewes, and sheep-house, all were 
earned bdere it, and all seemed to bear the same 
weight. It must have been a dismal sight, to see so 

56 THE shepherd's calendar* 

many fine animals tumbling and rolling in one irresist- 
ible mass. They, were strong, however, and a few 
plmiged out, and made their escape to the eastward ; 
a greater number were carried headlong down, and 
thrown out on the other side of Laver-bum, upon the 
sjide of a dry hill, to which they all escaped, some of 
^em considerably maimed ; but the greatest nimiber 
of all were lost, being overwhelmed among the rubbish 
of the fold,. and entangled so among the falling dikes, 
and. the torrent wheeling and boiling amongst them, 
that escape was impossible. The wool .was totally 
sw;ept away, and all either lost, or so much spoiled, 
that, when afterwards recovered, it was imsaleable. 
. When first the flood broke in among the sheep, an<i 
the. women began to run screaming to the hills, and the 
despairing shepherds to fly about, unable to do any 
thing, Patie began a-laughing with a loud and hellish 
gufifaw, and in that he continued to indulge till quite 
exhausted. << Ha, ha, ha, ha I what think ye o' the 
auld beggar's curse now? Ha, ha, ha, ha I I think it 
has been backit wi' Heaven's and the deil's baith. Ha^ 
ha, ha, ha !" And then he mimicked the thunder with 
the most outrageous and ludicrous jabberings, turning 
occasionally up to the cloud streaming with lightning 
imd hail, and calling out,— .<< Louder yet, deils ! louder 
yet I Kindle up. your crackers, and yerk away I Rap, 
rap, rap, rap — Ro-ro, ro, ro — Roo— Whush," 


<< I daresay that body's the vera deeril himsell in the 
shape o* the auld Papish beggar !" said one, not think- 
ing that Patie conld hear at such a distance. 

«< Na, na, lad, I'm no the deH" cried he in answer ; 
^ but an I war, I wad let ye see a stramash ! It is a 
sublime thing to be a Roman Catholic amang sae mony 
weak apostates ; but it is a sublimer thing still to be a 
deil— a master-spirit in a forge like yon. Ha, ha, ha, 
ha I Take care o' your heads, ye cock-chickens o' Cal- 
vin — ^take care o' the auld Coppersmith o' the Black 

' From llie moment that the first thunder-bolt shot 
from the doud, the countenance of the farmer was 
changed. He was manifestly alarmed in no ordinary 
degree; and when the flood came rushing from the dry 
mountains, and took away his sheep and his folds be- 
f<Nre his eyes, he became as a dead man, making no ef- 
fort to save his store, or to give directions how it might 
be done. He ran away in a cowering posture, as he 
had been standing, and took shelter in a little green hol- 
low, out of his servants* view. 

The thunder came nearer and nearer the place where 
the astonished hinds were, till at length they perceived 
the bolts of flame striking the earth around them, in 
every direction ; at one time tearing up its bosom, and 
at another splintering the rocks. Robin Johnston, in 
describing it, said, that << the thunnerbolts came shim- 


58 THE shepherd's gauqndar. 

mering out o* the cludd sae thick, that they appeared 
to he linkit thegither, and fleeing in a' direction^. 
There war some o' them hlue, some o' them red, and 
some o' them like the colom: o* the lowe of a eandle ; 
some o' them diving into the earth, and some o' them 
springing np out o' the earth and darting into the 
heayen/' I cannot Touch for the truth of this, hut I am 
sure my informer thought it true, or he would not have 
told it ; and he said farther, that when old Maxwell 
saw it, he cried — '< Fie, tak care, cuhs o' hell I fie, tak 
care I cower laigh, and sit sicker ; for your auld dam is 
aboon ye, and aneath ye, and a' round about ye. O 
for a good wat nurse to spean ye, like John Adamson's 
lambs I Ha, ha, ha V* — The lambs, it must be observed, 
had been turned out of the fold at first, and none of 
them perished with their dams. 

But just when the storm was at the height, and ap- 
parently passing the boimds ever witnessed in theso 
northern climes ; when the embroiled elements were 
in the state of hottest convulsion, and when our little 
pastoral group were every moment expecting the next 
to be their last, all at once a lovely << blue bore," frin- 
ged with downy gold, opened in the doud behind, and 
in five minutes more the sim again appeared, and all 
was beauty and serenity. What a contrast to the scene 
so lately witnessed I 

The most remarkable circumstance of the whole 


was^peilu^s the contrast between the two burns. The 
bum of Layerhope never changed its colour, but con* 
tiniied pure, limpid, and so shallow, that a boy mi§^ 
haTB stepped over it dry-shod, all the while that the 
other bncn was coming in upon it like an ocean broken 
loose, and carrying all before it. In mountainous dis- 
tricts, howeror, instances of the same kind are not in- 
frequent in times of summer speats* Some other dr^ 
comstances omnected with tins storm, were also de- 
scribed to me : The storm coming from the south, over 
a low-lying, wooded, and populous district, the whole 
of the crows inhabiting it posted away up the glen of 
Larerhope to avoid the fire and fury of the tempest. 
** Thore were thoosands and thoosands came up by us,** 
said Robin, << a' laying theirsells out as they had been 
mad. And then, whanever the bright bolt played flash 
through the darkness, ilk ane o' them made a dive and 
a wheel to avoid the shot : For I was persuaded that 
they thought a' the artillery and musketry o* the haill 
coomtry were loosed on them, and that it was time for 
them to tak the gate. There were likewise several 
colly dogs can^e by us in great extremity, hinging out 
their tongues, and looking aye ower their shouthers, 
rinning straight on they kenn'dna where ; and amang 
other things, there was a black Highland cow came 
roaring up the glen, wi' her stake hanging at her 

60 THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

When the gush of waters subsided, all the group, 
men and women, were soon employed in pidling out 
dead sheep from among rubbish of stones, banks of 
gravel, and pools. of the burn; and many a row of 
carcasses was laid out, which at that season were of no 
use whatever, and of course utterly lost. But all the 
time they were so engaged, Mr Adamson came not 
near them ; at which they wondered, and some of them 
remarked, that << they thought their master was fey the 
day, mae ways than ane." 

" Ay, never mind him," said the old shepherd, 
f< hell come when he thinks it his ain time; he's a 
right sair himibled man the day, and I hope by this 
time he has been brought to see his errors in a right 
light. But the gaberlunzie is lost too. . I think he be 
sandit in the yird, for I hae never seen him sin' the 
last great crash o' thunner." 

<< He'll be gane into the howe to wring his duds," 
said Robert Johnston, << or maybe to make up matters 
wi' your master. Gude sauf us, what a profane wretch 
the auld creature is I I didna think the muckle homed 
deil himsell could hae set up his mou' to the heaven, 
andbraggit and blasphemed in sic a way. He gart 
my heart a' grue within me, and dirle as it had been 
bored wi' reid-het elsins." 

- ** Oh, what can ye expect else of a Papish ?" said 
the old shepherd, with a deep sigh, " They're a* deil's 


baims ilk ane, and a' employed in canying on their 
fiEidier's wark. It is needless to expect gade branches 
firae sic a stock, or gade fruit frae siccan branches." 

<< There's ae wee bit text that folks should never 
lose ught oV' said Robin, << and it's this, — < Judge not, 
that ye be not judged.' I think," remarked Robin, when 
he told the story, << I think that steekit their gabs T* 

The evening at length drew on ; the women had 
gone away home, and the neighbouring shepherds had 
scattered here and there to look after their own flocks. 
Mr Adamson's men alone remained, lingering about 
the brook and the folds, waiting for their master. 
They had seen him go into the little green hollow, and 
they knew he was gone to his prayers, and were un- 
willing to disturb him. But they at length began to 
think it extraordinary that he should continue at his 
prayers the whole afternoon. As for the beggar, though 
acknowledged to be a man of strong sense and sound 
judgment, he had never been known to say prayers all 
his life, except in the way ^f cursing and swearing a 
little sometimes ; and none of them could conjecture 
what was become of him. Some of the rest, as it grew 
late, applied to the old shepherd before oft mention- 
ed, whose name I have forgot, but he had herded with 
Adamson twenty years — some of the rest, I say, ap- 
plied to him to go and bring their master away home, 
thinking that perhaps he was taken ill. 

62 THE shepherd's calendar. 

<< O, I'm unco laith to disturb him/' said the old 
man ; << he sees that the hand o' the Lord has fa'en 
heavy on him the day, and he's humbling himsell afore 
him in great bitterness o' spirit, I daresay. I count it 
a sin to brik in on sic devotions as thae." 

<< Na, I carena if he should lie and pray yonder till 
the mom," said a young lad, ^< only I wadna like to 
gang hame and leave him lying on the hill, if he should 
hae chanced to turn no weel. Sae, if nane o'. ye will 
gang and bring him, or see what ails him, I'll e'en gang 
mysell ;" and away he went, the rest standing still to 
await the issue. 

When the lad went first to the brink of the little 
sladc where Adamson lay, he stood a few moments, as 
if gazing or listening, and then turned his back and 
fled. The rest, who were standing watching his mo- 
tions, wondered at this ; and they said, one to another, 
that their master was angry at being disturbed, and had 
been threatening the lad so rudely, that it had caused 
him to take to his heels. But what they thought most 
strange was, that the lad did not fly towards them, but 
straight to the hill ; nor did he ever so much as cast 
his eyes in their direction ; so deeply did he seem to 
be impressed with what had passed between hun 
and his master. Indeed, it rather appeared that he 
did not know what he was doing ; for, after running a 
space with great violence, he stood and looked back, 


amJ then broke to the hill again — alwajrs looking fint 
o¥^ the one shonldery and then over the other. Then 
he stppped a second time, and retnmed cantionaly to* 
wank the spot where his master reclined ; and all the 
while he never so mnch as once tnmed his eyes in the 
direction of his neighbours, or seemed to remember 
that tkej were there. His motions were strikingly er- 
ratic ; for all, the way, as he returned to the qx>t whow 
hi^ master was, he continued to advance by a cigng 
course, like a vessel beating up by short tacks ; and s^ 
veral times he stood stiU, as on the very point of re* 
treating.. At length he vanished from their si^t in the 
little hollow. 

. It was not long till the lad again made his appear- 
ance, shouting and waving his cap for them to coma 
likewise ; on which they all went away to him as £mI 
as they could, in great amazement what could be the 
matter. When they came to the green hollow, a shock- 
ing ^^tacle presented itself : There lay the body ol 
^ir master, who had been struck dead by the light* 
ning ; and, his right side having been torn open, hit 
bowels had gushed out, and were lying beside the bo- 
dy. The earth was rutted and ploughed close to his 
side, and at his feet there was a hole scooped out, a 
fxdl yard in depth, and very much resembling a grave. 
He had been cut off in the act of prayer, and the body 
was StiU lying in the position of a man praying in the 

64 THE shepherd's calendar. 

field. He had been on his knees, with his elbows lean- 
ing on the brae, and his brow laid on his folded hands ; 
his plaid was drawn over his head, and his hat below 
his arm; and this affecting circumstance proved a 
great source of comfort to his widow afterwards, when 
the extremity of her suffering had somewhat abated. 

No such awful visitation of Providence had ever 
been witnessed, or handed down to our hinds on the 
ample records of tradition, and the impression which 
it made, and the interest it excited, were also without 
a paralleL Thousands visited the spot, to view the 
devastations made by the flood, and the furrows form- 
ed by the electrical matter ; and the smallest circum- 
stances were inquired into with the most minute cu- 
riosity : above all, the still and drowsy embers of su- 
perstition were rekindled by it into a flame, than 
which none had ever burnt brighter, not even in the 
darkest days of ignorance ; and by the help of it a 
theory was made out and believed, that for horror is 
absolutely unequalled. But as it was credited in its 
fullest latitude by my informant, and always added by 
him at the conclusion of the tale, I am bound to men- 
tion the circumstances, though far from vouclung them 
to be authentic 

It was asserted, and pretended to have been proved, 
that old Peter Maxwell teas not in the glen ofLaveV" 
hope that day^ but at a great distance in a different 


connty, and that it was the deril who attended the 
folds in his likeness. It was farther beiieFed by all 
the people at the folds, that it was the last explosion 
of the whole that had slain Mr Adamson; for they 
had at that time obs^ved the side of the brae, where 
the litde green slack was situated, covered with a 
sheet of flame for a moment. And it so happened, 
that thereafter the profane gaberlonzie had been no 
more seen ; and therefore they said — and here was the 
most horrible part of the story— there was no doubt 
of his being the devil, waiting for his prey, and that 
he fled away in that sheet of flame, carrying the soul 
of John Adamson along with him. 

I never saw old Pate Maxwell, — for I believe he 
died before I was bom; but Robin Johnston said, 
that to his dying day, he denied having been within 
forty miles of the folds of Laverhope on the day of 
the thunder-storm, and was exceedingly angry when 
any one pretended. to doubt the assertion. It was 
likewise reported, that at six o'clock afternoon a 
stranger had called on Mrs Irvine, and told her, that 
John Adamson, and a great part of his stock, had been 
destroyed by the lightning and the hail. Mrs Irvine's 
house was five miles distant from the folds ; and more 
than that, the farmer's death was not so much as 
known of by mortal man until two hours after Mrs 
Irvine received this information. The storm exceeded 

66 THE shepherd's calendab, 

any thing remembered, either for its violence or con- 
sequences, and these mysterious circumstances haying 
been bruited abroad, gave it a hold on the minds of the 
populace, never to Jbe erased but by the erasure of ex- 
istence. It fell out on the 12th of July, 1753. 

The death of Mr Copland of JV^nnigapp, in Annaa- 
dale, forms another era of the same sort. It happen- 
ed, if I mistake not, on the 18th of July, 1804. It 
was one of those days by which all succeeding thun« 
der-storms have been estimated, and from which they 
are dated, both as having taken place so many years 
before, and so long after. 

Adam Copland, Esquire, of Minnigapp, was a gen- 
tleman esteemed by all who knew him. Handsome 
in lus person, and el^ant in his manners, he was the 
ornament of rural sodiety, and the delight of his. family 
and friends ; and his loss was felt as no common mis- 
fortune. As he occupied a pastoral faun of consi- 
derable extent, his own property, he chanced ■ like- 
wise to be out at his folds on the day above-mentum- 
ed, with his own servants, and some neighbours, wean- 
ing a part of his lambs, and shearing a few sheep. 
About mid-day the thunder, lightning, and hail, eam6 
on, and deranged their operations entirely ; and, among 
other things, a part of the lambs broke away from the 
folds, and being in great fright, they continued to run 
on* Mr Copland and a shepherd of his, named Thomas 


Scotty pursued tbeniy and, at the distance of about half 
1 mijbe from the folds, they tamed them, mastered 
them, after some numing, aad were hringing them 
hack to the fold, when the dreadful catastrophe hap- 
•gened. Thomas Scott was the only perMm present, of 
coiuse ; and though he was within a few steps of his 
master at the time, he could give no account of any 
Jhing. I am well acquainted with Scott, and have 
questioned him about the particulars fifty times ; but 
he could not so much as tell me how he got back to 
the fold ; whether he brought the lambs with him or 
not ; how long the storm continued ; nor, indeed, any 
thing after the time that his master and he turned the 
Jambs. That circumstance he remembered perfectly, 
but th^ceforwaid his mind seemed to have become a 
blank* I alumld likewise have mentkmed, as an in- 
stance of the same kind of deprivation of consdons* 
ness, that when the young lad who Went first to the 
body of Adamson was questioned why he fied from the 
body at fiirst, he. denied that ever he fled ; he was not 
conscious of having fled a foot, and never would have 
belieyed it, if he had not been aeea by four eye-wit- 
nesses. The only things of which Thomas Scott had 
any impressions were these : that, when the lightning 
struck his master, he sprung a great height into the 
air, much higher, he thought, than it was possible for 
any man to leap by his own exertion. He also thinks. 

68 THE shepherd's calendar. 

that the place where he fell dead was at a considerahle 
distance from that on which he was struck and leaped 
from the ground ; hut when I inquired if he judged 
that it would he twenty yards or ten yards, he could 
give no answer — he could not tell. He only had an 
impression that he saw his master spring into the air, 
all on fire ; and, on running up to him, he found him 
quite dead. If Scott was correct in this, (and he be- 
ing a man of plain good sense, truth, and integrity, 
there can scarce be a reason for doubting him,) the 
circimistance would argue that the electric matter by 
which Mr Copland was killed issued out of the earth. 
He was speaking to Scott with his very last breath ; 
but all that the survivor could do, he could never re^ 
member what he was saying. Some melted drops of 
silver were standing on the case of his watch, as well 
as on some of the buttons of his coat, and the body 
never stiffened like other corpses, but remained as 
supple as if every bone had been softened to jelly, 
fie was a married man, scarcely at the prime of life, 
and left a young widow and only son to lament his 
loss. On the spot where he fell there is now an obelisk 
erected to his memory, with a warning text on it, rela- 
ting to the shortness and imcertainty of human life. 




<< Bring me my pike-staff, daughter Matilda, — the 
one with the head turned round like crummy a horn ; 
I find it easiest for my hand. And do you hear, 
Matty ? — Stop, I say ; you are always in such a hurry. 
— Bring me likewise my best cloak, — not the tartan 
one, but the grey marled one, lined with green flanneU 
I go oyer to Shepherd Gawin's to-day, to see that poor 
young man who is said to be dying.** 

^ I would not go, father, were I you. He is a 
great reprobate, and will laugh at every good precept ; 
and, more than that, you will heat yourself with the 
walk, get cold, and be confined again with yoi|( old 

'< What was it you said, daughter Matilda ? Ah, 
you said that which was very wrong. God only knows 
who are reprobates, and who are not. We can judge 
from nought but external evidence, which is a false 
ground to build calculations upon ; but He knows the 

70 THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

heart, with all our motives of action, and judges very 
differently from us. You said very wrong, daughter. 
But women will always be speaking unadvisedly. Al- 
ways rash ! always rash I — Bring me my cloak, daugh- 
ter, for as to my being injured by my walk, I am go- 
ing on my Master s business ; my life and health are 
in his hands, and let him do with me as seemeth good 
in his sight ; I will devote all to his service the little 
while I have to sojourn here." 

<< But this young man, father, is not only wicked 
himself, but he delights in the wickedness of others. 
He has ruined all his associates, and often not without 
toiling for it with earnest application. Never did your 
own heart yearn more over the gaining of an immortal ' 
soul to God and goodness, than this same yoimg profli- 
gate's bosom has yearned over the destruction of one." 

<< Ah I it is a dismal picture, indeed ! but not, per- 
haps, so bad as you say. Women are always disposed 
to exaggerate, and often let their tongues outrun iheir 
judgments. Bring me my cloak and my staff, daugh- 
ter Mat. Though God withdraw his protecting arm 
from a fellow-creature for a time, are we to give all up 
for lost ? Do you not know that his grace aboundeth 
to the chief of sinners ?" 

<< I know more of this youth than you do, my dear 
{ather ; would to Heaven I knew less I and I advise 
you to stay at home, and leave him to the mercy of 

72 THE shepherd's calendar. 

know that he has most basely betrayed his sister, your 
darling Euphemia." , 

Old Isaac's head snnk down, while some tears in- 
voluntarily dropped on hir knee ; and to conceal his 
emotion, he remained silent, save that he uttered a few- 
stifled groans. Natural affection and duty were at 
strife within him, and for a time neither of them would 
yield. His daughter perceived the struggle, and con- 
tented herself with watching its effects. 

<< Where is my cloak, daughter Matilda ?" said he^ 
at length, without raising his head. * . 

<< It is hanging on one of the wooden knags in thfe 
garret, sir," swd she. 

" Ay. Then you may let it hang on the knag where 
it is all day. It is a weary world this ! and we are 
all guilty creatures ! I fear I cannot converse and pray 
with the ruthless seducer of both my children." 

« Your resolution is prudent, sir. All efforts to re-, 
gain such a one are vain. He is not only a reprobate, 
and an outcast from his Maker, but a determined and 
avowed enemy to his laws and government." 

" You do not know what you say, daughter," 'said 
old Isaac, starting to his feet, and looking her sternly 
in the face. '< If I again hear you presume to prejudge 
any accountable and immortal being in such a man- 
ner, I shall be more afraid of your own state than of 
his. While life remains, we are in a land where re- 


74 THE shepherd's calendar. 

light on the head of my father/' said Matilda, as she 
ioUowed with her eye the bent figore of the old man 
Jbasting with tottering steps over the moor, on the road 
that led to Shepherd Gawin's ; and when he vanished 
horn her view on the height, she wiped her eyes, drew 
the window screen, and applied herself to her work. 

Isaac lost sight of his own home, and came in view 
of Shepherd Gawin's at the same imtant ; but he only 
gave a slight glance back to his own, for the eon<^m 
that lay before him dwelt on his heart. It was a con- 
,cem of life ahd death, not only of a temporal, but of 
a spiritual and eternal nature ; and where the mbrtiS 
conc^ns are centred, on that place, or towards that 
place, will the natural eye be turned. Isaac looked 
<mly at the dwelling before him : All wore a solemli 
stillness about the place that had so often resounded 
with rustic mirth ; the cock crowed not at the door H6 
was his wont, nor strutted on tibe top of his old dm^ 
hill, that had been accumulating there for ages, and 
had the appearance of a small green moimtain; but 
he sat on the kailyard dike, at the head of his mates, 
with his feathers ruffled, and every now and then hb 
one eye turned up to the «ky, as if watching some ai>- 
pearance there of wliich he stood in dread. The blkbd- 
-some collies camJB not down the grefen to bark mnd 
frolic half in kindness and half in jealousy ; theiy lay 
coiled up <m the shelf of the hay^-stack^ and m the' sthm- 


geri^proadhedy lifted <q> thm heads and viewed him 
with a sullen and sleepy eye, then, nttering a low and 
stifled growl, muffled their heads again between their 
iund fciet, and shrouded their social natures in the very 
depth of sull^nness. 

** This is either the abode of death, or deep mourn- 
ing, or perhaps both," said old Isaac to himself, as he 
approached the hotise ; '< and all the domestic animals 
ve affected by it, and join in the general dismay. If 
•this young man has departed with the eyes of his un- 
dcretanding blinded, I have not been in the way of my 
duty. It is a hard case that a blemished lamb shoiuld 
be cast out of the flock, and no endeavour made by the 
ahepbard to heal or irecall it ; that the poor stray thing 
should be left to perish, and lost to its Master^s fold. 
It behoveth not a fedthful shepherd to suffer this ; and 
yet — Isaac, thou a^ the maA ! May the Lord pardon 
his Servant iil this thing T 

The scene continued predsely the same until Isaac 
reiushed the tolitary dwelling. There was no one pass- 
ing in or out by the door, nor any human creature to 
be seen stirring, save a little girl, oiie of the family, 
trh6 bad beeii away meeting the carrier to procure 
somfe medicines, and who approached the house by a 
different patL Isaac wajs' first at the door, and on 
reachinig it he heard a conftised noise within, like the 
sounuds of weeping asHi praying commingled* Unwill- 

76 THE shepherd's calendar. 

ing to break in upon them, ignorant as he was how 
matters stood with the family, he paused, and then with 
a soft step retreated to meet the little girl that ap- 
proached, and make some inquiries of her. She tried 
to elude him by running past him at a little distance, 
but he asked her to stop and tell him how all was 
within. She did not hear what he said, but guessing 
the purport of his inquiry, answered, <^ He's nae better, 
sir." — << Ah me I still in the same state of suffering ?** 
— " Aih no, — no ae grain, — I tell ye he's nae better 
ava." And with that she stepped into the house, Isaac 
following close behind her, so that he entered without 
being either seen or announced. The first soimds that 
he could distinguish were the words of the dying youth; 
they had a hoarse whistKng sound, but they were the 
words of wrath and indignation. As he crossed the 
hallan he perceived the sick man's brother, the next to 
him in age, sitting at the window with his elbow lean- 
ing on the table, and his head on his closed fist, while 
the tints of sorrow and anger seemed mingled on his 
blunt countenance. Farther on stood his mother and 
elder sister leaning on each other, and their eyes shaded 
with their hands, and dose by the sick youth's bed- 
side ; beyond these kneeled old Gawin the shepherd, 
his fond and too indulgent father. He held the shri- 
velled hand of his son in his, and with the other that 
of a damsel who stood by his side : And Isaac heard 


Ittm oonjiiriiig his son in the name of the God of hea* 
yen. Here old Isaac's voice interrnpted the affecting 
scene. ^< Peace be to this house, — may the peace of 
the Almighty be within its walk,** said he, with an 
aadible voice. The two women nttered a stifled shriek^ 
and the dying man a ^ Poh ! poh I" of abhorrence. 
Old Grawin, though he did not rise from his knees, 
gazed roimd with amazement in his fuce ; and looking 
first at his dying son, and then at old Isaac, he drew a 
foU breath, and said, with a quiyering voice, ** Sorely 
the hand of the Almighty is in this !" 

There was still another object in the apartment well 
worthy of the attention of him who entered — ^it was 
the damsel who stood at the bedside ; but then she 
stood with her back to Isaac, so that he could not see 
her &ce, and at the sound of his voice, she drew her 
doak over her head, and retired behind the bed, sobbing 
so, that her bosom seemed like to rend. The cloak was 
similar to the one worn that day by old Isaac, for, be 
it remembered, he had not the gaudy tartan one about 
him, but the russet grey plaid made to him by his be* 
loved daughter. Isaac saw the young woman retiring 
behind the bed, and heard her weeping ; but a stroke 
like that of electricity seemed to have affected the 
nerves of all the rest of the family on the entrance of 
the good old man, so that his attention was attracted 
by those unmediately under his eye. The mother and 


4aughter whispered to each other in great perplexity. 
Old Gawia rose from his knees ; and not knowing well 
what to say or do, he diligently wiped the dust from 
the knee-caps oi his corduroy breeches, even descend- 
ing to the minutiae of scraping away some specks xacMre 
adhesive than the, rest, with the nail of his nud finger. 
]^o one welcomed the old man> and the dying youth 
in the bed grumbled these bittar words, ^ I see now 
on what errand Ellen was sent I Confound your offi* 
ci^usnesB I,** . 

" No, Graham, . you ore mistaken* The child w^as 

at T r to meet the carrier for your drogs," said old 


r.*^ Poh I pohl all of a piece with the rest of the 
stuff you hare told me. CcHne hith^, Ellen, and let; 
me see what the doctor has sent."' — The girl came near,: 
and gave some vials with a sealed Erection. 
; <*^ So you got these at T r ^ did you?" ' 
• >^ Yes, I got them from Jetsy Clapperton ; the car- 
rier was. away." 

- *^ Lying imp I who told you to say that ? Answer, 
me I" — The child was mute and looked frightened.- — 
u Oh ! I see how it is I You have done very well, my 
dear, very cleverly, you give very iajr promise. Get 
me some clothes, pray-^I will try if I can leave this 

^^ Alas,, my good friends, what is this ?" said Isaac ; 


M ite young' man's reason, I fear, is wmTering. Grood 
Gawin, why do jou not give me your hand ? I am ex- 
tremely sorry for yoiir son's great bodily sufferings, and 
for wkat yon and yom family must suffer mentally on 
Ua aceonnt. How are yon ?" 

^ Ri^it weel, sir — as weel as may be expected," 
said GEAwia, taking old Isaac's hand, hot not once lift* 
ing kis eyes £rom the ground to look the good man in 
ihe face. 

^ And how are you, ^ood dame ?" continued Isaac, 
shakiAg hands with die old woman. 

^ Right wefel, thanks t'ye, sir. It is a canld day this^ 
Ye'U be eauld?" 

^ Oh no^ I rafther feel warm.^' 
^ Ay, ye have a comfortable plaid for a day like this ; 
a good ptaid'itW 

^ I like, to hear you say so, Agnes, for that plaid 
waa a Christmaa present to me, ^m one tdio has now 
been several years in the cold grave. It was lAade to 
me by my kind and beloved daughter £upky. But 
enough of ti^ — I see y<m have some mantles in the 
house of the very satne kind." 

^ No; not the saineu We have none of the same 
here/' . 

<< Well, the same or nearly so, — it is all one. My 
sight often deceives me now.'*— ^The fiEimily all looked 
fit one anotb0r.-->< But enough of this," continued old 

80 THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

Isaac, ^^ I came not thus far to discuss such matters. 
The sick young man, from what I heard, I fear, is in- 
capable of spiritual conversation ?** 

<< Yes, I am,'' said he, from the bed, with a squeak- 
ing voice; ^^ and I would this moment that I were 
dead I Why don't you give me my clothes ? Sure 
never was a poor imfortunate being tormented as I 
am I Won't you have pity on me, and let me have a 
little peace for a short time ? It is not long I will 
trouble you. Is it not mean and dastardly in you all 
to combine against an object that cannot defend him- 

" Alack, alack 1" said old Isaac, " the calmness of 
reason is departed for the present. I came to converse 
a little with him on that which concerns his peace 
here, and his happiness hereafter : to hold the mirror 
up to his conscience, and point out an object to him, 
of which, if he take not hold, all his hope is a wreck." 

« 1 knew it I I knew it !" vociferated the sick man. 
<< A strong and great combination : but I'll defeat it, — 
ha, ha, ha I I tell you. Father Confessor, I have no 
right or part in the object you talk of. I will have no 
farther concern with her. She shall have no more of 
me than you shall have. If the devil should have all, 
that is absolute — ^Will that suffice ?" 

" Alas I he is not himself," said old Isaac, " and 
has nearly been guilty of blasphemy. We must not 


tW€f tearft fall on tlie board, which he fonned with his 
ftirdlnger into the initials of his name ; the little • girl 
looked from one to another, and wondered what ailed 
^lem all, then casting down her eyes, she tried to look 
d^tront, bnt they would not be restrmned. The dying 
youth, who at the beginning testified the utmost im* 
pCitience, by degrees became the most affected of all. 
His featnres first grew composed, then rueful, and 
finally he turned himself on his face in humble pros- 
Mtion. Isaac pleaded ferrently with the Almighty, 
^at tbe sufferers days might be lengthened, and that 
be'tnigfat not be'cut off in the bloom of youth, andex^ 
ub«'ancie> of levity^-^^t that seascm when man is more, 
apt to speak than calculate, and to act than consider,' 
even though speech should be crime,, and action irre- 
trievable ruin. *^ Spare and recover him, O merciful 
Father, yet for a little while," said he, << that he may 
have his eyes opened to see his ruined state both by. 
nature and by wicked works ; for who among us Uveth 
and sumeth not, and what changes may be made in his 
dispositions in a few years or a few months by thy for- 
bearance ? Thou takest no pleasure in the death of 
sinners, but rathea* that all should repent, and turn imto 
thee, and live ; therefore, for his iminortal soul s sake> 
and for the sake of what thy Son hath suffered for 
mined man, spare him till he have time and space to re* 
pent« Should his youthful mind have been tainted 

with tke pM^nAiBf rioe of mfiddity, to that he brth 
htf^ t^Bpted to liik up fab voice against the mott ■»» 
cred troths ; and should he, iftievll the profa&e, hauw 
lieea'ffoH<rwhiy hia faidhuitioaB rather than his ji»dg>* 
n«at, iiow n h^notrprepared to ahide the final resolt ? 
e^ tirbe iMlheM into the rery midst of those gloriovB 
leaiMelr Whidh he hath hitherto treated as a fietiott? 
And how shall he stand hefore thee, when he di8eovef% 
W6 latc^ lliat there Is indeed a God, whose being and 
atcribtitee he hath doubted, a Saviour whom he hath 
des p ised^ a heaven into which he cannot enta>, and a 
heH whidi he ten never escape ? Perhaps he hath been 
instramental in unhinging the principles of others, and 
flff iriisleadiiig some unwary being from the paths of 
trtidi and holiness ; and in the flush of reckless depTap* 
vity, may even have deprived some innocent, loving, 
and trnftting being of virtue, and left her a prey to 
soiTow and despair ; and with these and more grievoiui 
<^riibes on his head,-^l unrepented and unatoned,-— 
how shall he appear before thee ?" 

At this part of the prayer, the sobs behind the bed 
became so auchble, that it made the old man pause 
ni ^e midst of his fervent supplications ; and the dy- 
ing yxKitfi was heard to weep in suppressed breathings. 
Isaac went on, and prayed still for the sufferer as one 
insensible to all that passed ; but he prayed so earnest^ 
ly for his fcH^veness, for the restoratiott of his righi^ ^ 

84 THE shepherd's calendar. 

reason, and for health and space for repentance and 
amendment, that the sincerity of his heart was appa- 
rent in every word and erery tone. 

When he rose from his knees there was a deep si- 
lence ; no one knew what to say, or to whom to address 
lumself ; for the impression made on all their minds 
was peculiarly strong. The only motion made for a 
good while was by the soft young man at the table, 
who put on his bonnet as he was wont to do after 
prayers ; but remembering that the Minister was pre- 
sent, he slipped it off again by the ear, as if he had 
been stealing it from his own head. At that instant 
the dying youth stretched out his hand. Isaac saw it, 
and looking to his mother, said he wanted something. 
^ It is yours — ^your hand that I want,'' said the youth, 
in a kind and expressive tone. Isaac started, he had 
judged him to be in a state of delirium, and his sur- 
prise may be conceived when he heard him speak with 
calmness and composure. He gave him his hand, but 
from what he had heard fall from his lips before, knew 
not how to address him. << You are a good man," said 
the youth, " God in heaven reward you I" 

<< What is this I hear ?" cried Isaac, breathless with 
asUMlishment. << Have the disordered senses been rai- 
ded in one moment ? Have our unworthy pray^^ in- 
deed been heard at the throne of Omnipotence, and an- 
swered so suddenly ? Let us bow otirselves witb 


gratitade and adoratioiw And for the^ my dear yoni^ 
friend, be of good cheer ; for there are better thingt 
intended towards thee. Thou shalt yet live to repent 
of thy sins, and to become a chosen vessel of mercy in 
the house of him that saved thee." 

*^ If I am spared in life for a little while," said the 
youA, ^ I shall make atonement for some of my trans* 
gressions, for the enormity of ndiich I am smitten to 
the heart." 

<< Trust to no atonement you can make of your* 
self," cried Isaac fervently. << It is a bruised reed, to 
^diich, if you lean, it will go into your hand and pierce 
it ; a shelter that will not break the blast. You must 
trust to a higher atonement, else your repentimce shall 
he as stubble, or as chaff that the wind carrieth away." 

<< So disinterested I" exclaimed the youth. << Is it 
my wellbeing alone over which your soul yearns? 
This is more than I expected to meet with in human-^ 
ity ! Good father, I am imable to speak more to yon 
to-day, but give me your hand, and promise to come 
back to see me on Friday. If I am spared in life, you 
shall find me all that you wish, and shall never more 
have to charge me with ingratitude." 

In the zeal of his devotion, Isaac had quite forgot 
all personal injuries ; he did not even remembet that 
there were such beings as his grandchildren in ex- 
istence at ^t time ; but when the young man said, 

86 THE shepherd's calendar. 

that ^' he should find him all that he wished, and that 
he would no more he ungrateful/' the sohs and weep- 
ing hebind the bed grew so audible, that all fiarther 
exchange x>f sentiments was interrupted. The youth 
grasped old Isaac's hand, and motioned for him to go 
away; and he was about to comply, out of respect for 
the feelings of the sufferer, but before he could widi- 
draw his hand from the bed, or rise fit-om the seat on 
which he had just sat down, the weeping fair one burst 
jfrom behind the bed ; and -falling on Ins knees with her 
face, she seized his hand with both hers, kissed it an 
hundred times, and bathed it all over with her tears. 
Isaac's heart was at all times sof^ and at that particu- 
lar time he was in a mood to be melted quite ; he tried 
to. soothe the damsel, though he himself was as much 
affected as she was — ^but as her mantle was still over 
her head, how could he know her ? His old dim eyes 
were, moreover, so much sujQFused with tears, that he 
did not perceive that mantle to be the very same with 
his own, and that one hand must have been the maker 
of both. *' Be comforted," said old Isaac ; << he will 
mend — He will mend, and be yet a stay to you and to 
them all — be of good comfort, dear love." 
M When he had said this, he wiped his eyes hastily 
imd impatiently with the lap of his plaid, seized his 
old pike-staff^; and as he tottered across the floor, 
^*8wing up his plaid around hss waist? its purple rus- 


tic coIo«iB amf^ kk eye, dim as it was ; and he per^ 

oeiyed that it was not hb tartan one with the gaudjr 

spukglesj hwd the grey marled one that was made to 

Um by his beloved daaghter* Who can trace the linka 

of association in the human mind ? The chain is. more 

angM, more oblique, than the course marked out by 

the bolt of heaveub-^as momentarily formed, and a^ 

^pickly lost. In aU cases, they are indefinable, but on 

the mind of old age, they glance like dreams and n« 

sions of something that have been, and are for ever 

gone. The instant that Isaac s eye fell on his mantle^ 

he looked hastily and involuntarily around him, first 

on the one side and then on the other, his visage ma>* 

nifestiiig trepidatiim and uncertainty. <* Pray what 

have you lost, sir ?** said the kind and officious dame* 

<< I cannot tell what it was that I missed," said old 

Isaac, << but methought I felt as if I had left something 

bdbmd me that was mine.*' Isaac went away, but left 

not a dry eye in the dwelling which he quitted. 

On leavii^ the cottage he was accompanied part of 
the way by Grawin, in whose manner there still re- 
mained an unaccoujitable degree of embarrassment. 
His conversation laboured under a certain restraint, in* 
somiich that Isaac, who was an observer of human na* 
ture, could not help taking notice of it ; but those who 
have never witnessed, in the same predicament, a home* 
bred, honest countryman, accustomed to speak his 

88 THE shepherd's calendar. 

thoughts freely at all times, can form no conception of 
the appearance that Gawin made. From the time that 
the worthy old man first entered his cot, till the time 
they parted again on the height, Gawin's lips were curl- 
ed, the one up, and the other down, leaving an inordi- 
nate extent of teeth and gums displayed between them ; 
whenever his eyes met those of his companion, they 
were that instant withdrawn, and, with an involuntary 
motion, fixed on the summit of some of the adjacent 
hills ; and when they stopped to converse, Gawin was 
always laying on the ground with his staff, or beating 
some unfortunate thistle all to pieces. The one family 
had suffered an injury from the other, of a nature so 
flagrant in Gawin's eyes, that his honest heart could not 
brook it; and yet so delicate was the subject, that 
when he essayed to mention it, his tongue refused the 
office. << There has a sair misfortune happened," said 
he once, << that ye aiblins dinna ken o\ — ^But it's nae 
matter ava!" And with that he fell on and beat a 
thistle, or some other opposing shrub, most unmerci- 

There was, however, one subject on which he spoke 
with energy, and that was the only one in which old 
Isaac was for the time interested. It was his son's re- 
ligious state of mind. He told Isaac, that he had form- 
ed a corre(Ct opinion of the youth, and that he was in- 
deed a scoffer at religion, because it had become fa- 


aUonable in certain college classes, where religion was 
never mentioned but with ridicule ; but that his infi- 
delity sprang from a perverse and tainted inclination, 
in opposition to his better judgment, and that if he 
could have been brought at all to think or reason on 
the subject, he would have thought and reasoned 
aright ; this, however, he had avoided by every means, 
seeming horrified at the very mention of the subject, 
and glad to escape from the tormenting ideas that it 
brought in its train. — *< Even the sight of your face to- 
day," continued Grawin, << drove him into a fit of tem- 
porary derangement. But from the unwonted docili- 
ty he afterwards manifested, I have high hopes that 
this visit of yours will be accompanied by the blessing 
of Heaven. He has been a dear lad to me ; for the 
sake of getting him forret in his lair, I hae pinched 
baith mysell and a* my family, and sitten down wi' 
them to mony a poor and scrimpit meal. But I never 
grudged that, only I hae whiles been grieved that the 
rest o' my family hae gotten sae little justice in their 
schooling. And yet, puir things, there has never ane 
o' them grieved my heairt, — ^which he has done aftener 
than I like to speak o'. It has pleased Heaven to pu- 
nish me for my partiality to him ; but I hae naething 
for it but submission. — Ha I do ye ken, sir, that that 
day I first saw him moimt a poopit, and heard him be- 
gin a discourse to a croudit congregation, I thought a' 

90 THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

my pains and a' my pinching poverty overpaid. For the 
first quarter of an hour I was sae upliftit, that I hardly 
kenn'd whether I was sitting, standing, or flying in the 
air, or whether the kirk was standing stiU, or rimdng 
round ahout. But, alake I afore the end o' his twa dis- 
courses, my heart turned as cauld as lead, and it has 
never again hett in my hreast sinsyne. They were twa 
o' thae cauldrife moral harangues, that tend to uplift 
poor wrecked, degei^erate human nature, and rin down 
divine grace. There was nae dependence to he heard 
tell o' there, heyond the weak arm o' sinfu' flesh ; and 
oh, I thought to mysell, that will afford sma* comfort,, 
my man, to either you or me, at our dying day !" 

Here the old shepherd became so much ovei7)ower- 
ed, that he could not proceed, and old Isaac took up 
the discourse, and administered comfort to the sorrotlr- 
ing father : then shaking him kindly by the hand, he- 
proceeded on his way, while Gawin returned slowly 
homeward, still waging war with every intrusive and 
superfluous shrub in bis path. He was dissatisfied 
with himself becaase he bad not sp<^en his mind to a 
person who so well deserved his confidence, on a sub-^ 
ject that most of all preyed on bis heart* 

Matilda^ who sat watching the path by which her 
father was to return home, beheld him as soon as he 
came in view, and continued to watch him all the way. 
lyith that tender solicitude which is only prompted by 

92 THE shepherd's calendar. 

assured her of the contrary — ^his right-hand sleeve was 
wringing wet ; and there was even a dampness between 
his shoulders, which was exceedingly dangerous, as it 
was so nearly opposite the heart. In short, old Isaac's 
whole apparel had to be shifted piecemeal, though not 
without some strong remonstrances on his part, and 
the good-natured quotation, several times repeated, 
from the old song : 

^' Nought's to be won at woman's hand, 
Unless ye gie her a' the plea.*' 

When she had got him all made comfortable to her 
mind, and his feet placed in slippers well-toasted be- 
fore the fire, she then began her inquiries. << How did 
you find all at Gawin's to-day, now when I have got- 
ten time to speir ?" 

" Why, daughter Matty, poorly enough, very poor- 
ly. But, thanks be to God, I think I left them some- 
what better than I found them." 

<< I am so glad to hear that I I hope you have taken 
Graham over the coals about Phemy?" 

« Eh I about Phemy ?" 

" You know what I told you before you went away ? 
You were not so unnatural as to forget your own flesh 
and blood, in commiming with the man who has wrong- 
ed her?" 

'< I did not think more of the matter ; and if I had, 
there would have been no propriety in mentioning it. 


as none of the family ^oke of it to me. And bow 
was I assured that there was no mis-statement? Woman 
are always so rash-spoken, and so fond of exaggeratioB^ 
that I am afi»id to trust them at the first word ; and 
besides, my dear Matty, you know they are apt to set 
iluiigs double sometimes." 

<< Well, my dear father, I must say that your wit, er 
raillery, is very ill timed, consideriug whom it relates 
to. Your grand-daughter has been most basely de- 
ceired, under a pretence of marriage ; and yet you will 
break your jokes on the subject I" 

<< You know, Matty, I never broke a joke on such a 
subject in my life. It was you whom I was joking; 
for your news cannot always be depended on. If I 
were to take up every amour in the parish, upon the 
faith of your first hints, and to take the delinquents 
over the coals, as you recommend, I should often com^ 
mit myself sadly." 

Matilda was silenced. She asked for no instances, 
in order to deny the insinuation ; but she murmured 
some broken sentences, like one who has been fairly 
beat in an argument, but is loath to yield. It was ra* 
ther a hard subject for the good lady ; for ever smce 
she had bidden adieu to her thirtieth year, she had be- 
come exceediDgly jealous of the conduct of the younger 
portion of her sex. But Isaac was too kind-hearted to 
exult in a severe joke ; he instantly added, as a palli- 

94 THE shepherd's calendar. 

stive, ** But I should hold my tongue. You have 
many means of hearing, and coming to the truth of 
such matters, that I have not." 
. <^ I wish this were false, however," said Matilda, 
tnming away her face from the fire, lest the flame 
should scorch her cheek ; ^' but I shall say no more 
fibout it, and neither, I suppose, will you, till it be out 
pf time. Perhaps it may not be true, for I heard, 
rince you went away, that she was to be there to-day, 
by appointment of his parents, to learn his final deter- 
mination, which may be as much without foundation 
as the other part of the story. If she had been there, 
you must have seen her, you know." 

^^ Eh ?" said Isaac, after biting his lip, and making a 
Ictog pause ; " What did you say, daughter Matty ? 
Did you say my Phemy was to have been there to- 

^* I heard such a report, which must have been un- 
true, because, had she been there, you would have inet 
with her." 

; " There was a lass yonder," said Isaac '^ How 
many daughters has Gawin p*' 

" Only one who is come the length of woman, and 
whom you see in the kirk every day capering with her 
liobbs of crimson ribbons, and looking at Will Fergu- 
. << It is a pity women are always so censorious," said 


Isaac — ** always construing small matters the wrong 
way. It is to be hoped these little constitutional fail- 
ings will not be laid to their charge. — So Gawin has 
but one dangbter ?" 

** I said, one that is a grown-up woman. He baa, 
besides, little Ellen ; ' a pert idle creature, who has aft 
eye in ber head that will tell tales some day.*' 

'** Then ^ere was indeed another damsel," said old 
Isaac, " whom i did not know, bnt took her for one of 
the fiunily. Alaike, and wo is me ! Conld I think It 
was my own dear child hanging over the conch of a 
dying man I The girl that I saw was in tears, and deep- 
ly dBPected. She even seized my hand, and bathed it 
wi^ tears* What conld she think of me, who neither 
named nor kissed her, but that I had cast her off and 
r^iomiced her ? But no, no, I can never do that ; I 
will forgive her as heartily as I would beg for her foiw 
giveness at the throne of mercy. We are all fallible and 
offending creatures ; and a young maid, that grows vp 
as a willow by the water-courses, and who is in the 
flusb of youth and beauty, ere ever she has had a mo- 
ment's time for serious reflection, or one trial of world- 
ly expierience-^that such a one should fall a victim to 
practised guilt, is a consequence so natural, that, how^ 
ever deeply to be regretted, it is not matter of aato^ 
nii^mient. Foot misguided Phemy I Did you indeed 
kneel at my knee, and bathe my hand with your affec- 

96 THE shepherd's calendar. 

tionate tears, without my once deigning to acknowledge 
you? And yet how powerful are the workings of 
nature! They are indeed the workings of the Deity 
himself: for when I arose, all unconscious of the pre- 
sence of my child, and left her weeping, I felt as if I 
had left a part of my hody and hlood hehind me." 

'< So she was indeed there, whining and whimpering 
over her honourahle lover ?" said Matilda. " I wish 
I had heen there, to have told her a piece of my mind ! 
The silly, inconsiderate heing, to allow herself to he 
deprived of fair fame and character hy such a worth- 
less profligate, bringing disgrace on all connected with 
her! And then to go whimpering over his sick-bed I 
— »0 dear love, you must marry me, or I am undone ! 
I have laved you with all my heart, you know, and you 
must make me your wife. I am content to beg my 
bread with you, now that I have loved you so dearly ! 
only you must marry me. Oh dear I Oh dear ! what 
«ball become of me else T' 

" Dear daughter Matilda, where is the presumptuous 
being of the fallen race of Adam who can say. Here 
will I stand in my own strength ? What will the best 
of us do, if left to ourselves, better than the erring, in- 
experienced being, whose turning aside you so bitterly 
censure? It is better that we lament the sins and 
failings of our relatives, my dear Matty, than rail 



against theiii» pnttiiig ounelres into sinful pasftion, and 
diefeby adding one iniquity to another.** 

The aigunent was kept up all that evening, and all 
neact day, with the same effect ; and if either of the 
disputantB had been asked what it was about, neither 
could have told yery precisely: the one attached a 
blame, which the other did not deny ; only there were 
different ways of speaking about it. On the third day, 
which was Friday^ old Isaac appeared at breakfast in 
his Sunday clo^ies, giving thus an intimation of a se- 
cond intended visit to the house of Gawin the shephenl. 
The first cup of tea was scarcely poured out, till tlie 
old subject was renewed, and the debate seasoned with 
a little more salt than was customary between the two 
amiable disputants. Matilda disapproved of the visit, 
and tried, by all the eloquence she was mistress of, to 
make it appear indec(»rous. Isaac defended it on the 
score of disinterestedness and purity of intention ; but 
finding himself hard pressed, he brought forward his 
pixmiise, and the impropriety of breaking it. Matty 
would not give up her point ; she persisted in it, till 
she foiled her father's breakfast, made his hand shake 
so, that he could scarcely put the cup to his head, and, 
after all, staggered his resolution so much, that at last 
he sat in olence, and Matty got all to say herself. She* 
now accounted the conquest certain, and valuing herself 
on the influence she possessed, she began to overburden 

VOL. r. s 

98 THE shepherd's calendar. 

her old father with all maimer of kindness and teasing 
officionsness. Woidd he not take this, and refrain 
from that, and wear one part of dress in preference to 
another that he had on ? There was no end of con- 
troyersy with Isaac, however kind might he the intent. 
All that he said at that time was, << Let me alone, 
dear Matty ; let me have some peace. Women are 
always overwis^ — always contrary." 

When matters were at this pass, the maid-servant 
came into the room, and annoimced that a little girl of 
shepherd Grawin's wanted to speak with the Minister. 
<< Alas, I fear the yoimg man will he at his rest V* said 
Isaac Matilda grew pale, and looked exceedingly 
alarmed, and only said, << she hoped not.'' Isaac in- 
quired of the maid, hut she said the girl refused to tell 
her any thing, and said she had orders not to tell a word 
of aught that had happened ahout the house. 

" Then something has happened," said Isaac. " It 
must be as I feared I Send the little girl ben." 

Ellen came into the parlour with a beck as quick and 
as low as that made by the water ouzel, when standing 
on a stone in the middle of the water ; and, without 
waiting for any inquiries, began her speech on the in- 
stant, with, " Sir — ^hem — ^heh — ^my father sent me, sir 
— ^hem — ^to tell ye that ye wama to forget your pro- 
mise to come ower the day, for that there's muckle 
need for yer helping hand yonder— sir; that's a', sir." 


<< You may tell your father/* said Isaac, << that 1 will 
oome as soon as I am able. 1 will be there by twelve 
o'clock} God willing." 

<< Are you wise enough, my dear fiAther, to send such 
a message ?** remonstrated Matilda. << You are not able 
to go a journey to-day. I thought I had said enough 
about that before* — You may tell your father," con- 
tinued she, turning to Ellen, <^ that my father cannot 
come the length of his house to-day." 

^ m tell my father what the Minister bade me,* 
replied the girL << I'll say, sir, that yell be there by 
twall o'clock ; — ^will I, sir ?" 

" Yes, by twelve o'clock," said Isaac 

Ellen had no sooner made her abrupt curtsey, and 
left the room, than Matilda, with the desperation of a 
general who sees himself on the point of being driven 
from a position which it had cost him much exertion to 
gain, again opened the fire of her eloquence upon her 
father. " Were I you," said she, " I would scorn to 
enter their door, after the manner in which the profli- 
gate villain has behaved: first, to make an acquaintance 
with your grandson at the College — ^pervert all his 
ideas of rectitude and truth — then go home with him 
to his father's:house, during the vacation, and there live 
at heck and manger, no lady being in the house save 
your simple and unsuspecting Phemy, who now is re- 
duced to the necessity of going to a shepherd's cottage, 



and begging to be admitted to the alliance oi a family, 
the best of whom is iax beneath her, to say nothing of 
the unhappy individual in question. Wo is me, that I 
have seen. the day r 

'^ If the picture be correctly drawn, it is indeed very 
bad ; but I hope the recent sufferings of the young man 
will have the effect of restoring him to the principles in 
which he was bred,, and to a better sense of his heinous 
offences. I must go and see how the family fares, as 
in duty and promise bound. Content yourself, deai* 
daughter. It may be that the unfortunate youth has 
already appeared at that bar from which there is no 

This consideration, as it again astounded, so it put to 
silence the offended dame, who suffered her father to 
depart on his mission of humanity without farther op- 
position ; and old Isaac again set out, meditating as he 
went, and often conversing with himself, on the sinful- 
ness of man, and the great goodness of God. So deep- 
ly was he wrapt in contemplation, that he scarcely cast 
an eye over the wild mountain scenery by which he was 
surroimded, but plodded on his way, with eyes fixed on 
the ground, till he approached the cottage. He was 
there aroused from his reverie, by the bustle that ap- 
peared about the door. The scene was changed indeed 
from that to which he introduced himself two days be- 
fore. The collies came yelping and wagging their tails 


to meet lum, while the inmates of the dwelling wera 
peeping out at the door, and ai quickly vanishing again 
into the intmoir* There were also a pair or two of 
n^gUbonring sheph^fds sauntering about the side of the 
kail-yard dike^ all dressed in their Sunday apparel, and 
every thing beq^eddng some *^ occasion," as any un* 
common oeeuneiiee is generally denominated. 

<< What can it he that is astir here to-day ?*' said 
Isaac to himself'*— ^ Am I brought here to a funeral or 
corpse-dbesting, nithout being i^prised of the event ? 
It must be so. What else can cause such a bustle about 
a house where trouble has so long prevailed ? Ah ! 
there is also old Robinson, my session-clerk and pre- 
cenUn:. He is the true emblem of mortality : then it 
is indeed all over with the poor young man I" 

Now Robinson had been at so many funerals all over 
the country, and was so punctual in his attendance on 
all within his reach, that to see him pass, with his staff, 
and black coat without the collar, was the very same 
thing as if a coffin had gone by. A burial vtras always 
a good excuse for fprmg the boys the play, for a re- 
freshing walk into the country, and was, besides, a fit 
opportunity for moral contemplation, not to say any 
thing of hearing the country news. But there was 
idso anodier motive, whidi some thought was the 
most powerful inducement of any with the old Do- 
mime. It arose from diat longing dedire after pre- 

102 THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

eminence which reigns in every human hreast, and 
which no man fails to improve, however small the cii*- 
cle may he in which it can he manifested. At every 
funeral, in the absence of the Minister, Rohinson was 
called on to say grace ; and when they were both present, 
whenever the Parson took up his station in one apart- 
ment, the Dominie took up his in another, and thus had 
an equal chance, for the time, with his superior. It 
was always shrewdly suspected, that the Cl^k tried to 
outdo the Minister on such occasions, and certainly 
made up in length what he wanted in energy. The ge- 
neral remarks on this important point amoimted to this, 
*^ that the Dominie was langer than the Minister, and 
though he was hardly just sae conceese, yet he meant 
as weel ;" and that, " for the maist part, he was siron^er 
on the grave" Suffice it, that the appearance of old 
Robinson, in the present case, confirmed Isaac in the 
belief of the solemnity of the scene awaiting him ; and 
as his mind was humbled to acquiesce in the Divine 
will, his mild and reverend features were correspondent 
therewith. He thought of the disappointment and suf- 
ferings of the family, and had already begun in his heart 
to intercede for them at the throne of Mercy. 

When he came near to the house, out came old 
Gawin himself. He had likewise his black coat on, 
and his Sunday bonnet, and a hand in each coat-pock- 
et ; but for all his misfortime and heavy trials, he strode 


to the end of the house with a firm and undismayed 
step^r^Ajf he is quite ri^t, thought Isaac to him* 
self; that man has his trust where it should be, fix- 
ed <m the Rode of Ages ; and he has this assurance, 
that the Power on whom he trusts can do nothing 
wT(mg. Such a man can look death in the face, un- 
dismayed, in all his steps and inroads. 

Grawin spoke to some of his homely guests, then 
turned round, and came to meet Isaac, whom he salu- 
ted, by taking off his bonnet, and shaking him heartily 
by the hand* — The bond of restraint had now been 
removed from Grawin's lips, and his eye met the Mi- 
nister's with the same frankness it was wont. The 
face of affidrs was changed since they had last parted. 

" How's a' w'ye the day, sir ? — How's a* w*ye ?— 
I'm unco blythe to see ye," said Gawin. 

<' Oh, quite well, thank you. How are you your- 
self? And how are all within ?" 

<^ As weel as can be expectit, sir — as weel as can 
be expectit." 

'^ I am at a little loss, Gawin — Has any change 
taken place in family circumstances since I was here ?" 

<< Oh, yes ; there has indeed, sir ; a material change 
— -I hope for the better." 

Gawin now led the way, without further words, into 
the house, desiring the Minister to follow him, and 


<< tak' care o' his head and the hauks, and no fa' ower 
the bit sticky for it was sure to be lying i' the dark." 

When Isaac went in, th^re was no one there but the 
goodwife, neatly dressed in her black stuff gofwn, and 
check apron> with a dose Icerchief on her head, well 
crimped in the border, and tied round the crown and 
below the chin with a broad black ribbon. She also 
saluted 1^ Minister with uncommon frankness — 
^' Come away, sir, come away. Dear, dear, how are 
ye, the day ? It s but a slaitery kind o' day this, as I 
was saying to my man, there ; Dear, dear, Gawin, says 
I, I wish the Minister may be nae the waur o' coming 
ower the muir the day. That was joost what I said. 
And dear, dear, sir, how's Miss Matty, sir ? Oh, it is 
lang sin' I hae seen her. I like aye to see Miss Matty, 
ye ken, to get a rattle frae her about the folk, ye ken, 
and a' our neighbours, that fa' into sinfii' gates; for 
there's muckle sin gangs on i' the parish. Ah, ay I I 
wat weel that's very true, Miss Matty, says I. But 
what can folk help it ? ye ken, folk are no a' made o' 
the same metal, as^the aim ta]ig8,-^like yo u ■ ^ ■ " 

— << Bless me with patience I" said Isaac in his 
heart; << this poor womanV misfortunes have c)*azed 
her ! What a salutation for the house of mourning I" 
Iisaac looked to the bed, at liie side of j which he had 
so lately kneeled in devotion, and he looked with a re- 
verent dread, but the corpse was not there ! It was 


neattjT q[Rread with a dlBan eoTorlicL— It is best to 
eonceal the pale and giiodtly f^Btaree of m<Mrtality from 
the gaalte^s eye, 'Aoagltt Isaac It is wisely done, for 
there imilUBg to be seen in them but what is fitted 
for eorhiption* 

^ QlKWia, Ml tiae ye tak* the Minister ben the house, 
or the rest o* the clanjamphery come in ?** said the 
tallcatit^f'dame;'-^^^ Hont, ay, sir, step your ways ben 
the house. We hae a ben end and a but end the day, 
as wed as the best o' them. And ye're ane o' our ain 
folk, ye ken. Ah, ay I I wat weel that's rery true ! 
As I said to my man, Gawin, quo' I, whenerer I see 
OUT Minffiter*8 fate, I tfnnk I see the face of a friend.'' 

<< Gudewife, I hae £ut just ae word to say, by way 
o' remark," said Gawin ; ^ folk wha count afore the 
change-keeper, hae often to count twice, and sae has 
the held, wim counts his hogs afore Beltan. — Come 
this way, sir; follow me, and tak' care o' your head 
and tike banks." 

Isaac followed into the rustic parlour, where he x^as 
intit>dneed to one he little expected to see sitting there. 
This was no <^ther than the shepherd s son, who had 
so long been ftttended on as a dying person, and with 
whom Isaac had so lately prayed, in the most fervent 
devotion, as with one of whose life little hope was en- 
tertained. There he sat, with legs like two poles, 
hai<ds like the hands of a skeleton ; yet his emaciated 

E 2 

106 THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

features were lighted up with a smile of serenity and 
joy. Isaac was petrified. He stood still on the spot, 
even though the young man ros^ up to receive him. 
He deemed he had come there to see his lifeless form 
laid in the coffin, and to speak words of comfort to the 
survivors. He was taken hy surprise, and his heart 
thrilled with unexpected joy. 

" My dear young fHend, do I indeed see you thus ?" 
he said, taking him kindly and gently hy the hand. 
" God has been mercifol to you, above others of your 
race. I hope, in the mercy that has saved you from 
the gates of death, that you feel grateful for your de- 
liverance ; for, trust me, it behoves you to do so, in no 
ordinary degree.*' 

<^ I shall never be able to feel as I ought, either to 
my deliverer or to yourself," said he. " Till once I 
heard the words of truth and seriousness from your 
mouth, I have not dared, for these many years, to 
think my own thoughts, speak my own words, or per- 
form the actions to which my soid inclined. I have 
been a truant from the school of truth ; but have now 
returned, with all humility, to my Master, for I feel 
that I have been like a wayward boy, groping in the 
dark, to find my way, though a path splendidly light- 
ed up lay open for me. But of these things I long ex- 
ceedingly to converse with you, at frdl length and full 
leisiire. In the meantime, let md introduce you to 


Other firiends who are longing for some little notice* 
Thi3 is my sister, sir ; and— shake hands with the Mi- 
nistery Jane— -And do you know this young lady, sir, 
with the. mantle ahout her, who seems to expect a 
word fipom yon, acknowledging old acquaintance ?" 
My eyes are grown so dim now,** said old Isaac, 

that it is with difficulty I can distinguish young peo* 
pie finm one another, unless they speak to me* But 
she will not look up. Is this my dear young friend, 
Mies Mary Sibbet r 

^ Nay, sir, it is not she. But I think, as you two 
i^proadi one another, your plaids appear yery nearly 
the same." 

<< Phemyl My own child Phemy I Is it yourself? 
Why did you not speak ?— But you have been an alien 
of late, and a stranger to me. Ah, Phemy I Riemy ! 
I haye been hearing bad news of you. But I did not 
believe them— no, I would not belieye them." 

Euphemia for a while uttered not a word, but keep* 
ing fast hold of her grandfather's hand, she drew it un- 
der her mantle, and crept imperceptibly a degree near- 
er to his breast. The old man waited for some reply, 
standing as in the act of listening ; till at length, in a 
trembling whisper, scarcely audible, she repeated these 
sacred words— << Father, forgiye me, for I knew not 
what I did I" The expression had the effect desired on 
Isaac's mind. It brought to his remembrance that 

108 THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

gfflciid^ petitiofl^Hhe most fully fraiaght vMi tniercy 
itfMi foi^mc$tof^^tevin'Trtt» uttered on ^aErth> aAd 
bcrw6<i lis'Wkote %^1 er ^oe' to fdllow di^ piittem^ of 
kis^gl^St' Mdst^i. Hit^ eyebeuned with extiltaiion in 
his'R«d<d«iii^'l%K)^i^e^> and he answered, ^< Yes, my 
ekttd, yes. He wlTesfe w*ords you hare^linwoHiiily ta- 
k^i^willfikOt-rt^ti^tte petition of any of Ins repent- 
ant chydi^n,' howete^ great them en^rHiitres may have 
been ;tand^t^fay should '^ch a ci^eatute as I am pre- 
sume to pretend indignation and offence^ at 'aught iVu*- 
tfaer than ' his h%h example' warrants ? May the Al- 

BWghty^iftirigive ydti as I d(>r 

" May Heaven bless and reward you !" "feaid ^ 
yotrng" man* ** But she is' bkmdess-^atn^esd as the 
babe on the knee^ i akme-am the^guilty'per^, tvho 
infringed the lights of hosptt8li!tjr;an^ had iiettlyltt^eii 
the bonds of confidence and l<^ve; ' But I imi h^r^-to- 
day to makeyorofifer at least, what umends k iu-my 
pewer^i^to oJ9c^ her my httHd'in'Wedtoek ; tinifrwhe- 
ther I ^ve ordie,'idie'may Kv^'Without'cftshcoaK^ 
reverend sii^ all d^endi on ycmr fi^t. Witliout your 
i^probation slie will :€onaent to nothing t^nmyittg, that 
^ehado£yided'deeplybylaking bet iowuwilld&e^biit 
nen^t ahoddever iotdtfee her to takenit unffMsedly 
again. It was for this purpose that we-sent for you 
so expres^yto^day,^ namely^ ibat I might entreat your 
consent to 6nr union. I could not be removed from 


home, so that we oioiild not all meet, to know one an- 
iMher^B nundy in any other phoe. We therefore awah 
yonrt yp robttionwith earnest anxiety, as that on whidi 
our future haippiuesi depends* 

After Bome mfld and impressiTe reprehensions, Isaac's 
eoDtoenft was giTen in the most unqoaKfied manner, and 
tiie names were giren in to the old Dominie's hand^ 
wttli pro|ier TOueho^ for die publication of the hana. 
The wlHiole parly ^Dned together at old Gawin's. I was 
there'aiiMmg'die test^and thought to enjoy the party ex- 
oee^ngly ; hut die party was too formal, and too much 
on the reserve before the Minister. I noted down, when 
I went home, all the CouTersation, as far as I could 
remember it, but it is not worth copying. I see that 
Gnwih%femaxk9 are alt measured and pompous, and, 
moreover,' dcHitered in a sort of bastard English, a lan- 
guage whfeh I detest. He considered hiknself as now 
to -lie nearfy connected with the Mame Pamify, and 
looking finward to an eldership in the church, deemed 
it IncnmbiBnton him to talk in amost sage and instmc- 
five manner. The young shepherd, and an associate 
of his, talked of dogs, Cheviot tups, and some rematk- 
ably bonny lasses that sat in the west gallery of the 
cfaurdi. John Orierson of the Hope recited what they 
d^ed ^ lang skelps o' metre,** a sort of homely rhymesi 
that some of them pronounced to be << far ayont Bums's 
fit." And the goodwife ran bustling about ; but when- 

110 THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

ever she could get a little leisure, she gave her tongue 
free yent, without regard either to Minister or Domi- 
nie. She was too well trained in the old homely 
Scotch, to attempt any of the flights, which to Gawin, 
who was more sparing in his Ispeech, were more easy 
to he accomplished. << Dear, dear, sirs, can nae ye eat 
away? Ye hae nae the stamacks o' as mony cats. 
Dear, dear, I'm sure an the flesh he nae good, it sude 
be good, for it neyer saw either braxy or breakwind, 
bleer-«e nor Beltan pock, but was the cantiest crock o' 
the Kaim-law. Dear, dear, Johnie Grierson, tak' an- 
other riye o't, and set a good example ; as I said to my 
man there, Grawin, says I, it's weel kenn'd ye're nae 
flae-bitten about the gab ; and I said yery true too." 

Many such rants did she indulge in, always reminding 
her guests that <' it was a names-gieing-in, whilk was, 
o' a' ither things, the ane neist to a wedding," and of- 
ten hinting at their new and honourable alliance, scarce- 
ly eyen able to keep down the way in which it was 
brought about; for she once went so far as to say, 
'^ As I said to my gudeman, Gawin, says I, for a' the 
fy-gae-to ye hae made, it's weel kenn'd faint heart ne- 
ver wan fair lady. Ay, weel I wat, that's very true, says 
I ; a bird in the hand is worth twa on the bush.— Won 
a' to and fill yoursells, sirs ; there's routh o' mair where 
that came frae. It's no aye the fattest foddering that 
mak's the fa'est aumry — and that's nae lee." 


Miss Matilda, the Minister's maiden daughter, 
in towering indignation about the marriage, and the 
comiezion with a shepherd's fomily ; and it was m- 
moared over all the parish that she would never coun- 
tenance her niece any more. How matters went at 
first it is perhaps as well for Miss MatUda's reputation, 
in point of good-nature, that I am not able to say ; 
but the last time I was at the Manse, the once profli- 
gate and freethinking student had become Helper to 
old Isaac, and was beloved and revoied by idl the pa^ 
rish, for the warmth of his devotion, and soundness of 
his principles. His amiable wife Euphemia had two 
sons, and their aunt Matty was nursing them with a 
fondness and love beyond that which she bore to fife 

In conclusion, I have only further to remark, that I 
have always considered the prayers of that good old 
man as having been peculiarly instrumental in saving 
a wretched victim, not only from immediate death, but 
iitmi despair of endless duration. 

112 THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 



The varkms ways in wbicfa misfortniies afiect dif- 
fereat miadfir, are oft^ so opposite, tbat in xontemph- 
ting tfaem^ we may well be led to snpposedie human 
soiklr animated and directed in some persons by corpo- 
ral functions, formed after a different manner ft^om 
those of others — ^persons of the same family frequ^tly 
difiering imist widely in this respect. 

li will appofor, on a philosophic' scrutiny of human 
fisdingi^ tKat ihe extremes of ' laughing and crying are 
more nearly allied Aan ia sbmetimes believed. With 
children, the one frequently dwindles, or'breaks out into 
the other. I once happened to sit beside a negro, in the 
pit of the Edinburgh theatre, while the tragedy of Dou- 
glas was performiug. As the dialogue between Old Nor- 
val and Lady Randolph proceeded, he grew more and 
more attentive ; his eyes grew very large, and seemed 
set immovably in one direction; the tears started 
from them ; his features went gradually awry ; his un- 


der-1^ duM and tamed to one aide ; and jnat when I 
expected that he was gomg to ay outright, he hunt 
into the moat violent fit of laughter. 

I have a female friend, on whom unfortunate acci- 
dents have the singular effect of causing violent laugh- 
ter, which, with her, is much hotter proportioned to the 
calandtYf than crying is with many others of the sex* I 
have se^i the losing of a rubber at whist, when there 
was every probability that her party would gain it, 
cause her to laugh till her eyes streamed with tears. 
The breaking of s ture^oi, or set of valuable china, 
would quite convulse her. Danger always makes her 
sing, and misfortunes laugh. If we hear her in any 
apartment oi the farm-house, or the offices, singing very 
loud, and very quick, we ace sure something is on the 
pc»nt of going wrong with her ; but if we hear her burst 
out a-lau^^bing, we know that it is past redemption. 
Her memory is extremely defective ; indeed she scarce- 
ly seems to retain any perfect recollection of past 
events ; but her manners are gentle, easy, and engaging ; 
her temper good, and her humour inexhaustible ; and, 
with all her singularities, she certainly enjoys a greater 
share of happiness than her chequered fortune could 
possibly have bestowed on a mind differently consti- 

I have another near relation, who, besides bemg pos- 
sessed of an extensive knowledge in liti^vture, and a 

. 114 THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

refined taste, is endowed with every qualification re- 
quisite to constitute the valuable friend, the tender pa- 
rent, and the indulgent husband ; yet his feelings, and 
his powers of conception, ai*e so constructed, as to ren- 
der him a constant prey to corroding care. No man 
can remain many daysm his company without saying, 
in his heart, << that man was made to be unhappy.'' 
What others view as slight misfortunes, affect him 
deeply; and in the event of any such happening to 
himself, or those that are dear to him, he will groan 
from his inmost soul, perhaps for a whole evening after 
it first comes to his knowledge, and occasionally, for 
many days afterwards, as the idea recurs to him. In- 
deed, he never wants something to make him miser- 
able ; for, on being made acquainted with any favour- 
able turn of fortune, the only mark of joy that it pro- 
duces is an involuntary motion of the one hand to 
scratch the other elbow ; and his fancy almost instan- 
taneously presents to him such a number of difficulties, 
dangers, and bad consequtoces attending it, that though 
I have often hoped to awake him to joy by my tidings, 
I always left him more miserable than I found him. 

I have another acquaintance whom we denomi- 
nate << the Knight," who falls upon a method totally dif- 
ferent to overcome misfortunes. In the event of any 
cross accident, or vexatious circumstance, happening to 
himj he makes straight towards his easy chair — sits 


calmly down upon it— denchee his right hand, with the 
exceptftcm of hb fore-finger, which is suffered to con- 
tinne straight — strikes his fist violently against lus left 
shoulder — keepB it in that position, with lus eyes fixed 
on <Hie particular point, till he has cursed the event and 
all connected with it most heartily, — ^then, with a coun- 
tenance of perfect good-humour, he indulges in a plea- 
sant lau^ and if it is possible to draw a comical or ri- 
diculous inference from the whole, or any part of the 
affidr, he is sure to do it, that the laugh may be kept 
1^. If he fails in effecting this, he again resumes his 
former posture, and consigns all connected with the 
vexatious circumstance to the devil ; then takes another 
good hearty laugh ; and in a few minutes the affjedr is no 
more heard or thought of. 

John Leggat is a bd about fifteen, a character of 
great singularity, whom nature seems to have formed 
in one of her whims. He is not an entire idiot, for he 
can perform many offices about his master's house- 
herd the cows, and run errands too, provided there be 
no dead horses on the road, nor any thing extremely 
ugly ; for, if there be, the time of his return is very un- 
certain. Among other anomalies in lus character, the 
way that misfortunes affect him is not the least striking. 
He once became warmly attached to a young hound, 
which was likewise very fond of him, pajring him all 
the grateful respect so often exhibited by that faithfal 

116 THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

animal. John loved him above all earthly things— - 
some even thought that he loved him better than his 
own fl(^h and blood. The hound one day came to an 
imtimely end. John never got such sport in his life ; 
he was convulsed with laughter when he contemplated 
the features of his dead friend. When about his ordi- 
nary business, he was extremely melancholy ; but when- 
ever he came and looked at the carcass, he was trans- 
ported with delight, and expressed it by the most ex- 
travagant raptures. He next attached himself to a tur- 
key-cock, which he trained to come at his call, and pur- 
sue and attack such pec^e as he pointed out for that 
purpose. John was very fond of this amusement ; but 
it proved fatal to his favoimte— an irritated passenger 
knocked it dead at a stroke. This proved another 
source of unbounded merriment to John ; the stiff half- 
spread wing, the one leg stretched forward, and the 
other back, were' hifimtely amusing ; but the abrupt 
crook in his neck— -his tumed*up eye and open bill 
were quite irresistible-— John laughed at them till he 
Was quite exhausted. Few ever loved their friends 
better than John did while they were alive ; no man 
was ever so much delighted with them after they were 

The most judicious way of encountering misfortunes 
of every kind, is to take up a firm resolution never to 
shrink from them when they cannot be avoided, nor 


yet be tamely ofBicome by tbem, or add to oxa anguish 
byunleBB repiiimgy bnty by a steady aad cheerful per* 
severancis flwiteaYour to make the best of whatever un- 
toward eveiit occurs. To do so, still remains in our 
power ; and it is. a grieyoas loss indeed, with regard to 
fortune ev fanmr, that perseveiance will not, sooner or 
later, orercome. I do not recommend a stupid insen- 
sible apathy with regard to the affairs of life, nor yet 
that listless inactive resignation which persuades a qjau 
to pot his hands in his bosom, and saying, It is the will 
of Heaven, sink under embarrassments without a strug- 
gle. The contempt which is his due will infallibly 
overtake such a man, and poverty and wretchedness 
will press hard upon his dechning years. 

I had an old and valued Mend in the country, who, 
on any. cross accident happening that vexed his associ- 
ates, made always the following observations : ^^ There 
are just two kinds of misfortunes^ gentlemen, at which 
it is foUy either to be grieved or angry ; and these are, 
things that can be remedied, and things that cannot be 
remedied." He then proved, by plain demonstration, 
that the case under consideration belonged to one or 
other of these classes, and showed how vain and uu-i 
profitable it was to be grieved or angry at it. This 
maxim of my friend's may be rather too comprehen- 
sive ; but it is nevertheless a good one ; for a resolu- 
tion to that effect cannot fail of leading a man to the 


118 THE shepherd's CALENDAR, 

proper mode of action. It indeed comprehends all 
things whatsoever, and is as much as to say, that a man 
should never suffer himself to grow angry at all ; and, 
upon the whole, I think, if the matter be candidly 
weighed, it will appear, that the man who suffers him- 
self to be transported with anger, or teased by regret, 
is commonly, if not always, the principal sufferer by it, 
either immediately, or in future. Rage is unlicensed, 
and runs without a curb. It lessens a man's respecta- 
bility among his contemporaries ; grieves and hurts the 
feelings of those connected with him ; harrows his own 
soul ; and transforms a rational and accountable crea- 
ture into the image of a fiend* 

Impatience under misfortunes is certainly one of the 
failings of our nature, which contributes more than any 
other to imbitter the cup of life, and has been the im- 
mediate cause of more acts of ^desperate depravity than 
any passion of the hiunan soul. The loss of fortune or 
flavour is particularly apt to give birth to this torment- 
ing sensation ; for, as neither the one nor the other oc- 
curs frequently without some imprudence or neglect of 
our own having been the primary cause, so the reflec- 
tion on that always furnishes the gloomy retrospect 
with its principal sting. 

So much is this the case that I hold it to be a posi- 
tion almost incontrovertible, that out of every twenty 
worldly misfortunes, nineteen occur in consequence of 


our OWB improdence. Many will tell yon, it was 
owing to saeh and such a Mend's impradence that 
they sustained all their losses. No such thing. Whose 
impmdence or want of foresight was it that trusted 
sadi ft friend, and put it in his power to rain them, 
and redooe the fiBonilies that depended on them for 
suppcHTt, from a state of aflflnence to one of penury and 
hitter regret ? If the abore position is admitted, then 
there is, as I have already remarked, but one right 
and proper way in which misfortunes ought to affect 
us ; namely, by stirring us up to greater circumspec- 
tion and perseverance. Perseverance is a noble and 
inestimable- virtue I There is scarcely any difficulty or 
danger ibat it will not surmount. Whoever observes 
a man bearing up under worldly misfortunes, with un- 
daunted resolution, will rarely fail to see that man ul- 
timately successful. And it may be depended on, 
that circumspection in business is a quality so abso- 
lutely necessary, that without it the success of any 
one will only be temporary. 

The present Laird of J — s — ^y, better known by the 
appellation of Old Sandy Singlebeard, was once a 
common hired shepherd, but he became master of the 
virtues above recommended, for he had picked them 
up in the severe school of misfortune. I have heard 
him relate the circumstances myself, oftener than 
once* ^< My father had bought me a stock of sheep,*' 

120 THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

said he, f^ aad filted me out as a shepherd ; and from 
the pr<^ts <^ tb^se, I had plenty of money to spend, 
and lay out; j^p good clothes ; so that I was accounted 
a thriving. lad) and rather a dashing blade among the 
lasses. Chancing to change my master at a term, I 
sold my sheep to the man who came in my place, and 
bought those of the shepherd that went from the flock 
to which I was engaged* But when the day of pay- 
ment camoj the man who bought: my sheep could not 
pay them, and williout that money, I had not where- 
with to pay mine own. He put me ofiP from week to 
week, until the matter grew quite distressing ; for, as 
the price of shepherds' stock goes straight onward 
from one hand to another, probably twenty, or perhaps 
forty peojde, were all kept out of their right by this 
baclfwardness of my debtor. I craved him for the 
money every two or three days, grumbled, and threat- 
ened a prosecution, till at last my own stock was 
poinded. Thinking I should be disgraced beyond re- 
covery, I exerted what little credit I had, and borrow- 
ed as much as relieved my stock ; and then, being a 
good deal exasperated, resorted immediately to legal 
measures, as they are called, in order to recover the 
debt due to me, the non-payment of which had alone 
occasioned my own difficulties. Notwithstanding eve- 
ry exertion, however, I could never draw a farthing 
from my debtor, and only got deeper and deeper into 



expeoaes to no pmpoee. Many a day it kept me bare 
and busy before I coakl dear my feet» and make my- 
self aa bee and independent as I was before. Thia 
was the beginning of my misfortmMSy b«t it was bat 
the beginning ; year after year I kMt and loat, mitfl 
my litde all was as good as three times sold off at the 
ground ; and at last I was so reduced, that I conld not 
say the clothes I wore were my own* 

<< This win never do, thought I ; they shall cnck 
weU that peraoade me to sell at random aganiL — ^Ae- 
cordin^y, I thenceforth took good care of all my sales 
that came to any amonnt. My rale was, to sell my 
little things, sudi as wool, lambs, and hi dieep, worth 
the money ; and not to part with them tiD I got the 
price in my hand. This plan I nerer roed ; and people 
finding how the case stood, 1 had always plenty of 
merchants; so that i would recommend it to ererj 
man who depends for procuring the means of liring on 
business such as mine. What does it signify to sdl 
your stodc at a great price, merely for a boast, if yon 
never get the money for it? It wiU be long ere that 
make any one rich or independent ! This did all very 
well, but still I found, on looking over my accounts at 
the end of the year, that there were a great many items 
in which I was regularly taken in. My shoemaker 
(Jiarged me half-arciown more for every pair of shoes 
than I could have bought them for in a maiket for 
VOL. I. r 

122 THE shepherd's calendar* 

ready money ; the smith, threepence more for shoeing 
them. My haherdasher s and tailor's accoimts were 
scandalous. In shirts, stockings, knives, razors, and 
even in shirt-neck buttons, I found myself taken in to 
a certain amount. But I was never so astonished, as 
to find out, by the plain rules of addition and subtrac- 
tion, assisted now and then by the best of all practical 
rules — (I mean the one that says, < if such a thing will 
bring such a thing, what will such and such a number 
bring ?') — to find, I say, that the losses and profits in 
small things actually come to more at the long-run, 
than any casual great slump loss, or profit, that usu- 
ally chances to a man in the course of business. Wo 
%o the man who is not aware of this I He is labour- 
ing for that which will not profit him. By a course of 
stiict economy, I at length not only succeeded in clear- 
ing off the debt I had incurred, but saved as much money 
as stocked the farm of Windlestrae-knowe. That proved 
a fair bargain; so, when the lease was out, I took Dod- 
jdysdamms in with it ; and now I am, as you see me, 
the Laird of J — s — y, and farmer of both these besides. 
My success has been wholly owing to this : — misfor- 
tune made me cautious — caution taught me a lesson 
which is not obvious to every one, namely the mighty 
importance of the tioo right-hand columns in addition, 
.The two left-hand ones, those of pounds and shillings, 
every one knows the value of. With a man of any com- 


mon abilities^ those will take eve of ilmiMilrtat ; b«l 
he that neglects the pence and fiuiyngBMrng^oMr!" — 

Any one who reads this will sec down old Single- 
beard as a miser ; hat I scarcely know a Ban l«a» de- 
serving the character. If one is puseni to hear 
settling an accoont with another^ he canncrt hrlfp 
ing him niggardly, owing to his extaordinary mnSkf 
in small matters ; bat there is no Ban whom 
era like better to deal with, owing to hit Ufeh 
and punctnality. He will not pocket a fcrihing thai is 
the right of anyman living, and he is alwavvan the mtdb 
lest some designing fellow ovemacfa bias in theke 881- 
note pardcolars. For all tins, he has assiirted mamw of 
his po(H- relations with money and credit, winm he 
thought them deserving it, or jndged thas it ocpold be 
of any benefit to them ; bat ahrajrs with the utnuu ea t 
injoncdons of seoecy, and an assnnneey that, if ertr 
they hinted the transaction to any one, they fatitsted 
all chance of £ulher assisunoe from hiss. The 
qoence of this has always been, that whik; he 
ing a great deal of good to otherb by his cnsdit, he wis 

railing against the syrten of giving aedit all the whife ; 
so that those who knew him not, took bias Cor a seifidk, 
contracted, chaiiish old rascaL 

He was <mce applied to in behalf of a nephew, who 
had some hir prospects of setting op in bnsineas. He 
thongfat the stake too high, and declined it; for it wis 

124 THG shepherd's calendar. 

a rule with him, never to credit any one so far as to 
put it in hiB power to distress him, or drive him into 
any emharrassment. A few months afterwards, he con- 
sented to become bound for one half of the sum re* 
quired, and the other half was made up by some less 
wealthy relations in conjunction. The bonds at last 
became due, and I chanced to be present on a visit to 
my old fHend Singlebeard, when the yoiug man came 
to request his uncle s quota of the money required. I 
knew nothing of the matter, but I could not help no- 
ticing the change in old Sandy's look, the moment that 
his nephew made his appearance. I suppose he thought 
him too foppish to be entirely dependent on the credit 
of others, and perhaps judged lus success in business, 
on that accoimt, rather doubtful. At all events, the 
old Laird had a certain quizzical, dissatisfied look, that 
I never observed before ; and all his remarks were in 
conformity with it. In addressing the young man, too, 
he used a degree of familiarity which might be war- 
ranted by his seniority and relationship, and the cir- 
cumstances in which his nephew stood to him as an 
obliged party ; but it was intended to be as provoking 
as possible, and obviously did not fail to excite a good 
deal of uneasy feeling. 

" That's surely a very fine horse of yours, Jock ?" 
said the Lairds— -<< Hech, man, but he is a sleek ane ! 


How modi eom does he est in a year, thaa bimter of 
yonrsy Jock?" 

^ Not nnidi, nr, not mnch. He is a yery fine hone 
that, uncle. Look at his shoulder; and see what 
limbs he has ; and what a pastern ! — ^How mnch do 
yon siqipose sndi a horse wonld be worth, now, 

** Why, Jock, I cannot help thinking he is smn^ 
thing like Geordy Dean's dangfater-in-law, — nonghi 
but a spindle-shankit deYil I I wonld not wonder if he 
had cost yon eighteen pounds, that greyhound of a 

^ What a [Mime judge you are ! Why, uncle, that 
horse cost eighty-fiye guineas last autumn. He is a 
real blood horse that ; and has won a great deal of ▼»- 
Inable pkte." 

** Oh I that, indeed, alters the case I And hare yon 
got all that Yaluable plate ?" 

^ Nay, nay ; it was before he came to my hand." 

^ That was rather a pity now, Jock — ^I cannot help 
thinking that was a great pity ; because if you had got 
the plate, you would hare had something you could 
hare called your own<i — So, you don't know how much 
com that fellow eats in a year?** 

<< Indeed I do not ; he nerer gets above three feeds 
in a day, unless when he is on a journey, and then he 
takes fiye or six.** . 

1% THE shepherd's CALENDAR/ 

^ Then take an average of four: four feeds are 
worth two shillings at least, as com is selling. . There 
is fourteen shillings a-week : fourteen times fifty-two 
-—why, Jock, there is L.36, 8s. for horse's com ; and 
there will he about half as much, or more, for hay, be- 
sides : on the whole, I find he will cost you about 
L.50 a-year at livery. — I suppose there is an absolute 
necessity that a manufacturer should keep such a 
horse r 

" O I God bless you, sir, to be sure. We must ga- 
ther in money and orders, you know. And then, con- 
sider the ease and convenience of travelling on such a 
creature as that, compared with one of your vile low- 
bred hacks ; one goes through the country as he were 
flying, on that animal." 

Old Sandy paddled away from the stable, towards 
ihe house, chuckling and laughing to himself; but 
again tumed roimd, before he got half-way. — '< Right, 
Jock I quite right. Nothing like gath^ing in plenty 
of money and orders. But, Jock, hark ye— I do not 
think there is any necessity for flyivijg when one is on 
such a commission. You should go leisurely and slow^ 
ly through the towns and villages, keeping all your 
eyes about you, and using every honest art to ob- 
tain good customers. How can you do this, Jock, if 
you go as you were flying through the country ? Peo- 
ple, instead of giving you a good order, will come to 


their Bhop-door, «im1 wjr — ^Tbere goes the Fljiag M»> 
mifMStiiier ! — Jodc, they waj a roUiBg steae Berer §•- 
then any moss. Hmr tiir jim think n Hjwg mwr Acmld 
gather it ?7^ 

The diakigiie went on in the name 
half-jeering tone aD the fofcnoooy ai wdl 
dinner, while a great munher of qneriee tdU 
to be put to the yoong man; a»— How orach hit lod|f» 
ingB cost, him a-year ? The answer to this aitoanded 
old Sandy. His comprphensjon could lanfly take it 
in; he opened his eyes wide, and held ap his 
exclaiming^ wilh a great harst of bfeath, ^ What 
mons pofits there mast he in your bwHaeasr 
then the Laird pooeeded with his proroldag iaterro> 
gatories — ^How modi did his nephew's fine boots and 
spurs cost? what was his tailor's bill yearly? aad 
ev^y thing in the saase manner ; as if the yoong gen- 
tleman had come from a foreign ooontryy of which 
Sandy Singlebeard wished to note down every parti- 
cnlar. , The nephew was a little in the fidgets, hot 
knowing the. groond on which he stood, he answered 
all his ancle's qoeries hot too truly, impressing <m his 
frugal mind a hr greater idea of his own expenditare 
than was necessary, and which my old friend could 
not help viewing as utterly extravagant. 

Iipmediately on the removal of the doth, the yoong 
gentlemaa withdrew into another room, and sending 


for his uncle to speak with him, he there explained 
the nature of his errand, and how absolutely necessary 
it was for him to have the money, for the relief of his 
bond. Old Sandy was off in a twinkling. He had no 
money for him — ^not one copper ! — ^not the yalue of a 
hair of his thin grey beard should he have from him I 
He had other uses for his money, and had won it too 
hardly to give it to any one to throw away for him on 
grand rooms and carpets, upon flying horses, and four- 
,<guinea boots I 

They returned to the parlour, and we drank some 
whisky toddy together. There was no more gibing 
and snappishness. The old man was ciidl and atten- 
tive, but the face of the young one exhibited marks of 
anger and despair. He took his leave, and went away 
abruptly enough ; and I began to break some jests on 
the Flying Manufacturer, in order to try the humour 
of my entertainer. I soon found it out ; old Single- 
beard's shaft was shot, and he now let me know he 
had a different opinion of his nephew from what had 
been intimated by the whole course of his conversa- 
tion with the yoiug man himself. He said he was a 
good lad ; an ingenious and honest one ; that he scarce- 
ly knew a better of his years ; but he wanted to curb 
a little that upsetting spirit in him, to which every 
young man new to business was too much addicted. 

The young gentleman w^it to his other friends in 


a tad pickle^ «id 

ed beyond afl redres; iipiotoi^ aO 

iU-tiHied peavf. 

The moai pvl of the yoog 
were k deep iftiiy^ ia c<wiig<pwcg of the LaM*« io» 
iiual to perlbnB ye eaga^cflMBt. D«t one of 
after IJetgoJng eeffiowJy to tbe aanatiea, MMOead of 
ing Texedy only kng^ied hnmodfiatdy al tlie wkt4e 
ftoTy and eaid he had nerer heaid aay tUaf ao I 
tndy hi^croue. ^ Go yovo- wayi hoaw, aad 
hoemeeB," eaid he ; ^ yon do boC kaow aay thiaf of old 
uncle Sandy : leave the whc^ antter to bk, and I ahafl 
answer for his share of the coneerB.** 

^ Yon win be answeiaUe at yoar own cost, theai,*' 
said the nephew. ^ If the money is not paid tiU he ad- 
vance it, dbe sum wiU nerer be paid on thb side of tiaM. 
— ^Yon may aa well try to extrKt it from dbe rock oa 
the side of the momitain." 

^ Go yoor ways,** said the other. "^ It is eHdnt 
that yon can do nothing in the bosiness ; but wene the 
sum three times the amount of what it is, I shall be 
answerable for it." 

It turned out precisely aa das gentleonn pre£cted; 
but no man wiU conceire old fitand/s modre for refu- 
sing that which he was in fret bound to perform : He 
could not besr ta haTO it known thai he had done so 


30 THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

liberal and generous an action, and wished to manage 
matters so, that his nephew might believe the money 
to have been raised in some other way attended with 
the utmost difficulty. He could not put his nephew to 
the. same school in which he himself had been taught, 
namely, the School of Actual Adversity ; but he want- 
ed to give him a touch of Ideal Misfortune ; that he 
might learn the value of independence. 




There is no phenomoMMi in maimn lern 
and about wiiich greater nonacnae it 
dreammg. It is a atrange tUng. For aij part, I dm 
not undemand it, nor hare I anj dene t« do ao ; and 
I innljr beliere that no phjlnaophrr tint ever wiatie 
knows a particle more about it than i do, bowew 
elaborate and subtle the theoriea he mayadfianoe 
ceming it. He knows not even what sleep is, 
can he define its nature, ao aa to enable anjr 
mind to comprehend him ; and how, then, csn he 
that ethereal part of it, wherein the aoal holds 
coiuse with the external world ? — how, in that 
of abstraction, some ideas force themselres uptm m^ 
in spite of all oar effiprts to get rid of them ; while 
others, which we have resolred to bear aboot with vs 
bjr night as well as by day, refase as their ieilowshipy 
eren at periods whm we most reqaire their aid ? 

Noy no ; the ^ukMopher knows nothing aboot eitbar ; 

132 THE shepherd's calendar. 

and if he says he does, I entreat you not to believe 
him. He does not know what mind is ; even his own 
mind, to which one would think he has the most direct 
access: far less can he estimate the operations and 
powers of that of any other intelligent being. He 
does not even know, with all his subtlety, whether it 
be a power distinct from his body, or essentially the 
same, and only incidentally and temporarily endowed 
with different qualities. He sets himself to discoYer 
at what period of his existence the union was establish- 
ed. He is baffled ; for Consciousness refuses the in- 
telligence, declaring, that she cannot carry him far 
Plough back to ascertain it. He tries to discover the 
precise moment when it is dissolved, but on this Con- 
sdousness is altogether silent ; and all is darkness and 
mystery; for the origin, the manner of continuance, 
vnd the time and mode of breaking up of the union be- 
tween soul and body, are in reality imdiscoverable by 
our natural faculties — are not patent, beyond the pos- 
sibility of mistake : but whosoever can read his Bible, 
and solve a dream, can do either, without being sub- 
jected to any material error. 

It is on this ground that I like to contemplate, not 
the theory of dreams, but the dreams themselves ; be- 
cause they prove to the unlettered man, in a very for- 
cible manner, a distinct existence of the soul, and its 
lively and rapid intelligence with external nature, as 


well as with m worid of ipinta wkk whkk it hm ■• 
aoqaaintaiioey wliai die body k lyiaf 
the same to thesool ai if il cc p iagia de 
I acoomH aolliiag of aaj dreaa that 
acdoDS of the day ; the penoo m aoc 
dreams aboat these dngs; there ii 
tipeen oiatler and miiidy hat dieyaa 
in a sort of diaos— wiiat a iaiaMJ wiwdd cafl 
— fennentiii^ sad dMtmhiBi^ sbs SBOoKr. I 
in all dieaBM of that hnd, aica of etcry 
hare dreaaM pecaliar to their owa 
in the coantry, at leart, their ianpart is (RoenDy 
defstood. ETcry man s body is a barameler. A 
made vp of the elements anvt be alfertcd by 
▼arioos dianges and coralsions; sad so Ae body as- 
sniedlyw. Whea I was a shepherd, smI aD the esai* 
forts of my life depended so mach on good sr bad 
weather, the first thing I did erery sMiaiag was strict 
ly to OTerhanl the dreams of die night ; sad I feaad 
that I conld calcakte better from them thai from dba 
appearance and dianges of the iky. I know a keen 
sportsman, adio pretends that his dreams aererdeeeifis 
him. If he dresm of sngling, or panaiag sahaoa m 
deep waters, he is sore of raia; bat if fiibiag oadry 
groand, or in waters so low that the fish caan ot get 
from him, it forebodes drooght; hantiag or s hooti ng 
hares, is snow, aadmoorfenHyWaMl, Ik. Battfae 

134 THE shepherd's calendar. 

extraordinary professional dream on record is, without 
all doubt, that well-known one of George Dohson, 
coach- driver in Edinburgh, which I shall here relate ; 
for though it did not happen in the shepherd's cot, it 
has often been recited there. 

George was part proprietor and driver of a hackney- 
coach in Edinburgh, when such vehicles were scarce ; 
and one day a gentleman, whom he knew, came to 
him and said : — << George, you must drive me and my 

son here out to ," a certain place that he named, 

somewhere in the vicinity of Edinburgh. 

*' Sir," said George, " I never heard tell of such a 
place, and I cannot drive you to it imless you give me 
very particular directions." 

<< It is false," returned the gentleman ; << there is no 
man in Scotland who Imows the road to that place bet- 
ter than you do. You have never driven on any other 
road all your life ; and I insist on your taking us." 

"Very well, sir," said George, " Fll drive you to 
hell, if you have a mind ; only you are to direct me on 
the road." 

" Mount and drive on, then," said the other ; " and 
no fear of the road." 

George did so, and never in his life did he see his 
horses go at such a noble rate; they snorted, they 
pranced, and they flew on ; and as the whole road ap- 
peared to lie down-hill, he deemed that he should soon 


come to his jonrae/s end. Still he drove on at the 
same rate, ftur, hr down-hill,-— and so fine an open road 
he nerer traYelled,— till by degrees it grew so daik 
that he could not see to drive any farther. He called 
to the gentleman, inquiring what he should do ; who 
answered, that this was the place they were bound to^ 
so. he might draw up, dismiss them, and return. He 
did so, alighted from the dickie, wondered at his foam* 
ing horses, and forthwith opened the coach-door, hM 
the rim of his hat with the one hand, and with the 
other demanded his fare. - 

^ You have driven us in fine style, Greorge," said 
the elder gentleman, << and deserve to be remembered ; 
but it is needless for us to settle just now, as you must 
meet us heare again to-morrow precisely at twelve 

<^ Very well, sir,'' said George ; '< there is likewise 
an old. account, you know, and some toll-money;" 
which indeed there was. 

^< Itshall be all settled to-morrow, George, and more* 
over, I fear there will be some toll-money to-day." 

« I perceived no tolls to-day, your honour," said 

<< But I perceived one, and not very far back neither, 
which I suspect you will have difficulty in repassing 
without a regular ticket. What a pity I have no 
change on me I" 

136 THE shepherd's calendar. 

<< I never saw it otherwise with your honour," said 
George^ joeukrly ; << what a pity it is you should al- 
ways suffer yourself to run short of change I'* 

<< I will give you that which is as good, George," 
•aid the gentleman ; and he gave him a ticket written 
with red ink, which the honest coachman could not 
read. He, however, put it into his sleeve^ and inquir 
red of his employer where that same toll was which he 
had not observed, and how it was that they did not 
ask toll from him as he came through ? The gentle- 
man replied, by informing George that there was no 
road out of that domain, and that whoever entered it 
must either remain in it, or return by the same path ; 
BO they never asked any toll till the person's return, 
when they were at times highly capricious ; but that 
the ticket he had given him i^ould answer his turn. 
And he then asked George if he did not perceive a 
gate, with a number of men in black standing about it. 

<< Oho I Is yon the spot ?" says Greorge ; << then, I 
assure your honour, yon is no toll-gate, but a private 
entrance into a great man's mansion; for do not I 
know two or three of the persons yonder to be gentle- 
men of the law, whom I have driven often and often ? 
and as good fellows ihey are, too, as any I know — men 
who never let themselves run short of change I Good 
day.r^Twelve o'clock to-morrow ?" 

<< Yes, twelve o'clock noon, precisely;" and with 


thaty George 8 anployer yanished in the gloom, and 
left him to wind his way out of that dreaiy labyrinth 
the hest way he could. He found it no easy matter, 
for his lamps were not lighted, and he could not see 
an fdl before him— te could not even peroeiTe his 
horses' ears ; and what was worse, there was a mshing 
sound, liJke that of a town on fire, all around him, that 
stunned his senses, so that he could not tell whether 
his horses were moving or standing stilL George was 
in the greatest distress imaginable, and was glad whoi 
he perceived the gate before him, with his two identi- 
cal friends, men of the kw, still standing. George 
drove bddly up, accosted them by their names, and 
asked what they were doing there; they made him 
no answer, but pointed to the gate and the keeper. 
George was terrified to look at this latter personage^ 
who now came up and seized his horses by the reins, 
refusing to let him pass. In order to introduce him- 
sel^ in some degree, to this austere toll-man, Greorge 
asked him, in a jocular manner, how he came to em- 
ploy his two eminait friends as assistant gate-keepers? 

^ Because they are among the last comers,'' replied 
the ruffito, churiishly. << You will be an assistant here, 

«The devil I will, sir?" 

^ Yes, the devil you will, sir." 

<< 111 be d— d if I do then— that I wilL" 

138 THE shepherd's calendar. 

"Yes, you 11 be d — d if you do— that you will." 

" Let my horses go in the meantime, then, sir, that 
I may proceed on my journey." 

« Nay." 

" Nay ? — Dare yon say nay to me, sir ? My name 
is George Dobson, of the Pleasance, Edinburgh, coach- 
driver, and coach- proprietor too; and no man shall say 
nosy to me, as long as I can pay my way. I have his 
Majesty's license, and I'll go and come as I choose — 
and that I will. Let go my horses there, and tell me 
what is your demand." 

" Well, then, I'll let your horses go," said the keep- 
er ; ." but I'll keep yourself for a pledge." And with 
that he let go the horses, and seized honest George by 
the throat, who struggled in yain to disengage himself, 
and swore, and threatened, according to his own con- 
fession, most bloodily. His horses flew off like the 
wind, so swift, that the coach seemed flying in the air, 
and scarcely bounding on the earth once in a quarter of 
a mile. George was in furious wrath, for he saw that 
his grand coach and harness woidd all be broken to 
pieces, and his gallant pair of horses maimed or de- 
stroyed ; and how was his family's bread now to be 
won I — He struggled, threatened, and prayed in vain ; 
— 4he intolerable toll-man was deaf to all remon- 
strances. He once more appealed to his two genteel 
acquaintances of the law, reminding them how he had 


of late driTen them to Roelin on a Sunday, along with 
two ladies, who, he supposed, were their sisters, from 
their familiarity, when not another coachman in totm 
would engage with them. But the gentlemen, very un- 
generously, only shook their heads, and pointed to the 
gate. . Greorge's circumstances now hecame desperate^ 
and again he asked the hideous toll-man what right he 
had to detain him, and what were his charges. 

" What right have I to detain you, sir, say you ? 
Who are you that make such a demand here ? Do yon 
know where you are, sir?" 

<< No, faith, I do not," returned Greorge ; <* I wish I 
did.. But I shall know, and make you repent your m^ 
solcaice too. My name, I told you, is George Dohson, 
licensed coach-hirer in Pleasance, Edinburgh ; and to 
get full redress of you for this unlawful interruption, I 
only desire to know where I am." 

<^ Then, sir, if it can give you so much satisfaction 
to know where you are," said the keeper, with a malici- 
ous grin, << you shall know, and you may take instru- 
ments by the hands of your two friends there, institu- 
ting a 1^1 prosecution. Your redress, you may be as- 
sured, will be most ample, when I inform you that you 
are in Hell I and out at this gate you pass no more.'* 

This was rather a damper to George, and he begaif 
to perceive that nothing woidd be gained in such a place 
bjrthe strong hand^ so he addressed, the inexorable toll- 

140 THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

man, whom he now dreaded more than ever, in the fol- 
lowing terms : " But I must go home at all events, you 
know, sir, to unyoke my two horses, and put them up, 
and to inform Chirsty Halliday, my wife, of my en- 
gagement. And, bless me I I never recollected till this 
moment, that I am engaged to he back here to-morrow 
at twelve o'clock, and see, here is a free ticket for my 
passage this way." 

The keeper took the ticket with one hand, but still 
held George with the other. << Oho I were you in with 

our honourable friend, Mr R of L ^y ?" said he. 

^ He has been on our books for a long while ; — how- 
ever, this will do, only you must put your name to it 
likewise ; and the engagement is this — You, by this in- 
strument, engage your soul, that you will return here 
by to-morrow at noon." 

" Catch me there, billy I" says Greorge. " Til en- 
gage no such thing, depend on it ; — that I will not." 

*^ Then remain where you are," said the keeper, 
^^ for there is no other alternative. We like best for 
people to come here in their own way, — ^in the way of 
their business ;" and with that he flung George back- 
ward, heels-over-head down hill, and closed the gate. 

George, finding all remonstrance vain, and being de- 
sirous once more to see the open day, and breathe the 
firesh air, and likewise to see Chirsty Halliday, his wife, 
and set his house and stable in some order, came up 


again, and in utter de^)eration, signed the bond, and 
was suffered to depart. He then bounded away on the 
track of his horses, with more than ordinary swiftness, 
in hopes to OTertake them ; and always now and then 
uttered a loud Wo I in hopes they might hear and obey, 
though he coidd not come in sight of them. But 
George's grief was but beginning ; for at a well-known 
and dangerous spot, where there was a tan-yard on the 
one hand, and a quarry on the other, he came to his 
gallant steeds overturned, the coach smashed to pieces, 
Dawtie with two of her legs broken, and Duncan dead. 
This was more than the worthy coachman could bear, 
and many degrees worse than being in helL There, his 
pride and manly spirit bore him up against the worst of 
treatment ; but here, his heart entirely failed him, and 
he laid himself down, with his face on his two handsy 
and wept bitterly, bewailing, in the most deplorable 
terms, his two gallant horses, Dawtie and Dimcan. 

While Jying in this inconsolable state, some one 
took hold of his shoidder, and shook it ; and a well* 
known Yoice said to him, << Geordie ! what is the mat- 
ter wi' ye, Geordie ?'' George was provoked beyond 
measure at the insolence of the question, for he knew 
the voice to be that of Chirsty Halliday, his wife. ** I 
think you needna ask that, seeing what you see," said 
George. " O, my poor Dawtie, where are a' your jink- 
ings and prancings now, your moopings and your win- 

142 THE shepherd's calendar. 

cings ? ril ne'er be a proud man {^ain — ^bereaved o* 
my bonny pair !" 

" Get up, George ; get up, and bestir yourself," said 
Ghirsty Halliday, his wife. ** You are wanted direct- 
ly, to bring in the Lord President to the Parliament 
House. It is a great storm, and he must be there by 
nine o'clock. — Get up— rouse yourself, and make ready 
«— his servant is waiting for you." 

" Woman, you are demented I" cried George. 
<* How can I go and bring in the Lord President, when 
my coach is broken in pieces, my poor Dawtie lying 
with twa of her legs broken, and Duncan dead ? And, 
moreover, I have a previous engagement, for I am 
obliged to be in hell before twelve o'clock." 

Ghirsty Halliday now laughed outright, and con- 
tinued long in a fit of laughter; but George never 
moved his head from the pillow, but lay and groaned, — 
for, in fact, he was all this while lying snug in his bed ; 
while the tempest without was roaring with great vio- 
lence, and which circumstance may perhaps accoimt 
for the rushing and deafening sound which astounded 
him so much in hell. But so deeply was he impress- 
ed with the idea of the reality of his dream, that he 
woidd do nothing but lie and moan, persisting and be- 
lieving in the truth of all he had seen. His wife now 
went and informed her neighbours of her husband's 
plight, and of his singular engagement with Mr R . 


of L ^y at twelve o'clock. She persuaded one friend 

to harness the horses, and go for the Lord President; 
but all the rest laughed immoderately at poor coachy's 
predicament. It was, however, no laughing to him ; 
he never raised his head, and his wife becoming at 
last uneasy about the frenzied state of his mind, made 
him repeat every circxmistance of his adventure to her, 
(for he would never believe or admit that it was a 
dream,) which he did in the terms above narrated; 
and she perceived, or dreaded, that he was becoming 
somewhat feverish. She went out, and told Dr Wood 
of her husband's malady, and of his solenm engage- 
ment to be in hell at twelve o'clock. 

<< He maunna keep it, dearie. He mamma keep 
that engagement at no rate," said Dr Wood. " Set 
back the clock an hour or twa, to drive him past the 
time, and I'll ca' in the course of my rounds. Are ye 
sure he hasna been drinking hard ?" — She assured him 
he had not — " Weel, weel, ye maun tell him that he 
maunna keep that engagement at no rate. Set back 
the clock, and I'll come and see him. It is a frenzy 
that maunna be trifled with. Ye maunna laugh at it, 
dearie, — maimna laugh at it. Maybe a nervish fev^r, 
wha kens." 

The Doctor and Chirsty left the house together, 
and as their road lay the same way for a space, she 
fell a-telling him of the two young lawyers whom 

144 THE shepherd's calendar. 

George saw standing at the gate of hell, and whom the 
porter had descrihed as two of the last comers. When 
the Doctor heard this, he stayed his hurried, stooping 
pace in one moment, turned full romid on the woman, 
and fixing his eyes on her, that gleamed with a deep, 
tmstahle lustre, he said, " What*s that ye were saying, 
dearie? What's that ye were saying? Repeat it 
again to me, every word." She did so. On which the 
Doctor held up his hands, as if palsied with astonish- 
ment, and uttered some fervent ejaculations. << I'll 
go with you straight," said he, << hefore I visit another 
patient. This is wonderfu' ! it is terrible ! The young 
gentlemen are both at rest — ^both lying corpses at this 
lime I Fine young men — I attended them both — died 
of the same exterminating disease — Oh, this is wonder- 
ful ; this is wonderful I" 

The Doctor kept Chirsty half running all the way 
down the High Street and St Mary's Wynd, at such 
a pace did he walk, never lifting his eyes from the 
pavement, but always exclaiming now and then, << It 
is wonderfu' I most wonderfu' I" At length, prompt- 
ed by woman's natm^ curiosity, Chirsty inquired at 
the Doctor if he knew any thing of their friend Mr 
R of L— y. But he shook his head, and re- 
plied, " Na, na, dearie, — ^ken naething about him. He 
and his son are baith in London, — ^ken naething about 
him ; but the tither is awfu' — ^it is perfectly awfu' !" 



When Dr Wood reached his patient, he found him 
veiy low, but only a little feverish ; so he made all 
haste to wash his head with vinegar and cold water, 
and then he covered the crown with a treacle plaster, 
and made the same application to the soles of his feet, 
awaiting the issue. Greorge revived a little, when the 
Doctor tried to cheer him up by joking him about his 
dream ; but on mention of that he groaned, and shook 
his head. '< So you are convinced, dearie, that it is 
iiae dream ?" said the Doctor. 

^ Dear sir, how could it be a dream?" said the 

patient. <^ I was there in person, with Mr R and his 

soif ; and see, here are the marks of the porter s fingers 
on my throat." — Dr Wood looked, and distinctly saw 
two or three red spots on one side of his throat, which 
confounded him not a little. — " I assure you^ sir,'" con- 
tinued George, " it was no dream, which I know to 
my sad experience. I have lost my coach and horses, 
— and what more have I ? — signed the bond with my 
own hand, and in person entered into the most solemn 
Imd terrible engagement." 

" But ye re no to keep it, I tell ye," said Dr Wood ; 
*^ ye're no to keep it at no rate. It is a sin to enter 
into a compact wi' the deil, but it is a far greater ane 

to keep it. Sae let Mr R and his son bide where 

f hey are yonder, for ye sanna stir a foot to bring them 
out the day." 

VOL. I. G 

146 THE shepherd's calendar. 

<^ Oh, ohy Doctor I'' groaned the poor fellow, << this 
» not a thing to be made a jest o' I I feel that it is an 
engagement that I camiot break. Go I must, and that 
yery shortly. Yes, yes, go I must, and go I will, 
although I should borrow David Barclay's pair." With 
that he turned his face towards the wall, groaned deep- 
ly, and fell into a lethargy, while Dr Wood caused 
them to let him alone, thinking if he would sleep out 
the ^pointed time, which was at hand, he would be 
safe ; but all the time he kept feeling his pulse, and by 
d^ees showed symptoms of uneasiness. His wife 
ran for a clergyman of famed abilities, to pray and 
converse with her husband, in hopes by that means to 
bring him to his senses ; but after his arrival, George 
never spoke more> save calling to his horses, as if en* 
couraging them to run with great -speed ; and thus in 
imagination driving at full career to keep his appoint- 
ment, he went off in a paroxysm, after a terrible strug- 
gle, precisely within a few minutes of twelve o'clock. 

A circumstance not known at the time of George's • 
death made this singular professional dream the more 
remarkable and imique in all its parts. It was a terri- 
ble storm on the night of the dream, as has been al- 
ready mentioned, and dvuring the time of the hurricanie, 

London smack went doiyn off Wearmouth about 
tkree in the mornings A^jxktmg the sufferers w^e the 
Hon. Mr R of L y , and his son I Geonge oould 


not know ang^t of this at break of day, few it was not 
known in Scotland till the day of*kia iaterment ; and 
as little knew he of the deaths of the two young. law- 
yers, who both died of the small-pox the evening be- 

148 THE shepherd's causndar. 



I HAVE heard an amusiDg story of a young man 
whose name happened to he the same as that of the 
hero of the preceding chapter — George Dohson. He 
was a shoemaker, a very honest man, who lived at the 
foot of an old street, called the Back Row, in the town 
of Selkirk. He was upwards of thirty, unmarried, had 
an industrious old stepmother, who kept house for 
him, and of course George was what is called " a hein 
bachelor," or " a chap that was gayan weel to leeve." 
He was a. cheerful happy fellow, and quite sober, ex- 
cept when on the town-council, when he sometimes 
took a glass with the magistrates of his native old bo- 
rough, of whose loyalty, valour, and antiquity, there 
was no man more proud. 

Well, one day, as George was sitting in his s/t^ &s 
he called it, (though no man now-a-days would call 
that a shop in which there was nothing to sell,) sewing 
away at boots and shoes for his customers, ,wbom he 


could not half hold in whole leather, so great was the 
demand oyer all the country for Greorge Dohson s hooti 
and shoes— he was sitting, I say, plying away, and 
smging with great glee,— 

•* Up wi' the Soutara o* Sdkirk, 

And down wi' the Earl o* Hume^ 
And up wi* a* the brave billies 

That 8ew the single-soled shoon ! 
And up wi* the yellow, the yellow ; 

The ydlow and green hae doon wed ; 
Then up wi* the lads of the Forest,* 

But down wi* the Merse to the deil !** 

The last words were hardly out of George's mouth, 

when he heard a great noise enter the Back Row, and 

among the voices one making loud proclamation, as 

follows :— 

" Ho yes !— Ho yes ! ' 
Sottters ane, Souters a*, ' 
Souters o* the Back Raw, 
There's a gentleman a*4X>ming 
Wha will ca' ye Souters a*. " 

^ I wish he durst,'' said Greorge. '< That will he- 
the Earl o' Hume wha's coming. He has had us at 
ill-will for several generations. Bring my aik staff in- 
to the shop, eallant, and set it down heside me here — 
and ye may bring ane to yoursell too. — ^I say, eallant, 
stop. Bring my grandfather's aul^ sword wi' ye. I 
wad like to see the Earl o' Hume, or ony o' his cro- 
nies, come and cast up our honest calling and occupa* 



Gfiocge kid his oak otaff on the eattisig'board he* 
foie him,^yid leaned the old two<«dged sword against the 
wail, at his right hand. The noise of the pcodamation 
went out at the head of the Back Row, and died in the 
distance ; acnd thep. George hjegan again, and sung the 
Sonters of Selkirk with more obstreperous glee than 
ever. — The last words were not ontof his mouth, when 
a grand gentleman stepped into the shop, clothed in 
light armour, with a sword by his side and pistols in 
his breast. He had a livery-man b^iind him, and both 
the master and man were all shining in gold.Fi-<-Thi8 is 
the Earl o' Hnme in good^eaxnest, thought George to 
himself; but, nevertheless, he shall not dantiMH me* 

*^ Good morrow to you, Souter Dobson," said the 
gentleman. *< What song is that yon were singing ?" 
George would have resented the first address with a 
vengeance, but the latter question to<^ him off it un- 
awares, and he only answered, << It is a very good sang, 
siTf ^d ane of the auldest — ^What objections have you 
to it?" 

'^ Nay, but what is it about ?" retmned Hoe stranger ; 
5< I want to hear what you say it is about." 

^ 111 sing you it over again, sir," said George, « and 
then you may judge for yoursell. Our sangs up hera* 
awa dinna speak in riddles and parables ; i^ey'regayan 
downright ;" and with that George gave it him o^ver 
again full birr, keeping at the same time a; sharp look- 


out on all hk guest's moremeiits ; for he had no doubt 
now that h was to come to an engagement between 
them, but he was determined not to yield an inch, for 
the honour of old Selkirk. 

When the song was done, however, the gentleman 
commended it, saying, it was a spirited old thing, andf 
withovt do«bt, rehited to some of the early Border 
fends. ^ But how think you the Earl of Hume woilU 
like to hear this ?*' added he. George, who had no 
doubt all this while that the Earl of Hume was speak- 
ing to him, said good-naturedly, << We dinna care 
mudde, air, vfiiether the Earl o' Hume take the sang 
ill or weet^ Tse warrant he has heard it mony a time 
ere now, and, if he were here, he wad hear it every day 
when the school looses, and Wattie Henderson wad 
^ him it every ni^t." 

<< Well, well, Souter Dobson, that is neither here nor 
there. That is not what I called about. Let us to 
business. You must make me a pair of boots in your 
very best style," said the gentleman, standing up, and 
stretching forth his leg to be measured. 

<< in make you no boots, sir," said George, nettled at 
\mog again called Souter. << J have as many regular 
custooeia to supply as hold me busy from one year's 
end to the other* I cannot make your boots — ^you 
may get them made where you please." • - .» . 

<< YoujAotf make them, Mr Dobson," said the stranger ; 

] 52 THE shupherd's calendar. 

'< I am determined to try a pair of boots of your ma^ 
king, cost what they wilL Make your own price, but let 
me have the boots by all means ; and, moreover, I want 
them before to-morrow morning." 

This was so conciliatory and so friendly of the Earl, 
that George, being a good-natured fellow, made no 
farther objection, but took his measure, and promised 
to have them ready. << I will pay them now,'' said the 
gentleman, taking out a purse of gold ; but George re- 
fused to accept of the price till the boots were pro- 
duced. << Nay, but I will pay them now,** said th« 
gentleman ; << for, in the first place, it will ensure me of 
tlie boots, and, in the next place, I may probably leave 
town to-night, and make my servant wait for them. 
What is the cost ?" 

<< If they are to be as good as I can make them, sir, 
they will be twelve shillings." 

" Twelve shillings, Mr Dobson I I paid thirty-six for 
these I wear in London, and I expect yours will be a 
great deal better. Here are two guineas, and be sura 
to tnake them good." 

" I cannot, for my life, make them worth the half of 
that money," said George. " We have no materials 
in Selkirk that will amount to one-third of it in value." 
However, the gentleman flung down the gold, and went 
away, singing the Souters of Selkirk. 

« He is a most noble fellow that Earl of Hume," 


said Xxeorge to his i^prentice. *< I thought he and I 
should have had a hattle, hut we have parted on the 
hest possible terms." 

" I wonder how you could hide to he SouUrd yon 
gate r* said the boy. 


George scratched his head with the awl, hit his lip, 
and looked at his grandfather's sword. He had a great 
desire to follow the insolent gentleman ; for he found 
that he had inadvertently suffered a great insult with* 

out resenting it. 


After George had shaped the boots with the utmost 
care> and of the best and finest Kendal leather, he went 
up the Back Row to seek assistance, so that he might 
have them ready at the stated time ; but never a stitch 
of assistance could George obtain, for the gentleman 
had trysted a pair of boots in every shop in the Row» 
paid for them all, and called every one of the shoe- 
makers Sputer twice over. 

Never was there such a day in the Back Row of 
Selkirk I What could it mean ? Had the gentleman 
a whole regiment coming up, all of the same size, and 
the same measure of leg ? Or was he not rather an 
army agent, come to take specimens of the best work- 
men in the country ? This last being the prevailing 
belief, every Selkirk Souter threw off his coat, and fell 
a^tashiDg and catting of Kendal leather ; and such a 


154 THE shepherd's calekdab. 

foreMoon of cnttkig, and sewing, and puffing, and raaet- 
iagf never was in Selkirk since the liattle of Floddoi- 

George s shop was the nethermost of the street, so 
that the stranger gnests came all to him first ; so, scarce- 
ly had he taken a hurried dinner, and hegon to sew 
again, and, of course, to sing, when in came a fat gen- 
tleman, exceedingly well monnted with sword and pis- 
tols ; he had ftur curled hair, red cheeks that hung over 
his stock, and a liveryman hehind him. *^ Merry he 
your heart, Mr Dohson ! hut what a plague of a song 
is that you are singing?^ said he. George looked very 
suspicious-like at him, and thought to himself. Now I 
could bet any man two gold guineas that this is the 
I>uke of Northumberland, another enemy to our town ; 
but 111 not be cowed by him neither, only I could have 
wished I had been singing another song when his Grace 
came into the shop. — These were the thoughts that ran 
through Geoi^e's mind in a moment, and at length he 
made answer*—" We reckon it a good sang, my lord, 
and ane o' the auldest.*' 

** Would it suit your convenience to sing that last 
verse over again ?" scud the fat gentleman ; and at the 
same time he laid hold of his gold-handled pistols. 

*< O certainly, sir,'' said George ; " but at the same 
time I must take a lesson in manners from my supe- 
riors ;* and with that he seised his grandfather's cut- 

TAB SOUTERS 0> tsKtJtnf^. - I55 

and-dHTOBt eword, and cocking 
sang out with fearless gl< 

<'die Eni^ish are dolts, to a man, a 
Fkt paddings to fry in'a pan, a pan— 

Their Percya and Howards 

We reckon but cowards- 
Bat torn the Bine Bonnets wfaa can, wha can !*' 

Ge<iffge now set his joints in such a manner, that the 
naoment the Duke of Northnmherhind presented his 
^^guAf he might be ready to cleaye him, or cut off his 
ri|^t hand, with his grand&ther's cut-and-dunst sword; 
bmt the_&t gentleman dm^t not Tentu« the issue — he 
took his hand from his pistol, and laughed till his big 
sides shook. ^' You are a great original, Dobson,'' said 
he ; <* but you are neyertheless a braye fellow — a noble 
fellow-— a Sonter among a thousand, and I am glad I 
have met wilJi you in this mood too. WeU, then, left 
us proceed to business. You must make me a pair of 
boots in your Tery best style, George, and that without 
any loss of time." 

" O Lord, sir, I would do that with the greatest plea- 
sure, but it is a thing entirely out of my power,** said 
George, with a serious fiftce. 

<< Pooh, pooh I I know the whole story,'' said the firt 
gentleman. << You are all hoaxed and made fools of 
this morning ; but the thing concerns me very much^ 
and ril giro you five guineas, IVfr Dobson, if you will 

156 THfe shepherd's calendar. 

make me a pair of good boots before to-morrow at this 

" I wad do it cheerfully for the fifth part o* the price, 
my lord," said George ; " but it is needless to speak 
about that, it being out o' my power. But what way 
are we hoaxed ? I dinna account ony man made a fool 
of wha has the cash in his pocket as weel as the goods 
in his hand." 

'< You are all made fools of together, and I am the 

most made a fool of, of any," said the fat gentleman. 

<< I betted a himdred guineas with a yoimg Scottish 

nobleman last night, that he durst not go up the Back 

, Row of Selkirk, calling all the way, 

< Souters ane, Souters a*, 
Souters o* the Back Raw ;' 

and yet, to my astonishment, you have let him do so, 
and insult you all with impunity ; and he has won." 

" Confound the rascal I" exclaimed George. " If 
we had but taken him up I But we took him for our 
friend, come to warn us, and lay all in wait for the au- 
dacious fellow who was to come up behind." 
. " And a good amends you took of him when he 
came I" said the fat gentleman. " Well, after I had 
1»ken the above bet, up speaks another of our company, 
and he says — ' Why make such account of a few poor 
cobblers, or Souters, or how do you call them ? I'll 
bet a hundred guineas, that TU %o up the Back Row 


after that gentleman has set them all agog, and I'll call 
every one of them SotUer twice to his face.' I took 
the bet m a moment : ^ You dare not, for your blood, 
sir,' says I. * Yon do not know the spirit and bravery 
of the men of Selkiric. They will knock you down at 
once, if not tear you to pieces.' But I trusted too 
much to' your spirit, and have lost my two hundred 
guineas, it would appear. Tell me, in truth, Mr Dob- 
son, did you suffer him to call you Souter twice to 
your face without resenting it ?" 

C^eorge bit his lip, scratched his head with the awl, 
and gave the lingles such a yerk, that he made than 
both crack in two. << D — ^n it I we're a* afirontit ^le- 
^ther I" said he, in a half whisper, while the apprentice*, 
boy was like to burst with laughter at his master's mor- 

" Well, I have lost my money," continued the gen- 
tleman ; ^ but I assure you, George, the gentleman 
wiants no boots. He has accomplished his purpose, 
and has the money in his pocket ; but as it will avail, 
me, I may not say how much, I entreat that you will 
make me a pair. Here is the money, — here are five, 
guineas, which I leave in pledge ; only let me have the . 
boots. Or suppose you make these a little wider, 
and transfer them to me ; that is very excellent leather, 
and will do. exceedingly well ; I think I never saw 
better ;'^ and he stood leaning over George, handling 

158 THS shepherd's calendar. 

tho leather. ^< Now, do you consent to let me have 

' « I can never do that, my lord," says George, " ha- 
ving the other gentleman's money in my pocket. If 
yon should offer me ten guineas, it would be the same 

« Very well, I will find those who will," said he, 
8Ad off he went, singing, 

" Turn the Blue Bonnets wha can, wha can." 

« This is the queerest day about Selkirk that I ever 
saw," said George ; ^< but really this Duke of North- 
wnberlaiid, to be the old hereditary enemy of our town, 
is • real fine, frank fellow." 

<< Ay, but he Souter^d ye, too," said the boy. , 

" It's a lee, ye little blackguard." 

^ I heard him ca' you a Souter amang a thousand, 
master ; and that taunt will be heard tell o' yet." 

<< I fancy, callant, we maun let that flee stick to the 
waV said George ; -and sewed away, and sewed away, 
and got the boots finished next day at twelve o'clock. 
Now, thought he to himself, I have thirty Bhillings by 
this, bargain, and so TU treat our magistrates to a hear- 
ty glass this afternoon ; I hae muckle need o' a slock- 
ening, and the Selkiik bailies never fail a iriend. — 
George put his hand into his pocket to clink his two 
gold guineas ; but never a guinea was in George's pocket, 


nor pladc either I His eomileaanoe diaaged, tad lett 
80 miush, thst the apprentiee noticed it, and sniqiecled 
the came ; hat George^vonkl coHfeas nothings ^hong^ 
in his own mind, he strongly suspected the Dnke of 
Nofthnmbetland of die theft, alkuj the hi gentleuHBi 
with the fair curled hair, and die red cheeks han gu ig 
oTer his stocjc 

George went away np among his btetfaren of the 
swl in the Bade Row, and called on them erery one ; 
hot he soon perceiyed, from their Uank looks, and their 
disincKnation to drink that ni^ that they wm all k 
the same iRodicainent with himself. Thefiit gwllciii— 
with the cnried hair had Tisited erery one of thsM, aad 
got measure for a pair of ten-gninea hoots, hot had noi 
paid any of them ; and, somehow or odier, ef«ry nana 
bad lost the price of tiie boots which he had leeetyed hi 
the morning. Whom to blame for this, nobody knew ; 
for the whole day orer, and a good part of the mght, 
from the time the prodaaation was made, the Back 
Rowof Selkiikwaslikeacriedfiir; all die idle peo^ 
in the town and die oomitry about were diere, wonder* 
ing af^ the man who had raised sadi a demand far 
boots. After all, the Sonters of Selkirk were left net* 
dier richer nor poorer than they were at the beginnin|^ 
but every one of them had been fonr times called a Som^ 
£0r to his face, — a title of great obloquy in that town, 
although the one of all odiers diat the townsmen ought 


to he proud of. And it is curious that they are proud 
of it when used collectively ; hut apply it to any of 
them as a term of reproach, and you had hetter call him 
the worst name under heaven. 

This was the truth of the story ; and the feat was 
performed hy the late Duke of Queensherry, when Earl 
of March, and two English nohlemen then on a tour 
through this country. Every one of them gained his 
hety through the simplicity of the honest Souters ; hut 
certainly the last had a difficult part to play, having 
staked two hundred guineas that he would take all the 
money from the Souters that they had received from 
the, gentleman in the morning, and call every one of 
them Souter to his face. He got the price entire from 
every one, save Thomas Inglis, who had drunk the 
half of his hefore he got to him ; hut this heing proved^ 
the English gentleman won. 

George Dohson took the thing most amiss. He 
had heen the first taken in all along, and he thought a 
good deal ahout it. He was, moreover, a very honest 
maoy and in order to make up the hoots to the full 
value of the money he had received, he had shod them 
with silver, which took two Spanish dollars, and he had 
likewise put four silver tassels to the tops, so that they 
were splendid hoots, and likely to remain on his hand. 
In short, though he did not care ahout the loss, he 
took the hoax very sore to heart. 


Shortly after this, he was sitting in his shop, work- 
ing awayy and not singing a word, when in comes a fitt 
geitleman, with fair curled hair, and red chedts, InU 
they were noi hanging oyer his cravat ; and he si^ 
^^ Good morning, Dohson. You are very quiet and 
contemplative this morning.** 

*^ Ay, sir ; folk canna be aye alike merry." 

<< Have you any stomach for taking measure of a 
pair of hoots this morning ?" 

^< Nah ! m take measure o' nae mae boots to stnn- 
gers ; Fll stick by my auld customers.'* — He ia very Uka 
my late customer, thought George, but his tongue b 
not the same. If I thought it were he, I would nick 

** I hare heard the story of the boots, George,** said 
the visitor, <' and, never heard a better one. I bat» 
laughed very heartily at it ; and I called principally to 
inform you, that if you will call at Widow "Wilson's, 
in Hawick, you will get the price of your boots.** 

" Thank you, sir,'* said George ; and the gentle* 
man went away ; Dobson being now persuaded he waa 
not the Duke of Northumberland, though astonishing- 
ly like him. George bad not sewed a single yerking, 
ere the gentleman came again into the shop, and said, 
*< You had better measure me for these boots, Dobson. 
I intend to be your customer in future.** 

" Thank you, sir, but I would rather not, just now.*' 


<< Veiy well ; call then at Widow Wilson's, in Ha- 
wick, and you shall get double payment for the hoots 
ymi haTe made."— -George thanked him again, and 
away he went ; but in a very short space he entered 
the shop again, and again requested George to measure 
him for a pair of boots. George became suspicious of 
the gentleman, and rather uneasy, as he continued to 
haunt him like a ghost ; and so, merely to be quit of 
him, he took the measure of his leg and foot. << It is' 
Tcry near the measure of these fine silyer-moimted ones, 
m^* said Greorge ; ^^ you had better just take them." 

« Well, so be it," said the stranger. " Call at Wi- 
dow W&on's, in Hawidc, a^d you shall have i$ipk 
payment for your boots. Good day." 

^ O, tUs g^itleman is undoubtedly wr<»^ in his 
mad," said George to himself. ^^ This beats aH the 
cosUmiers I ever met with I Ha — ha — ^ha ! Come to 
Widow Wilson's, and you shall have payment for your 
bootsr-^ouble paym^it for your boots, — tr^h pay- 
mesLt for your boots I Oh ! the man's as mad «s a March 
hare ! He~4ie-— he — he !" 


^ HUloa, George," cried a voice close at his ear, 
<< what's the matter wi' ye ? Are ye gane daft ? Are 
ye no gann to rise to your wark the day ?" 

^ Aich I Gudeness guide us, mother, am I no up 
yet ?" cried George, springing out of his bed ; for he 
had been all the while in a sound sleeps and dreaming. 


<' What gvt ^le let Me lie Me kag 

** ShopT iwriMMad elw; <" I 
thmgiit ye« YmA faHdafiidle i 
goffinrmg' and laeghiag asl ?* 

<<OI Iwas la^fU^ «i a £it 
ment of a pair o' boots at Widow WiboB't, ia Ha- 

<< Widow Wiko^s, f HawickT 
ther, iMildkg a^ bi 
for a great leear, if I 
frae die tae end •' tke 

^ HoiitB> modier, bead 
to heed yoor dreamy fm ye 
about somebody.* 

<" Aad vkatfor ao» kd? Hana am aald badyae 
good a ri|^ to dreaai as a yoaig aae ? Mfs Wibaifa 
a throvg^igaiDi i|yei 

a-yeer by the Tannage. Fee w mimJ. ifcero eall 
thing fbHowdurdraaaai; I^BttkeaHiita aiy 

George was greatly tiddadwjtbbkitff—tliaflfca 
fat gentUman and ^ bootty and so wefl eoBTiaeed a«i 
he that thge wm woam eart of aif laia^ in it, list ha 
readied to go to HawidE tbe next mafkei day, and <aD 
on Mrs Wilson, and settle with her; aHiiOBgk it was 
a week or two brfsw bis waal feeai of p ay mi at , be 

164 THE shepherd's calendar. 

thoaght the money would scarcely come wrong. So 
that day he plied and wrought as usual ; but instead of 
his favourite ditties relating to the Forest, he chanted, 
the whole day over, one as old as any of them ; but I 
am Sony I recollect only the chorus and a few odd 
stanzas of it. 


We'll round about Hawick, Hawick, 
Round about Hawick thegither ; 

We*U round about Hawick, Hawick, 
And in by the bride's gudemither. 
Sing, Round about Hawick, &c 

And as we gang by we will rap, 
And drink to the luck o* the bigging ; 

For the bride has her tap in her lap. 
And the bridegroom his tail in his rigging. 
Sing, Round about Hawick, Stc 

There's been little luck i* the deed ; 

We're a* in the dumps thither ; 
Let's gie the bridegroom a sheep's head. 

But gie the bride brose and butter. 
Sing, Round about Hawick, &c 

Then a* the gudewiyes i' the land 
Came flocking in droves thegither, 

A* bringing their bountith in hand. 
To please the young bride's gudemither. 
Sing, Round about Hawick, &c. 

The black gudewife o' the Braes 
Gm baby-douts no worth a button ; 

THE SOCTEBS OT "**^—^ h§m 

But tke mU gmiKwi£t •' B 


m wi > mtmMrr • 

Wee Jem o* the C«Bte cv a 

But the wife at the hmi •* the fti>v» 
Gae nought hat a bne pm-t«Ce.* 

TT>e m isU 't Ji o* B«rtQeh 
Aye hlhiking wm 

But aoBke Mftd dbe hai 
A kipple o* bottles o 



Bat Jenny Mulrheid 
Sing, Rood 

Then up cam the wife » the M^ 

Wr the cng^ aad the 

To gie the bride bruie uvi imus'. 
Sing, R4Nnid ahavt Hawick, fc 

And fint flhe pat in a bit liwad. 

And then dhe pat in a bit 
And then she paC in a dheep'i 
Horns and a' the^ither '. 
Sing, lUimd ^ovt Hawfcfc. Tlxwkfc, 

Rond aho«t Uawkk tfe^ithcr; 
Round abovt Ilawkk, IlawVh, 
Reondaboat Hawieh Cir 

• A 


On the TlmrBday following, George, instead of go- 
ing to the shopf dressed himself in his best Sunday 
4:lodie8, and, with rather a curions face, went ben to 
Ilia stepmother, and inquired <' what feck o* siller she 
had about her ?" 

^ Siller 1 Gudeness forgie you, Ge<N'die9 for an even- 
down waster and a profligate I What are ye gaun to do 

<^ I have something ado ower at Hawick, and I was 
thmlfing it wad be as weel to pay her account when I 
was there." 

^ Oho, lad I are ye there wi* your dreams and your 
visions o* the night, Geordie ? Ye're aye keen o' sangs, 
man ; I can pit a vera gude ane i* your head. There's 
an unco gude auld thing they ca', Wap at the widow, 
my laddie. D'ye ken it, Geordie ? Siller I quo he I 
Hae ye ony feck o' siller, mother I Whew I I hae as 
muckle as will pay the widow's account sax times 
ower I Ye may tell her that frae me. Siller I lack-a- 
day !— But, Geordie, my man — ^Auld wives* dreams 
are no to be regardit, ye ken. £h ?" 

After putting half a dozen pairs of trysted shoes, 
and the identical silver-mounted boots, into the cad- 
ger's creels — ^then the only regular carriers — off set 
George Dobson to Hawick market, a distance of near- 
ly eleven new-fashioned miles, but then accoimted only 
eight and three quarters ; and after parading the Sand- 

bed, Slitterkk Bridge, aMi die X 
a|Moe of Ml hour, and ■Iwlring 
or fifc acqwiiiitanfWy he 
Mn Wikamt her mxammL He 
ae every good and ragvkr 
aeo. They aettled aBucaUr, 
huBBieaa Geaige tetflued aevcrai aiTy 
see how they woold be laken, Tcxed 
Miigolar dieaaa ahoaki go far 
wooid paaa there bm atfrl'ig i 
was deaf and blind to every cfioat mi 
her own abihtiea too highly ever toa 
time at the head of her iovaihing 
thelessy she could noi be hfind to 
tions — he knewdiat wm 
place he waa a goodly penoBy with 
broad aqnare ahoohkn; of a very dvk 
trufit but with fiaoy afarewd, BMaly iestnrea ; 
geaa and conndllar of thp toini of Stfthij 
dqMiBdeat in cirenaartafft aa the waa» 
Very well; Mn WHaon knew aD 
George Dobacm acoordin^yy and woald mmt 
Died him any of thoae good pmata meie than 
Scott would to a hivonrite CheTiot tap^ in asy 
whateyer ; but she had such a iharp^ eoU, 
mamier, that Ge<»ge could diacovar no 

where the price of the boots was to come from. Im 



order to conciliate matters as far as coQT^uent, if not 
eren to stretch a point, he gave her a farther order, 
hvger than the one jo&t settled ; but all that he elicit- 
ed was thanks far his cnstom, and one rery small ^ass 
of brandy ; so he drank her health, and a good hus- 
band to her. ^Irs Wilson only coortseyed, and thanked 
him coldly, and away George set west-the-street, with 
a quick and stately step, sa)'ing to himself that the ex- 
pedition of the silver-moanted boots was all np. 

As he was posting np the street, an acquaintance of 
his, a flesher, likewise of the name of Wilson, eyed 
him, and called him aside. <' Hey, Geoi^e, come this 
way a bit. How are ye ? How d*ye do, sir ? WTiat 
news about Selkirk ? Grand demand for boots there 
just now, I hear — eh ? Needing any thing in my way 
the day ? — Nae beef like that about your town. Come 
away in, and taste the gudewife's bottle. I want to 
hae a crack wi* ye, and get measure of a pair o' boots. 
The grandest story yon, sir, I ^ver heard — eh ? — ^Need- 
ing a leg o* beef? — Better? Never mind, come away 

George was following Mr Wilson into the house, 
having as yet scarcely got a word said, — and he liked 
the man exceedingly, — when one pulled his coat, and a 
pretty servant girl smirked in his face and said, " Mais- 
ter Dabsen, thou maun cum awa yest-the-gate and 


flpedk tin MkMM ^ 

stipeen ye. TIkni wtmrn caai dtntAr, 

^ Haste ye, fae snT. lia T sp 
faun out at tlie door, ^ tkai's a Wtter 

yonder. A bies birth tmd a tlnlcT 
gap to, lad ! Fee take ker at a kuBdo' 
ter. Let as aee jmn a» ye c«bk back 

ingin tlie door to lecem 

<< I quite focjgiat, 
I hope, aa 

^ Indeed, Mra WUmb, I 
sdl that yoa were fev, aad tikat wr* nro 
bargain agatn, for I aeiet paid ymi 
that I did not get the ofisr of aiy dtaaerr 

"< A Tcry sta|Md neglect ! B«L iadwd. I ha«e a» 
many things to mind, and to bard 441 with the mrid^ 
MrDobaon; yon cannot eaneme, when these* oftfy a 
woman at the head of afcirs 

** Ay, bnt sic a woBBan," said Georva, and «haah his 

^ Wen, well, come at two. I dine early. No cete. 
mony, yon know. Jnst a homely dinner, aad no drink- 
ing." So saying, she tnmed and sailed into the honse 
Teiy gracefnUy ; and then tnning ande» dm looked onl 

VOL. I. a 


-*- At. ▼« msv xrac awsr Trmr thr imrft, •» if I 
hiifclBi. afeer tirl, Sliane &* the Mvfier-like five o' 

ve; I wsk¥«« bad been titer mil»«ff die dsr! If 

* ■ • • 

ywB yuHidu Ive been beie. For there's my tro th cf 
CMUDc to diaaeiT lad awrbe sone o* his craoieB ; and 
IttH beiiK ta'cB wT thi§ ■cnr sovter chieM, that I ken 
w«el theyH dnnk nair dian twice tltt profits o' this bit 
order. Mjr brother maam bae a* bis ain wiU too! 
Folk mann aye bow to the bosh they get bield frae, 
dse I ahoidd take a stanp out o* their panch cogs the 

George attended at ten minutes past two, to be as 
tehionable as the risk of losing his kale would permit 
--^re a sharp wooer-like rap at the door, and was 
shown by the dimpling Border maid into The Room, 
—^which, in those days, meant the only sitting apart- 
ment of a house. Mrs Wilson being absent to super- 
intend the preparations /or dinner, and no one to intro- 
duce tlio parties to each other, think of George's utter 
lunazement, when he saw the identical fat gentleman, 
who came to him thrice in his dream, and ordered him 
to come to Widow Wilson's and get payment of his 
boots I He was the very gentleman in every respect, 
tDVory inch of him, and George could have known him 
lunong a thousand. It was not the Didce of Northum- 


berlandy but he that was so very like hiaa, with hk 
curled hair, and red cheeks, which did not hang ovicr 
his crayat. George felt as if he had been drop pe d inio 
another state of extBtence, and hardly knew what to 
think or say. He had at first very nigh ran «p 
taken the gentleman's hand, and addressed )am as 
old acquaintance, but Inddly he recollected the 
vocal circumstances in which they met, which was mm 
actually in tie shop^ but in George's littie bed-dosec m 
the night, or eariy in the momiag;. 

In short, the two sat awkward *««ij^ tall, at Jaai, 
Mrs Wilson entered, in most brilliant attire, and naJly 
a handsome fine woman ; and with her a coontry lady, 
with something in her face extremely r'yyf Mia 
Wilson immediately introduced the paru^ to eadb 
other thus i~^^ Brother, this is Mr Dobson, boot and 
shoemaker in Selkirk; — as honest a yomig man, and as 
good a payer, as I know* — Mr Dobs<m, thin is Mr loni' 
bull, my brother, the best friend I erer had; and this is 
his daughter Margaret*" 

The parties were acquainted in one minnte, £or Mr 
Tombnll was a frank kind-hearted gentleman ; ay, they 
were more than acquainted, for the rery second or 
third look that (jeoige got of Margaret Tnnbtili, he 
loved her. And during the whole afternoon, every 
word that she spoke, every smile that she nmi\f^, tad 
every happy look that she tamed on another, added to 

172 THE shepiierd'a calendah. 

loft flame ; fo that long ere the son leaned Ins dbow oo 
Skelflall Pen, he was deeper in lore than, perhapsy any 
4Mher sonter in this worid erer was. It is needless to 
describe Miss Tumboll ; die was jnst what a womaii 
should be, and not exceeding twenty-five years of age. 
What a mense Ae wonld be to the town of SeQdiky 
and to a boot and shoemaker's parlour, as well as to 
the top of the coundllofs' seat every Sunday ! 

When the dinner was over, the brandy bottle went 
round, accompanied with the wee wee glass, in shape 
of the burr of a Scots Thistle. When it came to Mr 
Tumbull, he held it up between him and the light, — 
** Keatie, whaten a ni£f-naff of a glass is this ? let us 
see a feasible ane." 

^< If it be over little, you can fill it the oftener, 
brother. I think a big dram is so vulgar I" 

<< That's no the thing, Keatie. The truth is, that 
yeVe a perfect she Nabal, and ilka thing that takes the 
Talue of a plack out o' your pocket, is vulgar, or im- 
proper, or something that way. But I'll tell you, 
' Keatie, my woman, what you shall do : Set down a 
black bottle on this hand o* me, and twa clear anes on 
this, and the cheeny bowl atween them, and I'll let you 
see what I'll do. I ken o' nane within the ports o' 
Hawick can a£ford a bowl better than you. Nane o' 
your half bottles and quarter bottles at a time ; now 
Keatie, ye ken, ye ha» a confoundit trick o' that ; but 

I hae MMoe htft m 
and by." 

^ Dear brocker, Tm Mvr i^vm wn ■ 
your bottles bere ? Tliak v^at ikt 
tf I were to keep caWb o 

<" Do as I bid TM Boir, K 
me^ — Ahf she is a iikcMd. Mr 
need of m little schoo&ip 

The materials were piudt eA and Mr T 
bad beoi predict e d, 
Wilsons joined them i 
a shoemaker, and the other ow friend 
a merrier afiemoon has scldoaa been la Hawick. Hr 
Tamball was perfectly delickaed wi& Gcan 
made liim sing " The Somen o* SeldriE,* -* T 
Bine BonDets," and all his beat tUnca; 
came to ^ Round abont Hawick," he 
six times oyer, and was never weary of 
and identifying ^ characters with thoae 
Then the story of the boots was an in r i ti a ni l 8d e j o ka , 
and the Ukeness between Mr Tnmboll and the Dake 
of Northumberland an acceptable item. At length Mr 
TunibnM got so elevated, that he said, ^ Ay, man ! and 
they are shod wi' silver, and silver tasseb nnnid tfat 
top ? I wad gie a bottle o' wine for a sight o' diem.** 

^< It shall cost you nae mair,*' said Gewge, and in 
three minutes he set diem on die table* Mr Tumbnll 

174 rat, 24iJbJ*UJ£RD*6 CAUESD AWL 

tne4 tliein ob, and walked tiBWig;li asd diroii^ the 
room with them, fdngiiig— 

They fitted eittcdy ; and before sittiiig down, he offined 
Geoi^ge the onginal pnoe, and got thenu 

It hecame late rather too soon fw our group, but the 
yom^ lady grew impatient to get home, and Mr Tmii* 
ball was obliged to {Kepare for going ; nothing, hew- 
crer, wonld please him, save that George should go 
with him all night ; and George beings long be£(»e this 
time, OTer head and ears in lore, accepted of the invi- 
lition, and the loan of the flesher s bay mare, and went 
with them. Misa Margaret had soon, by some kind of 
natm^al inspiration, discoyered our jovial Souter's par« 
tiality for her ; and in order to open the way iar a ban« 
ter, (the best mode of b^puuiing a conrtsbip)} she fell on 
and rallied him most severely about the boots and the 
Sauterin^ and particularly about letting himself bo 
robbed of the two guineas. This gave George an op- 
portunity of retaliating so happily, that he wondered 
at himself, for he admowledged that he said things that 
he never believed he could have had the face to say to 
a lady before. 

The year after that, the two were married in the 
house of Mrs Wilson, and Mr Tumbull paid down a 
hundred pounds to. George on the dity he brought her 


from that boose m bride. Nov. ^omAt G«arr« 
himself, I bare been twice most EbenZy "paid 3ur 
boots m that boose. My wife, perbapA. viZ fOBii 
the tbkd paymenty which I hope wiC be :be Vac ȣ tHi 
but I still think there is to be another ow 
was not wrong, for afierthe deadi of he w^rkr 
in-law, he foond himself entitled to ^ht tknrd mi 
ygfhole effects ; the transfer of which, bm 
bid marriage, was made orer to him in the 
friend, Mrs Wi]s<m« 




There is an old story which I have often heard re- 
lated, ahont a great Laird of Cassway, in an outer 
comer of Dumfries-shire, of the name of Beattie, and 
bis two sons. The incidents of the story are of a very 
extraordinary nature. This Beattie had occasion to 
be almost constantly in England, because, as my in- 
formant said, he took a great hand in government af- 
hiVSy from wliich I conclude that the tradition had its 
rise about the time of the Civil Wars ; for about the 
close of that time, the Scotts took the advantage of the 
times to put the Beatties down, who, for some previ- 
ous ages, had maintained the superiority of that dis- 

Be that as it may, the Laird of Cassway's second 
son, Francis, fell desperately in love with a remarkably 
beautiful girl, the eldest daughter of Henry Scott of 
Drumfielding, a gentleman, but still only a retainer, 
and far beneath Beattie of Cassway, both in point of 


wesHh ind 

returned firom the L nrreraiT^ 

a pale eomplexioB, and 

Thomas, die ddeet 

made, a peHect pictne of heaiik 

a spoTtmiaii, a wwnor, s^d ] 

would not aafier a fox to ^ 

ffetiid. He rode ^ Wrt hone, kc^ 

played the best iddk, rfaanud Ae 

kin, and took the itoideiC dcmfhi of 

any man bet w e en Eiick Boe and 

ever he cast his eyes oa a pnttr zxL 
or weqion-«3iair, the 
as if tickled hj 
Now, though 
was cafled, had only spoke 
life, at which time he 
Ind the derfl tdke Urn if mr he 1 
hss whole horn daya ; yd, fiv all 
It oeidd not he said ^Bt dbe m 
a maiden's heart nmrt he was hdm 
Int^y away ; hot hen gate him the 
other yoong man. She loved to toe Imty to hear *4 
hmi,and to langh at him; and it wwevum liiifimd 
by the domestics, that Tam Bcattie « the Cmmmtf* 

178 THE 8HEPHtelU>*9 CAtXm»Mh. 

name came oftener into her convocation than ther» 
was any good reason for. 

Such was the state of affairs when Francis came 
home^ and fell desperately in love with Ellen Scott ; 
and his father being in England, and he vnder no ve-» 
straint, he went frequently to visit her. She rec^ved 
him with a kindness and afiahility that pleased him to 
the heart ; bnt he little wist that this was only a spon-* 
taneous and natural glow of kindness towards him be^ 
cause of his connexions, and rather because he wais tfa^ 
Young Laird of Cassway*s only brother, than the poor 
bvt accomplished Francis Beattie, the scholieur from Ox- 

He was, howiever, so much delighted with her, that 
he asked her father43 permission to pay his addresses 
to her. Her father, who was a pnideht and sensible 
■lan, answered him in this wise-r-<< That nothing would 
give him greater delight th&n to see his beloved Ellen 
joined with so accomplished and amiable a young gen? 
tleman in the bonds of boly wedlock, provided his ^-» 
ther s assent was previously obtained. But as he himr 
self was suborcGmate to another house, not on th^ best 
terms 'with the house of Cassway, he would not take 
H on lum to sanction any such connexion without the 
did Laird*s full consent. That, moreover, as he, Fran- 
ciii Beattie, was just setting out in life, as a lawyer^ 
there was but too much iseason to doubt that a matri*. 


ttDMual eimiiexi<m with Ellen at that time would be 
fa^;Uy impradent ; therefore it was not to be thought 
fqKlhec of tiU thft Old Laird waa consulted. In the 
meantime} he should always be welcome to his honse^ 
aqd to hia.dangfa|er*s eonq^any, as he had the same de- 
pendence on his hononr and integrity, as if he had beeil 
a son of his own." 

: The yovDg man thanked Urn a£kctionately> and 
oonld.nol help acqniescing^m the trnth of his remaikiy 
pi^omised not to mention matrimony fiuther, till he had 
c6nsnlted lus fiather, and added— << Bnt indeed yon 
mnst ezcose me^ if I avail myself of yonr pennission 
to risit here ofken, as I am sensible that it will be im- . 
possible for me to live for any space of time out of my 
deac l^len's sighti" He was again assured of welcome^ 
and the twa parted mutually pleased* 

,HeiU7< Scott of Drumfielding was a widower, with 
BJK jdaoghters^ over whom presided Mrs thae-Jerdany 
their maternal aunt, an old maid, with fashions and^ 
td^as eyen more antiquated than henelf. No sooner 
had.the young wooer ti^en his leaye, than she bounced^ 
in^ the. room, the only sitting apartment in the house, 
and i^d, in a Ipnd important whisper^ ^ WhaVs that' 
yonng swankey of a lawyer wanting, that he's aye 
hankering sae muckle about our town ? Fll tell yon 
what} brother Harrys it strikes me that he wants to 
make a wheelvmght Oo your daughter NelL Now, fptfi 


3fr Rmos Baaaks ihe 
Heaoam of tbe whole a mniry V 

ri tdl >fM wkat, fafvtker iiHr7y---iipi« I were » 

Uy, Ivvdtttlwrlwatykir^a kykNvd. Wktt 
faetoannlttn a W7 ipOTM widb ? Tkewindo' 
hb kMg% fci—olh ' iMiiii tp adl thi far gwid a 
gimqMBgflL Heck mt I ^nuf ^mid thef be wlha wad 
livf it; and tiiey wiia tnm to oaoEy^ peafie Ibrfbeir 
liviBf wiH Hve kirt cranly. Take aa aadd fael^ ad» 
Tice gin ye wad praipetv dse yell be wise akian the 
Imndi Om aae nair to 4a widi h]ii^--.NeU's liread 
f or his hettefii ; tcU IdiD tiai» (h) by my €eity> gn I 
meal wt'hiai £m» to 6ne, /^// toU hm.'' 

^ It w<obldlie«i£ieiidttyaiiiie to keep %iigfat a ae- 
caai ^«ai yoi^ aieiter, eoiMMariag the iiitovest y^a have 
ta ke n ln aiy fiaafly, i jftioae givoi him my lymsaat to 
yiatt my tdaagfater, iiaii«t lhe«ame time have reMrict* 
ed him ieom meittioiiiiig matsimoiiy until he faave^m*^ 

<< Andwhatiadievisftiagtogangforythen? Away 
vri' him I Our Nell's lood for hpb bettere^ WhatiRrad 


tar to ^ Lady^ 

mel rn kw Ae ^nuls of 

ry*« a oiiijpit — ; he 



wad kiUiab tbe beat loid o' the 


are a' wise 

o' ioTie vewa, and adbs o' 


tlieir famgs m dear ce they 


im a lew dayBy Hemy ^ DnwiMdtny wm eallei 
imt to sttead InsCliief on 0<MBeeipedilioQ; onwbidk 
lir» J«ney not cariay to trwBl bar mMMgo to aiy other 
penon, went orer to Caasway, and kvited t^e Yooog 
Laird to DnunfieldiBg to see her niece, qntee conm* 
oed that her channa and endowmoits wdiU4 1^ ^a^se 
CBBkre the elder hrodier aa they had done the^yonnger. 
Tam Beatde was delighted at finding aoch a good haeH 
friend as Mrs Jane, for he had not failed t/^ ohBer?ey 
lor a twd re m onth back, that Ellen Scott waa yery 
iMtty, and, either tfaroo^ chance or designi he asked 
Mrs Jane if the yoni^ lady was privy to thia invitA^ 

: ** She privy to it T exclaimed Mrs Jane^ ^ihaking 
her apron. <^ iSi, weel I wat, no I She wadsoon hae: 
flown in my Am^ wf her gihery and her jaakay^-liad 
I tanld her my errand ; but the gowk kens what the 
titdkig wants, although it is not aye crying, G^ive^ ^rive^ 
like the horse loch-leech.'' 

^ Does die horse^leedi leally cry that, Mrs Jane ? 
I shdnld think, fSram a view of its months that it could 
ateeely cry any thbg,^ said Tom. 

<^ Are ye sie a reprobate aa to deny tlie words o'lhe 
Scripture, sir? Hedi, wae's me 1 ^diat some folk hae 
to answer fort We're a' wise ahint the hand* Bnt 
hark ye,— come ye ower in time, else I am feared she. 
may be settled for ever out o' your reach. Now, I 


taamYMe to iiaaBk mm lim^fvrlhKwm 

yon tWB made for ane amdier. Let Be take m lMk#' 

yon fiiJM) tap to t a e O yes-*aMMle for 

CMne oirer ni liney bcfwt hOtj Hmwj 

agiabi; and let yovr nst be m tineavi kasi, die n 

yeyoathebackefAedoortokeqw— Wadfumfcatiir 
die exdaimed to henel^ mm talnay her I we 
ay tliat the liene le ch- l ee A cm «|Mric ! 
Tbe Yov^ Lakd « tiw BM fiv BM r 

Tbemae Beattie WW me to Ui 
hevrnfffmeAf and ]fo Jaae liaii% 
in style, he was perfectly thai and with her 
ly it cannot be denied that QlcB WW as aradi d^ght* 
ed with hini. She ww jmmig, gay, aad frafieaanc^ 
and galea neier qie*t a aote jeyow lad happy aihr* 
noon, or knew before wdiai it ww to be ia a 
that deUg^ed her ao nrach. While they aai 
ging^ and apparent ly better satiaied with the caai 
each odier than ww lik^y to he re^wded wid 
&rence by any other indiridnal aepiriag to iht 
of the yoong lady, the door ww opened, aad then 
tered no odber than Fiands Beatde I WheaEDea 
her denrted knrer appear thn saddcaly, she Uaehed 
deeply, and her glee ww damped in a momeaL 8he 
looked rather like a condenmed criminal, or at least m 
gmhycrcatare, than what the really w as , n bcingorcr 


Mad die dovd of ^uStt had nerer cast ks Bhft-^ 

Ritli iored bcr aboTe aH tilings on earA or in hea- 
rtm, and dw noneiit he saw her ao much abashed at 
Winf aaip r i wd in the company of his hrodier, his spirit 
was ■w rr g d to je al o nsy — ^to maddmng and nncontrdi- 
ahle jeakmsy. His ears mg, his hair stood on end, 
and die rantovr of his hue became Vke a bent bow. 
He walked up to his brodier wilii his hand on his hilt, 
sad, in a alale of exrimsent whidi rendered his words 
imriiiirlirti , addnKsed him thns, whfle Ins teeth fr&nnd 
tagMher like a lioree-nttle : 

* P^y, sir, may I ask yon of yonr i nt c nt ioniB, and of 
whaft yon are seeing here?* 

^ I know not, Frank, what right yon hare to ask any 
andi <(nestions ; bnt yon w91 allow that f hare it nght 
to ask at 3fim what jioff are seeking here at preseirt^ see- 
ing ybn come so ^ery mopportnnely?** 

** Sir,* said F^rancis, whose passion conld stay no 
fittlher parley, * •dare yon pnt it to the issue of the 
swofd dus moment ?** 

'^ CiMne now, detf Fhmcis, do not act the fool and 
die madman bodi at a dme. Rather than bring such 
a Aspnte to die issne of die sword between two bro- 
dien who never had a qnairel in their Kres,! propose 
that we bring it to a much more temperate and deci- 
Mve issue here where we stand, by giving the maiden 

ted to 

mol liu— lU'iMi wwj 

fiore hf 

tydovntrnt tm 

eye to eiliier oi 
BdouB thttt she might to 

M £11^ I need mot tdl 






Thomas, in a light and careless manner, as if certain that 
his appeal would he successful ; << nor need I attempt 
to tell how dearly and how long I will love you, for in 
faith I cannot Will you make the discovery for your- 
self hy decidmg in my favour ?*' 
' Ellen looked up. There was a smile on her lovely 
face; an arch, mischievous, and happy smile, hut it 
turned not on Thomas. Her face turned to the con- 
trary side, hut yet the heam of that smile fell not cm 
Francis, who stood in a state of as tenihie suspense he- 
itween hope and fear, as a Roman Catholic sinner at 
the gate of heaven, who has implored of St Peter to 
open t^e gute, imd »wiut9 ^ finid imsweri T^e die .of 
his fate was soon cast, for Ellen, looking one way, yet 
moving another, straightway threw herself into Thomas 
^Seattle's arms, exclaiming, << Ah, Tom I I fear I am 
doing that which I shall rue, hut I must trust to your 
-generosity; for, had as you are, I like you the best!" 
Thomas took her in his arms, and kissed her ; but 
before he could say a word in return, the despair and 
-age of his brother, breaking forth over every barrier of 
peason^ intenvpted him. << This is the trick of .a 
4B6ward, to screen himself from the chastisement he de- 
«Brves. But you escape me not thus I Follow me if 
you dare I" , And as he said .this, Francis rushed from 
the house, shaking his naked sword at his brother. . 
£llen^embled.witIi.8gitAtipii at the young man's 


rage ; and while Thomas still continaed to assure her 
of his unalterable affectioD, Mrs Jane Jerdaa entered, 
pladdng her apron so as to make it twang Uke a bow- 

. << What's a' this. Squire Tummas ? Are we to be 
babbled out o' house and hadding by this raptorous* 
yom^ lawyer o' yours ? By the soub o' the Jerdans, 
m Idsk up sic a stoure about his lugs as shall blind the 
juridical een o' him I It's qoeeir that men should study 
the law only to learn to break it. Sure am I, nae gen- 
tleman, that hasna been bred a lawyer, wad come into 
a neighbour's house bullyragging that gate wi' sword 
toL hand| malice prepense in his eye, and tenom on hii 
tongue. Just as a lassie hadna her ain freedom o' 
choice, because a fool has been pleased to uk her I 
Haud the grip you hae, Niece Nell ; ye hae made 9^ 
wise choice for aince. Tam's the man for my money ! 
Polk are a' wise ahint the hand, but real wisdom Ilea 
in taking time by the forelock. But, Squire Tarn, the 
tUng that I want to ken is thi»*-Are you going to put 
tsf wi' a' that bullying and threatening, or do ya 
propose to chastise the fool according to his folly ?" 
> ^hk truth, Mrs Jane, I am very sorry for my bro« 
therms behariour, and could not with honour yield any 
more than I did ta pacify him. But he must be hum- 

• Rapturous i. e, oatrageoos. 


he 'vmB yotir oDnseat to <my siccm llimg> dkuiA ye 
grmt k. That's a*. Take an auld loofs advke gin ye 
wad prosper. Folk are a' wise ahim iht band, and mid 

*< Den*, j^frs Jane, whitt objedio&s cm yon Iiat« to 
Mr JShnds Boai^ tbe ai06t «eeompliciied ytstoig ge&- 
tleman of the whole country ?" 

*i f CvmidiBfaad g^mieman I X)Maip&hed Idm-nilk ! 
m tali yaa what, brother I&iry,-*^c»ra I W)Mr»«^land* 
last lady^ i waxl aatfaer be a tatter'a feyboard. What 
has he to maintain a Wy i^oiwe widi ? The wind o' 
his rkmgs, iforaooth dw.-^4iHnioB ^ sell that for gsMid m 
gevpings. Heoh met Gra^y^wad tbey be wha wad 
bay' il^ and 'diey wha tniat 1» crazy peepie^A)^: Aeir 
Uni^ wiil live h«t icrasily. Take an tMdd ibd^ ad<^ 
vice gin ye w;ad prai^iv elM yell be wite ahiat the 
hands iiaiw nae nmdr te ido with liim-*«Neirfi 4bread 
for juB betted ; tell him that, Or> by my eeity, gki I 
meet wi' him ftu» to iwe, Til tell hun.'' 

^ It would be twfriendly m me to keep «iig^ a ee- 
iMt^wai yo1:^ aifiiter, iCsauMlerbig lite intei^ 
taken Jn any fam^ I iuwe given him my cotaMnt to 
Tiait myidanghter, bat «t tiM aame time ha^e iieMirict- 
ed him from mentioning matrimony until he have «on- 

^< And what ia^evisfCing to gang for, then? Away 
wi' him I Our Nell'a lood for 1^ betters. What wad 

t«B LAniD O** GA8SWAY. -' 18T 

ytm tluaktm sbe eoold get the Yovng Laird, his bro* 
liier, nd' It t>link o' ker ee r 

** Ne^€$r speak to me 6f that, Mrs Jane. I vad ra^ 
tber Me ^e po()rest «f his shepherd lads coming tar 
ccftttt my child thaA see him {* and "wHh these mrorda 
Heiffy left the raem. 

Mm JaM stoodlong, making faces, shaking her apron 
widi holli hands, nodding her head, and sometimes gi^ 
Ting ttstamp with her fo<)t. ^IhaTesetmyfoceagaiaaa 
liAt comiexioB/' said she ; ^< oar Kell's no wade lor a 
hvAy %o a Lenden lawyer. It wad set her nrtlier hci^ 
ter t^ be Lady ef Cassway. Ilie Young Laird, fat 
me I I'll hae the branks of love thrown over the heada 
if A» twitoeaie, tie the tangs thej^tlier, and then let 
liiate g<iMep like twa kippled grews. My brodier Haf>»' 
ry'a a aiaaple man ; be disna ken the credit 'timt he haa 
by hiBdanghters^x-thanksto some other body diaa him T 
^Heoe N^ has ashapa, an ee, and « lady-4naaner4hat' 
wad kilhab the best lord o' the kingdom, wdre he t0; 
come ttnder ^leir influence -and my maaoorres^ She's 
a Jerdan m' tiumgh ; and that Til lettkem keni Fdlk" 
are a' wise ahint the Jband ; credit only oomes by ealdl^ 
8Hd keep. Ooodnigltt ^ af ytnanger brothers^ paffiags 
o' ioye Towa, and-salbs o' wind J Gie hie the good' 
gBBOi hi^ the Ygmff wedders, and bob-tail'd yowes^.- 
and Isltlie Law and ^<}o6pel*4Be& s^ the windV' 
their lungs as dear ae they can«" 

182 THE shepherd's cai^endaiu 

bi a fewdays, Heniy of Dnunfielding wta called 
<mt to attend his Chief on some expedition ; on "whkk 
Mtr Jane, not caring to trust her message to any other 
person, went over to Cassway, and invited H^ Young 
Laird to Dnunfielding to see her niece, quife coi^m. 
ced that her charms and endowments w<»vil4 l^ ^Bfie 
enslare the elder hrolher as they had done the^yoimger* 
Tarn Beattie was delighted at finding such a good bad^ 
friend as Mrs Jane, for he had not failed t^ obseryCy 
for a twelvemonth back, that Ellen Scott was rery 
pMtty, and, either throu^ chance or design^ be asked 
Mrs Jane if the young lady was privy to this invitar 

: ^ She privy to it T exclaimed Mrs Jane, shaking 
her apron. ^ ISr, weel I wat, no I She wad soon bsi^ 
flown in my hee wf her gibery and her jaiikery»:had. 
I taold her my enand ; but the gowk kens what the 
tkdhig wants, although it is not aye crying, Give, gwe^ 
like the horse k»ch-leech.'* 

'■■ ** Does the hofse^leech xeally cry that, Mrs Jane ? 
I shduld think, frtnn a view of its mouthy that it could 
«itecely cry any thing,'' said Tom. 

** Are ye 616 a reprobate as to deny the words o' ibe 
Scripture^ mr? Hech, wae's me \ whaJt some folk hae 
to answei* for! We're a' vrise ahmt the hand. But 
hark ye,-— come ye ower in time, else I am feared 8he> 
may be settled for ever out o' your reach. Now, I 


OBttim Ude to tUnk on that, for I hare alwayi tkonglit 
yon twa made for ane anither. Let me take a looko' 
yoa £rto ti^^ to tae— O yes— made for ane anither. 
Gotee ower In tirae, befoie billy Hany come hame 
a^rin ; and let your visit be in timeons homn, else IH 
gieyoa the backof thedoor tokeep.-— Tl\^d reprobatep 
iftetccelaimed to herself, on takmg her leave; ^to der 
ny that the horse loch-leech can speak I Ha*-he— • 
The Yom^ Laird is the man for me r 

' Tbomfas Beattie was tme to his appointm^it, as may- 
be s«]^K>8ed, and Mrs Jane having her niece dressed 
in styioi he was perfectly charmed with her; and real^^ 
ly it cannot be denied that Ellen was as much delight* 
ed with him. She was yomig, gay, and froHesome^ 
and EUen never speftt a more joyous and happy after- 
noon, oi? knew before what it was to be in a presence 
that delisted her so much. While they sat conver* 
sing, and apparently bettes satisfied with the conqiany of 
each other than was likely to be regarded with indif- 
ference by any other individual aspiring to the fiivour' 
of the yonng lady, the door was opened^ and these en* 
tered no odier than Francis Beattie I When Ellen saw 
her devoted lover appear thus sndd^y, she Unshed 
deeply, and her glee was damped in a moment. She 
looked rather like a condenmed criminal, or. at least i^ 
guilty creature, than what she really was,*-a being over 


vHidse mind tlie cloud of gailt had nerer cast ks "Bfaft-" 

' Funnels loved her abore all things on earth or in hea- 
ven, and the moment he saw her so much abashed at 
being sni^rised in the company of his brot^r, his spnit 
was moved to jeakmfly — to maddening and tmcontrol- 
able jealousy. His «srB rang, his hair stood on end, 
and the •contowr of his face became 13ce' a bent bow. 
He walked up to hAs broilrtv with his hand on his hilt, 
aod, in a state of excitement which renadered Ms words 
im Bf tiO i d ate, addmssed lAth thus, while h^ teeth frimnd 
together lik^ it 1iofi3e*rattle : 

•* Pmy, sir, may I atlk you of your intentioMB, and of 
wliM yon are seeking here?** 

« I know not, Frai&, what tight yoti have ttt afek any 
Stf<h qnes/tionst bnt you wHI aMoW that I have a right 
te fldskat you what you are sfeekilig here at ^resem^ see- 
ing you come so very inopportunely?*' 

* 8ff^ said Francis, whose passic^n could stay no 
farther parley, '^ 'dare yon put it to the issue of the 
swotd tUs moment ?" 

•''Come now, detf FVancis, do not act the fool and 
the madman both at a time. Rather than bring such 
a dispute to the issue of the sword between two bro- 
Aers who never had a quarrel in their lives, I propose 
i&at We bring it to a much more temperate and deci- 
sive issue here where we stand, by giving the maiden 


heat dbeice. Stand jim there at that comer of the 
room, I at thk, a&d Ellen Scott in the middle ; let ui 
hoth ask h&Cf and to whomsoeyer she comes, the prize 
be his. Why should we try to decide, by the loss of 
one of our lives, what we cannot decide, and what may 
be d^ided in a friendly and rational way in one mi- 

^< It is easy for you, sir, to talk temperately and with 
indi^fereitQe of such a trial, but not so with me* Thif 
yelling lady is dear to my heart.'' 
. , '^ Well, but so is she to mine. Let us, therefore^ 
sppeal to the lady at once, whose claim is the best ; 
imd as. your pretrasiona are the.highes^ do yo« ask her 

^ My Nearest Elleii,'' said Francis, humbly asd ai^ 
fecdoulely, >< you know thai my whole soul is devo* 
ted to your love, and that I aspire to it only in tba 
most honourable way ; put an end to this dispute there- 
fore by liODOuring me with the preleienoe which the 
naeqnivocal offer of my hand merits." 
. Elles stood dwid) and motionkBs, looking ateadiiM^ 
ly 4k>W]i at tbe hem of her green jerkin, which she was 
inbUnig with bolih her hands. She dared not lift am 
eye to mther of the brothers, though apparently cob? 
scious that she ought to have recognised the ckima of 
'■ ^ EUm, I need not tell you that I love you," aaid 

186 THE shepherd's calendar. 

Thomas, in a light and careless manner, as if certain that 
bb appeal would be successful ; ^^ nor need I attempt 
to tell how dearly and how long I will love you, for in 
faith I cannot. "Will you make the discovery for your- 
self by deciding in my favour ?" 
- Ellen looked up. Thwe was a smile on ber lovely 
face; an arch, mischievous, and happy smile, but it 
lumed not on Thomas. Her face turned to the con- 
trary side, but yet the beam of that smile fell not on 
francis, who stood in a state of as tenible suspense be- 
tween hope and fear, as a Roman Catholic sinner at 
the gate of beaven, who bas implored of St Peter to 
open t^e gate, mi »w«uits ^ fin^l loisweri T^e die .of 
his fate was soon cast, for Ellen, looking one way, yet 
moving another, straightway threw herself into Thomas 
'Beattie's arms, exclaiming, << Ah, Tom I I fear I am 
doing that which I shall rue, but I must trust to your 
•generosity; for, bad as yon are, I like you the bestl" 
Thomas took ber in his arms, and kissed her; but 
before be could say a word in return, the. despair and 
ciige of his brother, breaking forth over every barrier of 
veBBQKkf intenm^ted him. << This is the trick of .a 
«»ward, to screen himself.from the chastisement he de- 
«irve8. But you escape me not thus I Follow me if 
|fOu dare V*. . And as he said .this, Francis rushed from 
the house, shaking his naked sword at his brother. . 
^ £llen V^'iQU^-vith.agit&tiipn at. the young man's 


rage ; and while Thomas still continued to assure her 
of his unalterable affection, Mrs Jane Jordan entered, 
plucking her apron so as to make it twang Uke a bow- 

« What's a' this, Squire Tvmmas ? Are we to be 
babbled out o' house and hadding by this raptorous* 
young lawyer o' yours ? By the soub o* the Jerdans, 
m kidc up sic a stouie about his lugs as shall blind the 
juridical een o* him I It's queer that men should study 
the law only to learn to break it. Sure am I, nae gen* 
tleman, that hasna been bred a lawyer, wad come into 
a neighbour's house bullyragging that gate wi' sword 
toL handi malice prepense in his eye, and tenom <m hii 
tongue* Just as a lassie hadna her ain freedom, o' 
dunce, because a fool has been pleased to uk. her I 
Hand the grip you hae. Niece Nell ; ye hae made 9^ 
wise choice for aince. Tam's the man for my money ! 
Polk are a' wise ahint the hand, but real wisdom Ilea 
in taking time hy the forelock. But, Squire Tarn, the 
tUng that I want to ken is this — Are you going to put 
up wi' a' that bullying and threatening, or do ye 
propose to chastise the fool according to his folly ?" 
:<^ In truth, Mrs Jane, I am very sorry for my bro« 
tber's behariour, and could not with honour yield any 
more than I did ta pacify him. But he must be hum- 

* Ri^toxooi^ i. e. oatrageoos. 


bled. It will not do to suffer him to cuiy nutten 
■6 iugh a hand" 

' ^ No w» wid ye be Imt adTiaed and leave bim to me, 
I would play him sic a pUsky as he shonldna forget till 
bis dying day. By the souls o' the Jerdans, I would ! 
Now promise to me that ye winsa fi^t him." 

** O promise, promise V cried EUoi ydiemeiitly, 
** ior the Btke of heayen s love, promise my annt that." 

ThomM smiled and shook his head, as much as if he 
bad said, << Yoa do not know what yon are addng." 
Bin Jane went on. 

^ Do it then— do it with a yengeanee, and xtemem- 
ber this, that wherever ye set the place o' comhat, be 
h in hill or dale, deep linn or moss hagg, I shall have 
4 tfairdnnan there to cnoonrage yon on. I shall give 
|Fon a meeting yon little wet o^'* 
. Thomas Beattie took all this for words of course, as 
Mrs Jane was weU known for a raving, ranting old 
Dudd, whose v^emence few regarded, though a great 
Many respected her for the care she had tak^i of her 
sbter^s £smily, and a greater number still regarded her 
with terrei^, as a being possessed of superhuman 
pswers ; so after many es^iressions of the fcmdest love 
for EUen^ he took his leave^ his mind being mad^ up 
how it behoved him to deal with his brother. 

I forgot to mention before, that old Beattie lived at 
Nether Cassway with his. family; and his eldest son 


Thomfts at Over Cassway, haviog, on his father's entei^ 
ing into a second marriage, heen put in possession •f 
that castle, and these lands. Francis, of conrse, lived 
in his father's house when in Scotland ; and it was thus 
that his brother knew nothing of his frequent visits !• 
Ellen Scott. 

That night, as soon as Thomas went home, he dii^ 
patched a note to his brother to the following purport : 
That he was sony for the rudeness and unreasonable- 
ness of his behaviour. But if, on coming to himself, 
he was willing to make an apology before his mistreM, 
then he (Thomas) woidd gladly extend to him the 
right hand of love and brotherhood ; but if he refused 
this, he would please to meet him on the Crook of 
Glen-dearg next morning by the sun-rising. Frands 
returned for answer that he would meet him at the 
time and place appointed. There was then no farther 
door of reconciliation left open, but Thomas still had 
hopes of managing him even on the combat field. 

Francis slept little that night, being wholly set eft 
revenge for the Toss of his beloved mistress; and t 
little after day-break he arose, and putting himself ift 
light armour, proceeded *to the place o'f rendezvous. 
He had farther to go than his elder brother, and o|i 
coming in sight of the Crook of Glen-dearg, he per- 
ceived the latter there before him. He was wrapt iii 
his cavalier s cloak, and walking up and down the Cro^ 


with impassioned strides, on wbich Francis soliloqiuzed 
as follows, as he hasted on : — << Ah ha I so Tom is here 
before me I This is what I did not expect, for I did 
not think the flagitious dog had so much spirit or cour- 
age in him as to meet me. I am glad he has I for how 
I long to chastise him, and draw some of the pampered 
blood from that vain and insolent heart, which has be- 
reaved me of all I held dear on earth !'' 

In this way did he cherish his wrath till close at his 
brother's side, and then, addressing him in the same in- 
solent terms, he desired him to cease his cowardly co- 
gitations and draw. His opponent instantly wheeled 
about, threw off his horseman's cloak, and presented 
bis sword ; and behold the young man's father stood be- 
fore him, armed and ready for action ! The sword fell 
from Francis's hand, and he stood appalled as if he had 
been a statue, unable either to utter a word or move a 

** Take up thy sword, caitiff, and let it work thy 
pathless work of vengeance here. Is it not better that 
thou shouldst pierce this old heart, worn out with care 
lOid sorrow, and chilled by the ingratitude of my race, 
than that of thy gallant and generous brother, the re- 
presentative of our house, and the Chief of our name ? 
Take up thy sword, I say, and if I do not chastise thee 
as thou deservest, may Heaven reft the sword of jus- 
tice from the hand of the avenger I" 


<" The God of Hesfea foriiid t^it I i^mU e«v tfi 
my swoid against my faonovred fitWr T aid Titm'm 

^ Thoa darest not, thoa traiuir and ofrarvdr* !»- 
tamed the &tha-« — ^ I throvr back ibe diyarrf ul 
terras in thy teeth which thoa VBMrst t* thy 
Thou camest hae boiline with raacov. to «hfid 
hlood; and n^ien I a|^>ear in penoB ior h 
darest not accept the chaDenge.** 

<< Yon never did me wroiig, my dear fthrr: hus my 
brother has wronged me in the tendeieKt ftnT 

^ Thy brother never wronged thee TrtnrfifiBr. 
thou deceitful and sanguinary frrtiirkie. Ii waft ihtMi 
alone who forced this quarrel upon Idm ; and I La»i! 
great reason to soqiect thee of a dengn to em him ^ 
that the inheritance and the maid might both he thiae 
own. Bnt here I swear by the arm that made me, and 
the Redeemer that sared me, if thou wilt not go '■>»'*^gM 
and kneel to thy brother for forgiTeaees, confiimaig thy 
injnrions treatment, and sweanng snlMmmoB to thy 
natural Chief, I will banish thee from my hoaae wmi 
presoice for erer, and load thee with a parent's cnrw^ 
which shall never be removed from thy sool till thov 
art crashed to the lowest helL** 

The yoang scholar, being utterly astounded at his 
fsther's words, and at the awful and stem mmmn^ in 
which he addressed him, whom he had never before re- 
primanded, was wholly overcome. He kneeled to Us 

192 THR shepherd's CALE>n>All. 

parent, and implored his forgiveness, promising, with 
tears, to fulfil every injunction which it wonld please 
him to enjoin ; and on this understanding, the two part- 
ed on amicahle and gracious terms. 

Francis went straight to the tower of Over Cassway, 
and inquired for his brother, resolved to fulfil his father's 
stem injunctions to the very letter. He was infcnmed 
his brother was in his chamber in bed, and indisposed. 
He asked the porter farther, if he had not been forth 
that day, and was answered, that he had gone forth 
early in the morning in armour, but had quickly re- 
turned, apparently in great agitation, and betaken him- 
aelf to his bed. Francis then requested to be taken to his 
brother, to which the servant instantly assented, and led 
him up to the chamber, never suspecting that there 
could be any animosity between the two only brothers ; 
but on John Burgess opening the door, and announ- 
cing the Tutor, Thomas, being in a nervous state, was 
a little alanned. << Remain in the room there, Bur- 
gess," said he. — " What, brother Frank, are you seek- 
ing here at this hour, armed capapee ? I hope you are 
not come to assassinate me in my bed ?" 

" God forbid, brother," said the other; ** here 
John, take my sword down with you, I want some 
private conversation with Thomas." John did so, and 
the following conversation ensued ; for as soon as the 
door closed, Francis dropt on his knees, and said, << O, 



my dear brother, I have erred grievously, and am come 
to confess my crime, and implore your pardon." 

« We have both erred, Francis, in suffering any 
earthly concern to incite us against each osier's lires* 
We have both erred, but you have my forgiveness 
cheerfully ; here is my hand on it, and grant me thine 
in return. Oh, Frands, I have got an admonition this 
morning, that never will be erased from my memory, 
and which has caused me to see my life in a new light. 
What or whom think you I met an hour ago on my 
way to the Crook of Glen^-dearg to encounter you ?" 
<< Our £atha', perhaps." 
<< You have seen him, then ?" 
^ Indeed I have, and he has given me sack a repri- 
mand for severity,' as son never before received from 
a parent." 

^ Brother Frank, I must t^ you, and when I do, 
you will not believe me— It wcu not our father whom 
we both saw this morning." 

" It was no other whom I saw. What do you 
mean ?. Do you suppose that I do not know my own 

<< I tall you it was not, and could not be. I had an 
express from him yesterday. He is two hundred miles 
from ibis, and cannot be in Scotland aooner than three 
weeks hence." 

VOL. I. I 

IM THE gDEPHaa>*$ CAuamtB. 

- It if trmt — dm I swacL and tbe eertunCT of it 
dkewd wat as kon. Yos net be a«w Aat he 
■oc kone last aiehi. lad that !■» horse and le^ 

^ He w«B not at koaae. it is trae, nor have his horse 
and retinae arriTed in Scotland. StiD diere is no den^r- 
iog that our £ttherii here, and that it was he who ^M>ke 
to and admoni&hed meT 

^ I tell yon it is impossible. A spirit hadi spoke 
to OS in onr Other's likeness, for he is not, and cannot 
be, in Scotland at this time. My frcnlties are altoge- 
ther confounded by the erent, not being able to calcu- 
late on the qualities or ccmdition of our m<mitor. An 
evil spirit it certainly could not be, for all its admo* 
nitions pointed to good. I sorely dread^ Frands, that 
our father is no more— that there has been another 
engagement, that be has lost his life, and that his soul 
has been lingering around his family before taking its 
final leave of this sphere. I believe that our father is 
dead ; and for my part I am so sick at heart, that my 
nerves are all unstrung. Plray^ do you take horse and 
post off for Salop, from whence his commission to me 
yesterday was dated, and see what hath happened to 
our revered father." 

<* I cannot, for my life, give credit to this, brother, 

^"HB ljlIbd op cjLmwxr. 


or that it was any odMr 

who rebuked me. P^y alkrv tmt t* 

day at least, before I sec ohl 

afypear in the nei^boaihood, 

himself for 

our qnarvd? 

<<No. HeneverMked 
ged me sharply with anr intcBt cm. ^he 
adjured me^ by my regard for hi* 
in hearen, to desist from bbt 

^< Then he knew it aD iaUuiitd T; isr nek 1 icK 
went in yiew of the spot sppaiaac 
percerred him walking dofply to 
his military doak. He never so 
look at me, till I came dose to li 
it was yonrself,! fell to apU aidiag 
to draw. He then dnew oC !■§ doak, dnrw km Mr«r< 
and, telling me he came in yoar pboe, darai sk to tkt 
encoimter. Bnt he knew all the gi o wa di of mm ^gmt' 
rel minotely, and laid the UaoK am aae. I mrm I aai 
a little puzzled to recondle tinniaitfia<»ij bat sm amk' 
vinced my father is near at hand. I heard hi* words, 
and saw lus eyes flashing anger mA fadifailioa Uik 
fortonately I did not tondi him, 
an end to all donbts ; for he did not pwsutt the 
of recondliation to me, as I expected he woald haf« 


done, on my yielding implicitly to all his ii^^uno- 

The two brothers then parted, with protestations, of 
mutual forbearance in all time coming, and with an 
understanding, as that was the morning of Saturday,, 
that if their father, or some word of him, did not reach 
home before the next evening,.. the Tutor of Cassway 
was to take horse for the county of Salop, early on 
Monday morning. 

Thomas, being thus once more left to himself, could 
do nothing but toss and tumble in his bed, and reflect 
on the extraordinary occurrence of that morning ; and, 
after many troubled cogitations, it at length occurred 
to his recollection what Mrs. Jane Jerdan had said to 
him :— << Do it then. Do it with a vengesoice I-— But 
remember this, that wherever ye set the place of com- 
bat, be it in hill or dale, deep linn, or moss hagg, I 
shall have a thirdsman there to encourage you.on^ I 
shall give you a meeting you little wot of." 

If he was confounded before, he was ten times more 
so at the ren\embnmce of these words, of most ominous 
import. . 

At the .time he totally disregarded them, taking 
them for mere rodomontade 4 but now the idea, was to 
him terrible, that his iFather's spirit, like the ]M*ophet'8 
of jold, should have been conjured up by witchcraft ; 
and then again he bethought himself that no witch 

THB ImAUld or CJLmW AT. 197 

irerfd bK9%empkifed har powgr to putt c^iL la 

the end, he knew not what to think, aad wm, tikav tW 

hsmfiMT lh>m its raBC, he gxfe ^vee n^ «■ the pi^e 

drmm^ Air there were no befi» m ^he t««CB«f 

days, 'tfid tip «me old John BMgui , 

tie's ty»nrlwiMWy huntsman, and groom of the 

One wfai» had been attached to the t^mty 1m Msj 

yean^ and he says, m his sknr W4 

« Hdw'ii urn now, caUan' ? — la to« omj 

There larbcea t w ay staga aeea iathe 

tis mwMBu^ riready.** 

<< Ay, and there has been aaMedaaf elw 
that ties iDiStandr «» Hiy hart, t#Hiayr Jahnlaobtdat 
hiS'ldaMer wi& an inqiuutiTe eye wmA ^nivvriBC fi|N 
but* md Bodiing. The latter went on, '^ 1- aai very 
tmwell to-day, J<rfm, and carmoc teO what is ti» sa^* 
ter tirith me. I thii^ I am bewitdiedL*' 

'' It's very like ton is, caUan. I piis nae d a nU en t 
at a* 

<^ B there any body in diis moor ^strict whom yon 
«rer heard bhoned far the horr9>le crime of witd^ 

<^ Ay, that there is ; mairthananeortway. There* 
our ai^ghboiir, Lncky Jerdaa, for instance, and her 
niece Nell,—- the warst o' the pair, I doobt.'' John aaid 
this with a sly Mnpid leer, for he had admitted the <dd 
"ladyio^i ancBadce with Ub master the daf before, and 


bad eyed kiiB aftcrvmk bendbig Iwoome towiid» 

^ Jolm, I am not &pmed to jeA wn ihm Ume ; for 
I am disturbed in mind, and Tery HL Tell mc^ in le- 
alityy did yon erer hear Mn Jane Jcvdan accnaed oi 
being a witdi r"* 

^ Why, look thee, master^ I dares nae aay At's a 
wotch ; for Lodcy has mony good points in iier cba> 
lacter. Bat it's weel kenned she has mair power nor 
her ain, for she can stwop a' the plews in Eakdale wi' 
a ware o' her hand, and can raise the dead onto' their 
graresy jnst as a matter o* cwoorse.** 

^ That, John, is an extraordinary power indeed. 
But did yon never hear of her sending any living men 
to their graves ? For as that is rather the danger that 
hangs over me, I wish yon wonld take a ride over and 
desire Mrs Jane to come and see me. Tell her I am 
ill, and request of her to come and see me." 

<< I shall do that, callan*. But are ton sure it is the 
anld wotch I'm to bring ? For it strikes me the young 
ane maybe has done the deed ; and if sae, she is the 
fittest to effect the cure. But I sail bring the auld ane^— 
Dinna flee intil a xage, for I sail bring the auld ane ; 
though, gude forgie me, it is unco like bringing the 

Away went John Burgess to Dmmfielding ; but Mrs 
Jane would not move for all his eutreaties. She sent 


hmck ward to bk master, to ^ nm cm o }m bod. fm 
he wad be wanr if ooy thing ailed bin ; aad if be bad 
aught to say to anki Jane Jeidan, «be woobl be mdr 
to hear it at hame, though he bebored to 
that it wasna ilka soli^ect under the nm thai «be 
thole to be questioned anent."* 

With this answer John was fovoed to 
there being no accounts of old Beattie baFing 
in Scotland, the young men reaniaed all the 
day in the utmost constenatioB at the 
their father they had seen, and tbe appalliag rebdiK 
had received from it. The 
jBcarce donbt that they bad bad 
pematoral being ; and not being able to • 

father was dead ; and accordingly, both p repare d lor 
setting oat eaiiy osl Monday morning towaids the 
ty of Salop, from ^Hience they bad last bard of 
But jnst as they were ready to set ont, wboi 
spniB were bndded on and their bones bridled, Andnv 
Johnston, their fsitber s confidential aemnt, arrifvd 
from the place to which they were bomHL He bad 
rode night and day, never once stinting the bgbt gal- 
ley as he said, and had dianged his bone atwi 
He appeared as if lus ideas were in a state of 
ment and confonon ; and when he saw bis yoong 
tm standing together, and ready-moonted for a jow» 

\mt at length 
iproien tolaifc 
of two ■Mudreo mSn ; 
r, jam mnkw mtmit hovD sone me» for what pur- 
JOB fasiTp tlooo th» ? Sajy them, at oiiee, wfaMt 
■csHgekr la our fiii:dier aim P'^ 
^Ye— €a; I think he k." 
' ^ .Yon ilMil he is ? Aio yon nncertaiiiy then?** 
' ^I^meotatiiheianotiiMi^ — aft least was not when 
I left hiiii. Bntp-^mm— -eeitaiBly th^e has a dnoige 
taken place. Haik ye, maatere— can a man he said to 
be in life n^ien he ia oat of himself?" 

<< Why,, man, keep ns not in dns thrilling suspense, 
-«-l8 onr fiuher well ?*' 

« No-^not quite welL I am sorry to say, honest 
fenileman^ that he is not. But the truth is, my mas- 
ten^ now that I see you well and hearty, and ahout to 
take, a journey in company, I begin to suspect that I 

" THE LAIRD or CJU5WAT. ttl 

bav^ beeoi posted all tfan wmy ob a fooTt em»d : i&d 
not another syllable will I qieak oo the fatjert. tS J 
have had some refreshment, and if yon mSA 
hearing a ridicaloas stoiy, yo« shall Imr it 

When the matter of the refifnhaaeai had 
oyer to Andrew's fidl satisfiscdon, he beeaB m UfB mm % 

<^ Why, faithy yon see, my masten, it is ac< eas^ « 
say my errand to yon, for in fmct I havie none 
fore, all that I can do is to teU to« a t<orr« 
ridicnioas one it is, as ever seat a poor Mi^vw mm ^m 
-the gallop for the matter of two Iwadud adVit «r ssu 
On die morning before last, right earir. fiti^ Imv^. i1« 
page, comes to me, and he sayv, — • Ftfarrti-, "^^-i maat 
go and Tisit measter. He*s faadL' 

<' ' Bad!' says L < \llBten way i» he bad r 

<< < Why,' says he, ' he's so £v iH » W« wK w«il 
and denres to see yion withoot one flMmar/* delay. 
He's in fine taking, and that 3ro«'Ii fiad ; bat whmiw 
do I stand here ? Lword, I nerer sM swh a fsititu 
Why, Johnston, does tho« know that measMr haili 
Iwost himself?' 

<< ^ How lost himself? rabbit,' say* I, ^speak piaia 
out, else 111 have thee faig-haaled, thon dwarf !' ior my 
blood rose at the imp, for fooling at any ■ifi>hap af 
my master s. But my dM^er only ande hiss worta, 
for there is not a greater deil's-bvdde m ail the Vit€ 



^< ^ Why, man, it is true that I said,' quoth he, laugh- 
ing; < the old gmijr squoir hath Iwost himself; and it 
will he grand sport to see thee gcnng calling him at all 
the steane-croases in the kingdom, in this here way— 
Ho yes ! and a two times ho yes I and a tkre^ times 
ho yes! Did any hody no see the hetter half of my 
measter, Laird of the twa Cassways, Bloodhi^, and 
Pantland, which was amissing oyemight, and is suppo- 
sed to have gone a-wool-gathering ? If any hody hath 
seen that hetter part of my measter, whilk contains as 
mooch wit as a man could drive on a hurlhairow, let 
them restore it to me, Andrew Johnston, piper, trum- 
peter, whacker, and wheedler, to the same great and 
nohle squoir ; and high shall be his reward — Ho yes !' 

<^ ^ The devil restore thee to thy right mind I' said I, 
knocking him down, and leaving him sprawling in the 
kennel, and then hasted to my master, whom I found 
feverish, restless, and raving, and yet with an earnest- 
ness in his demeanour that stunned and terrified me. 
He seized my hand in both his, which were burning 
like fire, and gave me such a look of despair as I shall 
never forget. * Johnston, I am ill,* said he, * grievous- 
ly ill, and know not what is to become of me. Every 
nerve in my body is in a burning beat, and my soul is 
as it were torn to fritters with amazement. Johnston, 
as sure as you are in the body, something most deplo- 
rable hath happened to em.' 


^ < Yes, M sore as I am n tbe boor, 
ter/ says L < B«t 111 Isve iva Um ami 
style ; aad yoo shall toon be a§ tMntf afr » wct ' mj« 
I ; < for a gentleami aiast mm lose keart a'niigfTii»r Sir 
a little fiie-raisiBg in his owtwofkA, M it ^aci ims na^i 
lihe dtadel,* says I to lum. B«t he est mt Aan vf 
phakii^ his head and flinging my hnui cram ftaak 

^ < A tmee with yonr talking.' ay% htu - Has 
hath be£dlen me is as mnch ahore n 
as the son is ahoTe the earth, ami weus niH her 
prehended by mortal man : bvt I wmA. iaStnm rvn W 
it, as I hare no other mrst of i Maint the 3iaekiir4«C3e 
I yearn for, and which I am incafttbie of gnuiHg ya^ 
sonally. Johnstcm, there nerer waft a insiifcl mui lad- 
fered what I hare soffered since aadnight, I beiiere 
I bare had doings with hell ; for I hare been riiitfm 
bodied, and embodied again, and the intentmof my t^r- 
tores has been unparalleled^ — ^I was at home thifr morB- 
jng at day-breaL* 

*^ < At home at Cassway V says L < I am korry to 
Jiear you say so, master, became yon know, or fehonld 
Jmow, that the thing is imposnble, yon being in the an- 
cient town of Sfarewsbnry on the King'ft bwamsm,* 

u < J ^i^jyy 2t home in very deed, Andrew,* retmned 

he ; < bnt whether in the body, or ont of the body, I 

-cannot tell — the Lord only knoweth. But there 1 was 

^in this guise, and with this heart and all its feelings 

£04 THE shepherd's GALEan>AR. 

within me, where I saw scenes, heard words, and spoke 
others, which I will here relate f o you. I had finish* 
ed my dispatches last night hy midnight, and was sil* 
ting musing on the hard £ate and improTidence of my 
sovereign master, when, ere ever I was aware, a ndgh* 
hour of onrs, Mrs Jane Jordan, of Dromfielding, a 
mysterious character, with whom I have had some 
strange doings in my time, came suddenly into the 
Clamber, and stood before me. I accosted her with 
doubt and terror, asking what had brought her so te 
from home.* 

<< < You are not so far from home as you imagine^' 
said she ; ^ and it is fortimate for some that it is so. 
Your two sons have quarrelled about the possession of 
mece Ellen, and though the eldest is blameless of the 
quarrel, yet has he been forced into it, and they are en* 
gaged to fight at day-break at the Crook of Glen-dearg. 
There they will assuredly fall by each other's hcmds, 
if you interpose not ; for there is no other authority now 
on earth that can prevent this woful calamity.' 

" * Alas ! how can I interfere,' said I, * at this dis- 
tance ? It is already within a few hours of the meet- 
ing, and before I get from among the windings of the 
•Severn, their swords will be bathed in each other's 
blood I I must trust to the interference of Heaven.' 

" * Is your name and influence, then, to- perish for 
'ever ?' said she. Is it so soon to follow your master's,, 


die gfett Maxwdl of the Dmlea, into stter oyii 
.Why not ndMr voMe into reqaiMtian thn 
tfaespiiito that wsteh oTcr hoinai deBtinieftr At 
«tep naide with me^ that I may diaci a t the 
yamr eyes. Yon know I can do it ; aod 
met according to yovr nataral mpalae.' 

<^ <Sneh wero the import of the wonk 
-me, if not the ^eiy worda themaelTea. I 
them not at the time ; nar do I vet. Bat 
done speaking, she took me bjr the hand, aiwi hnnitd 
me towards the door of the apartinent, which Jk 
ed, and the first step we took over the thnakhold, 
stepped into a Toid space, and fell downward. I 
going to call out, but felt my descent to npid, that my 
Yoice was stifled, and I coold not «o m«ch a* draw my 
breath. I expected erery moment to faD aeaoHtt %<mbo- 
thing, and be daahed to pieces ; and I khat my eye«, 
'Clenched my teeth, and held by the dame's haod with a 
tenzied grasp, in expectation of the cjfastmpht. B«t 
down we wait— down and down, with a cjtierit y which 
ct^igne cannot describe, withont Kght, breath, or any 
aoft of impediment. I now felt aarared that we had 
*both at once stepped from off the earthy awl wen* harled 
*into the immeasurable Toid. TheaJrsofdaifai^asa— g 
in my ears with a booming din as I rolled dows the 
'eteeps of everlasting night, an outcast from natnre and 
HBAits harmonies, and a jouraeyer into the depths of hefl* 

206 THE shepherd's calendar. 

<< < I still held my companion's hand, and felt the pres- 
sure of hers ; and so long did this our alarming descent 
continue, that I at length caught myself breathing once 
more, but as quick as if I had been in the height of a 
ferer. I then tried every effort to speak, but they w&e 
all unavailing ; for I could not emit one sound, although 
my lips and tongue fashioned the words. Think, then, 
of my astonishment, when my companion sung out the 
following stanza with the greatest glee :— > 

* Here we roU, 

Body and soul, 
Down to the deeps of the Paynim*8 goal— 

With speed and with spell. 

With yo and with yell, 
This is the way to the palace of heU— 

Sing To! Ho! 

Level and low, 
Down to the Valley of Vision we go !' 

<< < Ha, ha, ha I Tarn Beattie,' added she, < where is 
a' your courage now ? Cannot ye lift up your voice and 
«ing a stave wi' your auld crony ? And cannot ye lift 
up your een, and see what region you are in now ?' 

'< ' I did force open my eyelids, and beheld light, 
jand apparently worlds, or huge lurid substances, gliding 
by me with speed beyond that of the lightning of hea- 
▼en. I certainly perceived light, though of a dim un- 
certain nature ; but so precipitate was my descent, I 
could not distinguish from whence it proceeded, or of 
what it consisted, whether of the vapours of chaotip 

THE t-Aiwi* OV 

wastes^ or the stresBMn of WiL S* I 
eyes doeer than erer, aad wtatd liit 

<< < We at length cnw Bpa 
n^ted oar £vther proeresk I had Mk iaeiac » vt iiiL 
against it, but merely as if we caa 
some aoh snbstance that impeded 
immediately afterwank I percerred 
bad ceased. 

<< < What a terrible tmnble ve fcae 
said my companion. - Bvt ye an- uim- sl 'sut fimat 
wbere yon should be ; and del ip«d liifr ok^wwri. 1 

<< ' So saying, she quitted my iAnd. sue I i»:h aa £ 
she were wrested firom me by a dcrd ^^ws : tnc 
I dnrst not open my eyes, being coarngxd tiae I 
lying in the depths of hell, or some hadwoi pjai» ]«« 
to be dreamt of ; so I lay sdll in decpoar, uM eT#K da- 
ring to address a prayer to my Maker. Ai IcAgih I 
lifted my eyes slowly and feaifoDy ; bat they lad ■» 
power of distinguishing objects. All that I peDcenncsd 
was a vision of something in nature, with o^bich I had 
in life been too well acquainted. It was a ghmpce of 
green glens, long withdrawing ridges, and one high hill, 
with a cairn on its summit. I rubbed my eyes to di- 
vest them of the enchantment, but when I opened them 
again, the illusion was still brighter and more magnifi- 
cent. Then springing to my feet, I perceived that I 


lymg m m little fkiry rmgx boI one kmdred yvds 
fioM tbe door of mr own fadU ! 

^ * I wafly as Toa may well coDceire, dazded with ad- 
viratioii ; still I feh that a o uic thin g was not i%fat with 
■K, and that I was struggling with an enchantnent ; 
hut recollecting the hideons story told me by the bd- 
dame, of the deadly discord between my two sons, I 
basted to watch dieir motions, for the morning was yet 
but dawning. In a few seconds after recoTering my 
amses, I perceived my eldest son Thomas leave his 

' tower armed, and pass on towards the phice of appoint- 
ment. I waylaid him, and remarked to him that he was 
very early astir, and I feared on no good intent. He 
made no answer, but stood like one in a stnpor, and 
gazed at me. * I know yonr purpose, son Thomas,' 
said I ; < so it is in vain for you to equivocate. Yoa 
have challenged your brother, and are going to meet 
him in deadly combat; but as you value your father's 
blessing, and would deprecate his curse — as you value 

' your hope in heaven, and would escape the punishment 
of hell — abandon the hideous and cursed intent, and be 

'reconciled to your only brother/ 

" ^ On this, my dutiful son Thomas kneeled to me, 

■ and presented his sword, disclaiming, at the same time, 
dl intentions of taking away his brother's life, and all 

• animosity for the vengeance sought against himself^ and 

shanked me in a flood of tears for niy interference. I 


then commtsded him back to hu cmmch, wad 

eloak and sword, hasted sway to iIk Crook of Glc»- 

deorgy to wait the arrival of his brother.* " 

Here Andrew Johnston's nai i ali i o in siirf the 
aame curcomstanc^ leeorded in a fiwaMi pan of 
tale, as haTingpaased between the <atWra«| 
er son, so that it is needless to r e cipiflat e 
b^finning where that broke aS, he added, ii 
of the Old Laird, <' ' As soom m mj 
\eh me, in wder to be recofiled to his hntketj I tm* 
turned to the fiuryknowe and nnr vhcoe I ins 
myself seated at daybreak. I know not i 
there> for thongfa I considpi od widb mfmMf 
cover no motive that I had Cor rinmg so, hai was M 
ihiAer by a sort of iaqiolse wfaidi I 
and from the same Ceding spread n 
the spot, kid his swoid down beside it^ 
down to sleep. I remember nothing 
degree of accuacy, for I mstaady Cdl iaao a chaaa of 
snfiering, confusion, and racking dinMy, frMB wUA I 
was only of late released by awaking Cnom aliHca, m 
the very seat, and in the same guise in which i was iht 
evening before. I am certain I was at hoaw in body 
or in spirit-— saw my sons— spake these words to thoB, 
aoid heard theirs in retain. How Ivetamed i kaow even 
less, if that is possible, than how i went ; Cor it sis m 
od to mo.lhat the mystenoaa Cocce ^hat p i ^n sm as to 


flpbocy and i Mq i yu i u oi on it, wbs in my esse widi- 
dnwn or snbrertnL and timt I merelv fell finmn one 
part of the earth'* tmAce and alighted on anotfao'. 
Now I am so ill tiiat I cannot move from this coach ; 
t h ere fo r e , Andrew, do yon moont and ride straight 
hoowv Spare no horae-flesh, hy night or hy day, to 
bring me word of my family, for I dread that some eyil 
hath be6Jlen them. If yon find them in life, give them 
many charges from me of Intrtherly love and affection ; 
if not — ^what can I say, bat, in the words of the patri- 
ardi. If I am bereared of my children, I am berea- 
Ted.' " 

The two brothers, in atter amazement, went together 
to the green ring on the top of the knoll above the Cas- 
tle of Cassway, and there found the mantle lying spread, 
and the sword beside it. They then, without letting 
Johnston into the awful secret, mounted straight, and 
rode off with him to their father. They foimd him still 
in bedy and very ill ; and though rejoiced at seeing them, 
they soon lost hope of his recovery, his spirits behig 
broken and deranged in a wonderful manner. Their 
conTorsations together were of the most solemn nature, 
the visitation deigned to them having been above their 
capacity. On the third or fourth day, their father was 
removed by death from this terrestrial scene, and the 
minds of the yoiuig men were so much impressed by 
the whole of the circumstances, that it made a great al- 


teration in their after life. Tbonun, as solenmly char- 
ged by his father, married Ellen Scott, and Fianm wtm 
well known afterward as the celebrated Dr Beattae of 
Amherst. Ellen was mother to twelre sons, wmd on 
the night that her seventh son was bom, her aant Jcr- 
dan was lost, and never more heard of, either liTiag or 

This will be viewed as a most romantic and vana- 
toral story, as without doubt it is ; hot I hare the strang- 
est reasons for believing that it is founded oo a litcfal 
fact, of which all the three were sensibly aad p o sili i^' 
ly convinced* It was published in England in Dr htmt 
de's lifetime, and by his acquiescence, and owing to the 
respectable source from whence it cuoe, it was never 
disputed in that day that it had its origin in tmth. It 
was agpun r^ubUshed, with some miserable ahefBta0n% 
in a London collecti<m of 1770, by J. Smithy at Kou li^ 
Patemoster-Row ; and though I have seen none of theM 
■accounts, but relate the story wholly from tmdition, yet 
the assurance attained from a friend of thor enumct, 
is a curious corroborative circumstance, and provea thitt, 
jfthe story was not true, the parties at least bellefcd 
4t to he so. 

212 THE shepherd's calendar. 



Ill the year 1807, when on a jannt tfarongfa the vaU 
AtfB of Nith and Annan, I learned the following story 
-4ft the GfMrt where the incidents occmred, and^gyen w^ 
■Dd Tiaited all those connected with it, sothat th»« is 
no-donbt with regard to its authenticity. 

Ir a odttage called Knowe-back, on theilarge farm of 
Dmmlocfaiey lived Tibby Hyslop, a respectable spitr- 
•ter, about the age of forty I thought when I saw her, 
hnt, of conne, not so old when the fint incidents oe- 
carred which this singular tale relates. Tibby was rti^ 
presented to me as being a good Chidstian, not in nam^ 
and profession only, but in word and in deed ; and I he* 
-lieyal may add, in heart and in soul. Nevertheless, 
there was something in her manner and deportment 
different from other people— a sort of innocent sim- 
plicity, bordering on silliness, together with an insta- 
bility of thought, that, in the eyes of many, approached 
to abstraction. 


But then Tibby could repeat the book of the £i 
gelist Luke by heart, and many favourite chapten bath 
of theOld and New Testaments ; while there was scvce- 
ly one in the whole country so thoroughly acqumated 
with those Books from beginning to eod ; for, thoagh 
she had read a portion evary day for forty yean, she 
had never perused any other books but the S uiptuw a, 
They were her week-day books, and her Sanday books, 
her books of amusement, and books of devotion. Would 
to Grod that all our brethren and s]8ter» of the human 
race — the poor and comfortless, as well as the great 
and wise— knew as well how to estimate these books 
as Tibby Hyslop did ! 

Tibby's history is shortly this : Her mother mar* 
ried a s«*geant of a recruiting party. The year IbDow- 
ing he was obliged to go to Ireland, and from theaee 
nobody knew whither ; but neither he nor his wife wp- 
peared again in Scotland. On their departures, tiiey 
left Tibby, then a helpless babe, with her grmdmotJicr, 
who lived in a hamlet somewhat about Tinwald ; and 
with that grandmother was she brought up^ and taoght 
to read her Bible, to card, spin, and work at all kinds 
of country labour to which women are accnstonied. 
Jane Hervey was her gran^othei^s name, a woman 
then scarcely past her prime, certainly within forty 
years of age ; with whom lived her elder sister, nuaed 
Douglas : and with these two were the early years of 


Tibby Hyslop spent, in poverty, contentment, and de« 

At the age of eighteen, Tibby was hired at the Can^e- 
mas fair, for a great wage, to be a byre-woman to Mc 
Gilbert Forret, then farmer at Drumlochie. Tibby ha 
then acquired a great deal of her mother s dangerous 
bloom — dangerous, when attached to poverty and so 
much simplicity of heart ; and when she came home 
and told what she had done, her mother and aunt, as 
she always denominated the two, marvelled much at 
the extravagant conditions, and began to express some 
fears regarding her new master's designs, till Tibby put 
them all to rest by the following piece of simple infor- 
mation : 

" Dear, ye ken, ye needna be feared that Mr Fonet 
has ony design o' courting me, for dear, ye ken, he has 
a wife already, and five bonny bairns ; and he'll never 
be sae daft as fa' on and court anither ane. I'se war- 
rant he finds ane enow for him, honest man I" . ^ 

<< Oh, then, you are safe enough, since he is a mar- 
ried man, my bairn," said Jane. 

The truth was, that Mr Forret was notorious for de- 
bauching young and pretty girls, and was known ii^ 
Dumfries market by the name of Gibby Gledger, from 
the circumstance of his being always looking slyly after 
them. Perceiving Tibby so comely, and at the same 


time so simple, he hired her at nearly double wages, and 
moreover gave her a crown as arle-money. 

Tibby went home to her service, and being a pliable, 
diligent creature, she was beloved by all. Her master 
commended her for her neatness, and whenever a quiet 
opportunity offered, would pat her rosy cheek, and say 
kind thii^. Tibby took all these in good part, judg- 
ing them tokens of approbation of her good services, 
and was proud of them ; and if he once or twice whis- 
pered a place and an hour of assignation, she took it 
for a joke, and paid no farther attention to it. A whole 
year passed over without the worthy farmer having ac- 
complished his cherished purpose regarding poor Tibby. 
He hired her to remain with him, still on the former 
high conditions, and moreover he said to her : " I wish 
your grandmother and grand-aimt would take my plea- 
sant cottage of Knowe-back. They should have it for 
a mere trifle — a week's shearing or so — so long as you 
remain in my service ; and as it is likely to be a long 
while before you and I part, it would be better to have 
them near you, that you might see them often, and at- 
tend to their wants. 1 could give them plenty of work 
through the whole year, on the best conditions. What 
think you of this proposal. Rosy ?" — a familiar name 
he often called her by. 

" O, I*m sure, sir, I think ye are the kindest man 
that ever existed. What a blessing is it when riches 


open up the heart to acts of charity and bfneTolenoe ! 
My poor auld mother and aunty will be blytke to grip 
at the kind offer ; for they sit under a hard master yon- 
der. The Almighty will bestow a blessing on you for 
this, sir l" 

Tibby went immediately with the joyful Dew9 to her 
poor mother and aunt. Now, they had of late found 
themselves quite easy in their circumstances, owi9g to 
the large wages Tibby received, every farthing of which 
was added to the common stock; and though Tibby 
displayed a little more finery at the meeting-house, it 
was her grandmother who purchased it for her, without 
any consent on her part. << I am sure," said her grand- 
mother, when Tibby told the story of her master's kind- 
ness and attention, << I am sure it was the kindest in- 
tervention o* Providence that ever happened to poor 
things afore, when ye fell in wi' that kind worthy man, 
r the mids o' a great hiring market, where ye might 
just as easUy hae met wi' a knave, or a niggard, as wi' 
this man o' siccan charity an' mercy." 

"rAji the wulcat maun hae his oollop, 

And the raven maun hae his part, 
And the tod will creep through the heather, 

For the bonny moor-hen's heart," 

said old Douglas Hervey, poking the fire all the while 
with the tongs, and speaking only as if speaking to her- 
self— ►-** Hech-wow, and lack-a-day I but the times are 



fdiered sftir since I first saw the sua ! Poor, poor Ke- 
ligioiiy vmes me for W I She was first driven oat o* 
ihe lord!s castle into the haron s ha* ; oat o* the barcm s 
ha^ into the lurmer s Inen dwelling ; and at last oat o* 
that iiito the poor cauldrife shiel, where there's nae 
iiber comfort but what she brings wi* her/* 

« What has set ye onna thae reflections the day, 

aunty?'* cried Tibby aloud at her ear; for she was 

half deafy and had so many flannel motdies on, besides* 

. a blue iiapkin^ which she always wore over them all, 

that her deafness was nearly completed altogether. 

<< Oogh I what 8 the lassie saying?** said she, after 
listening, agood while, till the sounds penetrated to the 
interior of her ear, <' what's the young light-head say- 
ing about the defections o* the day? what kens she 
.about them ?— oogh ! Let me see your face, dame, and 
find your hand, for I hae neither seen the ane, nor felt 
the tither, this lang and mony a day.** Then taking 
her grand-niece by the hand, and looking close into her 
face through the spectacles, she added^ — <' Ay, it is a 
weel-faured sonsy face, very like the mother's that bore 
ye ; and hers was as like her mother!s ; and there was 
never as muckle common sense amang a* the three as 
to keep a brock out o' the kail-yard. Ye hae an wnko 
good master, I hear—- oogh ! I'm glad to hear't — ^hoh- 
oh-oh-oh I — Terra glad. I hope it will lang continue, 

VOL. I. K 


tills kindness. PoorTibby! — as lang as the heart disna 
gang wrang, we maun excuse the head, for it'll jifiYct 
aince gang right. I hope they were baith made for a 
better warld, for nane o' them were made for thif." 

When she got this length, she sat hastily dowi^.and 
began her daily and hom*ly task of carding wool f(^ her 
sister's spinning, abstracting herself from all external 

<^ I think aonty 8 nnco parabolical the day/' said 
Tibby to her grandmother; " what makes her that 
gate ?" 

'< O dear, hinny, she's aye that gate now. She speaks 
to naebody but hersell," said Jane. <^ But — ^lownly be 
it spoken — I think whiles there's ane ^>eaks till her 
again that my een canna see." 

<< The angels often conversed wi' good folks lang- 
syne. I ken o' naething that can hinder them to dp sae 
still, if they're sae disposed," said Tibby ; and so the 
dialogue closed for the present. 

Mr Forret sent his carts at the term, and, removed 
the old people to the cottage of Knowe-back, free of all 
charge, like a gentleman as he was ; and things went on 
exceedingly welL Tibby had a sincere regard for her 
master ; and as he continued to speak to her, when 
alone, in a kind and playful manner, she had several 
times ventured to broach religion to him, trying to dis- 
cover the state of his soid. Then he woidd shake his 


ke&d, 9kA l^k demure in mockeiy, and repeat some 
grove, beconaiing words. Poor Tibby tboogfat be was 
a ligliti&iDtift ibxiL 

Bni ik a sbort time his purposes were dtmlged in 
sndi 'a maibner as to be iio m<H« equivocaL That morn- 
ing immediately preceding the derelopement of this 
long^berished atrodty, Jane Hervey was awaked at an 
early hour by the following unintelligible dialogue in 
her elder sister^s bed. 

" Have ye seen the news o' the day, kerlin ?" 

« Oogh ?" 

*< Hare ye seen the news o* the day?" 

<< Ay, that I hae, on a braid open book, without cbuip 
or seal. Whether will you or the deil win ?** 

^ That depends on the citadel. If it stand out, a* 
the powers o' hell winna shake the fortress, nor sap a 
6tahe '6' its foundation." 

^^ Ah, the fortress is a good ane, and a sound ane ; 
but the poor head captain I-^ye ken what a sweet-lip- 
ped, tnmip-headit brosey he is. O, lack-arday, my poor 
Tibby Hyslop ! — my innocent, kmd, thowless Tibby 

Jane was frightened at hearing such a colloquy, but 
particularly at that part of it where her darling child 
was mentioned. She sprung from her own bed to that 
of her sister, and cried in her ear with a loud voice,-^ 


^* Sister, sister Douglas, what is that . yon are saying 
about our dear bairn ?'' 

*•' Oogh ? I was saying naething about your bairn. 
She lies in great jeopardy ymider ; but nane as yet. 
Grang away to your bed — ^wow, but I was sound 

^< There's naebody can make aught out o' her but 
nonsense," said Jane. 

After the two had risen from their scanty breakfast, 
which Douglas had blessed with more fervency than 
ordinary, she could not settle at her carding, but al- 
ways stopped short, and began mumbling and speaking 
to herself. At length, after a long pause, she looked 
OTer her shoulder, and said, — << Jeanie, wama ye speak- 
ing o* ganging ower to see our bairn the day ? Haste 
thee and gang away, then ; and stay nouther to put on 
dean bussing, kirtle, nor barrie, else ye may be an an- 
trin meenut or twa ower lang." 

Jane made no reply, but, drawing the skirt of her 
gown over her shoulders, she set out for Drumlochle, 
a distance of nearly a mile ; and as she went by the 
comer of the byre, she imagined she heard her grand'' 
child's voice, in great passion or distress, and ran. straight 
into the byre, crying, " What's the matter wi' you, Tib- 
by ? what ails you, my bairn ?" but, receiving no an? 
vy[&:, she thought the voice must have been somewhere 


Withont, and slid ^oedj 
and at length went dovm t» tfe 

Mr Pomst, tf&v GMgiii^ GUj, 
hmnt of jncmwed kkk- 
al30 the imHcfnird to«pw of 
bemencehythe defii i l ai iB aof WWwb d4Bidbtt»;liag 
neTer in his life did he bear wmtk a ii'liAi as ht 4ki 
tiiat dayfram AetoBgmcof anchehad a J aai ^ 
as a mere gnyl et— . It was 
the most SBMime and teniUe 
the pare and f amhalii bnaaace of 
caved not a doit lor these thiafi 
e4» and disposed to his fmaStf, 
this fool dioae to do it. He 
a part of deep h)p o um, pmnaiff ilrtr 
tcitioiiy legreilio^ widb tean, 
ment. Poor TMj leadBj hefie^ed and lorgm* hnb : 
and thinking it hard to ndn a ri>|wf t mmmr ia hm 
worldly and femily coneerai^ Uie pnoHK^ Mrv«r w 4^ 
▼n%e what had paned ; and he, Irinia'inr will <he -ra^ 
Ine of her word, was giad at hanag so escaped. 
. Jane fonnd her grmd-daaghter ippawntly aaaci 4m- 
taihed^ hot having adced if ^k ww well aM««h, «a4 
TecOTJi^ an answer in the affifawrtire^iJbe was witaii^iii, 
and only added, ^ Your ciaaed aonty wad tgmr m^ht^ 
here ye war in some jeopardy, and hartitd tae away 
-iosee yon, widioiit giring me leare to change a stioek^^ 


One may easily conceive Tibby's astoniehioeut at l^eaxr 
ing this, considering the monient at which h^ S'iV^'' 
mother airiTed. As soon as the lattei; wa^ iS9^ f^ 
kneeled before her Maker» and poured out her soi^^^ 
grateful thanksgiving for her deliverance ;. and, <.i|i J^** 
ticular, for such a manifest interfi»%nce of some^isi;^'^ 
nor intelligence in her behaUl ., , ..,.., 

^ How did ye find our poor bairn the day^ titty. J[^aja ^ 
Did she no tell ye ony thing?" asked Duu^^nu^fmJiUfi^'^ 
return. . , ., 

*< She tauld me naetlnngy but said «be WH wsifilZ *. 

<< She's ae fool, and ye re another I If -I had boQIb^t 
I wad hae blazed it baith to kirk and counci};)rrr|o.ibi<^ 
wife's ear, and to bos mimster'a L She's vefy W^fplfii? 
ahe?-^Oogh! Ay. Hoh--oh> — oh — ohlnr^jTjjKH^ 
man — silly woman— Hoh— oh— oh J" , ;, 'Mur^nijA 

In a few weeks, Mr Ferret's behaviour tpJM^^p^j^ 
dairymaid idtered very materiallyf ^e^iiU^H^j^^ 
more by the endearing name of Rosy ; pQ9ri4Jb|[\^ 
oftener the term ; and finding he was. naw Nife;|rom 
accusation, his mafevolence towards her.had^icjej^ly 
atty bounds. She made out her t^m with ^i^Sfii^b^y 
Irat he refused to pay the stt{mlated wage, o^ pisi^^jjuge 
of her incapacity ; and as she had by HbaX timt.pi^- 
ed well at boa hand, she took what he offered, i^^ii^l^ 
^ini, andsaid no mwe about it. She was no ipore^j^j^fid 
»r a seirvaitt, but having at the first taken a long, l#f^ 


of tM eottagi6, she^sontaiHied, from yetr lo yiear, wockp 
iag'btL^ htm by ^e day, at a very scanty allowance. 
Olll Ddtiglasm afe^ years grew incapable of any worki 
tbrotigh frailty of person, beii^ constantly confined to 
bed^l&inigkin mind as energetic and mysterious as eyer. 
Jtkili VrOHf^t long, till at length a seyere illness in 1 799 
renda^ her imfit to do any thing farther than occa- 
flioittAy knit a stocking ; and Tibby's handywork was 
idi iliat -herself and 1^ two old women had to depend 
upon. They had bronght her up with care and kind- 
nesa amid the most^yindiing poverty, and now, indeed, 
her filial affectaon was severely put to the proof ; but it 
IMS' lienoine, and knew no bounds. Ni^anddayshe 
toiled for h«r aged and feeble relatives, and a murmur 
OT'^et^taplatnt never was heard from her lips. Many a 
blesnng was bestowed on her as they raised their pal- 
i^§fl- tterin to partake of h&r hard-earned pittance ; and 
^Aid^ahti^ttt prayer was poured out, when no mor- 

ixio'f i^JiOi <gi^0W harder and harder. Thousands yet 
ijiti^gri^ebembelr «4iat a period that was for the poor, 
rl^M^V^teal^'for aeasons, was from four to five shillings 
%<MflUS tnd even sometimes as high as seven. Tibby 
'l^^fi! fidlly inoapableof supporting herself and her aged 
^fiMis. She slanted herself finr their sakes, and that 
'^ffitde h^ stiai more incapable; yet often with teavf^in 
'^fi^ ^F^ did she feed these frail bemgs, her h^art: Hke 

id4 THEiiingPtLEIlM caleivdar. 

tm mth hm^u m . the had no mem to ghre tliefD. Tliere 
tf^B9 p06v-n(lBi in wtiM covntiy. KiHMf e Imcli is '^pdto 
i g ti iw i aubody wmt nev it, and Tibby complnn^ 
t^ noBCy bnl wim^Iil on, nij^lit and day, in aontfwwm 
maaetfy hut still widi a Inmible and Aaid^fnl heatu 

In titts treat strait, ^Ire Forret was the first wbo be^ 
g■i^ na so liti tcd, to take compassion on the destitntie 
groapL She eonid not conmre how they existed on 
the p0Qr creature fl earnings. So she went prittitely io" 
see tueoti, and when die saw their wretched state, and' 
heard tiidr blessings on their dear child, her heart was 
nored to pity, and ^ determined to assist them Ifi 
secret ; for her husband was such a chiffl, that she diMI^ 
not venture to do it pnhlicly. Accordingly, whenever' 
she had an opportunity, she made Tibby come into the' 
kitchen> and get a meal for herself; and often the'^oto^' 
fliderate lady slid a small loaf, or a little t^ and sngar,' 
into her li^), for the two aged invalids ;-^f or "^enfle^ 
woman is always the first to pity, and the first to re- 

Poor TiWby I how her heart expanded with gnrtitnde 
on receiving these Kttle presents ! for her love for the' 
two old dependent ereatm'es was of so pure and sacred 
a sort,'as scarcely to retain in it any thing of the com- 
mon feelings of hnmanity. There was no selfish prin- 
ciple there — ^they were to her as a part of her own ni^• 

Tikhy nefv mtt iato tke 

iflg^biinig got wotd ai chit Imi wnr, 

die lady oCtke 

keriritti a lilUe bowl «£ bat 

Tbia was all; and 

aliment ao buBible 

would bare grudged it to i 

ed, bowevcTytbat aa Tibbf 

joyii^ tbe Mcal, 3fr Fonct 


cooafortably engaged, 

35ed bee by tbe 

da-witb tbe odicr, 

door mto tbe yavd« 

dun^^bdlL ^ Wki 

bome, and eat Of ^ BMBt dot w» ande iir ocbef% 

cried he> in a dpmoniar Tcace^ ^aiuag wAb 

tben be swore a tcnrible oadb, wUcb I do not <^oooe u» 

set down, tbat, "if befanndheragainnsnch iiy ii f ^ 

TD^ity be woold cot Imt tbnot, and fiag Wr totbc: 


Poor Tibby waa ortonnded beyond tbe fo««ro^ni^ 
teranoe^ or even of lising Inani dw plaoe wbcn be bad 
thrown ber down, nntil hbgd by two of tbe 
Tsnts, who tried to comfort ber aa tbey anpfMMted 



part 9i tke wiy lione ; and billcdj ^A they Uame 
dbeir mBtery nfiiif h wwild iMiTe boen adMooe to any 
ane, wlio had the fedm^sof miMBytodosiichanact; 
hut «s for thek maeter, he acaicdy had the foeiingB of 
a hciBt. Tihhy aevcr opened hv month, n^thor- to 
hlame, nor complain, hot vent on her way crying till 
her heart was like to break* 

She had no sapper for the old famishing pair that 
night. They had tasted nothk^ from the time that 
ihe kit them in the momn^; and as she had accoont- 
ed hBra^sare of leoaTing something firom Mrs Forret 
Aat ni^it» she had not asked her day s wages from the 
grioTe^ gbd to lei a day ran np now and then, when 
aUe to p roc u re a meal in any other honest way. She 
had nothing to give them that night, so what conld she 
do? She was obliged, with a sore heart, to kiss them 
and tell them so ; and then, as was h^ cnstoiii, she 
said a prayer over th^ oondn and laid herself down 
to sleep, drowned in tears. 

She had never so much as mentioned Mr Foiret's 
name either to her grandmother or gvsiid-^mnt that 
nighty or by the least insinnation given them to under- 
stand that he had used her ill ; but no sooner were they 
composed to rest, and all the cottage quiet, than old 
Douglas b^an abvusing him with great vehemence. Tib- 
by, to her astonishment, heard some of his deeds spokien 
of with great familiarity, which she was sure never had 

1i6Qi' wiriflpered 

her most of iy,WMtiiefoIlowMgn nail 

« ii% ttm ra B» fleek, te^ rn 

igalA befond tke wm* o' chb 

live to flee it ^--w, a^, sIkII 

voice asked— » Whit wiU jAe see, kofiBr— ^ isWl 

see the dmwfl pkknig faii Woes at ^ Wck • ike JfittJ* 

Tihh7*8 hi 
dni terrible 
hygooftif she had 

^uttne sopciioi niafigcM 
aboTe sentence repeated 
eatVy uiat flheinight 
inidriiiarB io the 
into a Irodbied tleep. 


stry of dmmBy were baajr at 

tugnt n the eotta^ of 

deewiiee of 

eeiskm. One «dy af theee dtijafarint IthaB hg» 

set down, pt e c jwlj r at k vat vfkif\d ta aMv hf aif 

tnena toe woriay twtgywttA at taat panaiy ta 


her grand^amfg d it joiat e d p ta p h eey laiawd At |f aaa d 

woik of ^ pictore ; hat be dnt at it flMf , thai wae her 

Mr Fmnm. Ij'i, ■iifc—i ii» 1^ wtth 

had m li eg f on, irinck wfftand Mke w k ie 
t^beanr, aadfikipnim. A great KiiBriier of rooks 
hooded ciOTB were watidmghre witii fab peraoii ; 
I piciao|^ OHt faii cye% soiBe Ub toBgiie» and some 
teanagostUBbofwria. In place of being dfiatreaaed by 
their randtyf be appeared mnch dehghted, eneonra- 
giag theiD all that he conld, and there was a perfectly 
good understanding between the parties. In the midst 
of this horriUe feast, a laige layen-dashed down :firom 
a daxk ehmd^ and^ driving away all the meaner birds, 
fell a*faastiDg himself ^--4>pened the breast of his victim, 
who was still ali¥e» and eneonraging him on ; and after 
preying on his vitals for some time, at last picked ont 
his heart, and devoured it; and then the mangled wretch, 
after writhing for a short time in convulsive agonies, 
groaned his last. 


This waa piedsely Hbby s dream as it was told tv 
Boe, first by my friend Mr Cunmngfaam of Dalswintoiiy 

and afterwarda bythedexgymanto whomaheheraelf had 
rqlated it next day. Bat there was something in it noc 
so diatiagtly defined ; for thongfa the birds which she wtm 
doTOWiDg her master, wen rooks, blood-crows, and a 
raven, stiU each ladiTidiial of the number had a Ukeneas, 
by itself, distingniidiiog it from all the rest ; a certain 
character, as it werey to support ; and these particular 
likeneases were so engraven on the dreamer's mind, that 
shane^er fivgot them, and she could not help looking 
f(Hr them both among ^ birds and bodies," as she ex* 
pressed it, •but mever could distinguish any of them 
again ; and the dream, like many other distempered 
visions, was forgotten, or only remembered now and 
then with a certain tremor of antecedent knowledge. 

Days* and seasons passed over, and with them the 
changes incident to humanity. The virtuous and inde* 
firt^iaUe Tibby Hyslc^ was assisted by the benevotenl^ 
who had heard of her exertions and patient sufferings $ 
and the veneraUe Douglas Hervey had gone in peace 
to the house appointed for all living, idien one evening 
in June, John Jardine, the cooper, chanced to come to 
Knowe-back, in the course of his girding and hooping 
poregrinaticms. John was a living and walking chroni- 
cle of the events of the day, all the way from the head 
of Glen-Breck to the bridge of Stony-Lee. He knew 


efiny man^ and ereiy mm affidn— «fv«ry womas^ and 
ervy wcNuan a fiuUngB ; and his inteUigence waa not 
like that ai many others, for it was generally to be de^ 
pittded on. How he got his informstion so cocrectfyy 
vas a mystery to many, hat whateTer John the cooper 
tdd as a fact, was never disputed, and any woman* 1^ 
latet, might have Tentored to tell it over again. 

<< These are hard times for poor folks, Tihhy^ How 
ar6t yon and auld granny coming on ?" 

** Just fighting on as we hae done for mony a yea& 
She is aye contentit, poor body, and thankfn', whetfaor 
line little to gie her, or muckle. This life's naething 
hnt a fight, Johnnie, fi»e beginning to end." 
^ •.-;<< It's a' tme ye say, Tibby,^ said the cooperj aitei^ 
tnpting her, for he was afraid she was about to enter 
i^on religions topics, a species of conTersation llmt did 
not accord with John's talents or dispositions ; ^< Itfs a' 
trtte ye say, Tibby ; but yonr master will soon .te sic 
A rich ma^ now, that we'll a' be made np, abd yon 
flmaUg the lave will be made a lady." 
^ ' << If he get his riches honestly, and the blessing o' the 
Ahnighty wi' them, Jc^m, I shall rejoice in hia prosperi- 
ty ; but neither me nor ony ither poor body will erer 
ba muokle the better o* them. What way is he gann 
ifr^tskcan great riches? If a' be tme that I hear, 
lie is gann to the wximg part to seek them." ^ 

<' Ahd, lass, that's a' that ye ken about it. Did ye 


iioJiearliiRtlie bad wan ihe law^plea on his fadrd, whilk 
hasbaen afinre the Lords for mair than seven years? 
And iikl ye no bear that he had wmi ten pleas afoce the 
omots o' DvmfirieSy a' rising out o' ane anither, like ash 
g h^a wn gs out o' ae root, and that he's to get, on the 
bttU^aiMQt twenty thousand punds worth o' damages P*^: 

<< Thatfs an unco sight o' siller, John. How mucUe' 

'' Aha, lass, ye hae fixed me now ; hut they say it 
will\come to as muckle gowd as six men can carry on 
thdr backs. And we're a' to get twenties, and tlrnliai, 
andiorties o* punds for bribes, to gar us gie Mthfu' and 
true evidence at the great concUiding t;rial afore tiM 
LeMb ; and you are to be bribit amang the rest, to gar 
ye^ell the haill truth, and nothing but the truth*" :;. 

^« lliere needs nae wi^te o' siller to gar me do thaiL 
Buty Johnnie, I wad like to ken whether that mode o' 
taking oaths,--*-solenm and saucred oaths,-— about the 
miseBable trash o' this warld, be according to the tenor 
o' Gospel revelation, and the third o' the Commands ?" 

<< Aha, lass, ye hae fixed me now! That's rather 
akittle pomt; but I believe it's a' true that ye say. 
However, yell get the offer of a great bribe in a few 
days ; and take ye my advice, Tibby — Get hand o' the 
bribe afore hand ; for if ye lippen to your master's pro- 
mises, you wiU never finger a bodle after the job's done." 

« Fm but a poor simple body, Jolmnie, and canna 

oay Mccaa ihoigs. But I ilnlliieediiieliietot 
ffg me tell ike tmtiiy and I wiima teU an anmilh iox a* 
■J naster • estate, and bk sax backfn's o' gowd into the 
baigain. If the sin o* the son], Johnnie '* 

*^ Ay, ay, that's rery tnie, TThby, Tery trney iadeed» 
abcNit the sin o* the sool ! Bnt as ye wefe saying about 
beb^ a simple body — ^Wbat wad ye think if I were to 
cast up that day Gledging Gibby came here to gie yon. 
yovr lesson — I could maybe help you on a wee bil— 
What -wad yon gie me if I did ?*' 

^ Alack, I hae naething to gie you but my bleising ; 
hai I shall piay tor the blessing o' God on ye.*' 

^ Ay, ay, as ye say« I daresay there might be wanr 
dnBgB. But could you think o' naething else to gie a 
body wha likes as weel to be paid aff-hand as to gie 
credit? That's the rery thing Tm cautioning you 

^ I dmna expect ony siller fine that fountain-heady 
Johnnie : It is a dry ane to the puir and the needyy ai^d 
an unco sma' matter wad gar me make over my righta 
to a pose that I bae neither faith nor hope in. But ye re 
kenn*d for an auld-faixant man ; if ye can bring a little 
lumeatly my way, I sail gie you the half o't ; for weej^ 
I ken it will never come by ony art or shift o' mine." 

^^ Ay, ay, that's spoken like a sensible and reasonable 
woman, Tibby Hyslop, as ye are and hae always beeuu. 
But think you that nae way could be contrived" — and 


iMre tile eooper gave two winks widi his left eye-^^ by 
the wliilk ye <50ii]d gie me it a', and yet no rob yonneU 

<< Nay na, Jobinie Jardine, that's clean aboon my 
eoml^liension s But ye're a canning dnnglity man, 
and I leave the haill matter to your goidance." 

^ Very weel,Tibby, very weel. TU try to ca' a gayan 
sabaluitial gird round your success, if I can hit the 
widdi o' the chance, and the girth o* the gear. Gude 
day to you the day ; and think about the plan o' equal- 
aqud that I spake oV 

• Old maids are in general rery easily courted, and 
reryaptto take ahint. I have, indeed, known a great 
many instances in which ^ey took hints rery seriously, 
before ever they were given. Not so with Tibby Hys- 
lop. So heavy a charge had lain upon her the grsater 
part of her life, that i^ had never turned her thoughts 
toany earthly thing beside, and she knew no more what 
the eo<^>er aimed at, than if the words had not been 
spoken. When he went away, her grandmodier called 
her to the bedside, and asked if the cooper had gone 
away. Tibby answered in the affirmative ; on which 
gnomy sad, << What has he been havering about sae 
lang the day? *l thought I heard him courting ye.'* 

<< Courting me I Dear granny, he was courting nane 
e' me ; he was telling me how Mr Forret had won as 


mnckle siller «t the law as sax men can canry on ih^; 
backs, and how we are a' to get a part of it«". >,. i, 

" Dinna believe him, hinny ; the man ^t can .ifin 
siller at the law, will lose it naewhere. But, Tibby, I 
heard the co<^r courting yon, and I thought I hm^ 
you gie him your consent to manage the mattfor a^hQ 
likit. Now you hae been a great blessing to me* < I 
thought you sent to me in wrath, as a puniidbment of 
my sins, but I hare found that you were indeed sent to 
me in love and in kindness. You have been die so]f 
support of my old age, and of hen wha is now iti tbo 
grave, and it is natural that I should like to see yoii>pnt 
up afore I leave you. But, Tibby Hysk^ Johi^. JE|^ 
dine is not the man to lead a Chriatian life witb« i^He 
has nae mair religion than the beasts that perish, ijihfl 
shuns it as a body would do a loathsome <m; p<inoik^ 
draught : And besides, it is weel knm'd Jhow s^ifih^ 
neglected his first wife. Hae naething todpi-nri'^t^jiyil 
my dear -bairn, but rather live as you are. w^Eherf Js 
MHtha: sin mx shame in being unwedded i\ bn| |)|#sa 
nu^ be baith in joining yourself to an unheUev«r<"njiii 

TU>by was somewhat astonished at this piece o€ jur 
temation. She had not conceived that the.coc^^ 
meant any tUng in the way of courtship; but fennd 
that she rather thought the better of him for what it ij^ 
pi0lu*ed he had done. Accordingly she made via. pro- 
toise^ to her grandmother, but only remarked,. ijmi ^it 

TiBBV htslof's dkram, 236 

was a pity im to gie lAm cooper • chance o* coBFeniiN^ 
honeet man." 

Thd'OMper kept watch about Dnimlochie and the 
Inndi' hmmami and easily found out all the fanner'a 
mownenaii and even the exact remunefation he ooold 
he prenAed on to give to such as were pleased to re- 
member according to hia wishes. Indeed it was Ikh 
liered that ik» most part of the hinds and laboaring 
peo^ereooUeeted nothing of the matter in dispute £uy 
ther dian he was pleased to inform them^ and that in 
liMl they gave evidoioe to the best of their knowledge 
ort e piembrance, although that evidence mi^t be der 
ddet^ wro^« 

»' One day €ribby took his gun, and went out towarda 
Hlii oww bac kr Theoooper also^ guessing what his puvH 
p9mr^¥fBBi went thither by a circuitous ronte» in order 
P^ obme in as it were by chance. Ere he arrived^ Mr 
¥%i^t had begun hia^pieries and instructions to Tibby« 
ni^TbMwo eemid not agree by any means ; Tibby either 
eidM BJS« nBCoUect the yearly crops on each field on the 
farm of' Dramlochie, or recollected wrong. At lengthi 
vAuk the qalcnlatiops wore nt the keenest, the cooper 
Ijatne in^ and at every torn he took Mr Ferret's sid^ 
Witk (the most strenuous asseverations, abusing Tibby 
£^ her. stupidity and want of recollection. 

oitf Hear me speak, Johnnie. Jardine^ afore ye^qoodof^w^ 
mm idUoofi Mir Forrat>sfiys that the Qr^iqked Vifi^ 

m « 

lt yf|Mjt 
tke97. INnt 

? aii wilt cMd M^d h 4o 

and I yield diat it is aae. B«l I am sttre, Jofao, yw 
iBBWlliwi iuMtaA ertlBB Me aharl while syney'^ 
dkure wT «i dal lw'8t^--W«s the lug field iiMBt Rolne 
JdmBtwn'g finn giv w i i ^ com in ^ dear y^ar, or no? 

<< It was the iwzt year, l^lyy,'' sakl Mr FoRi^ ;'<^fiMi 
are confoimdiiig one year with another again ; and I saa 
what is the reason. It was oats in 99, grass in 1800^ 
and oats again in 1801 ; now you nerer remember any 
of the intermediate years, bnt only Uiose that yon shore 
on these fields. I cannot be mistaken m a mle I nerer 

The cooper had now got his cue. He perceived that 
the plea ultimately depended on proof relating to the 
proper cropping of the land throughout the lease ; and 


he supported the fanner ao astnamamiyf thai IiUij^ m 
her aunplicity, fairly yielded, although jmm, eMraKJud^ 
iniijkhe cooper aafured the Cumcr that he voaM ffltt t^ 
to nghtfl, pioYided she zeceired a hmttdmrnut mdkMMnr^ 
ledgment; for there waa Bot the leaat doaU tktt Jfr 
Forret vaa ngfat in every partacakr* 

This ^eech of the cooper a gratified she ianaer r^ 
oeedingly, aa hie whole fialit mnr dtytaAid m^m^ rkit 
endenee to be eliated ib the court at l > m mUw k, 4m * 
day that waa hmi approaching and he waa wilhi^g w 
gm any thing to aecore the eiideBce am hm aide; m 
he made a loi^ aet ipeedi to XUy, trfftug hw hnw 
necessary it was that she ahovld adliew afenctijr v^ tkm 
tmtli — that,a8itwonldbeanawfnlilaa|gttf»Mali4;4«ab 
to that whidi waa £ilae^ he had wmenskf |aad hir thai 
▼iah to inatmct her mnemhcaace a little in that vUdk 
was die tnithy it being inipoaBUe, on accenit id* his Joa- 
tings, that he conld be mitfakm ; and finally it wnaaea^ 
^ed^ that for thos tdlii^ the tmthy and nolhiaf tet the 
•ttnthy Tibfay Hydop^ a moat dca e ttin g woaHn» waa %I0 
leoeiTtt a preaent of Xla, aa wa^ea ifn tuae Ijgfme* 
Tfaia waa all managed in a Tcry aly laaaniir by the 
caopcr, who asaored Forret dnt all ihowld go f^ht^ aa 
far as related to Tibby Hyalop and Imnif4fi 

Hie day of the trial arrired, and connsel attended 
hfjm Edinbnrg^ for both partiesy to take 6dl eridcace 
before the two CireaitLordaandSaieiifl^ Iheerideiiee 

238 THE shepherd's calendar. 

was Btid i» hvve been URBatiafacSiMry to the Judg^hut 
upon tbe whole ia Mr Forrei's favoiir. • TbecM^paf's 
was decidedly 8O9 and the fanner's counsel, were- crgir- 
ing and bustling immoderately, when at length Tibby 
Hysk^ was called to the witaeeses' boac- Attl»ifirst 
sight of her master's coansel^ and the Damfries writers 
and* notaries that wera hangiog dnrnt him, Hbby was 
stniek dnmb with amazement, and almost bereavad of 
sense. She at once recognised them, all and seTaraHy, 
as tbe birds that ^e saw, in her dream, devouring her 
master, and picking the flesh from his bones i;twfaile 
the great lawyer from Edinburgh was, in feasors^' eye, 
and beak, the identical raven which at last devoued 
his vitals and heart* 

This singular coincidence brought reminiscenoesof 
such a nature over her spirit, that, on the first questions 
being put, she could not answer a wordk She knew 
from thenceforward that her master was a ruined man, 
and her heart failed, on thinking of her kind mistress 
and his family. The counsel then went, and whisper- 
ing Mr Forret, inquired what sort of a woman she was, 
and if her evidence was likely to be of any avail. As 
the cooper had braved in a very satisfactory way, and 
had answered for Tibby, the fanner was intent on not 
losing her evidence, and answered his counsel that she 
was a worthy honest woman, who would not swear to 
a lie for the king's dominions, and that her evidence 

' vmav 'HYSLOi^s dream. 2S9 

^MMT «fittiiidb TctmaetfUKifee. , This iatdHgeace tkte law- 
ytfl'CBiimtiiced to tiie bench with gi«at pompoeity, and 
the witaeM wne tliowed a little time to recorer her 

^i-^UAdh Hyak>p, tpiaster, was again called, answer- 
^'trher nmie» and took the oath distinctly^ and with- 
out hesitation, until the official querist came to the 
uitifll^fttMtion, ** Now, has anyone instructed you what 
«^*ear)r,'i>ridbat you are to answer ?" when Tibby re- 
plied^ with a steady countenance, *^ Nobody, except my 
'Mteter.-' -The counsel and client stared at one aaodier, 
^iHukf the Court could hardly maintain their grayity of 
dep o rtment* The querist went on-*- 

" What ? Do you say your master inatmcted you 
' wifHts to asy ?*' 

' ti^fi Attd did he give, or promise to give yon, any re- 
vard for what you were to say ?** 

> -^ How much did he give, or promise you, for answer- 
ing ai^'lie directed yon ?** 
. , <<- He gave me fifteen pound-notes." 

Here Mr Forret and his counsel, losing all patience 
•St aeemg the case take this imexpected turn, intorupt- 
ed the proceedings, the latter addressing the Judges, 
with yehemence, to the following purport :-— 

<< My Lords, in my client's name, and in the names 


lit jwrtini' lOT TT—nt I f^^T'^ ifMnrifiifiiiiiMin^Tntr 

laloBg tlawigji a toul deffi»g<tnl> of iBteU«el» At 
first Ask A—ih^aaAc— wt— wiraaryokawofd, 
•■A »»y ske k ■■■■ iiik§ ia teiai iJiffMii ef A Wmk 
lad profnelj* 1 Wffmi tm ymut Lnrikfcipe if taek'a 
fvngo M liik can be ad all iafamtkl or releiWBt ?** 

^ Sk» k WM kal iks atker ■danta^'' aakl tka- jihimn' 
Jadge^ ^ tkat yoa aaaoanced to as with greal^ iaipod^ 
aaccv that tlik mwaaa was a pwooa aaled far konarty 
aad wartln and aaa wka woaU nal teU a He iw^lfae 
Idflg • doiaiainni Wky aoc ikem kav ker evidfatfrta 
the end ? For lajr owa party I peraive no tehoaajf 
diaoippBiity iait» bal TBtker a acnpakNM ootncMnCiiyaa- 

ness. Of that»howeTQr9 we shall be better aUe to j^ril^ 
when we have heard her oat. I c<»ceifa tha|^ f orlkb 
sake of both partieB» this woman aagkl to ba akrie^ 
examined.** ■ « 

** Proceed with the eTidence^ Mr Wood," aaid the 
senior Lord» bowing to hk aasktant. 

Tibby was reminded that she was on her gieat^aathy 
and examined oYer again ; but she adhered etrictly to 
her f<nmer.anBiY)K8. 

^< Can yon repeat any thing to the Court Uwt he cb» 
sired yon to say ?" 

<' Yes 4 he desired me, over and oyer again> to teU 
the whole troth, and nothing but the troth/' 

down fifteen pomdi sterling ?** 
« Yefc" 

, ^^TUiiiaTeryMngdartiiaMetioii: I cannot per- 
cem 4^ meininy of it. Yon eertabty matt be eenM- 
ble tbet yem node an adnatagieooi bngain ?* 

** Safe. yen depone dnt be charged yem to ieO onJy 

H Xmy he didy and before witnenwa, too." 

liefa lifr Focret'a connael began to erwir aaMtn, m 
if the Yictory had been his own ; bvt the juior Jndfre 
a§iin|ook hhn ahort by aaying, ^ Hare patience, Mr. — 
My good woman, I eateem yov princtplee and plain 
iiiiifiiiiiljr fery lugfaly. We want only to aaeertain th«* 
tmh^ and yon aay yonr master charged yon to tell 
thaAenlyi Tell me tins, then did he not inform yon 
what the truth was ?** 

<< Yea. It was for diat purpose be came orer to mse 
me, to help my memory to indiat was the tntdi, for fear 
I should hae sworn wiang; which wad hae been a great 
sm, ye koB*** 

<< Yes, it would so. I thought that would be the 
way^^You may now proceed widi yonr questions re- 
gakrly, Mr Wood." 

<< Are you quite conscious, now, that those things 

VOL* I. I. 


he brought to your remembrance were actually the 
truth ?" 

« No." 

<' Are you conscious they were not the truth?" 

<< Yes ; at least some of them, I am sure, were up^" 

" Please to condescend on one instance." 

<^ He says he has it markit in his buik, that the 
Crookit Houm, that lies at the back o* the wood, ye 
ken, grew pease in the ninety-sax, and com in. the 
ninety-se'en ; now, it is imco queer that he should hae 
settin't down wrang, for the Houm was really and truly 
aits baith the years." 

<' It is a long time since ; perhaps your memory may 
be at fault." 

<< If my master had not chanced to mention it, I cojt^d 
not have been sure, but he set me a-calculating 
paring ; and my mother and me hare been consiiilting 
about it, and have fairly settled it." 

^' And are you absolutely positive i^ was oat^ both 
years ?" 


" Can you mention any circimistance on which you 
i;e8t your conclusions ?" 

" Yes ; there came a great wind ae Sabbath day» in 
the ninety-sax, and that raised the shearers' wages» at 
Dumfries, to three sfullings the day. We began to the 
Crookit Houm on a Monanday's morning, at three 

TlBttT HT8(«OP*8 DREAM. 243 

aliilliiig^ »-day, dad thst Teiy day twalmoiitb, we be- 
gan till't again at tenpence. We had a gude deal o' 
speaking about it, and I said to John Edie, < What need 
we gmnible ? I made sae mnckle at shearing, the last 
yehr, that iVa no a' done yet.' And he said, < Ah, Tibby, 
Tibby, but wha can hain like yon ?' " 
' *^ Were tiiere any others that yon think your master 
had marked down wrong ?" 

<< There was ane, at ony rate — the lang field niest 
Robie Jidmston's march : He says h was dorer in the 
dronthy dear year, and aits the neist ; but that's a year 
I canna forget ; it was aits baith years. I lost a week s 
Clearing on it the first year, waiting on my aunty, and 
the niest year she was dead ; and I shore the lang field 
lAlbtft Robie Johnston's wi' her sickle-heuk, and black 
ribbons on my mutch." 

'The-tvhole of Tibb/s evidence went against Mr 
Ferret's interest most conclusively, and ^e Judges at 
last (fismissed her, with high compliments on her truth 
and integrity. The cause was again remitted to the 
Court of Session for revisal after this evidence taken ; 
imd the word spread over all the country that Mr For- 
ret had won. Tibby never contradicted this, nor dis- 
puted it ; but she was thorou^ly convinced, that in 
place o^ winning, he would be a ruined man. 

About a month affco* the examination at Dumfries, 
he received a letter from his agents in Edinburgh, buoy- 

SM THs sHsrano's isAuam^fc 

ing him 1^ witli iK^Mft of graal ladiBttaiii jvccot,-^^ 
urging tW ntilitjr of his presence in Wwn. at ifae £m^ 
dedaion of the cause on which all ihe minor enea lee^ 
ed* Accordingly he eqnyped hiroaeif» and yodeiiH^ 
Dnmfries in the evening, to he ready to proceed, by iba< 
mail the following momingy saying to hia wife* 9i»i» 
went away, that he would send home his mne with tbct 
carrier, and that as he could not possibly name the. dnrir. 
on which he would he home, she was to give heiself hch 
uneasiness. The mare was returned the following nighty 
and put up in her own stall, nobody knew by whMBif;. 
but servants are such sle^y, careless fellows^ ihat faWa 
regarded the circumstance. This was on a Xne^^da^^ 
night* A whole week passed over, and stiU Mss, £01^^ 
retxeceived no news of h^ husband,, which, keptvbevi 
very uneasy, as their whole fortune, beings and8ubf¥V»lT» 
enc^ now depended on the issue of this. great la.W)-9n^> 
ami she suspected that the case still c4>ntimie44iitMHi9>rv 
- or jras fpund to be going against him. ; . ... ., :.tu^ 
A more unhappy result followed than thal^ ahff w4iiTF 
cipated. On the arrival of the Edinburgh pigpens ii«M. 
week, the whole case, so important to farmers, was dtrs^ 
tailed ; and it was there stated, that the great banaaeir.. 
and improver, Mr Forret of Drumlocbie, had not on)^ 
forfeited his whole fortune by improper husbandry, and' 
mamfes]^ breaches of the conditions on which he held 
his kaae^ bnt that criminal letteics had been, issued 

ii g iii Mit hSm fdr attempts t» pervert justice, and rewards 
^ j fttf crf ibi^hiB detealxoH or seisure. This was terrible 
aewi frnF^tne'taankj at Dnimlochie ; but there were still 
fMi^^iBiie lidpe»eiitert«iiied that ^e circimistaiioee were 
tAtMUiAi or, if the worst should prove tme, that per^ 
liii|MKthB*hit8baad and fiBKther might make his escape ; 
and a» there Was no word from him day after day, this 
latter'^aentiitteiit began to be cherished by the whole 
fsmilr as thesr only remaining and forioni hope. 

''B«l otte day, as poor Tibby Hysl<^ was going over 
to^tlte^'Cait Linn, to gather a burden of sticks for fire- 
WOdd, 'she was surprised, on looking over the dike, to 
8«^%^great body of crows collected, all of which w^e 
ao^'iateiit' on- their prey, that Uiey seemed scarcely to 
rtlgkrd her preseace as a sufficient cause for their de- 
HDitlag*^" she waved her burden-rope at them over the 
dflttt^iAfl'theyTeiused to move. Her Hieart neariy fail- 
ed^her/^ftirf^ remembered of having before seen the 
same scene, with some fearful concomitants. But ptire 
-vM^tto/kkpked religion, the first principleof which teach- 
eil^^firaii reiiance on divine protection, can give cou- 
rag^ to the weakest of human beings. Tibby climbed 
oVifr #te dike, di^ove the vermin away, and there lay the 
c#ifseof her late unfortunate master, wofully mangled 
bytliese voracious bn*ds of prey. He had bled himself 
t6 death in the jugular vein, was lying without the hat, 
and clothed in a fine newblack suit of clothes, top-boots. 


which appeared likewise to be new, and gilt spun ; 
and the place where he lay was a little three-cornered 
sequestered spot, between the dike and the precipice, 
and inaccessible by any oth^ way than throng the 
field. It was a spot that Tibby had never seen before. 

A letter was found in Mr Forret*s pocket, which 
had blasted all his hopes, and driven him to utter dis- 
traction; he had received it at Dumfries, returned 
home, and put up his mare carefully in the stable, but 
not having courage to fece his ruined family, he had 
hurried to that sequestered spot, and perpetrated the 
deed bf self-destruction. 

The only thing more I have to add is, that the Lord 
President, having made the remaric that he paid ittore 
regard to that poor woman, Isabella Hyslop's evidence, 
than to all the rest elicited at Dumfries, the gainers of 
the gretLt plea became sensible that it was |»incipally 
in consequence of faer candour and invincible verafcity 
that they were successful, and sent her a present of 
twenty pounds. She was living comfortably at Knbtre- 
back when I saw her, a contented and happy old maid- 


I ) 



■ * 

. Th^ foUowipg incidents are related as having oc- 
ean^ At a shepherd's house, not a hundred miles from 
St Mary's Loch ; hut, as the descendants of one of the 
ffuniUeB still reside in the yicinity, I deem it requisite 
to. ;9S^ names which cannot he recognised, save hy those 
^(iphaye heard the story. 
. Jiphn AUanson, the farmer s son of Inverlawn, was 

» ji( Jhy^dsoine, roving, and incautious young man, enthu- 
sii|S^ amorous, and fond of adventure, and one who 

■ eoffdd hardly be said, to fear the face of either man, wo- 
99^f ^T. spirit* Among other love adventures, he fell 
»^urting Mary Burnet, of Kirkstyle, a most beautiful 
and innocent maiden, and one who had been bred up 
in rural simplicity. She loved him, but yet she was 
afraid of him ; and though she had no objection to meet- 
ing with him among others, yet she carefrdly avoided 
meeting him alone, though often and earnestly urged 
tp it. One day, the yoimg man, finding an opportuni- 

248 THE shepherd's caixndar. 

ty, at Our Lady's Chapel, after mass, urged kis Miit 
for a private meeting so ardently, and with so mittf 
vows of loTe and sacred esteem, that Mary was aft ftil^ 
won, as to promise, that perhaps she would €<Miie al(d 
meet him.' 

The trysting place was a little green se^esteMI 
spot, on the very verge of the lake, well knownio micaf 
an angler, and to none better than the writer of 1^ 6l§ 
tale ; and the hour appointed, the time when the KMj^if 
Elwand (now fooKshly termed the Bdt of Oriofj^iiet 
his fir^ gi^den knob above the hiH. Allanson canlirfM 
esrly; and he watched the sky with stveh eBgeafAia^ 
and devotion, that he thought every little litar tliat fihCief 
ia the touth-east the top knob of the King's Ehrftifdr 
At last the Elwand did arise in good eiinilsst, tCOd'lMft 
the youths with a heart palpitating with agi«erti<m, M^ 
nothing for it but to watch the heatheiybrow hj if^jSSk'' 
bonny Mary Burnet was to descend. No Mary ^B^^ 
net made her appearance, even although tfa\e King% !Eli> 
wand had now measured its own equivodJ lengfSti^M^ 
or six times up the lift. - v- -»u« 

Young Allanson now felt all the most poignant i&&' 
series of disappointment ; and, as the story gbes, utCiit^* 
ed in his heart an imhallowed wish — ^he wished Ihi^ 
some witch or fairy would influence his Mary to come 
to Mm in spite of her maidenly scruples. This tmh 
waa thrice repeated with all the energy of disappointed- 


hm^ It wm ibiee repeated, and no iihm«, when, be- 
IwWtMaiy iqppeared OB Ae brae, whh wild and eccen- 
t^ aaoliMM^ apeeding tor ^be appointed place* AUan- 
9Btt,^«iekeiiieBi seems to have been more than he was 
able to bear, as he instantly became delirious with joy, 
ami alxays processed that he ooidd remember nothing 
eijtmxJbai aoeetittg', saye that Mary remained nlent^ 
and jyeha not a word, nmther good nor bad. in a 
ahm^ tame she fell a-sobbing and weeping, refusing to 
baireoHifsrted^ .and then, uttering a piercing shriek, 
s|HQn§^ 1^ and ran from him with amawwg speed* 
jidAjLthis part of the loch, which, as I said, is well 
l(|K>«qii to- manyj the shore is oyerhuag by.&preeipit<* 
ofA^tiiS^ of no great height, but stiill inaccesaibley either 
fefnaa abc^re .,01; below*- Save in a great drought, the 
wiy^ .oo^^aea to within a yard of the bottom of this 
€)iiQ^4in4 the intermediate space is filled with rougbnn* 
shiyji^y {Maces of rock fallen from above* Along this' 
B^fRfqwandrnde' ^>aee, hardly passable by the angler 
ai^.f«K«)y did Mary bound with the swiftness of a kid, 
aldiough surroimded with darkness. Her lover, pur*- 
sufpg.ii^th all his energy, called out, << Mary I Mary ! 
my^.d^ Mary, stop and speak with me* TU conduct 
yqn. home, or anywhere you please, but do not run from 
m(^ 3top9 my dearest Mary-*-«top I" 

j^fyry. would not stop ; hut ran on, till, e<Hning.^ a 
Utitl^.jdiff that juUed into^^ lake^ rou^d which <theiie 


250 THE shepherd's calendar. 

wad no passage, and, perceiving that lier lover would 
thero overtake her, she uttered another shriek, and 
plunged into the lake* The loud soond of her fall ith 
to the still water rung in the young man's ears lik«the 
knell of death ; and if before he was erased with love, 
he was now as much so with despair. He saw her 
floating' lighdy away from the shore towards the deep- 
est part of the loch ; but, in a 8h(»t time, she began to 
sink, and gradually disappeared, without uttering a 
throb or a cry. A good while jN^vious to thk, Allan- 
son had flung oS his bonnet, shoes, and coat, and plun- 
ged in* He swam to the place where Mary disafipeer- 
ed; but there was neither boil nor gurgle en the- water, 
nor ev)^ a bell of departing breath, to mark the place 
wh»« his beloved had sunk. Being stnuigely impressed, 
at ^hat trying moment, with a detenoaiaation to Jive or die 
with her, he tried to dive, in hopes either to bring her up 
•i- to die in her arms ; and he thought i>f their being so 
found on the shore of the lake, with a melancholy sa- 
tisfaction ; but by no efibrt of his could he reach the 
bottom, nor knew he what distance he was still from 
it With an exhausted frame, and « despairing heart, 
he was obliged again to seek the shore, and, dripping 
wet as he wjts, and half naked, he ran to her father's 
house with the wofol ^ings. Every thing there was 
quiet. The old shepherd e family, a£ whom Mary was 
the youngest, and sole daughter, w^e all sunk in silent 


lepoee; and (A kom the distivcted lover wept at ^e 
thonghtuflf wakenkig thoa to hear the dolefol tidings ! 
BttftiWakintlMM he must ; so, going to the little win- 
dov doae hy the goodman's bed, he called* in a me- 
lancMy toDe, <^ Andrew ! Andrew Bumety are you 

7 ^ Troths man, J think I he: or, at least, I'm half- 
amUialL What haat thoa to say to auld Andrew Bvr* 
net ot^HB Snne o' night?" 

*/Aie you waking, I say ?" 
.ciVfGadewife^am I waking? Because if I be, tell that 
aitanriBg!^ sae* Hell maybe tak your word for it, for 
urine he wiana tak." 

u ^i O' 'Andrews wmi^ of your hnmour to-night ; — ^I 
hfingiyon tidings ^le most wofiil, tibe most dismal, the 
moat heart^nndingr that ever were brovght to an honest 
iBflA*^ daor." 

. • ' !^: To his window, yon mean," cried Andrew, bolting 
out of bed, and proceeding to the door. << Gude sauff 
ufa^ inan^ eome in, whaerer you be, and tell us your 
tidinga hce to fiice; and then we'll can better judge 
ai the tnilli of them. If Uiey be in conccvd wi* your 
•TiMoey they are melancholy indeed. Have the rearers 
oome^ and are our kye driven ?" 

^ Oh^ alaal waur than that-— a thousand times waur 
than that I Your daughter— >yoar dear beloved and on- 
ly dau§^iter, Mary—" 


f< What of Maiy ?'' cried the goodnan. «« WlM idf ' 
Mary ?" cried her mother, sfandderiog and ^&tBSmg> 
with terror ; and at the same time she kindled a H^ti" 

The sight of thdr neighbour, half-naked, and dfip 
ping with wety and madness and despair in his lok^> 
sent a chillness to their hearts, that held them in silenee^' • 
and they were unable to utter a woid, till he w«nt <oii < 
thua*-<< Mary is gone ; your darling and mine is lost^. 
and sleeps this night in a watery gi^Te,«''^4md I hamr^ 
been her destroyer I" 

<^ .Thou art mad, John Allansmi,'' said the old many' 
vehemently^ ^^ raying mad ; at least I hope so. Wicked* 
as thou art, thou hadst not the heart to kill my dear diddy • 
O yeS) you are mad-<— God be thanked, you are mad. 'i 
see it in your looks and demeanomr. Heayen be praised^ t 
you are mad ! You ore mad ; but youll get better agaol*. 
But what do I say ?" continued he, as recoUectiiig faiux' 
sel4-« We ow 80OA couTince onr «mii seoses. Wife, 
lead the way to our daughter's bedv' - -^^i 

With ft ^eiot throbbing with telnor and dismay^ old f 
Jeaa Linton led the way to Mary's chamber, followed*^ 
by the tquro men^ who were eagerly gazing, one i^reit' 
each of heif shoulders. Mary's little apartment waa in" 
the farther end of the long narrow cottage ; and as soon - 
as ^y enttt'ed it, they perceiyed a fcxm lying on the' 
bed) with the- bed-clothea drawn oyer its head; and. ^ 
on the lid of Mary's little chest,, that stood at the 

wuAY Bvaesnet, iSS 

beiisid^her chubn wiire lyiiig' neatly Mded, as they 
w«9iMltt» he«' iHope seemed to dawn <m the faces of 
theiifkiiia dd pe«i^ when they beheld this, bnt the 
loYflfVi heart sittik stiU deeper in despair. The father 
caUbldJiar'naDie^ but the form on the bed returned no 
anawm^-howeTory they all heard distinctly sobs, as 
of one wveping; The old man then ventored to'puH 
down tke dotbea fimn her fiace ; and, strange to say, 
thare.lndeed lay Mary Bnmet, drowned in tears, yet 
apparently nowise surprised at the ghastly appearance 
of tlMitlvee aaked %ares. AOanson gasped for breath, 
forh&^x^Bmained still incredulous* He touched her 
clo>lifS» "he Hfked her robes one by one,-^-and all of 
them irase^yy neat, and clean, and had no appearance 
of having sunk in the lake. 

Thoie oaa be no doubt that Allanson was confound^' 
ed hgrihe strange event that had befallen him^ and feit 
like olie struggling with a frightful vision, or some 
energy beyond the power of man to comprehend. Ne- 
verdieleas^die assurance that Mary was there in life, 
we^nng ^though she was, put him once more beside 
himself with joy ;> and he kneeled at her bedside, be*- 
seeohing permission bnt to kiss^ her hand. She^ how- 
evetfy lepulaed him with disdaiD^ ^ying^ with great em- 
phans-^^' You are a bad man^ John Allanson^ and I 
entreat you to go out of. my sights The sufierings that 
J have undergone this night, have been beyond the 


power of flesh and blood to endure ; and by some etrsed 
agracy of yours bare these safferings been brought 
about. I therefore pray you, in His namey whose law 
you hare transgressed, to depart out of my nf^titJ^^ 

Whi^y overcome by conflicting passions, by cireim* 
stances so contrary to one another, and <so discordant 
with erery thing either in the works of Nature ov Pro>- 
Tideitce, the young man could do nothing b«t stand 
Hke a ^igid statue, with his hands lifted up, and h]S< vi- 
sage like that of a corpse, until led away by the t^o 


old people from their daughter's apartment. Th^y 'Am 

lighted up a fire to dry him, and began to question him 
with the most intense curiosity ; but th^y conld eBcit 
nothkig from him, but the most disjointed exdamatiiBBS 
•*-sudi as, <^ Lord in Heaven, what can be the mean- 
ing of this r And at other times — *^ It is all the en- 
chantment of the devil; the evil spirits have got«do- 
mimon over me I" 

- Finding they oould make nothing of him, they began 
to form conjectures of their own. Jean affinned "teit 
it had been the Mermaid of the loch that had come t^ 
htm in Mary 8 shafie, to allure him to his dest niet ie a ; 
but Andtew Burnet, settmg his bonnet to one side^ find 
raismg Ins left hand to a level with it, so that h^BUgfat 
have full scope to motion and flourish, suiting his action 
to his words, thus began^ with a face of si^ience never 
to be excelled ^— 


.^Gudewifeyil doth Strike me that thou art very wide 
of iIm mark* It must have been a spirit of a great deal 
higheF <|«ality than a meer-maiden, ^o played this e^t- 
tra-diAHiy prank. The meer-maiden is not a spirit, 
b«t a beastly senshiye creatnre, with a malicious spirit 
widnn it. Now, what influence could a eauld clatch of 
a creature like that, wi' a tail like a great saumont-fish, 
hae ower our baim, either to make her happy or un- 
happf ? .Or where could it borrow her claeB, Jean? 
TeU me that. Na, na, Jean Linton> depend on it, the 
spint that courtit wi' poor sinfu' Jock there, has been a 
Mry y but whether a good ane or an ill- ane, it is hard 

' t Andrew's disquintion was interrupted by the young 
man falling into a fit of trembling that was fearful to 
look at, and threatened soon to terminate his existence. 
Jean ran fen* the fiunily cordial, observing, by the way, 
that ^ though he was a wicked person, he was still a 
fellow^ereature, and might live to repent ;** and influ- 
eaeed by diis spark of genuine humanity, she made him 
swallow two homHBpoonfals of strong aquavitce. An- 
deew then put a piece of scarlet thread round each wrist, 
and taking a strong rowan-tree staff in his hand, he con- 
veyed his tremUing and astonished guest home, giving 
him at parting this sage advice : — 

** V\\ tell you what it n, Jock Allanson, — ye hae run 
a near risk o' perdition, and, escaping tibat for the pre- 

156 THE shepherd's calendar. 

KBt» o' kiung ▼«Nir right reafioiu BvttakanaiddiiiHin's 
adTice— 4ieTer gang again out Vy nigbt to beguile qw 
iMMiest man's daughter, lest a worse thing be£dl ikeeu** 
Next morning Mary dressed herself more neatly than 
iBiialy but there was manifestly a deep melancholy ael- 
tied on her lorely face, and at times the unbidden tear 
would start into her eye* She spoke no word, either 
good or bad, that erer her moiher could recollect, that 
whole morning ; but she once or twice observed hec 
daughter gazing at her, as with an intense and meUlii-' 
cfaoly interest. About nine o'clock in the mornings shc^ 
took a hay-raik over her shoulder, and went down to 9i 
meadow at the east end of the loch, to coil a part of }ier 
Jbther's hay, her father and brother engaging to join her 

about noon, when tbey came from the sheep-fold. As 

I". ••' 

soon as old Andrew came home, his wife and he, as was 
natural, instantly began to converse on the events of the 
preceding night ; and in the course of their conversation, 
Andrew said, << Gudeness be about us, Jean, was^ not 
yoii an awfii* speech o' our bairn's to young Jock AllafiL- 
son last night?" 

• * 

<< Ay, it was a downsetter, gudeman, and spoken like 
a good Christian lass." 

^ I'm no sae sure o' that, Jean Linton. My good 
woman, Jean Linton, I'm no sae sure o' that. Yon 

. . » ,' ■ 

speech has gi'en me a great deal o' trouble o' heart ; fon , 
'ye ken, an take my life, — ay, an take your life, Jeap, 


o' V CM ten wketiier it wn in the Almiglit7*« 
m At deviTs, that she diadiH^ her lovw." 

*0 ly, Aafoir, hoir can ye say sm ? Hoir can ye 
doobt diat it WW in the Aknighty's Bame?" 

■* Coakba ahe have said sae then, and that wad hae 
pirit it beyond a' donbt ? And that wad hae been the 
natani wmy tew ; bnt instead of that, she says, < I pray 
yew, in the name of him whose law yon have tranag i ' eoo ' 
edy to'dqiart ont o* my sight.' I confess Tm terrified 
when I think ahont yon speech, Jean Linton, Didna 
dm say, too» that < her sufferings had been beyond what 
ileslk and blood conld have endured ?* What was she 
but flesh and blood? Didna that remark infer that she 
waa something mair than a mortal creature? JeanLin- 
tOBy Jean linton I what will you say, if it should turn 
out that onr daughter is drowned, and that yon was the 
&iry we had in the house a' the night and this morn* 


^ O hand your tongue, Andrew Burnet, and dinna 
make my heart cauld within me. We hae aye trusted 
in the Lord yet, and he has never forsaken us, nor will 
he yet gie ^e Wicked One power ower us or ours.'* 

<< Ye say very weel, Jean, and we maim e'en hope for 
the best,'' quoth old Andrew ; and away he went, ac- 
oompanied by bia son Alexander, to assist their beloved 
Mary on the meadow. 

No sooner had Andrew set his head over the bents,. 


and eome m vievr of the meadow^ than he said to uwaun) 
** I wish Jock Allanson matinna hae been eaalrlihe^Ioch 
ishing for geds the day, for I think my Mary Ins anade 
very little progress in the meadowJ* : 'h> 

<^ She's ow«r muckle ta'en »p abovt other ihings ^ns 
while, to mind her wark," said Alexander : << I wadha 
wonder, father, if that lassie gangs n black gate ^.^ 
' Andrew uttered a loDgaad a deepeigh, that seemed to 
raffle the very foimtains of life, and^ without speakkig 
another word, walked on to the hay field. It was thiee 
hman since Mary had left home, and she ought at least 
to^ have put np a dozen coils of hay each hour. But, 
in: ](^laee of that, she had put up only seven altegethcr, 
sod the last was unfinished. Her own hay-raik^ that 
had m M and a B neatly cut on the head of it^was 
leaning on the unfinished cml^ and Mary wa8> wanting. 
Her brother, thinking she had hid herself froonithem in 
^port, ran from one coil to aiiother, calling her many 
^wd names, playfully ; but, a£ter he had turned them all 
up, and several deep swathes besides, she was not to he 
foond. This young man, who sl^ in the byre^ knew 
nothing of the events of the foregoing nighty the cid 
people and Allanson having mutually engaged to 'keep 
ikem a profound secret, and he had therefore leea^rea^ 
■on than his fether to be seriously alarmed. When they 
began to work at the hay, Andrew could work none ; 
be' looked this way and that way , but in no way oeidd 

In Me Mary «ppioacfaiiig : se he pat on his co«t> and 
vent mfnyhomBf to pour his sorrows, into the bosom 
oCJbb "fiiifoiiaid in the inefuitime» he desired his son to 
nin to all the nei^^boBnag farming-bouses and cots, 
•very, one^ awl make inqairieB if any body had seen 
MiBcy4 : 

. JWiiea Andrew went home and informed his wife that 
their.darling was missing, the grief and astonishiBent of 
l|ie B^ed conple knew no bomids* They sat down, and 
wapt together, and declared, OTer and orer, that this act 
ef'ProYidence was too strange for them, and too high 
tftbe nnderatood* Jean besought hear hnsband to kneel 
inrtKntly, and pray urgently to God to restore their 
«Uid lia them ; but he declined it, on account of the 
wwong (nme ef his mind, for he declared, that his rage 
i^aiast John Ailanson was so extreme, as to unfit him 
for«ppiQftching the throne of his Maker. <^ But if the 
pnptfgatfe refuses to listen to the entreaties of an injured 
pennf,'' added he, ^ he shall feel the weight of an in-* 
fared father's arm." 

':^ iAndrew went straight away to Inverlawn, though 

!WiUiout the least hope of finding young Allans<m at 

teme; but, oo reaching the place, to his amazement, he 

found the young man lying ill of a burning fe^er, ra* 

•"mg incessantly of witches, spirits, and Mary Burnet. 

To such a height had his frenzy arrived, that when An- 

igew went therey it required three men :to li^ld him in 


the bed. Both hk psrenta testified tiles' opinions 
Ifi that their son vms bewitched, or poeseased of ar^^ 
mon, and die whole family was thrown into the gtMkti^ 
est oonetemetion* The good old i^epheid, tedfai^ 
eno«gli of grief there already, was obliged to «onfiae 
his to his own bosom, and return disconsolate to^I& 
little feraily dbrcle, in which there was a wofiil %lank 
that' night* -^^^ 

'-^His'Bon returned also from a frmtless seardk^ No 
one- had seen any traces of his sister, but an old eniflBy 
woman, at a place called Oxcleuch, eaid that shcr had 
seen her go by in a grand chariot with young Jock A!^ 
laason, toward the Biiidiill Path, and by that time they 
were at the Cross of Dumgree. The young man sati4: 
he asked her what sort of a chariot it was, as there was 
never such a thing in that country aa a chariot, nor yet 
a road for one. But she replied that he was widely 
mistaken, for that a great number of chariots sometimes 
passed that way, though never any of them rettuto^' 
Tliese words appearing to be merely the nrrings'bf 
superannuation, they were not regarded ; but wheil no' . 
other traces of Mary could be found, old Andrew Wenf 
up to consult this crazy dame once more, but he W8$ 
not able to bring any such thing to her recolle^tioni^ 
She spoke only in parables, which to him were incoitt^ 

. Bdnisry Matry Burnet was lost* She left her ffttber s 

Imytft^ at<iiiii6»'elQGk oa a Wedii^aday xnoming, tbei74b 
odS^plembtiv JMmlly dressed m a while jerkia and 
gya^JieiieV ^th li^ iiay-raik orer iier •boulder ; and 
tlw^ nms tbe. 1^ «ight she was- doomed ever to aee of 
liMb^nstAve cx^tage* She seemed to have had aoma pee- 
ae|ltiraeii^o£ this, as appeared from her demeanour that 
majphig befio^^ ahe left it. Mary Burnet of Kirkstyla 
was ioaty and great was the sensation prodoeod ovMir 
tha wh^ country by the mysterious event. There was 
a,'igBg .liallad extant at one period <m the melanohoiy 
^fllllptrppher; which was supposed to have been com^ 
pq9e4-by. the chaplain of St Mary s ; but I have only 
h^m^ t^ of Jt, without ever hearing it sung or reeitedtc 
ASimy fif th^ verses concluded thus :-^ j 

" But Bonny Mary Burnet 
f'jv 1" *•' We i^m iw?ter see again." 

tJtbf^^^^P^ 300^ got abroad, with all its horrid, cirt. 
cuBgffjtyK''es3t,(and there is little doubt that it was grie?^ 
^^94£.^iPPS&^^^^)^^^ there was no obloquy that waf > 
n(^. tj^q^a on the survivor, who certainly in some de^ 
gi]^ (J^seryed it, fqr, instead of growing better, he graw; 
tai^.^i^eB more wicked than he was before. In one^. 
th^.tjbe whol^ country agreed, that it had been 1^. 
rea\.jy{ary Burnet who was drowned in the lochifai^ 
that the being which was found in her bed^ lyu)ft.w;^$9^. 
ing ^d.po ypl ai ni'ng of aii^e]:^ i^^ wI4$^ JW^(^ 


the nexf day, had heem a faiiy, an evil «piitt, or a change* 
ling of 8ome sort, foi* that it never spoke save once, and 
that in a mysterious manner ; nor did it partake of any 
food unth the rest of the fennily. Her father and niO- 
ther kiHSW not what to say or what to think, but they 
wfBidered lliroogh this weary world like people wlEb- 
dering in a dream. Every thing that belonged to Maiy 
Burnet was kept by her parents as the most stksted re- 
lies, and many a tear did her aged mother shed over 
them. Every article of her dress brought the once 
comely wearer to mind. Andrew often said, ^* That 
to have lost the darling child of their old age in any 
way would have been a great trial, but to lose h^rin 
the way that they had done, was really mair than Ira- 
man fhdlty could endure.'' 

Many a weary day did he walk by the shores of the 
loch,- looking ei^rly for some vestige of her garments, 
and though he trembled at every appearance, yet did 
he continue to search on; He had a number of small 
bones collected, that had belonged to lambs and crthef 
minor animals, and, haply, some of them to fishes, from 
ft ftmd supposition that they might once have formed 
jomts of het toes or fingers. These he kept concealed 
in a little bag, in (Mrd^, as he said, ^< to let the doctors 
.see them;" But no relic, besides these, could be ever 
discover of Mfury's body. 

Young Allanson recovered from his raging fever 


scarcely in the mimner of other mexh ^or he recovered 
all, at . onc€^ after a few days raving and madness. Mary 
Bnrn^t,, it appeared, was by ^m no more remembered. 
He g[rew ten times more wicked than before, and he- 
siti^ed at no means of accomplishing his unhallowed 
pnxpoi^. The devout shepherds and cotti^ers around 
detested him ; and, both in their families and in the 
wil4» when there was no ear to hear but that of Heaven, 
they prayed protection from his devices; as if he had 
been the Wicked One ; and they all prophesied that 
h^ would make a bad end. 

. One fine day about the middle of October, when the 
day^ b^iD to get very short, and the nights long and 
dark, on a Friday morning, the next year but one after 
Mary Burnet was lost, a memorable day in the fairy 
annalp^-John .Ailanson, younger of Inverlawn, went to 
a gi:eat;hinng fair at a village called Moffiit in Anntin- 
dfdey.ifL order to hire a housemaid. His character was 
so i^ptorions, that not one young woman in the district 
HTfi^ld :6erve in his father s house ; so away he went to 
the fair, at Moffat, to hire the prettiest and loveliest 
girl he could there find, with the intention of ruining 
her as soon as she came home. This is no suppositi- 
tious .accusation, for he acknowledged his plan to Mr 
David Welch of Cariferan, who rode down to the mar* 
ket with him^ and seemed to boast of il, and dwell on 
it with delight. But the maidens of Annandale had 

264 THE shepherd's calendar. 

ft guardian angel in the fair that day, of which neither 
he nor they were aware. 

AUanson looked thrt^h the hiring market,, and 
through the hiring market, and at length fixed on one 
young woman, whidi indeed was not difficult to do, fpr 
there was no such form there for elegance and beftoty. 
Mr Welch stood still and eyed him. He took the 
beauty aside. She was clothed in green, and as lovely 
as a new-blown rose. 

" Are you to hire, pretty maiden ?" 

"Yes, sir." 

<* WU you hire with me ?" 

" I care not though I do. But if I hire with yoU| it 
must be for the long term." 

" Certainly. The longer the better. What are your 
wages to be ?" 

" You know, if I hire, I must be paid in Jdnd. I 
miist have the first living creature that I see about In- 
verlawn to myself." 

" I wish it may be me, then. But what do you know 
about Inverlawn ?" 

*< I think I should know about it." 

*< Bless me ! I know the face as well as I know my 
own, and better. But the name has somehow escaped 
me. Pray, may I ask yom* name ?" 

" Hush I huili I" said she solemnly, and holding up 



her Itfoad il Ae mum time ; ^ Hiuh, hnah, yon had bet* 

ter My BOtUng abcmt that here." 

<< I am in utter amaasement I" he exclaimed. ^ What 
die mea^Bg of this? I conjure you to tell me your 


^liitMary BiffBety" said she, in a soft whiiq>er; and 
at the aame time she let down a green veil over her face. 

If Alknaon's death-warrant had been annoonced to 
him at that moment, it could not hare deprired him so 
eompletely of sense and motion. His visage changed 
into that of a corpse, his jaws fell down, and hit eyes 
became glaaed^ so as apparently to throw no reflection 
iDWatdly* ' Mr Welch, who had kept his eye steadily 
OB liiem all the while, perceived his comrade's dilemma, 
aild went up to him. << Allanson ? — Mr AUansim ? 
What is the matter with you, man?'* said he. <' Why, 
the girl has bewitched you, and turned you into a 
statue r 

Allanson made some sound in his throat, as if at- 
templang to speak, but his tongue refused its office, and 
he only jabbered. Mr Welch, conceiving that he was 
seised with some fit, or about to faint, supported him 
into the Johnston Arms ; but he either could not, or 
would not, grant him any explanation. Welch being, 
however, resolved to see the maiden in green once more, 
persuaded Allanson, after causing him to drink a good 
deal, to go out into the hiring-market again, in search 

VOL. I. M 

> ihnomgh ind throng^ 
Bottabe temd. 
■I ibe cfwd tke ■mmbo^ abe divnl- 
€f«ilM^ WelciiliMllyB«ye fixed 
Ml kar> W cwiii SBC dii«yvcr wliidi way she wgepb 

■I « kiadcl tlvpoc m.wbD as 

tlaftake Ind left ^ madket, 

ta look o«t agaia for 

H# MOB fowad «aa mor baaaiilal tfaaa the last. 

k» am lika a ^J^^ datktd in robes of puro-anowy 
hi gfooi libboaflL Agun lie pouted tbia new 
to Mr David Waldi, arbo declaied tbat 9pch 
a pe il o il l adg l af b gaM ly be bad aefarinhia life fli^en. 
Albaaai^ beiafrmahvd to baTe this one at any wages, 
took bH' aakkv and pirt tbe asaal qoestion: '< Da yon 
wiab te^ bire^ W^^Y ■Mlea?*' 

*^ Ye9> sir." 


^ I care aol tboag^ I do.** 

^ Wbat» ^MB, an yoar wages to be ? Come-HMy? 
Aadbereaaenable; I am detennined not to part with 
yoa for a trifle.'* 

^ My wages mast be in kind ; I work on no otbm' 
conditioiis^—Plray, bow are aU tbe good people abont 
InTeriawn ?" 

AUaoeons.breatb began to cat, and a cbiUness to 


4f Kxfae*^ 

and Mit fw 
mot M fkid 

time ewr I knpd 
who all tiut<i ovt Ml 
but I thmk k vbBxIt 

he BSVSt lOBIF CffV uHt 1 
HOOfD'^etl mCHT 

e^Wj wlieii votBuir elw w<mh mu ne wKtf^^ 

to a good pffoportioii of M roa t driak. Wh0e lie 

tuiis en^agedj a MicBOBewMi ov oeascv 

came into the ftifj diat caacM die aale attflNMi at aU 

present. This was a lovelf dane, lidaiy hi • fM^ 

chariot, with two UveiyaMB 


clothed in green and gold ; and never snre was tbere 
so splendid ia meteor seen in a Mofiat foir. The word 
instantly circulated in the market, that this was the' 
Lady Elizaheth Donglas, eldest daughter to the "Sari 
of Morton, who then sojourned at Auchincastle, in ibe' 
ncihity of Moffat, and which lady at that time was 
celehrated as a great heauty all oyer Scotland. 1^ 
was afterwards Lady Keith ; and the mention of this 
name in the tale, as it were hy mere accident, fixes 
the era of it in the reign of James the Fourth, at the 
very thne that fairies, brownies, «.d witches, were at 
the rifest in Scotland. 

Every one in the market helieved the lady to be the 
daughter of the Earl of Morton ; and when she cam^ 
to the Johnston Arms, a gentleman in green came out 
bareheaded, and received her out of the carriage. 'Alt 
the crowd gazed at such imparalleled beauty and graii- 
deur, but none was half so much overcome as Allan- 
son. He had never conceived aught half so lovely 
cdther in earth, or heaven, or fairyland ; and whale Ke 
Stood in B burning fever of admiration, think of his 
astonishment, and the astonishment of the countless 
crowd that looked on, when this brilliant and matchr 
less beauty beckoned him towards her I He could'not 

believe liis senses, but looked this way and that to see 

■ '..•''■. - „• ' 

how others regarded the affair ; but she beckoned him 

a second time^ with such « winning courtesy and smile; 

Mary burnet. 269 

that immediately he pulled off his beaver cap and hasted 


m to her ; and without more ado she gave him her arm, 
and the two.walked into the hosteL 

■ 1 ' '^. ■ 

A^lanson conceived that he was thus distingmshed 
bj; liady Elizabeth Douglas, the flower of the land, 
and so did all the people of the market ; and greatly 
thej wondered who the yoimg farmer could be that 
was thus particularly favoured ; for it ought to have 
been mentioned that he had not pne personal acquaint- 
ance in the fiedr save Mr David Welch of Cariferan. 
The first thing the lady did was to inquire kindly after 
his health. Allanson thanked her ladyship with all 
th0 courtesy he was master of ; and being by this time 
pmmiaded that she was in love with him, he became 
as light as if treading on the air. She next inquired 
after his lather and mother. — Oho I thought he to him- 
seU^poor creature, she is terribly in for it I but her love 
shall pot be thrown away upon a backward or ungrate* 
fill object*— ^He answered her with great politeness, and 
at, length began to talk of her noble father and young 
Lord WilUam, but she cut him short by asking if he did 
not recognise her. 

<< Oh, yes I He knew who her ladyship was, and re- 
membered that he had seen her comely face often b^ 
fore, although he could not, at that particular moment, 
recall to his memory the precise time or places of their 

270 THE shepherd's calendar. 

She next asked for his old neighbours of Kirkstyk, 
and if they were still in life and health I 

Allanson felt as if his heart were $ piece of ice.' A 
dullness spread over his whole frame ; he sank heck 
on a seat, and remained motionless ; but the beantifvl 
and adorable creature soothed him with kind words, 
till he agun gathered courage to speak. 

<< What r said he ; << and has it been ^our oym Icfftr 
ly self who has been playing tricks on me this whale 

<< A first love is not easily extinguished, Mr Allan- 
son," said she. << You may guess from my appearance, 
that I have been fortunate in life ; but, for aU tjial, ny 
first love for you has continued the same, vaalt^^ 
and unchanged, and you must forgive the little fr^eor 
doms I used to-day to try your affections, aikd the ef- 
fects my appjBarance would have on you." . . v ^ » 

/< It argues something for my good taste, liCHre^fel'y 
tJiBt I never pitdied on any face for beauty to-day but 
your own," said he. '^ But now that we hare nakt 
once more, we «hall not so easily part again. ' I inll 
devote the rest of my life to you, only let me ImhiW 
the place of your abode.*' 

<< It is hard by,^' said she, ^ only a very little space 
from this ; and happy, happy, would I be to see ytm 
tliere to-ni^t^ were it proper or convenient. But aiy 
lord is at present from home, and in a distantx>ott(«lr)r«^- 


■'^i thdiild not eoDceive that any psrticular hiiider- 
ance to my Tirity'' aaid he. 

M^itii great apparent reluctance ahe at length con- 
aentedto admit of hk Tisit, and offered to leave one of 
hnrgenliemen, whom she conld tnut, to be his conduct- 
on;- hot this he pomtively refused. It was his desire, 
he said, that no eye of man should see him enter or leave 
her happy dwelling. She said he was a self-willed man, 
but diould have hii own way; and after giving him such 
directions as would infallibly lead him to her mansion, 
she momited her chariot and was driven away. 
. . AHa&8<m was uplifted above every sublmiary con- 
oanu Seeking out his fnend, David Welch, he impart- 
ed to ham his eztiaordinary good fortune, but he did not 
:tall Jiim that she was not the Lady Elizabeth Douglas. 
Welch insisted on accompanying him on the way, and 
refused to turn hBxk till he came to the very point of 
ihe'ioad next to the lady's splendid mansion ; and in 
i^tQ nd all that Allanson could say, Welch remained 
Jthere tillte saw his comrade enter the court gate, which 
Cg^owed with lights as innumerable as the stars of the 

Allanson had promised to his father and mother to 
4i0 home on 4ie morning after the foir to breakfast. He 
«4ame not either that day or the next ; and the third day 
..4iie old man mounted his white pony, and rode away 
4^wwrd4 Mo&t in search of his son. He called at Ca- 


rifaraft on im w«f, And ]B«d»iiiqarief^«l4tli WiUK 
The latter maaifeeled eooie OTftiiikiHii iil^*il^<i' 
yoniigBianbadnotfetiinied; immri imhm te iuKtf uIT 
tefittherofhkeefety»Maddeeire#te»t0 igtMtfl^^ 
and then with reluctance confessed that the ^t^iiffMt' 
waa engaged in an amour witii the Ead of Mm^^Ki't 
beantiftddaagliter; &at he had goner to the <AiUH^' 
appointmant, and that he» David WcAeh, Ud a^dBdi^ 
panied faun to the gate, and seen hbn enter, athd iiSri^ 
iq^parent that his recqrtion had heen a kind ondiAaSt 
ha had unied 60 k»g; ■.:^:^r^^ 

Mr Wekhy aedmg the old man greatly e Bfltie ft Beit Sry 
paiwaded to aeoompany him on hin jonmef , as tfa^lii^ 
who had seen hie 6on> and seen him enters caMei^'^S^ 
reaching Moffiil they fonnd his steed tftatkBng ir^' ^^ 
hostel, whither it hadretomed on the night bf^'ft^^^ 
before the company broke np ; but the owner idUfyot 
been heard of sinee seen in company with IiB^iSU8K-^^ 
both Donglas. The old man set out for And&cibStlH''^ 
taking Mr David Welch along wi^ hitii ; bift li^"^^ 
they reached the plaooi Mr Weldi assiiiM ^''j^ 
wonid not find his son there, as it was nearly in VtK^' 
fm^ttt direction thatthey rode on the eVeriing of thb%i£fi^. ' 
Howeyer, to tha^^ castle they went, and were ield^i!^ ' 
to the £arV who, after hearing the dd man*s tale, seet&«^ 
ed to consider him in a state of derangement. He fi^ 
for his dan^ter EUaabethy and questioned her concern* 

h^ inr KjicliBy iridi liw Mm of the old retpeetible 
I flijji l|j< Mii iif h ar ■p po imm ent with hint on the night 
^jdlut pwieoJniy ¥niKfy and concluded hy sayiAf he 
lMigi4dM )bd Um etiB in tome nfe eoooeelment about 

TM^MytheeriBgherfctherti^ in this nMumer, md 
aa e in g the Mrlovs and dejeeted looks of the old nan, 
kainr xiotwhat to say, and asked an explanation. Bui 
Bfit Welch pat a stop to it by dedaring to old AHanH 
s^iQL.that the Lady Elizabeth was not ifae lady wiih 
whom his son made the appointment, for he had seen 
her» And wonld engage to know her again amoiigten 
thopaad; aor was thai- the castle towardi which he had 
acoampwiiedhi»son, nor any thing like it. ^Bntgowith 
m^ consumed he, «< and, ihongh I am a str an ger in thfef 
di^Qfy I think I can tako you to the very place.** ' 

.^^Theyaet out again; and Mr Welch traced ^ road * 
(raQt;Moffi^ by wUcd yoang Allanson and he had 
gonei, niftU, after tiu^elling seveial miles, they came to 
a IjJ#ce where a road etmck off to the right at an angle. ' 
<< Itfo^ I know we are right," said Weldi ; ** for here' 
we stopped, and yotr son intreated me to retnm, wMbh 
I reftised, and accompanied him to yon large tree, and 
a little way beyond it, from whence I saw'him rec^Vetf ' 
in at the splendid gate. We shall be in sight of ^' 
mfinsion in three minutes^" 

Xhey passed on to th^ tree, sad a qiati^ tiN0)ftimd'ft« 




274 THE s HigyHis ia>'8 <7ai^ndail 

but then Mr Weldi lost tbe use of his speedi^^itf he 
perceived that there was neither palace nor gale tiiere» 
hut a tremendous gtilf, fifty fathoms deep, cod a dark 
Ktream foaming and boiling beloW. 

** How is this?" said old Allanson. ^< Tliere-iB 
ti^ther mansion nor habitatioki of man hote V* ' '*^ 

Welch's tongue for a long liine recused ita office, tad 
he stood like a statue, gazing on the ahered and tmM 
scene. ** He only, who made the'spiiits of men^** said 
he, at last, << and all the spirits that sojourn in the earth 
and air, can tell how this is. We are wanderib^ in a 
world of enchantment, and hare been influettced hy 
some agen<3ies above hntoto nature, or vriiljKmt itirfMde ; 
fbr here of a certainty did I take leave of ytMir MW^ 
and there, in that direction, and apparently either oil the 
verge of that gulf, or the space above it, did I j^ee-hlm 
received in at the cmirt gate of a mansion,* splendidnbe- 
yond all conception. How can hamacn conilyrehensioa 
make any thing of this ?" , . . .> 

They went forward to the verge, Mr Wel<ih leHiding 
the way to tht» very spot on which he siiTr^he'§ate 
opened, and there they found marks vrh&^ M hor^e had 
been plunging. Its feet had been over the l]^phik;'!)ut 
ii seemed to have fecovei^ itself^ md deep, d^do#n> 
and far within; lay ihe mangled corpse of Johtt^ Allan- 
son ; and in this manner, mysterious beyond all i^m- 
ple, t^minated the eare^ of tfakt wicked and flagitious 

f I • • 


jmngttas^-^WiMjt a beantifid mond nay be eztaeled 
ham thk ftury lakl 

4f>Bat amnngall these tnmiiigs end windings, there is 
no aoooiint given, yim will say, of die late of Mary Bur- 
:iiett;^4ar this last appearance of hers at Moffiit seeins to 
haye been altogether a phantom or illusion. Gentle and 
Uidrsadcal, I can give you no account of the fate of that 
tmtidmri lor though the ancient fairy tale proceeds, it 
seems to me to involve her fate in ten times more mvR- 
. tery than what we have hitherto seen of it. 
. . Tha yeady return of the day on which Mary was lost, 
.ffraa jOfbaerved as a day of mourning by her aged and dis- 
(flonscdate pnrents» — % day of sorrow, of £e»ting, and hu- 
.miJiatioai. Seven yean came and passed away, and the 
.^venthretumiii^ day of fasting and prayer was at hand. 
-'Qn-di&evaBii]^ previous to it, old Andrew was moving 
jiloiig the sands of the loch, still looking for some relic 
.Hof . his beloved Mary, when hd was aware of a little 
shrivelled old man, who came posting towards him. 
riChe ciBatnue was not above five spans in height, and 
had a face scarcely like that of a human creature ; but 
lie was, nevertheless, civil in his deportment, and sen- 
sible Hi epeecfa. He bade Andrew a good evening, and 
^ed him what he was looking for. Andrew answer- 
ed^-Aat he was looking for that which he should never 

<^ Fhiy, what is your name, ancient shepherd?" said 


M^ved dnghter named 

.■ .«. 


^ Wfcti beeuM of Imt ?* Mked tile tmnger. 

Andrew dbook Us iMnd, tvned ivmd, and began to 
mome away ; it was a dieme that his htmt tatiid not 
brods. He sauntered along tiie locb sands^ Ins dim 
ofe araaniay every wUle pdible aa he p a s oed almig. 
There was a hopekasness in his stooping fmn, Mi^glih, 
fail my^ hk f eauaes, — in e^ery step tiiat he took there 
wasnhopdess i^ialiiy. The dwarf followed hin)> aid 
began to espostalatewidi him. <^ Old man» I see y<m 
ana piaing nnder some real or fancied affliction/' ilfedd 
hep f< Bntineontuiidngto do BO, yonarenei^eract- 
iagaocart^ng to the dictates of reason nolr tmei^Kglott. 
What is man thai he shoold fret, or the son of man 
that hft'ShoiildiapiiM^ under the chastening hand of his 
Maker?" ^' - 

^^'lam&rftaeJQsUfyingmysell," retnmed Andrew, 
snrveying his shriyelled monitor with some degree of 
astonishment. ** Bnt there are some feelings that nei- 

;^ wiaea mm- seKgiMi 
some tbfit m pKOBft say 

thw^ riwola t riy or fnltipfl|> All 

tjSqpjwiie 4 » qD g»] 
gobiletieB ariide, I arit fPVySildy 
cfluie'iif yo«r ilwghiir?* 
..^AAAeRrtfceraf hm pirii , aiitke 
bodyy" nid Andrew, l o l a M hr; *< 
hands I coiMniitad fav ftoai <Udha«d. He 
knpws what beeasM af Wr, bitf 1 4m mtttT 

...*^Af Iya« 

numnied lior har aU ifcat vUar 

¥ Y«i ; and I wiU^a dawn to 
any only dani^iBr, tfe ckild af aiy ape, 
M9bc6i9tL O^thMnaeartyy-laal 
tfaon ang^ af my dariinf cyid ? 
wilt know tbat dba was not Mka 
waaawmpKrityandnpnptyaliantBiyMiryf that 
haxdly consialCDi witJk aw frail wttatnT 

<< Wonldat thaw like to aaa bar apm?^ wmk ika 

Andrew tamed roand» Ida wkole fimne liiaking at 
withnpalsy, and gazed on ike andarioaaiaqi. ^8ea 


her agifaiy creature !** cried he TdheBe&tfy— ^ Wodd I 
like to see her egmin, say'st thou ?" 
. «« I said 80^" said the dwarf, << and I sayfiBrther, Doet 
ikoa know this token? Look, and see if thoa doti?" 
Andrew took the token, and k>oked at it, then at the 
sfarivelled stnmger, and then at the token again ; aadat 
length he borst into tears, and wept alond; hut they 
were tears of joy, and his weeping seemed to hare some 
breathings of laughter intermingled in it. And stfllas 
he kissed the token, he called out in broken and conml- 
sipe sentences, — ^ Yes, auld body, I do know it ! — ^I do 
know it ! — ^I do know it ! It is indeed the -saBie golden 
Edward, with three holes in it, with which I presented 
my Mary <m her birth-day, in her eig^temth year, to 
buy a new suit for the holidays. But whea she took it 
she said— ay, I mind weel what my bonny woman said, 
—»< It is see bonny and sae kenipeckle,' said she^ * that 
I think rU keep it for the sake of the giver.' O dear, 
dear !— B l ess e d little creature, tell me how she is, and 
where she is? Is she livings or is she dead?" 

«< She is living, and in good iieahh," said the dwaif ; 
M and better, and braver, and happier, and lovidier than 
eror; and if you make haste, you will see her and her 
family at Mofiat to-morrow afternoon. They are to 
pass there on a journey, but it is an express one, and I 
am sent to yen with that tdcen, to inform you of ihe 
circumstance, that you may have it in your power to 

mlf^itiA ^ntaee jcmr Mawtd dauthiei onee M«« 
you die/' 

''^ And am I to sect mjMirr si Mcfiitr Codj^- 
away, little, dear, welcone iM^dy, iIm IJ utd «f hea- 
tittiy eeme airajy and tarte of aa aaU fllKpheri'* He»<t 
ftb p q r , and 111 gaag foot for foot wi^ too to Mo&l 
and my auld wife shall gane foot for foot widi «• aae. 
It&SL ywi, Httteyblewedy and w ek eaic crilc, e m tm ahmg 
with me." 

** I may not tairy to eirter roar hoase. or taste of 
yo«r deer, good shepherd,** smd the hemr. ** Mar 
J^enty scfll be widnn yom* walk, aad a thaakfol heart 
to enjoy it I But my directiom wre neither to tt^W* 
meat nw drink in this ooaatrr, hut to haste back to her 
tet aent me. Go — hasto, and mdke ready, for yon 
have no tame to lose." 

'< At what time wfll she be there?* fried Andrew, 
flinging the pkid from Inm to ran home with the ti- 

<< IVedaely when iSbc shadow of the Holy Cross falls 
dae east," cried the dwarf; and tmning romid, he has- 
ted on his way. 

^I^ren old Jean Linton savf her husband eoming hob- 
-Wag^Did running home wiihont his plaid, and haring 
his doublet flying wide open', she had no donbt that he 
had lost Insets ; and, foil of amaety, ilie met Mm at 
the side of the kail-yard. " Gndeness preserve ns a* 

280 THB shbphbbd's calkwdajl 

in ov rigirt toMesy Andrew Bvraeli wlHtTt tlie 
wT 7009 Andrew Burnet?^ 

*' Sttnd out o' my gtte, wife, for, d*ye aee^ Fm iii* 
ther in a baste, Jean Lmton." 

<*I see diat indeed, gndeman; but stand 8till| nd 
ten me what Ins patten yon m sic a haste. Jryedf^ 
nentit r 

** Na, na ; gndewife, Jean Linton, Fm no dementit 
— ^Fm only gann away tiU Mofiat." 

^ O, gudeness pity the poor anld body ! How 4:;an 
ye gang to Moffiit, man ? Or what have ye to do a^ 
Moffiit ? Dinna ye mind that die mam is the day a' 
ovr solemnity?'' 

^ Hand out o* my gate, anld wife, and dinna speak 
o* solemnities to- me. Fll keep it at Mofiat the nn^rn. 
Ay, gddewife, and ye shall keep it at Moffiit, too. What 

d'ye ttmk o' that, woman? Too-whoo I ye dinna ken' 


the metal that's in an anld body till it be tried." 

** Andrew— Andrew Burnet I 

^ Get away wi' yonr fingfatened looks, woman ; and 
haste ye, gang and fling me ont my Sabbath-day cli^^ 
And, Jean Linton, my woman, d'ye hear, gang and pit 
on yo«if bridal gown, and yonr silk hood, for ye maun 
be «l Moffirt- the mom too ; and it is mair nor time We 
wevto' away. Dinna look sae suiprised, woman, till X 
teU fe, tlittt tnff ain Mary is to meet us at Mofiat th^ ' 

• '.it 


'tfO, Andrew I £iiiut^K)rtwi'tliefiBeliiigsofanaiild 

fDfwkan heart r 

- -• . 

^ Gude forbidy my avid wife, that I should over sport 
wT fiseliiig o' yooTBy'' cried Andrew, bursting into tears ; 
'^'t&ejr are a' as saacred to me as breathings frae the 
itiroiie o* Grace. But it is true that I tell ye ; our 
dear bairn is to meet us at Moffat the mom, wi' a son 
in erery hand ; and we maun e'en gang and see her 
ainoe again, and kiss her and bless her afore we dee.*' 

The tears now rushed from the old woman's eyes 
like fountains, and dropped from her sorrow-worn 
cheeiu to the earth, and then, as with a spontaneous 
morement, she threw her skirt oyer her head^ kneel- 
ed down at her husband's feet, and poured out her thanksgiving to her Maker. She then rose up, 
qmte deprired of her senses through jpy, and ran 
cnmdiing away on the road towards MoffiKt, ai if has- 
ting beyond her power to be at it. But Andrew brought 
her back ; and they prepared themselres for their jour- 

Kirkstyle being twenty miles frt>m Mo&t, they set 
cQt on the afremoon of Tuesday, the 16th of Septem- 
ber ; slept that night at a place called Tumbenry Sheil^ 
and were in Moffiit next day by noon*' Wearisome 
was the remainder of the day to that aged couple ; they 
wandered about conjecturing by what road their daugh* 
ter would come, and how she would come attended. 


<' I have made up my mmd on baith these matters," 
said Andrew ; " at first I thought it was likely that ^e 
would come out of the east, because a' our blessings 
come frae that airt ; but finding now that would be o er 
near to the very road we bae come oursell§, I now take 
it for granted she'll come frae the south ; and I just 
think I see her leading a bonny boy in every hand, ai^d 
a servant lass carrying a bit bundle ahint her.''- 

The two now walked out on all the southern roads^ 
in hopes to meet their Mary, but always returned to 
watch the shadow of the Holy Cross ; and, by the time 
it fell due east, they could do nothing but stand in the 
middle of the street, and look round theqi in all. direcr 
lions. At length, about half a mile out on llie Dut9- 
firiea road, they perceived a poor beggar woman op- 
proaching with two children following close to h^, 
Ibid another beggar a good way behind. Theii: eyes 
w^e instantly riveted on these objects ; for Aii^e^ir 
thought he perceived his friend the dwarf in the ^^ 
that was behind ; and now all other earthly objeclts 
were to them nothing, save these approaching be^ggfurs. 
At that moment a gilded chariot entered the villi^ 
from the south, and drove by them at full speedy ha- 
Yifig two livery-men before, and two behind, clothed in 
gr^en and gold. " Ach-wow ! the vanity of worldly 
giaandeur 1" ejaculated Andrew, as the sple^idid vebiicle 
i9vaoA thuiddmiig by ; but neither he nor l^is wiii^ 


deigned to look at it &rther, their whole attention 
bring fixed aa the group of beggars. << Ay, it is just 
my. woskan/* said Andrew, << it is just hersell ; I ken 
her gang yet, sair pressed down wi* poortith although 
she be. But I dinna care how poor she be, for bailJi 
her and hers sail be welcome to my fireside as lang as 
I hae ane." 

While their eyes were thus strained, and their hearts 
melting with tenderness and pity, Andrew felt some- 
thing embracing his knees, and, on looking down, there 
was his Mary, blooming in splendour and beauty, 
kneeling at his feet. Andrew uttered a loud hysteri- 
cal scream of joy, and clasped her to his bosom ; and 
old Jean Linton stood trembling, with her arms spread, 
but durst not close them oA so splendid a creature, 
tin her daughter first enfolded her in a fond embrace, 
and then she himg upon her and wept. It was a won- 
derful event — a restoration without a parallel. They 
indeed beheld their Mary, their long-lost darling ; 
they held her in their embraces, believed in her iden- 
tity, and were satisfied. Satisfied, did I say ? They 
Were happy beyond the lot of mortals. She had just 
aUghted from her chariot; and, perceiving her aged 
parents standing together, she ran and kneeled at their 
feet. They now retired into the hostel, where Mary 
presented her two sons to her father and mother. They 
spent the evening in every social > endearmsnt ; and 

Mvy kftded iIk fi^od «M c—pte vitk rich prasents, 
- iIkb till MMJMght, vkn tkey both fell 
a deep aad hippr deep, aad them ahe remoonted 
aad was fkirea awm j. If ahe was any 
aia Scatkad, I aeiw hmd of h ; bother 
reisscgd ia the thoaghls of her hq^iness till 
the da J of their dea^ 





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1 1, t r. ,1- \ 


<# ^ ft . - -■ - - i 

Itil ii? ■ .. 

Ci-^.j;''*;*.' • •■. 


WU .JJ. 

'I.' J cfVii 



When the Sprots were Lairdt of Wheelhope, wliieli 
is now a long time ago, there was one of the ladiea who 
was very badly spoken of in the coontiy. People did 
not just openly assert that Lady Wheelhope (for erery 
landward laird's wife was then styled Lady) was a 
witch, but every one had an aversion even at hearing 
her named ; and when by chance she happened to be 
mentioned, old men would shake their heads and say, 
<< Ah I let ns alane o* her I The less ye meddle wi* her 
the better." Old wives would give over spinning, and, 
as a pretence for hearing what might be said about her, 
poke in the fire with the tongs, cocking up their ears all 
the while ; and then, after some meaning coughs, hems, 
and haws, would haply say, ^ Hech-wow, sirs ! An 
a' be true that's said I'' or something equally wise and 

In short. Lady Wheelhope was accounted a very bad 
woman. She was an inexorable tynmt in her family, 


quarrelled with her servants, often cursing them, stri- 
king them, and turning them away ; especially if they 
were religious, for she could not endure pe<^le of that 
character, hut charged them with every thing had. 
Whenever she foimd out that any of the servant nen 
of the Laird's establishment were religious, she gave 
them up to the military, and got them shot ; and seve- 
ral girls that were regular in their devotioQfi> she was 
supposed to have got rid of hy poison. She was cer- 
tainly a wicked woman, else many good people w;ere 
mistaken in her chanctw ; and the poor peneonted Co- 
venanters were oUiged to unite in their prayers agaiast 

A» for the Laird, he was a hig, dun-bcedy.jdtffy 
body, that cared neither for good nor evil, and did>iiot 
well know the one from the other. He laughed at has 
lady s tantrums and barley-hoods ; and the greater: the 
rage^at eJie got into, the Laird thought it the better 
sport. One day, when two maid*Bervants came numiiig 
to him, in great agitation, and told him that his lady 
had felled one oi their companions, the Laird laughed 
heaptily, and 6aid he did not doubt it. 

« Why, sir, how can you laugh ?" said they* << The 
poor gki is killed.'' 

« Very likely, very likely," said the Laird. « Well, 
it wUl teach her to take care who she sagecs again." 
<< And, sff, your lady will be hanged." 


« Verf likal^r; weU, it will teach her how to strike 
so nu^ily agun-^Ha, ha, ha I Will it not, Jesay ?*' 

> B«l when tins samo Jessy died suddenly one mom- 
it^ the Laird was greatly confoiinded, and seemed 
dnily lo oomprehend that there had been unfair play 
geftsg. ThN« was little doubt that she was taken off 
by^ poison ; but whether the Lady did it throu^ jea- 
kmsy OF Bot, was never divulged ; but it greatly bam* 
boosled and astonished the poor Laird, for his nerves 
lailed him, and his whole frame became paralytic He 
se^ms to have been exactly in the same state of mind 
imih a ooUey that I once had. He was extremely fond 
of the gun as long as I did not kill any thing with it, 
(^ikere being no game laws in Ettrick Forest in those 
day%) and he got a grand chase after ^e hares when I 
mifliod'them. But there was one day that I chanced 
f&rim marvel to shoot one dead, a few paces before his 
nose. I'll nev^ forget the astonishment that the poor 
beast manifested. He stared one while at the gun, and 
another while at the dead hare, and seemed to be draw- 
ing the conclusion, that if the case stood thus, there was 
no creature sure of its life. Finally, he took his tail 
between his legs, and ran away home, and never wotdd 
face a gun all his life again. 

So was it precisely with Laird Sprot of Wheelhope. 
As long as his lady's wrath produced only noise and up- 
roar among the servants, he thought it fine sport ; but 


what he mm lAaX he b^red tlie drMidM cflbols of 
it» he became like a barrel organ oat of twM^ and eaidd 
only ducovne one note, which he did to OTVfy «aa 1» 
met. ** I wish she mayna hae gotten somethiiig Jkn 
had been the wanr of." This note he repeated eK^ 
and late, night and day, sleeping and waking, alone mA 
in eompany, from the moment that Jessy died tSU As 
was buried; and oh going to the chorchyard as dliif 
Bsomrner, he whispered it to her relatives by ihe iHiy. 
When they came to the graire, he took his stand at All 
head, nor would he give place to the girl's fiiKther ; b«t 
there he stood, like a huge post, as though he neidmr 
saw ner heard ; and when he hadlowered her head mta 
the grave, and dropped the cord, he slowly lifted his tat 
with one hand, wiped his dim eyes with the back of ika 
other, and said, in a deep tremulous tone, ^< Poor hwifal I 
I wish she didna get something she had been the waar 

This death made a great noise among the coraittoil 
people ; but there was little protection for the lifo of 
the subject in those days ; and provided a man or wo- 
man was a real Anti-Covenanter, they might kill a good 
many wi^ut being quarrelled for it. So there was no 
one to take cognizance of the circumstances relating to 
the death of poor Jessy. 

After this, the Lady walked softly for the space of 
two or three years. She saw that she had rendered her^ 



V^.MJi^oP^ ^^ '^ entirely lost Ler luMband s counte- 
Vtff^ ffhich ^he liked wont of alL But tbe evil pro- 
2gu|(|y cp^ not be oTercome ; and a poor boy, whom 
^ JfWn^ <'nt of sheer compassion, had taken into his 
^ffyifiOf being found dead one morning, the country 
pef^le ^onld po longer be restrained ; so they went in 

^^ bo4y to the Sheri£^ and insisted on an investigation. 


It. was. proved that she detested the boy, had often 
thi||9tened him, and had given him brose and butter 
tl)pi afternoon before he died ; but notwithstanding of 
^11 this, the cause was ultimately dismissed, and the 
powers fined. 

Ko one can tell to what height of wickedness she 
mji^ jIiow have proceeded, had not a check of a very 
Miygnlor lund been laid upon her. Among the servants 
the^^lQame home at the next term, was one who called 
hiliui^ Merodach ; and a strange person he was. He 
had the form of a boy, but the features of one a hun- 
d|^ years old, save that his eyes had a brilliancy and 
restlessness, which were very extraordinary, bearing a 
strong resemblance to the eyes of a well-known species 
of monkey. He was froward and perverse, and disre- 
gf^oded the pleasure or displeasure of any person ; but 
hcf performed his work well, and with, apparent ease. 
From the moment he entered the house, the Lady con- 
ceived, a m9rtal antipathy against him, and besought the 
Laird to turn him away. But the Laird would not con* 


VOL. I. K 

29(1* THE 8HBHIimD*8 CAUDOftAm •}> 

sent ; 1m nerar tuned away any sarvant, and vmnnorm 
he had hired this fellow for a trinal wage^and-^ha.nei^ 
ther wanted activity nor peraeyerance. Tha wnttmil 
conaeqiienceof tins refoaal was, tkat the Lady inaCant- 
lysethecaelf to embitter Merodaeh'a4i£iiaa:iniiahiaa 
poauUe, in order to get early qait of a^meatio vmrfi 
way 80 disagreeable Her hatred of him ^pai not £ke a 
common antipathy entertained by one buraan being 
against another,— -she hated him as one nugbt bate a 
toad OF an adder ; and his oecapation of jottarynan {as 
the Laird termed his servant of all woik) keepmg hioi 
always abont her hand, it mast have proved higUy aa^. 

• She scolded bun, she raged at him; but be oaly 
mocked her wrath, and giggled and bnigbed at beiv WBlb 
the most provoking derision* She tried to £ell bimagaia' 
and again, but never, with all her address, could die hiti^ 
him ; and never dkl she make a blow at him, that she 
did not repiuit it* , She -was heavy and unwieldy^ >and 
he as quick in his motions as a monkey; besides, ht^ 
nerally contrived that she shoold be in sticb an nngo^ 
vemable n^e, that when she fiew at him, she hardly 
knew what she wte doing. At one tbne she g«d(JM 
her blow towards him, and be at the same instant atoid*^ 
ed it with sach dexterity, tbat she knocked dowA ibe- 
chief hind, or foresman ; and then Merodac^ giggled so 
bea^y^ that, Uftbgth^ kitchen poker^ she threw it at 

rBKWmamumownm BLACK. nAow* 891 

hfta.wkk;«liiH ilwigi <rf kaocldby-ot Ut fanini; tmt 
the iiiiiBfl8icaty.lH«l» ereiy artkle of crodcery oa the 

• » ■ • 

ofifaeitfaeM hwted to the Ldrd, crying bitteiiy, and 

Iti ii i yh i ui dwwewid net e«flRwthi» wretch Merodech, 

aiiihe eitied>hn% te Hey epothMr night in the family^ 

i. ¥^ Why^ thflOy put him sway, and tnmble me no qMwe 

abovt hiBiy'' said the Lmrd. 

. c^rPntldaa away r ezdaimed die; *< I have abeady 
ondemliiim away e fanndred timee^ and diarged him 
nemr to ktmeeeehiBi horriUe &oe agaitt; but he only 
gOBiy jnd a M w e ra with spme intolenible piece of im- 

. LEli»'pectini^city nf the fellow amused the Laird; his 
dfauieyBB tramed upwards into his head with delight ; he 
thealocdred two ways at once, turned round his back, 
and haggled till the tears ran down his dun cheeks ; but 
huicould only articulate, << You're fitted now." 

- Xbe.J^y'a i^gony of rage still increasing from this 
(igpsimij -she-upbraided the Laird bitterly, and said he 
was not-worthy the name ei man, if he did not turn 
awuy that pestilenee^ aller the way he had abused her. 

•. !^. Why^ Shusy, my dear, what has he done to you ?" 

. M.Whut den^ to me ! has he not caused me to knock 
deans John Thomson ? and I do not know if ever he 
will come to life again I" 

..^ Have ymtfdled yo^ Csvonrite John Thomson?" 

39£ nps.8iuPHBBP'« cAiogfiUft. : : r 

taid die Laird, kugUag more hdacAlir tbm'MoD^i 
<< you might haFe iione a wm»e deed tban ^bat/*" . 

<< And has he not broke every plat^.aod dish onifta 
firhole dresser ?** conth&ued the Ladjr ; << and for all flis 
devastation^ he only mocks at m^ d»pleasiire^-^-abaii^ 
Hitely mocka me)— -and if you do not have Mm tuhi^ 
away>.«nd hanged or shot for hk deeds, yo« are iiot 
worthy the name of man.*^ 

•. «< O alack I What a devaatatib:^ among, the cbeena 
metal I" said the Laird ; and calling on Merodachi lie 
said, " Tell mf^ thou evil M^rodach of Babylon, ho)r 
thou dared St knockdown thy Lady's favourite sarvanf^ 
John Thomson?'' 

i << Not I, y^nir honour. It was ifiy Lady herself, who 
got into such a.furious rage at me, that the mistook 
her man, and filled Mr Thomson; and the good ton's 
skull is fractured.** . - - 

<< That was v^ odd," said the Laird, chuddipg; 
^ I do not .Qompreheiid it* But then, what set yod'bn 
smadnng all my Lady's delft a^d cheena wane ?^*^TIiat 
was a mtost mfamous and provoking actioii.'' - 

*^ It was she herself^ your honour. Sorry w^nld'I. 
be to break one dish belonging to the house* 'I talDe 
aU the house anrvants to witness^ that my Lady ionash- 

ed. all the dishes with a poker ; and now lays the.ldittiie 

I»» « • 

The Laindiumed.hia dim eyes on hisi hidy, who was 


cxying witk Texadoa Bni rage, and seemed meditating 
sMllier perB<»ial attack on the colprity which he did 
Oft M all appear to shim, hxit rather to coort. She, 
howBTer, vented h« wrath in threatenings of the most 
d^ and desperate revenge, the e^tnre all the while 
teBmriBg her diat she would he foiled, and that in all 
her encounters and contests with him, she would uni* 
Itonly come to the worst ; he was resolred to do his 
daty» and there before his master he defied her. 

The Lurd thought more than he considered it pru** 
dent to reveid ; he had little doubt that his wife would 
find some means of wreaking her Tengeance on the ob* 
ject of her displeasure ; and he shuddered when he re- 
colleeted one who had taken << something that she had 
heen^e waur of." 

Ii^ a word, ^e-Lady of Wheelhope'-s inyeterate ma- 
lignity against ^lis one object, was like the rod of Mo* 
ic% that swallowed up the rest of the serpents. All 
4>ar wicked and evil prc^nsities seemed to be super- 
^teded, if not utterly absorbed by it. The rest .of the 
'family now liyed in comparative peace and quietness ; 
^or early apid late her midevolence was venting itself 
'against the jotteryman^ and against him alone. It was 
a delirium of hatred and vengeance, on which the whole 
faent and bias of her inclination was set. She could 
■ not stay from the creature s presence, or, in the inter- 
tak wjien abs«it fro|B him|i|he spent her breath In 

csnet snd «xecnrtioiis; andtkraii liotaUe larres^.^ 
ivn agam t» seek him, her eyes |;leanimg :«i|Iu|M))l^ 
ticipated delights ef faageancey whfle^ ever flMllPiHIiy 
fJl the ridicule and the hana redounded en heffMK' 
, Was it not strange ihat she oould notgc^ ^g^f^f 
fhis sole annoyance of her life? One fRoni^ <)ifi|ie. . 
Aong^ she easily might. But hy this iiaie itber^ i{g|B 
plothing farther from her wishes ; she wanted yottgeiya^ 
ftilly adefnate, and delicions Tengpance^ on her m^' 
d|ous opponent. But he was a strange aad te^JUe 
jcreatnre, and the means of retaliation constaivtly c^mey 
js it weirerto his hand. 

Bread and sweet milk was the only fiire that Mero^ 
dach cared for, and having bargained fnr thal» he would 
not want it, though he often got it wilih 4i ^surse »wi4 
.with ill wilL The* Lady having, upon one ^ccaiiion, 
intentionally kepi ba<^ his wonted allowanoe.for aome 
.Qays, on the Sabbedi morning follawittg^=8h0:aet«JlHm 
jdown a bowl of ridi sweet milk, iraU druggedtvi^ B 
^ieadly poison ; oqd then she lingered in^a little «ale- 
reoa^ to watch the succiesa of her grand plo<^ end-pre- 
'*lreirt any other creature from tastii^iilliie po^niK Me- 
rodaeh came in, andthe hoits^-maidsaid to hbdy ^V^Th^e 
is your' breakfast, creature.'' < u^ 

<< Oho ! my Lady has been liberal this momiiig,7>8aid 
Vi ; ^^ hut I am beforehand with her^<«-fier^i little Mis- 
'1^ you seem very.hmigry te-day-9*-take you my br^- 




HkiT' "And whli that Iw wt the berenge dawn to the 
Illidf^lilille-&voiitite tpaiiial. It so h^pened that 
Itiif^iiiiji't only Mn came at that instant into the ante** 
ro^aeekhig her^ aadteaaing hit mamma abont eome* 
ti^tagf "tAidk wididrew her attention from the hall«-table 
M'iift^ttlMik When she looked again, and saw Miaaielapr 
^rig^ the^Bweet nnlk^ she bnrat from her hiding-plaee 
IAm ft fcuy^ acreaming as if her head had heen on fire, 
Mo&eA ihe Temainder of its contents against the wall, 
aadlifdng* Missie in her bosom, retreated hastily, cry- 

<< Ha, ha, ha — ^I have yon now I** cried Merodach, 
tt»]die>mnish^ from the halL 
j-' f^)«^ Missie died immediately, and rery privately; 
indeed^ she Wonld hare died and been buried, and ne- 
iW^ne haiie seen her, save her mistress, had not Met 
vodad, by. a luck that never failed him>. looked over 
ittf wall of the flower garden, just as hii lady was lay- 
ing her favourite in a grave of her own digging. She, 
iwt ftirceiving her tormentor, plied on at her task, 
vp^tfophioing die insensate little carcass, — " Ah! poor 
idear.little ceeature, thou hast had a hard fortune, an4 
luist disttk of the bitter potion that was not intended 
for thee ; but he shall drink it three times double for 

Ay jakeT 

-' "^Is that little ACssie?" said the eldricii voice of the 

jottevjvum, dose at the Lady's ear. She uttered a loud 

in -im wnti x htei jf dbKxrt»iK that divcH 

v3 afll iumUt Oft diap ^wa ImL* 

* I watt aaog of Tqg" n jKMBfc §Km&h cur, Hen(e 
vxdk To«r cItM 6cc!, tad tdke ewe of yovraeU." 

it vo«ld be too tBwttk g aod bcnible to vdmte <» 
Tcod til ^ landcBlB that lefl o«t between this imao- 
covmtaUo coofile. Tlieir enmity against each other 
liad no end, and no midgation ; and searcely a single 
day passed over on which Ae Lady^s acts of malerd* 


liMOHtf) IB top 


Noues were heard on the attin W aaciav ao^ k «» 

a diia p a i ^ aiDOBrdieBiiiiMia , ifcattfcrI^rfyi^W»fi; 


Sevenl of dwin woya Ikv« svan tkat 

ber pMong aad repMHv OB ife 
fdien aH waa qoieC; bvt iIkb it m H nwi a t wd 
known, that Merodadi alepl with wcD f ai fenf rf doan, 
and a eompamon in another hed in the name' roont. 
whose hed, too, waa ne a wa t the dooc Xohadf tmni 
nmdi whal became of the jotterynHB, for he wna an 
unsocial and diaagreeaMe penon ; hnt aome one told 
hishnchat they had aeen, and Innted a w iapicion of the 
Lady's intent. Bnt the tr e alur e only bit hb npper lip, 

If « 

.t *H 

kifpykBi k been teiivJliid 
reewcNd ^e 9i» «£ k, fiiE tlMTO ^M» U#0d 

dim was Mttle lioiJit tlM U WM dbe4iloft4 <if Jw^^ 
jbrnocoK ttd belofvd iHif , ibe Mk hes and ho|pe.of Ae 
ftouly. ' 

Tins blow deprived the LiM e£ «ll power <of: ac- 
tion; bdt te Ledy bed a bfolber, » Man of tbe. law, 
wbo came asd iostaiitly proceeded to aa mvestigatijto 
of tbis nnacoonntable murder. Beftne tbe Samff 
IffriTed, the bonsekeeper took ^ Ladf 'a bnillier>aaide, 
and told Inm be bad better not go on with AeMcror 
tiny, for idie was anre tbe crime wonld bo bio^§;bt 
iiome to ber imfortvnafce imtreas ; and after flBunkung 
into scTeral conoboradve dnnnB8tance% laid mwnig 
ibe state of tbe raving maniac^ witb tbe Uood oft ber 
band and arm, be macte- the investigation a Tary short 
one, declariiig the domestics all excnlpated* 

The Laird attended his bo/s fimera], and laid his 

THx Bioannft or sum. r bm^qk ^<»o8. 2d9 

jMdrkkjdM^gnere^ b«t iiqpipmr^d exactly :Uke a man 
walkiiig in a tiaacB, anavtoBiatoiif without ieelingi or 
lMM|lMi^ oteaiinuaagaiiAgat the fiwflral prooeenon, 
JM^ail aowthii^he coekL not coroprdiend* And when 
the iinA ball Tef the pariah church fell artottuog^aa the 
(Mpaa ofqiraached thekiricHrtik^ be cast a din eye mp 
towMNb the balfryy and said hastily, **W^ whata 
|fcat ? (kk myt we're jnat in timob juat in tiaie»" And 
•mkemiWWB he .hammaring over the name of *^ Evil 
Mtfodadv Kiag of Bahyion,*' to himaelC He aeeued 
ao have aoflM fur-fetched conception that his nnac^ 
jBomrtahla jottMyman waa in >ome*way connected with 
<lhe death of hia only aon, and other leaser calamities, 
although the evidence in favour of Merodach's inm>- 
senoe was as usual quite decisive. 
7. .. T3m griefOQs mistake of Lady Wheelhope can oor 
iy he-acconnted for, by supposing her in a state of de- 
:^HigeiBeBty or rather under some evil influence, over 
'srkicii die had no control ; and to a person in such a 
^iMKte^ the mistake, was not so very unnaturaL The 
j»aauoa-hoQse of Wheelhope was old |md irregular. 
The atur had four acute turns, and four landing-places, 
all the same. In the ,upparmost chamber slept the.twu 
dosa e a t ics , ■■■Merodach in the bed furthest in, and in 
the chand>er immediately below that,, which was ex- 
actly similar, slept the young Laird and his tutor, the 
former in the bed fiurthest in ; and thus, in th^ turmoil 

of ber wild «nd raging paaaioiis, her dinl liaiid mnit 
lienelf eUldlewk 

Merodach was expelled the family -folliwidi^' 
xefiised to accept of hia wagea, which &e man of 
preaaed i^on him, for fear of €urthef miadiief ; 
"Went away in i^parent aoUenneaa and diseonteni, nb , 
one knowmg whither. 

When hiB diflmiaaal was annoinH^ to the Lady, 
who teas watched day and night in her chatther, ihe 
news had such an effect on her, that her whole^finailie 
^seemed electrified ; the hbirorB of Temorto vaniahedy 
■and another passion, whic^ I neither can conprtimid 
nor define, took- the sole p o aa coo ion of her dis^mpci:*^ 
^irit. << He must not go I-^He «Aa/f not go f "^he 
exclaimed. '< No, no, no— ho ahaU ne^-^-lie idlall fiol 
—he ahall not T and then ledie instantly set haradtf 
tdxmt iliakiiig ready to follow him, ntteting lall ibib 
while the moat ^ahdical expressions, indtcalive of na^ 
ticipated' rengeani^. — ^^ Oh, could I but snap liis n^rriea 
one by one^ and hiii among his Titak I Coold I halt 
slice his bent off piecemeal in small messes, 'and 'fwa 
-hia blood lopper, Bsad bubble, and spin away in j^v^le 
alaya ; and then to see hkn giih, and grin, and grinyand 
grin I 01i-->«olH*^>h'^Howbeatrttfolandgraiid'aaii^ 
it would he to see him grin, andgrin, tnd grin-T And 
in audi a style would i^e run -on for hours tagetlmr. ■'■ 

She thought of nothing, dlle spake of no^nng, bttt 

THB^MMywif n OF tta MAck baggs. SOI 
*liMf tftnii tlint jotlqiypHBi, wlioiii aiost people now be- 

• • • 

gan to Tegsrd as a ct^ature that nvas^^not canny.** 

'^F b #^ la d^Mto-iAtt^eaty and drhdit, and worir, like other 

^pMfii^r (tftiH li^inrd thai about faun that was not lite 

dttar SMu '^He iraB-a boy in form, and an antedilii- 

fJaikiihiBatarei "^ome tliovght he wtts a mongrel, b^ 

tween a Jew and an ape ; some a wiaard^ some a kel- 

piey or-afaify, bat mvst of all, that he was really and 

troly a Biownie. - What he was I do not know, and 

thewfeffo wiU not pretend to say ; but be that as it 

nafy in spka of locks and keys, watching and waking, 

lifilk Lady of Whedhope soon made her escape^ and 

^ d a p p d jrfiter him. TheattondantSyindaed^ wovdd hairo 

•aude oaith thatshe was carried away by some inTistble 

hand, for it was impossible, they said, that she cotdd 

4i«r* reaped oni foot^like ia&Kt people; and this edi- 

tiim oi the story >ta6k in the coontry ; but s^isiblie 

pei^le Tiawed the matter in another light. 

> As for instance, when Wattie Blythe, the Lsard's 

old shspheard, -came in -from the hill one morning, his 

wiife Bessie' thus :ju9eoBted him« — << His presenice be 

aboat US, Wattie Bly^ I ha^ ye heard what; baa 

happened at the ha'? ThingB are aye taming waor 

a^ waar theiey and it looks like as if Prorideiiee had 

gi'-en up oar Laird^ honse to destmetioil. Tins grand 

'estate mann now gang fraa the Sf^olst for it baa finisb' 


902 ' '.*QSBSHSnUiia8£AUBHVi4U: vlil 

die fi^ti» Inil tiMl Sprotflhti hae fiMfliiaclihftJisM^ 
and themaeUn imo.tha booU 13wy Jnerheoa a/vrickad 
«id deg6Mrat» rac% and aje the/laigir tha ■■■yililb 
ti»yl«ei»Bchtd thewtmoBtbomidio'iaMdh^^wiilBwi 
Mtt ; and itV time tbe deii were looidng- after buiaiiJL 
•. *<AI^ Wattie. Blylhe» ye nefai* said A.tnMT/flay. 
And tkat'sfvit iba very poinl vdiere yenv aUuy. ead^ 
and numbi begine ; for kasna ike deil^ 4nr the AMrie«|tiqr 
the browniet) ta'en away our Leddy bodily I. Mmi Urn 
haiU coiuilry ia mmung and riding ia seareh.o' hva; 
jnd there is tarenty hander meiks offered to the fivt 
ifaaC can fiadher» and briag her safe back. Theylaift. 
ta'ea her awayv flipn and bane^ body and sonl, anid at 
WattieT - - *-i. 

** Hech-awow ] bvt that is awsome I: And where iaift 
thought they hare ta'en her to^ Bessie ?' • < ^^ - ^ 

« O, they hae aome^ guess at that frae her aia hints 
afoie. It is thought they bae earned her after 'that 
Ston of a ereatare, wba wrought sae nmekle v/m 
^hofot the house* It is fer him they are a' loddog^ Ipr 
they ken weeU that where they get the tane tbey will 
fat theiatJMr.'' 

*' Wbewi la lliat the gate o% Bessie ? Why, thein, 
|he awfo* stqry is^noather mair nor less than this,. that 
J^ Leddy tnu^ made a 'lopem^t, i» they ca't, and ra^ 
Ikway after a blackguard jotteryman. Hech-wowl wae'jS 

THBjHMWsaorTiimBuuiKBAfles. soft 

iMfteiftoMOKimitof 1 B«t tlttt'B jiut tkft gate I Wken 
'll»4al 9eli in the p^dnt o' hb fingei^ 1m will 
iJivvsiiftUBiiaillliiiid. Ayv be wsnta but a hair 
to m^he m tedier o^ <my day t I hee aeen her » braw 
MHPf lm;>lrat etieB.then I feared ihe waa.devotod t0 
daatfiictiooy te ihe aye mockit at leUgioOf BeMie» and 
tlp^s ae ^B :good mark of a yoang bedy. Aad ahe 
ande a* ita servanta her cBMiiiea ; and tUakyom thcaa 
geod 'HwaV prayem weie a' to blaw away i' the wind* 
and be aae wi^ regarded ? Ma, oa» Beaaie, jny wo- 
aaa% take ye this mark baith o' our ain baiiss aod 
ithar lQik'a*-If ever ye see a young body that disrer 
gmdB the Sabbathy and makea.amock at the ordinancea 
o^iaUgpooy ye will never eee.that body cone to mnckle 
good^*- A braw hand our Leddy has made o' her gibes 
and jewa at religion, and her mockeries o' the poor per- 
secoted hill-folk I— ««nnk down by decrees into the yecy 
dre^i o' sin and misery I run away after a scollion ]** 

^ Fy, fy, Wattie, how can ye say see? It was weel 
keon'd that she hatit him wi* a perfect and mprta) 
hatred^and tried to make away wi* him mae ways no;ir 

** Aha, Bessie ; but nipping and scarting is Soota 
folk's wooing ; and though it is but right that we sus* 
pend our judgments, there will naebody persuade me 
if ahe be found alang wiV the creature^ but thatahe haa 


Mrit * '''''MB<iMlMM>'i^l'UIWi«. 


Aaaks, withoot help either frae fturf tor MrvMA;* *''3^* 
^ rU never Ml^e m a ^Mhg of any WofKttflir^liioni, 
iM he tt leddy weel -op in ymn." >ui. ; 

' << Od kelp ye, Bessie ! y^tdinnli ken tlie'-wtMlA 
€orrvplniilare. Hieheet o'tus ^'t^fa«nMi'tb*d«Mtt^ 
ire nfte^betfierthaa tUstt^M sheep^-^hsi iirill^e«%r lllitt 
tite'WsyliMck te ^mr ainpttBloresr tnd of'a^'thbgi 
ttade tf- mertt^ 'fleshy a wicked -Wotauui is llie Waiilf:^*! 
' ' *^ Akdc'fridsy !' we get the hiame o' nrw^le tiM 
we little deserve^ Biit,'\?«ttie,k^ ^fe a geyii^ dtH^ 
fMi'^ani abcmt'the dendis and the 'eaves t/ imt^i^ ; 
for liie Leddy kens lliem af geym we^H; gkid ^HMlfi 
tWte)^ iMmder meikswad come mir wtty, it tuaf^ 
gang a wanr gate. It wad tocher a* oar'hoiinyiassM'^ 
^ Ay, weel I wat, Bessie, that^s hae lee. Aiitf iiow,- 
when ye bri^ine4unindVt, rmtair mista'eii tf I dfdna 
heflt^ a qeatuTB np in the Brockholes this' taofiMff,* 
dSdingas if BOmelUng war cutting its throat.' If^ioir 
a* the hairs stand on my head when I think it may^diti' 
been^ our Iseddy, and the droich of a creatmie mtnkleiv 
ing her. I took it for a battle of wuleats, and wisfei^ 
tdiey'ii^htim'oat aiieanillier'stlirapples; hot when^ 
I liiildr Oft it again^ they ivar anco likfe some o* i&^ 
Ledd^^B'aneerthly fiMapeanw.*^ ' ^^ 

' ^llis pceseaedbejdKmtWy^Mtie'! filustey^^^^^^ 


Oil yoorlHHUiet*— tak' yourttaff la your baadi and gang 
and aae lAmt H is." 

^ Bhameia' me, if I danr gang, Beaaie.'* 

" Hout, Wattie, trust in the Lord.'* 

^ Aweela aae I do. But ane a no to throw himaell 
ower a Jiinn, and trust that tlie Lord will kep him in a 
Vbaket. And. it's nae muckle safer for an anld stiff 
man iike me to gang away out to a wild remote place, 
where there is ae hody murdering another.— What is 
that I hear^ Bessie ? Haud the lang ton'gtoe o' you, and 
rin to the door, and see what noira that is." 

Bessie ran to the door, but soon returned, with her 
moudi wide open, and her eyes set in her head. 

^< It ia them, Wattie I it is them I His presence be 
about us I What will we do ?" 

«<Them? whatenthem?" 

** Why, that blackguard creature, coming here, lead- 
ing our Leddy by the hair o' the head, and yerking her 
wi' • stick. I am terrified out o' my wits. What will 
we do?" 

- ** We'll see what they ea^f" said Wattie, manifestly 
in as great terror as his wife ; and by a natural impulse, 
or at a last resource, he opened the Bible, not know- 
ing what he did, and then hurried on his spectacles'; 
but before he got two leores turned orer, the two 
eatered,---a frightful-looking cov^le indeed. Mero- 
AmIt, Tdth hie did withered face^ and ferret eyes, leadF- 


306 TIU6 gHBFawp'g cAijamim 

ingthe Lsdy of >^liedliope by die loBg lMur> wiikh 
was mixed with grey, and wboee &ce waa idl Uoalad 
with wounds and bniiBe0» and having stripea of.Uaod 
on ha: gannenta. 

'' How'a tUal—Howa this, ain?** aaid Wa4tie 

**■ Cloae that book, and I will tell you, goodauin, 
said Meiedach. 

M I can hear what yon hae to say wi* the benkopen, 
air," said Wailie, taming oy^ the leaves, pretendiAg to 
look for some particiilar passage, bat apparimtliy not 
knowing what he was doii^. << It is a shamefa' bnsip^ess 
this ; but aome will hae to answer for'u My L^ddy^ 
I am unco griered to see yon in sic a plight. Ye hse 
aorely been dooms sair left to yourselL"' 

The Lady shook her head, ottered a feeUe hollow 
laugh, and faced her eyes on Merodadbu Bnt soch a 
look I It almost frightened the simple aged couple put 
of their aensea. It was not a lode of love nor of bailed 
exdusively ; neither was it of desire or disgust, hat it 
was a comlnnation of them all* It was such a look as 
one fiend would cast on another, in whose everlasting 
destruction he rejoiced. Wattie was glad, to take Ids 
eyes from sudi count^niances, and look into the Bible, 
that finn fonndation of aU his hopes and all his joy. 

<^ I request that you will shut that book, sir," said 
ihe bomUe cneature ; << or if you do not, I willahnt 

rHB-flBOWlUB or TBB BLAOK HAOOft. 307 

«l lor y«a witk s tengeaace ;*' and with that lie sebed 
|l^ ttfd flmg it agimst the walL Bessie uttered a 
mt miii> tad W«ttie was^foite paralysed ; aad although 
be seemed disposed to run after his host friend^ as he 
italled it, ihe helfish looks of the Brownie interposed, 
and glued him to his seat. 

...^ Hear what I hare to say firrt^"* said the creature, 

^ and then pore your fill on that preeions hook of 

if^fts%^ One concern at a time is enough. I came to 

>ida yvn a serrice. Here, take this carsed, wretched 

■ ^cmaaoLf iiriiom you style your Lady, and deliver her 

'^ to the lawful auUiorities, to be restored to her hus- 

'baad apd her place in society. She has followed one 

ihat'hatee her, and never said one kind word to her in 

his life ; and though I have beat her like a dog, still she 

^efogs to me^ and will not depart, so enchanted is she 

^ii^ the laudable purpose of cutting my throat* Tell 

^lyoiir masto; and her brother, that I am not to be bur- 

idfcd witfiAeir maniac. I have scourged-— I have 

ipumed and kicked her, afflicting her night and day, 

and yet iirom tny side ^e will not dqwrt. Take her. 

<C3aim ihe mwvd in full, and your fortune is made ; 

<Md fio ^urewell r 

!' The creature went ffK«y, and the moment his back 

was turnedy ^e Lady fell a-screaming and struggling, 

iike ene in an agony, and, in spite of all fhe old couple's 

■^^ifeaunioas) die forced herself out of their haadB> and ran 

after tbe nBtreating Merodach. Wfaeik h^mtW.bmfit 
wo^d not "be, be tnni^ iipon hefv and, Aaf t/nA Me# 
with bin stick, strock her down ; and^'^ot eotttelfttitlli 
thfl^ 6otttintied to maltreat ber in- Biieii a BMumeiv tt 
tc dl appearance wooM bave killed twenty ovdiniitf 
persons. The poor deroted dame coiM- do nodnfl^ 
but now kiid then utter a sqaeak like a balf-wwtiad 
cat, and writhe and grovel on ^e. sward, ^1 Wailtk 
and his wife came up, and withheld her tonnentmr itilatiL 
father Violence. He then bonnd -her'tianda behlad 
h^ back' with a strong cord, and ddivered' h^ m^ 
more to the cbwge of the old oovple, who c<AniR?tsd 
to hokllier hj that means, and take her home* : * ^.'^ 
Wattie %^ tohamed ta take her into the bitl^ biK 
ledh^ itttd 6ne of the ^nt-hovuses, whither he braug^ 
her brother to receive her. The man of the law was 
manifest^ vexed at her reappearance, aiid scnq^d^not 
to testify Us dissati^sfcction ; for when Wattie told hi^i 
how the wretch had abused his sister, and that,' had ik 
not beea for BeSsie^sinterf^pence and his own, theLady 
would hkve been killed outright, he said, ^< MThy, Wd* 
ter, it is' a^great pity thait he did noi kili her outtigfai. 
What good can her life now do to her^ or of what vate 
is her life' to^wy m«km^ living ? Aftar on& has Hved 
%& tift^^rnee dl connected with them^ the sooaer'tfaeyove 
tak«tt ofFltiie bett^; ' > :A 

- 1*ba lAkti h<n(r0ver,'paii ^ki Walter dowaAfai8:tmK> 

THE JCPI^UKVU QW ;TH^ «I#A«K H^^i^ 9^9 

l^^ypfyi^.jiifTl^ia grefti foirtiui^ (ox Qoe like hupi in 
I^Mm ^|r»}. and AOt to dwell longer on this iinnatural 
«le«3rj|.XidNdl only addy mery shortlyy that the Lady of 
yji^rihope eoon made her escape once more, and flewi 
faif 'drawii'byiui iireaistible chann, to her tormentor* 
HavfriflKidft Ifkoked no more ^fter her ; and the last time 
f^M was seen alivet it was following the uncouth creav 
pBfOkMf die Wnfeeir of Daur, weary, wounded^ and lamc^ 
Hib])e.iie waa aU the way beating her, as a piece of ex- 
^flllesl jBlmiBeraent. A few days after that, her body 
nv^fovAd aniong Bosae wild a. place called 
Cir9QlEr4>nm, by a party of the persecuted Covenanten 
that wera in hiding there^ soma of the very men whom 
ahe liad:eiterted herself to destroy, and who had been 
diiiBnylike Dayid ^f old, to pray for ja curse and earth? 
ly punishment upon her. They buried her like a dog 
at the Yette of Keppel, and rolled three huge stones 
iqion her grave, which are lying there to this day. 
When they found her corpse, it was mangled and 
wounded in a most shocking manner, the fiendish crea- 
ture haying manifestly tormented her to death. He 
W9B never more seen or heard of in this kingdom, 
diongh all that country-side was kept in terror for him 
many years afterwards ; and to this day, they will tell 
yofu of Th£ Brownub of the Black Haggs^ wUph 
title he seems to have acquired after hie disappearpnoe* 
This story was uM to me by an old man named 

310 TBmtaBnaKo'% cAUoriua. 

Adam HalUday, whose great-graiidfiidier> Thomas Hal* 
Hday, was one of those that fomid the body and buried 
ik It is many years since I heard it ; but, howerer 
ridiculous it may appear, I refcnember it made a dread- 
fill impression on my young mind. I never heard any 
story like it, save one of an old fox»hound that pur- 
sued a fox through the Grampians for a fortnight, and 
when at last discovered by the Duke of Aliiole's people, 
neither of them could run, but the hound was still con- 
l^uing to walk after the fox, and wb&k the lattet lay 
down, the o^er lay down beside him, and io<^ed a^ 
him steadily all the while, though unable to do tarn 
the least bann. The passion of inveterate malice se^ns 
to have influenced tbese two exactly alike. But, up^ 
on the whole, I scarcely believe the tale can be tfue* * 

• •/ 

foa ukiBo 09 wnfaBouc 311 

'■ -It. ■ -■-'■.■ 



M Ha¥E ycm heard any thing^ of the apparition whicb 
has been aeen about Wtnefaolm Place Y' said die Do-^ 

.^ Na, I never beard o' sic a tbiqg as yet," quoth the 
smith ; <' but I wadna wonder muekle that the news 
should tun 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 teU. 

<< Weel, that beats the world/' said the smith, as he 
gare 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 as* 
tounding news through the whole village, and the rest 
of the parish to boot, but yet afraid to press the in«» 
quiry,' for fear the cautious Dominie ehould take the 

312 THE shbphi^rd's jSAi.K.ytmv> 

alann 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, covened 
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 Umb 
window, or rather gazed on vacancy, and alwaya now 
and then stole a sly look at the Dominie's face. It wiub 
quite immovable. His cheek was leaned on his op^. 
hand, and his eyes fixed on the glowing fire. .It. was 
Tery teasing thi^ for poor Cliakum the smith. Bpt 
what could he do ? He took out his glowing iron, ai^. 
made a ^ower of Gre 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 roimd, 
and held his peace. Thump, thump ! dink, clink I 
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 ?" 
adced tibe Dominie, with the most cool and provokii^ 
'< ThiB story about, the apparition," .quoth the smith. 



«< WiMH Mirjr ?** Mod the Dominie, 

tUm mDf diis pervenity was hardly to be enda* 
T^ mm in • learned Dominie, who, with all his cold 
iMHeMiee of feeling, was sitting toasting himself at 
• gMi'amidiyfire. The smith felt this, (for he was a 
wttm. iif aeole feding,) and therefore he spit npon his 
hMi «Ad fdl ardinking and pelting at the stithy with 
both Bfknt and resignation, saying within himself, 
^ Theae ^dominie bodies just beat the world J'' 

^Whait story ?" reitmitted the Dmninie. << Fm* my 
part, I related no story, nor have ever given assent to. 
aMiief in such a story ihat any man lias heard. Neyer- 
ihdew, from die results of ratiocination, c<mclusions 
msf bo formed, though not algebraically, yet cwpor- 
9Mljf, by c<n>stitnting a quantity, which shall be equi- 
flltttto the difference, subtracting the less from the 
gi^Brtur, and striking a balance in order to get rid of. 
mf iHtabigaity or paradox." 

At the l<mg adverb, nevertheless, the smi^ gave oyer 
Mowing, and pricked up his ears ; but the de&nitioR 
m tet beyond his comprehension. 

**, Te ken, that just beats the whole world for deep-: 
neaa^** said the smith; and again began blowing. the 

*^ Yon know, Mr Clinkum," continued the Dominip} 
<< ihat a proposition is an assertion of some diaftiBct 
truth, which only becomes manifest by demonstration. 

VOL. I. o 

314 THS iHEPHlfiRl>*8 CAIjBNDAII. 

A corollary is an obvious, or easily infeired ^nse- 
qiieiice ^a proposition ; while an hypothesis is ti -mp- 
position, or concession made, during the process of de« 
monstration. Now^ do yon take rne along wi^ yMi? 
Because, if you do not, it is needless to proceed.** 

** Yes, yes, I tmderstand yon middling wed ; but I 
wad like better to hear what other folks say tikftmt k 
than yon." 

" And why so ? Wherefore would yon rather hear 
another man's demonstration than mine ?** mid the 
Dominie^ sternly^ 

<< Became, ye keti, ye jnst beat the whole WdrM f^r 
words,*' 4noth the smith. 

« Ay, ity 1 that is to say, wor<te without wifidom,'* 
said the Dominie, rising and stepping away. ^ Well, 
well, every man to bis i^ipheir^, and the isfmith to the bel* 

<< Ye*re quite mistaen, master," cried th^ lilfittilldHill* 
him ; << it isna the want o' wisdom in yoti that plagues 
me, it is the dwerpiush o't^*^ 

This soothed the Dmninie, who returned, aftd Mid, 
mildly— *< By the by, Clbkum, I want a leister of 
your making; for I see thet^e is no other tradesfiMoi 
makes them so well. A five-grained one make it | 1^ 
your own price." 

<< Very weel, sir. When will you be needing it ?" 

** Not till die end of dose-lune." 


*^ Ayi fe mxy gu tbe three auld anes do till then/' 

<< What do yoa wish to insiniiate, sir ? Would you 
infer, bocaue I have thiee leisters, that therefore I am 
a Weaker of the laws ? That I, who am placed here as 
a pattmi and monitor of the young and rising genera- 
tiMif shauld he the first to set them an example of 
insohordination ?" 

** Na, hut, ye ken, that just beats the world for 
words I but we ken what we kea, for a' that, master/' 

<< Tou had better take a little care what you say, 
Mr Clinkum ; just a little care. I do not request you 
to tAe particular care, for of that your tongue is in- 
capable, but a rery little is necessary* And mark 
yo«-«*^ion't go to say that I said this or that about 
a ghost, or mentioned such a ridiculous M;ory/' 

« The crabbitnees o' that body beats the world !" 
said the smidi to himself, as the Dominie went halting 

The yery next man that entered tha smithy door 
waa no other than John Broadcast, the new Laird's 
load, who had also been hind to thekte laird for many 
yeurs^ and who had no sooner said his errand than ^ 
sttttth addressed him dius :-— << Hare j^otc ever seen this 
^lott that there is such a noise about?" 

^* Ghost I Na, goodness be tbankit, I never saw a 
ghost in my life, save ai»ce a wraitk What ghost do 
you mean ?" 


<< So y<m never saw nor heard teUof any 9f/pmtisffi 
about Wineholm Pkce, lately ?" r, -i^ vj^'^v 

« NO) I haa reason to be thankfu' I bave n^d^^t.^nb 
<< Weel, that beats the world I Whow, iBaik»th9{rj;^ 
are sair in the dark! Do yon no ibink tbili)S(itre»#i§? 
can things in nature, as folk no coming fidrly t^^i^iW 
ends, John T* > ^ c ** 

<< Goodness he wi' ns I Ye gar a' the hairs ^tm^ 

head cmtfs Bian, What's dia* yon ve saying^r'V. '' 

<< Had ye never ony suspicions o' that kitidi JobiijiK' 

«No;I caaaasay that Ihad.'' vHT 

'< None in the least? Weel, that beats theilwoiUir' 

^<0, baud yo» tongue, baud your tongaaF/ >We 

hae great kvasonto hethankfu' that we are aa we are4i' 

" How as we are ?" uu. ti new 

<' That we arena stod» or st<Mies, or hmte Beasts, 

as the Minister o' Xraquair says^ But I hopa iniio^B 

there is nae siccan a thing about my masters )rii|cadK- 

an unearthly visitor/' * f d iiad 

The smith shook his bead, and uttffl«d « lengehaftt, 

hem, hem I He had felt the power^l efiectiof that 

himself, and wished to make the same appealt?t<|fi»lbd 

feelings and longings after information of Jchti. BoDad* 

cast. The bait took ; for the lat^it spark ef «8npe^- 

tion, not to say any thing about curiosity, was kindled 

in the heart of honest Joki, and there being' ai»^wi6ih 

the head to eoimtei«ct ii, 4|e portemous hht lMd>ils 

jnm^iaasD'OmnnsRHotM. 817 

Mf^WUafi \^la^M ef» tt^led in his head,, and his 
Tisage grew long, assuniing something of the hoe of 
dried dk/f ^ winter* •. ^ Heeh, man, bat that's an aw- 
Mito'itcfi^rexclaimedhe. «« FoUu hae great reason 
t»ih&^kimAM that thef are as they are. It is truly 
itti|hv«6me story/' 

' ^ Ye ken^ it just beats the world for that," quoth the 
ttlith.- - 

<< And is kresliy thought that this Laird made away 
wifiiiMttiEmldmaster?'' said John. . . 

The smith shook his head again, and garre a strait 

3lV^^ Wcisty I hae great reason to be thankia' that I 
^Ikmn* heard siccan a story as that I'' said John. ^ Wha 
was it tauld you a' about it ?" 

.i^i^oR was nae less a man than our raathewmatical 
dnis^'* said the smith ; ^ he that kens a' thkigs^ and 

L^pMve a proposition to the nineteenth part of a 
hair. But he is terrified the tale should spread ; and 
>flwi<i'fiw'ii yemannna say a word about it.'' 
md^ Na; na; I hae great reason to-be thankfii' I can 
ddsep a secret as weel as the maist feck o'. men, and 
^bettet than the maist feck o' women. What did he 
fty ? Tell us a' that he said." 

i jiMit ia not so easy to repeat what he say% for he 
•haivsae m<my lang^nebbit wordsy which just beat the 
woiM. But he saidy though it was only a suppositiouj^ 


jet it was easily made manifesl by positiTe demoostiar 

« Did you ever hear the like o' thak I Now, havena 
we reason to be thankfn' that we are as we are ? Did 
he say that it was by poisoa that he was taken off, or 
that he was strangled ?** 

<< Na; I thought he said it was by a collar, or a eol- 
lary, 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 P 

<<He desenres to be torn at yornig 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 Am- 
mcA,'' Goptinued the ploughman. 

^^ Na, ril teU you what should be done wT him*— 
he should just be dodked and fired like a farcied horse,** 
quoth the smith. ** Od help ye, man, I could beat the 
world for laying on a proper poonishment." 

Jolm broadcast went home full of terror and dis- 
may. He told his wife the story in a secret —she told 
the dairymaid with a t^old degree of secrecy ; and 
so ere long it reaped the ears of Dr Dayington himself, 
the New l4drd,,as he mt», called. He was unusually 


affected* 9l bearing such a terrible accusation against 
bimself ; and tbe Dominie being mentioned as the pro- 
pagator of the rep<H:t» a message was forthwith dis- 
patched 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 h^ had 
too much self-importance to think of succumbing to 
any man alive, be sent an impertinent answer to the 
JLaijrd 3 message, bearings 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 
ajboaost beside himself with rage, instantly dispatched 
two village constables with a warrant to seize tbe Do- 
B^ni^, and bring him before him ; for the Doctor was 
a justice of the peace. Accordingly, the poor Dominie 
wa3 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 re- 
fused 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 
tb^Wy neither would he. 

The smith was then sent for, who declared that tbe 


DomiBie had told hiflt of Ae giMMt liaii^ 9tA?MBH 
murder committed, wludi ho aAed a rtuM aiianSSi 
fi0fi> and taid it wall chfUm^ uhI eiinlf iiferid flft 
it was done Vy a collar. ^'^ 

How the Dominie did stonn I HeeretttwTdiBtBffiy^ 
ened to knock down the smitli witli hit crbtbh i^^ 
for the slander; — he cared not for that ndr the Doc£8r 
a pin, — hot for the total sabvenioii of Mb gniAdtlMh 
tratkm frbm geometry; and he therefore denomimcd 
the smith's head M« logarithm to member cney ij& 
proach oC which I do not understand the gist, Imt i&i 
appropriation of it pleased the Dominie ezceedhiigf y; 
made him chuckle, and put him in better httmddf (St 
a good while. It was in rain that he tried to pirb% 
that his words applied only to the definition of a'^t6^' 
blem in g^metry, — he could not make himself un£jf<: 
stood ; and the smith maintaining his point firmly, iiiiif 
apparently with conscientious tntth, appeanlhces Srere 
greatly against the Dominie, and the Doctor prbnom- 
ced him a malevolent and dangerous person. ' ~ '""^ 

^ O, ye ken, he just beats the world for that,** qaaiE 
the smith* 

<« I a malerolent 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 gel'a 
place to set it on. *< Dost thou call me a malevolent 
and dangerous person, sir ? What then art thou ? If 

^tfg^iSf^ilfmiim X uriUtiBll ibse. Add » cipher to a 
gpj^%nri^,yid wlMi does (bat make ? Ninaty yon 

1^ Wh.y.^7^ ^^ ^^^^ P^ ^ cipbOT oAotna a nise, and 
what does Aat make ? ha — ^ba — ha — ^I have yoa there 
eiae^j m higher geomeUyl for aay the 
mtf degrees ia radiii% then the siaa of ninety 
iifigf^ ia^eqaal ta the xadiusy so the secant of (^ that 
i%jfiidd»-nothi«g|, aa the boys call iv is radiiis» and S0 
la^^ QOhSiAe ,of Oi, The yersed sine of 90 degree^ in 
1^^ (that Is nine with a cipher added» yoo knows) 
a^ Jtjbe Ycarsed sine of 180 degrees is the diameter ; 
thp^^efconrse the sine increases from (that is cipher 
qC', QQtbibg) till, it becomes radius, and then it daft 
creases till it becomes nothing. After this you note it 
UaB.q^L the.', ccaniraxy side of the diameteiv and conse? 
^Plju^atlyi if positi7e before, is negative now> so that ijl 
mumt end in 0, or a cipher above a nine at most." ..^x. 

. .f^.jjfus luuntelligible jargon is out of place hereby I^ 
D$l||[iupi^ ; and if you can show no better reasons isir 
raising such an abominable falsehood, in represeutipig 
n^ as an incendiary and murderer, I slmll procure you 
a lodging in the bouse of correction." 

, /< Why» sir, the long and short of the matter is. this 
-7-J. only asked at that fellow there, that logaritJbm ^ 
stupidity I if he had heard aught of a gbo^t baling bp^ , 

■ . ' . * 

seen about Winebolm Place. I added nothing fartji^ , 

O 2 . r ■ '^. 


either positive or negmtive. Now, do you iomt on my 
reasons for asking such a question ?** 

^ I insist on having them." 

** Then what will yon say, sir, when I inform yon, 
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 yonr late worthy father-in-law myself, sir; 
and though I said no such thing to that decimal frac- 
tion, 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 hotter 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 I 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 retain- 
ers, you must unsay every word that you have now 

<< ril just as soon say that the parabola and the ellip- 
sis are the same," said the Dominie ; « or that the dia« 
meter is not the longest line that can be drawn in the 
circle. And now> sir, since you have forced me to di- 
vulge what I was much in doubt about, I have a great 

ram uobd op wiKBHauc. S2S 

mind to baTe tke old Lttrd*0 gimye opened to-niglity and 
hftTe the body iupoeled before wit neooos .** 

^ If yo«dare dktmb the euictaary of the gi«TO»'* said 
the Doctor Tdieiiieiitly» ^ or with your unhallowed 
handa toadi the remainB of my yenerable and rev^wl 
pfodeeeeaor, it had been better for yon, and aD idio 
pake the attempt, that yon never had been bonou If 
B0| then for ray wke, (or the sake of my wife, the sole 
dangbto' of the man to idiom yon have all been obliged, 
l9t this abominaUe and malicious calumny go no far- 
ther, bat put it down ; I pray of you to put it down, as 
yen would yalue your own advantage." 

«< I have seen him, and spoke with him — that I aver," 
smd the Dominie. ^ And shall I tell you wliat he said 

<< No, no I I'll hear no more of such absolute and dis- 
gusting 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 hare seen your fiAtber-in-law within the 
last twenty hours ; at least a being in his form and ha- 
biliments, and having his aspect and voice. And he 
told me, that he believed you were a very great scoun- 
.drel, 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 


WIS sbmeirlwt aghast, Kut Tentnied to renmky tiba^fM 
must rarely hare been sensible whether yoa viiirdn»4 
him or not, and in what way. He replied^ that. he. was 
not absolutely (pertain, for at the time yon put Inqr 
down, he was much in his cnstomary way of nightSs-r^f 
▼ery dmnk; hut that he greatly suapeeted you h^ 
hanged him, for,- ever since he had died, he had beeyi, 
troubled with a severe crick in his neck. Harmg s^e^. 
my late worthy patron's body deposited in the eoffi>, 
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 couM not stand this disdosuine. 
Now, for my own satisftu^tion, I am resolved thatto^ 
morrow, I shall raise the village, with the two minist^ 
tit the head pf the multitude, and have the body, ^^ 
particularly the neck of the deceased, minutely ]%• 

<< If' you do so, I shall make one of the numbetr' 
ludd the Doctor. << But I am resolved that in the fir^ 
place every mean shall be tried to prevent a scene of 
madness and absurdity se disgraceful to a well-regik* 
lated 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 resolvedto 
proceed right forward, on mathematical principles;-' aid 

airaj'ik Wenf, ^kip^niig im liis crutcb, to arotne tlie vil- 
hl^iiif^ to the scmtiiiy. 

- Th# snifdi iieitiaiiied behmd, concerting with the 
Do^^tor, hbW to controvert the Dominie's profound 
seh^er of uidrovdmg the dead; and certainly the 
silnith^ plan, i^ewed profesdonally, was not amiss. <* O, 
]fe haiy sir, we maim jnst gie him another hedt, and tfy 
to saften him to reason, for he's just as stubborn atf 
Sf tdridrk ir^n. He beats the world for thai." 
'While the two were in confabulation, Johnston, th^ 
old house-servant, came in and said to the Doctor — 
••"Sir, your servants are going to leave the house, evefy 
one^ this night, if you cannot fall on some means to di- 
vert tliem 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 Broad- 
cast, who has been these two hours dead with terror, 
but is now recovered, and telling such a tale down stairs, 

flys 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 vemding 


of his 



are as we 


? Confess then 
Tended a delibe- 


to be thankfii* ''— <- 

<^Tknl I never tanki a ddibaate lee in my life. My 
Hnster came and ^ake to me in the stable ; but 
whedier it was his ghaist or himsell — a good angel or 
ahad ane» I hae leason to be thankfa J never said ; for 

^ Now, pray let i|9 hear frcnn that sage tongue of 
yours, so full of sublime adages, what this doubtful be- 
ing said to you ?" 

<< I wad rather be excused, an it were your honour's 
will, and wad hae reason to be thankfu'." 


^ And wliy shoiild yon decline telling this ?** 

<< Because I ken ye wadna believe a word o\ it is 
akscan a strange story. O sirs, but folks hae muokle 
reason to be thankfm' that they are as they are !*' 

'< Well, oat with thia strange story of yonrs. I do 
ihot promise to credit it, but shall give it a palaent hear- 
ing, provided yon swear that there is no forgery in it." 

<< Weel, as I was snppering the horses the night, I 
was dressing my late kind master's favourite mare, and 
I was jnst 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 roe 
in his good-natnred hamely way. Aye, but he's gane to 
his lang account, thinks I, and we poor frail dying crea- 
tures that are left ahind hae mackle reason to be thank* 
fU' that we are as we are ; when I looks up, and behold 
there's my auld master standing leaning against the tri- 


^a^, as he used to do, and looking at me. I canna but 
say my heart was a little astonndit, 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 — 1 are you thinking about ? You are not 
currying that mare half. What a d — d lubberly way 
of dressing a horse is that ?' 


* •._ 

. ■■-. ^ 

. L >4 

« i Lr— d make us thankfa'^ ntaflter V bbjb ly < are tou 

■ ■ .1:. 

« ( Where else would you have me to he at this hoiur 
of the night, old hlockhead ?* says he. 

<< < In another hame than this^' master/ says I ; < hut 
I fear me it is nae good ane, that ye are sae soon tired 

<< ' A d^-d had one, I assure you,' says he. 

<< < Ay, hut, master,' says I, < ye hae muckle reason 
to he thankfu' that ye are as ye are.' 

" ' In what respects, dotard ?* says he. 

^ < That ye hae liberty to come out o't a start i^ow 

and then to get the air,' says I ; and oh, my heart was 

tair for him when I thought o' his state I and though I 

was thankfu' that I was as I was, my heart and flesh 

hegan to fail me, at thinking of my being speaking face 

to face wi' a being frae the unhappy place. But out 

he hriks again wi' a grit round o' swearing about the 

*■ f^ 
mare being ill keepit ; and he ordered me to cast iny 

coat and curry her weel, for that he had a lang journey 

to take on her the mom. 

" ' You take a journey on her I' says I, * I fear my 
new master will dispute that privilege with you, for he. 
rides her himsell the mom.' 

" ' He ride her I' 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 , 



hebelefeDediridiliiedast! Hie dof^ I llie paricide ! 
fint to betnrj mj duld, and then to pot down myadf ! 
— Sib ht flUI not escape! he ahaD not escape!' cried 
he widi soch a hdOiah growl, that I £unted, and heard 

« Weel, that heats the world I" quoth the smith ;«< I 
wad hae thoo^ the mare wad hae Inppen ower. yird 
and stanoy or £ii*ea down dead wi* fright." 

^ Na, na," said John, ^ in place o' that, whenever 
she heard him &' apswearing, she was sae ^ad that she 
HbU a-mckering." 

«« 1^ bnt that beats the haill wwld a'thegither !" 
qnodi the smith. ^^ Then it has been nae ghaist ava^ 
fe m$j depend on that." 

^ I Httle wat what it was," said John, << bat it was 
a beittg in nae good or happy state o' nund, and is a 
wamingtonsa' howm:ackle reason we hae to be thank- 
fti' that we are as we are.*' 

- The DoctiHT pretended to laugh at the absurdity of 
John's narratire, bnt it was with a ghastly and donbt^ 
fid expression of countenance, as though he thought the 
story far too ridiculous for any clodpple to have con* 
trired out of his own head ; and forthwith he dismissed 
the two dealers in the marvellous, with very little cere- 
Bumy, the one protesting that the thing beat the world, 
and the other that they had both reason to be thankfd' 
ihat ^y were as they were. 

3S0 THB shxpherd's oausswlxu 

The next moniiiig thfi Yilkgeny smdl and grea^ 
awembled at an early liaiir to witneaa the lifting of the 
body of their late laird, and headed by the established 
and diMenting clergymen, and two surgeons, they pro*- 
ceeded to the tomb,' and soon extracted the splendid 
coffin, which they opened with all due cantioo and cere- 
mony. 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 ihe new laird then rose all at 
once into a tumult that it was imposuble to check, every 
eoo declaring aloud that he had not only murdered their 
benefiBu^tor, but, for fear of the discovery, had raisod the 
body, and given, or rather sold it, for dissection. The 
dung was nxA to be tolerated I so the mob proceeded 
ia &body up to Wineholm Place, taiake out their poor 
deluded lady, and bum the Doctor and his basely ac- 
quired habitation to ashes. It was not till the multi- 
tude had surrounded the house, that the ministers and 
two or three other gentlemen could stay them, wbifih 
they only did by assuring the mob that they would 
bciug out the Doctor before their eyes, and deliver him 
up to justice. This pacified the tbrcmg; but on inquiry 
^ the haU, it was found that the Doctor had gone off 
early that momin§^ so that nothing further could bo 

. THS iiAiBD or winsbolm; 331 

done for tha pTMent. But the ooffiii> filled with graTel, 
me hid vp in the aiele> end kept open for inepectioii. 

Nednng eomld new exceed the eonstemation of the 
mple ▼ilkgers ef Wineholm at these dark and myste- 
ims erenfek BnsineaB, labour, and employment of 
efery eoit, were at a stand, and the people hmried 
ibonfc to one another's honaee, and mmgled their con- 
jeetvree together in one heterogeneous mass. The smith 
pat his hand to the bellows, but forgot to blow till the 
fire went out; the wearer leaned on his beam, and list- 
eaed to the legends of ihe ghastly tailor. The team 
flood in Ynid fturow, and the thrasher agaping over his 
fkSt; and even the Dominie was heard to declare that 
the geometrical series of events was increasing by no 
4MM»MMi measure, and therefore ought to be calculated 
laAer arithmeticaliy than by logarithms; and J<^ 
Broadcast saw more and more reason for being thank- 
Ad' that he was as he was, and neither a stock nor a 
stone, nor a brute beast. 

Everynewtlnng that happened was more extraordinary 
dual the last ; and the most puzxling of all was the cir^ 
enmstance of the late Laird's mare, saddle, bridle, and all» 
being off bef<»« day the next mcMning ; so that Dr Da- 
linglon was obliged to have recourse to his own, en 
"^faidi 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> 

fim LoMl oftiy teeirwliitlier tl0r.M to ilM»f«falnifnw 
^^ «be sages of WnielMlfliemilddiTiiie; BvrttlM^flods 
gNfw dtaXL as an iceberg, and tiieir TetyfraniiMf 'rigid, iit 
d|a ^wngh ts of a spirit riding stway on a braite>beiiBtt» 
llwplaee appointed for wkked mem And hacl not Jshs 
Broadcast reasso to be tfaankfid thai he was as be was? 
.Howe?eiv the outcry -of the oomrnnnityboeaine'so 
Ootngeons, of ranrder, and fool play in so many ways, 
tiMit the officers of justioe were compelled to takenoti^ 
e|fils;< and accordingly the SheriffHSQbstitate^ the ^he^ 
ri^&ekrk, the Fiscal, and two assialants, came in two 
thainni to Wiaeholm to tidce a preoognitiofli r andlibees 
VDOomrt was hrid which lasted^khe whole day,'at widch, 
Mn Daidngton> the late Laird's only daughter, jiit lbs 
sermaitB^aBNl a greait number of the villagwa, were nitt* 
minad on oath* It appeared from/ tfae'Svidenee'itlart 
DsDarington had come to theTiilageandset'iipi«ai 
a :Surgeo»*^th8t he had used every mideaFOur tobs 
employed in the Laird's family in vain, as the latter4s* 
tasted him« lliat he, howeter, found m^ans of in- 
dnemg his only daughter to elope with hiin, which 
put the Laird quite beside hbnsrify and fn>m thei»te« 
teward he becamedrowned in diss^MktionA lliatsuiBh; 
howerer, was his affection for his daughter, that he 
eaasedher to live with him, but would never sufihc 
^ Doctor to> enter his door«-*-4hat it was neverth^ess 
quite cwtonuiry for the Doctor to bo sent for to hi§ 

rsoL i«A»0 Mr. wmwaoiM. 

ichamiiwv partimlariy when W ^lAher was k Ui 
(R^ft^'f ittd lb* oo a certain nigbt, wImd the Laird kad 
l»di^fwi>paiiy»aad waa aa OYereome that he oonld nai 
jmrSsom- hia dbair^ ha had died aaddenly of i^aplezf i 
iaidfthal»«»;Qlher akiU waa acBt for, or near hioi^ hut 
dua Jhiatjdetealed aon-in-laWf whom he had by will ditii 
infacoliad^ thmigtk the legal term for rendering that will 
oanqMttaiii had not expived. The body waa coffined 
^lOtaaeiMid day after death, and locked up in a lanr 
ca0m ua one.of the wtngaef the bidlding; and nothing 
boAtat iovM be Edited. The Doctor was miaskig; 
liadfit!wa» whispered that be had absconded; indaad 
itt m^ eiddant, wad the Sheriff acknowledged, iimt^&i» 
QOfdiiag. t» the evidence tak^, the matter had « ymtf 
onpiciowB ai^>ect, althongh there waa no difect praef 
a^fttnaithe Doctor. It waa proved that he had aat 
taunted to tbleed the patient, but had not succeedadi 
and. that at that time the old Laird was black in the 
fiM»«' ■..■•. ■ r- 

.|i When it began to wear nigh night, and nothing fBt* 
ftiaa eonld be learned, the Sheriff-^lerk, a quiet can* 
^pratleman^ aaked why they had not examined 
who made the coffin, and also placed ikk 
bodym it ? The thing had not been thought of; b«t 
ha was found in coort, and instantly put into.thoiwia^ 
ana'^'box^ and examined on oath*. Hm nann^^wrii 
Jamas Sandflnoni a.«tiwM)iulei.littk|^ah«a(wdr]paku^ 


man, with a rery peculiar squint. He was examined 
thns by the Pi'ooiinitor-fiKaL 

^ Were you long acquainted wkfa the late Laird «f 
Winehokn, James ?" 

^ Yes, erer since I left my apprenticesfaip ) for I 
suppose about nineteen yean." 

** Was he reary much given to drinking of late ?" 

« I could not say. He took 1» glass g<eyaa heart* 

** Did you ever drink with him ?" 

** O yes, mony a time." 

^ You must hare se^i him Tery drunk then ? Did 
yon ever see him so drunk that he oevld not rise. In* 
instance ?" 

^ O never I for, lai^ afore that, I could not hav« 
kenn*d whethm* he was sitting or standing." 

^ Were you present at the corpse>-diesting ?" 

« Yes, I was." 

<< And were you certmn the body was then depofilt<* 
ed in the coffin ?'' 

<< Yes ; quite certain.*' 

** Did you screw down the eoffin-lid firmly then, as 
you do o^rs of the same make ?" 

« No, I did not." 

^ What were your reasons for that ?" 
' ^ lliey wee^ no reasons of vm^-^I did idiat I was 
onleiWDL There weie private reasons, which I ihiA 

rSS 2»AiaD OF WINAHOLM. 385 

wist ikot 4^i* Bttt^ gentlemeiiy there are some things 
connected with this mfiiEury which I am bound in honour 
niDi to reveal' I ho^e jon will not compel me to di« 
valge them at present.'* 

^ Yon ake bound by a solemn oath, James, which 
ii the highest of all obligations ; and for the sake oi 
JQStiee, yon. must tell every thing yon know ; and it 
would be better if yon would just tell your tale straight 
forward, without the intermption of question and an-' 

^ Well, then, since it* must be so : That day, at the 
chitifting, %he Doctor took me aside, and says to me, 
< JanMB ^lenderBcn, it will-be necessary that someUiing 
b6 put into the coffin to prevent any unpleasant flavour 
before the funenal ; for, owing to the corpulence, and 
inflamed state of the body by apoplexy, there will be 
great danger ^ 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 « 
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 de» 
leterious effluvia from escaping.' 
. ^ < Very well, sir,' says I ; and so I followed Ins di- 
rections. I procured-the lime ; and as I waste comn 
privately in the evening to deposit it in the coffin, in 

SS6 THB 8B3VHB«D*a flAl.WimHI. 

oompnf wiih the Doetor idoMy I VKi imltiBfiBff jhe 
time in my workihopy pt^iflhing iOBie iriAe^ aa4 
iag to myself that I could sot iad u my heart-to 
up my old friend with quicklime^ ef«« after ha 
dead, when, to my un^MakaUe honee^ iriio ahodU 
enter my workshop but the identical Laird 
dremed in his dead-dothaa in the yeryaama 
in whieh 1 had aeen him laid in the oolfii^ Wl ifK 
parently all atiaammg in blood to the £eel» I §M' 
over against a cart-wheel, and was going to call 
b«t could not ; and as he stood straight in the ^Mr, 
there was no means of escape. At length the -afft- 
rition i^wke to me in a hoavBe trembling vaips^ cmmtf^ 
to have frightened a whole condaye of bishops avi 0i 
their senses ; and it says to me, < Jamia Sandeasa* J 
O, Jamie Sanderson ! I have been Ibieed to-i 
you in a d— d frightful guise T These wena tlia 
first words it spoke,— and they were fv fraahamg a 
lie ; but I hafflins thought to mys^ ihi^ a hainy-ln 
such circumstances might have spoke with v littWaasvs 
caution and decency. I could make no answoyfor my 
tongue refused all attempts at articulation, and my %s 
would not come together ; and all that I could doy 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 vp 


liAIRD or WINEHOLM. 33? 

hidiiti bHMb, i^ag with dead ruffles, and cried to 
M ift a atili wMtn friglttftd Toice^ ' O, my bitbhd old 
1 I liKve been anorderod I I am a murdered mau, 
in 1 and if yoa do not aMiat me in bring- 
ing iqioa the wretch dae vetribntiony yon will be d— d 
la heU, m: " 

,.-M Hus is flbaer raving, Jamee," taid the Sheriff, in- 
Unnpting Urn. *^ Theie words can be nothing but 

iBvittga of a dirtubed and heated imagination. I 
yon to recoUecty that you have appealed to the 
fpnal Judge of heaven and earth for the truth of what 
ymt aaaert here^ and to answer accordingly." 
<r:**l know what I am saying, my Lord Sheriff,'* said 
ifBaaienMm ; *^ and am telling naething but the plain 
WaA, as nearly as my state of mind at the time per- 
mkB we to reo^ect. The appalling figure approach- 
lad still nearar and nearer to me, InreathiDg threatenings 
<tf I would not rise and fly to its assistance, and swear- 
ing like a s<»geant of dragoons at both the Doctor and 
tnyaelf. At length it came so close on me, that I had 
«o other shift but to hold up both feet and hands to 
jdneld 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 throug^i his sleep. 

M * What the devil are you lying gaping and bray- 
ing at there V said he, seizing me by the wrists, and 

VOL. I. p 


dragging me after hiai. < Do yon noteeethe 

I am in, and wby won't yon iky to MtooMar metBV^ii*- 

^ I now felt to mj great reliely tliat thii'^teiTific 
porition wae a bemg of fleelv blood, andlwaoiy lifie 
myeelf ; that, in abort, it waa indeed my kind mki 
iiiend the Laird popped out of his open eoBm^Ktmi 
come oyer to pay me an 'evening nsit, iHrt-certaialy 
in such a guue as earthly vint was never paid« Lsdoa 
gathered up my scattered scnaeay took my oldfirieBd 
into my room, bathed him all over, and washed iiim 
well in lukewarm water; tlieft>put him iiito.A warm 
bed, gave him a glass or two of warm punch, and: be 
came round amanngly. He caused' ma to snnney Us 
neck a hundred times I am sure ^ and I had noi doubt 
he had been strangled, for there was % pusple ring 
round it, which in some places was bkok, and.e iittb 
swollen ; his voice creaked like a door hmge^ aiid blA 
features were still distorted. He swore tencibly 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 amouer 
taken if that experiment does not serve him. fociA 
theme of execration as long as he lives." 

" So he is then alive, you say ?*' asked the Fiscal^i 

*< O yes, sir ! alive, and tolerably well, consideting. 

We two have had several bottles together in my quiet 

room ; for I have still kept him concealed, to see what 


Af^iDiM&t'Wcnld do next. He is in terror for bim 
•omehowti vntil aiziy diys be over from some date 
tl^it faei teUu of» md aeeiiiB aasured tbat tbat dog will 
bure.lua life hj liook or crook, unless he can brin^. 
to tbegaUowa-betameSy and he is absent on that 
tO'day*. One night lately, when fully half- 
LOTcr, ko set off to the schoolhouse, and frighten. 
idvAe Dominie ; and last night he went up to the 
stable^ and gave old Broadcast a hearing for not keep- 
iflgthis mare well enough. 

•^ it appeared that some shaking mo^on in the cof- 
fiaing of him had lHt)ught him to himself, after bleed- 
ing abundantly both at mouth and nose ; that he was 
oa fak feet ere ever he knew how he had been dispo- 
sed' of, and was quite shocked at seeing the open cofhu 
oit thebed, and himself dressed in his grave-clothes, 
ttd all- in one bath of blood. He flew to the door, 
bat 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 re- 
garded* So he had nothing for it but to open the 
window, and come Uirougfa the garden and the back 
loaning to my workshop. . And as I had got orderH to 
bring a bucketful of quicklime, I went over in tho 
forenight with a bucketful of heavy gravel, b» much 
as I could carry, and a little white lime sprinkled on 
the top of it ; and being let in by the Doctor, I de- 

340 Tflft- SHBNBKft's €MJBHBAML 

that in the ooAa, scrovptd dawn^thelM^'aBd 
left ii^ end tbe funerd fbUowed ui>«lia»<eoiiTai^;<iiw 
whole of which che- LmA mwed ^ron ny wmAhTy 
and gate the Doctor a hearty day's caiaiDg for daring 
to support his head and lay it in the graYe«— And this, 
gentlemen, is the substance of what I know conoefn* 
ing this enormons deed^ nHnch is, I thinks quite suffi- 
eient. The Laird bound me to secrecy until such 
ttt^e as he eould 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 arrired that ni^t with proper authority, 
and a number of offioeia, ta hare the Doctor, his son- 
in-law, taken into custody ; but the bird had flown ; 
and from that day forlli he was nerer seen, so as to be 
recognised, in Scotland. The Laird lived many yean 
after that ; and though the thoughts of the quick- 
lime 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 wa» as impracticable to calcu- 
late 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 


pmiiidiineiitSy the smith to thk dfty just beats the 
worUL^ And old Jobo Broadcast is as thankful to 
Hearen as eTer that thmgs are as they are. 
























:bap. I. Window Wat*8 Coartship, 1 

• ir. A Stnmge Secret, «^ ... 49 

III. The Marvellous Doctor, lOa 

IV. The M'itches of Traquair, .- 150 

V. Sheep, 185 

VL Prayers, . 193 

VII. Odd Characters, 906 

VIII. Nancy Chisholm, 230 

IX. Snow-Storms, 254 

X. The Shepherd's Dog, 293 




WINDOW WAt's courtship. 

Gtreat have been the conquests, and gnerons the 
deray, wrought in the hearts of die rustic youth by 
some mountain nymphs. The confusion that particu- 
lar ones hare sometimes occasioned for a year or two* 
almost exceeds credibility. When any young woman, 
has obtained a great reputation for beauty, every young 
man in the bounds is sure either to be in loye with her, 
or to beliere that he is so ; and as all these run on a 
Friday^s evening to woo her, of course the pride and 
vanity of the ftiir is raised to such a height, that she 
will rarely yield a preference to any, but is sure to put 
them all off with gibes and jeers. This shyness, in- 
stead of allaying, never fails to increase, the fervour of 
voir. IJ. A 

THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

the flame ; an enmlation, if not a riralsbip, is excited 
among the yonnken, irntil the getting a single word 
exchanged with the rengning beauty becomes a matter 
of thrilling interest to many a tender-hearted swain ; 
but, generally speaking, none of these admired bean- 
ties are married till they settle into the more quiet 
rale of life, and the current of admiration has turned 
towards others. Then do they betake themseWes to 
sober reflection, listen to the most rational, though not 
the most youthful, of their lovers, and sit down, con- 
tented to share through life the toils, sorrows, and joys 
of the humble eot« 

I am not now writing of ladies, nor of " farmers' 
bonny daughters ;** but merely of country maddens, 
such as ewe-milkers, hay-workers, har'st-shearers, th^ 
healthy and comely daughters of shepherds, hinds, coun- 
try tradesmen, and small tenants ; in short, all the rosy, 
romping, and light-hearted dames that handle the sickle, 
the hoe, the hay-raik, and the fleece. And of these I 
can say, to their credit, that rarely an instance happens 
of a celebrated beauty turning out a bad, or even an. 
indifferent wife. This is perhaps owing to the circum- 
stance of their never marrying very young, (for a youth- 
ful marriage of a pair who have nought but their ex-> 
ertions and a good name to depend on for the support 
of a family, is far from being a prudent, or highly com- 
mendable step,) or that these belles, having had too 

WINDOW wax's courtship. $ 

much experience in the follies and flippancies of youth- 
ful love, and youthful lovers, make their choice at last 
on principles of reason ; or it may be owing to another 
reason still, namely, that among the peasantry young 
men never flock about, or make love to a girl who is not 
noted for activity, as well as beauty. Cleverness is al-^ 
ways the first recommendation ; and consequently, when 
a young woman so endowed chooses to mairy, it is na^ 
tural to suppose that the good qualities, which before 
were only occasionally called into exercise, wiU then be 
exerted to the utmost. Experience is the great teacher 
among the labouring class, and her maxims are carried 
down from father to son in all their pristine strength. 
Seldom are they violated in any thing, smd never in 
this. No yoimg man will court a beautiful daw, im- 
less he be either a booby or a rake. 

In detailing a signal instance of the power of coun- 
try beauty, I shall make use of fictitious names ; and 
as I have not been an eye-witness to the scenes I 
mean to detail, I judge it bf st to give them in the collo- 
quial style, exactly in the same manner as they have 
been rehearsed to me. Without adopting this mode, 
I might make a more perfect arrangement in my pre* 
Bent story, but could not give it any degree of the in- 
terest it appeared to me to possess ; nor could the cha- 
racters be exhibited so well in any way as by letting 
them speak for themselves. 


^ Waty what was the matter wi yon, that ye neves 
keepit your face to the Buniater the hat Sabbath day ? 
Yon • an unco unreverend gate in a kirk» nan. I bae 
seen you keep a good ee on Uie preacher^ and take 
gaod tent to what was gawu too; mi tsotb Vm wm 
to see ye altered to the wanr^ ' 

^< I kenna how I might chance to be kK^ung^ but I 
hope I was listening as weel as you» or oay that was 
there !— <*Heighow ] It s a weary warld this I" 

/' What has. wade it siccan a weary warld, Wat ? 
TrnvSiire it- wasna about jthe ills o' life that the minister 
was preaching, that day> that has gart ye change sae 
saic? ^W9 Wat, I tentit ye weel a' the day^ and 111 
be in your debt for a toop lamb at Michaelmas^ gin 
yf 'U juG^t tell me ae distinct sentence o' the sermc^i. on 
Sabbath last." 

. " Hout, Jocky man t ye ken I dinna want to make a 
jest about ony saacred thing ; and as for your paulie 
tfoop.kuttb, what care I for it?'' 

^i Xe jfieedna think to win aff that gate, callant. Just 
confess, ithe truth, that ye never heard a word the good 
UB^ said, and that baith yoiu: heart and your ee war 
Qjsed on some olgect in the conti'air direction. Aad 
Im^Y be mistaen, but I think I could guess what it 


wfilDow Itat's COinltBHIP. 5 

' ^' Wliisbt, lad, and let ns alane o' yonr sinfii' sur- 
neeses. I might turn iny back on tlie ministeir du- 
ring the time o' the prayer ; but that was for getting 
a lean on the eeat, and what ill was in that ?" 

^ Ay, and ye might likewise hirsel yoorsefl up to 
the ooraer o* the seat a* the time o' baith the sermons, 
fdid lean your head on -yonr hand, and look- through 
your fingers too. Can ye deny this ? or that your een 
were fixed the hail! day on ae particnlaa* place ?*' 

^Aweel, I winna gie a fnend ihe lee to his face. 
%t this I will say — that an you had beeta giving a' the 
attention to the miniver, that ane should do wha takes 
it upon him to lecture las ndlghbours at this rate, ye 
wadna hae been sae weel aveeeed with respect to ray 
behaviour in the kirk. Take that for yom* share o' 
blune* And mair llum that, if Fm nae waur than yoi^ 
smth^ am I waur than other folk ; for an ye had lookit 
tt weel at a' the rest as it seems ye did at me, ye wad 
hae seen that a' the mmi in the kirk were looking ihe 
fmae gttte." 

^ And a' at the same object too ? And a' as deeply 
interested in it as you ? Isna that what ye're thinking ? 
Ah» Wat, Wat ! lore winna hide ! I saw a pair o' slae- 
black een that threw some geyan saucy disdainfn' looks 
«p the kirk, and I soon saw the havoc they were ma^ 
king, and had made, i' your simple honest heart. Wow, 
mm I bat I fear me you^are in a bad pvediekiment.*' 


^ Weel^ weel, murder will o«l» and I ccnleBS he^ 
tween twa frieads, Joek» there aerer wm a lad lasic % 
prec^ddment ae I am. I neediia keesp ouglit finw yon ; 
but for th^ life that'a i' yavr lM>«k, ^ana I0I a patev 
abottt it escape frae atweaa year lips* i anadna tfaat 
it were keaa'd bow deeply I am ia lore^ aad hofw Ut» 
lie it is Hke to be reqailed, for tbe baill warld 1 Bal 
I am thiedayaaiiHBerableamanasbrealhealliebreatb 
o' Kfe. For I Vike yoa hna aa man aeyer liidt another* 
and a' that I get i» sconv >Bd gibesy and modiery in 
Tetum* O Jods, I wiab I waa deaid k an honeai utt* 
tnral way, and that my banal day were the mom T 

<< Weel, after a', I daresay lliat is the beet way o" 
winding np a hopeless love concern. But only it oagfat 
sarely to be the la^ researce. Now> wiU ye be ciito-^ 
didj and tell me gi^ yehae made att lawfcd eadeavoitfa 
te preserve yoar ain Hfe, as ^e cemmandment reqabea 
iai to d6, ye ktiA ? Hae ye eoartit the lass as a man 
oight'to ceiM her who is in etery respect her eqaal?*^ 

<< Oh, yes, I have I I have told her a' my k^e, aad 
a'^tny eafermgs; bat- it has been onVjr to be mochit, 
and'Tdisimssed aboat my basiness." 

<* And for that ye wl^ie and mak wry faees, aa yon 
are doing just now ? Na, na, Wat, that's no the gat0 
o't;— *a'maid inaua jnst be wooed in the same spirit 
she shows ; flfnd arhea she shows sauciness, there's nae^ 
thing for it bat taking n 9tep higher tbun ber in tbtt 


same humour^ letting her always k^, and always see, 
that yoa are naturally her snperier, and that y^ii ha¥ena 
forgotm thai yon are even atoopiag from yonr dignity 
when yon^oBdesoend te ask her to become your e^nal. 
if sha rafos^ to he your joe aft the lairi nevet either 
whine .cr look disappointed, hut be tpue ta wale^the 
bonniest' lass yos can get in the mackety and lead her 
to the aaaie party whore your saucy damfi( isf^ TUce 
^er to the top o' the danee^ the top o' die taUe at dbv- 
metf and laughs and sing ; and aye between handib 
wl^isper your bonny partner; and if your ain lass- disna 
liappen to be «noo weel bnokledi it ia ten t^ ane,sbe 
win. find an opportnaity of oflffiaring yon ^ her epvpcny 
afore night. If she look angry or. offended at jinor^ 
tention to others, yo« are svre o* her* 'JChey are queer 
creatnres the lasses, Wat^ and I xnther duead ye bafpi 
mockle skill or eiqteirienoe in their bitaa' ifidjly.gpM* 
Foe^ to tell yon, the tratb, there's nnftthing pleases me 
eae weel as to see them, begin to pont» and pr^nf ^their 
^iCaoVgabs, and look snlky out fine the wicked* the 
jee, and gar ilka feather and flower4aiptvqw^r,>wi' 
their angry c^>er8 ; for let me tell yon^.it jsrmgfeat 
matter to get them to take ofience — ^it lets |i ^miU'See 
they ara vexed for the loss, o' hink"' . 

<^ If you had ever loved as I do^ Jock^ ye^Wi^ hi^ 
fennd lilUe comfort in their, ofieaea^ -Bof niytpaKI» 
tTory disdainfu' word that yon dear lovja^ Jaasie^a^ 


gangs lo my heart like a red-hot spindle. . My life is 
bound up in her faTonr. It is only in it that I can live^ 
moTe» or hreathe ; and whenerer she says a aevwe ^w 
catting word to me» I feel as if ane o' my measbeBB 
were torn away> and am glad to esci^ as kng as I am 
ony thing ara; for I find, if I war to remain* a few 
m*e ttccan sentences wad soon annihilate me." 

<< On ay I you're a hoirdly chieldy to be s«De ; but I 
•haTe aae donbt ye wad melt away Hke snaw off n d3ie^ 
or a dead riieep weel pykit by the corbies I Wow» man, 
bat it maks me wae to think o't^ and sae, to saTe yon 
&ae sic amehmcholy end» I shall take in hand to being 
Jierio your ain terms» in three months' time^ if yon wiU 
•lake my advice.'* 

^< O muiy spedc ; for ye are garring a' de Uood in 
;my yeitts rin np to my head, as gin it war a thonsand 
ants galloping like mad^ ronning races." 

'* Weet» Waty in the first place, I propose to gang 
down yonder a night by mysell, and speak baith to bar 
fether and her, to find how the land Ues ; and after 
that we can gang down baith tbegither, and ff» her a 
feir bioadside»>«-^The deil's in't> if we-sanna bring her 
to reason." 

Wat scratched his head, and pnlled the grass (that 
was quite blamdess in the afiair) fdriously up by the 
roots, but made no answer. On being urged tadedait 
bis sentiments^ he said, ^< I dinna ken about that way 

imiDow Wat's coarrsmp. 9 

o' ganging down yonr laoae ; I wkh- you niaiuma stick 
by the -anld fiaherV role, < £ivery man for his ain hand.* 
For .1 jken weel, that nae man alive can see her, and 
speafc^ to-her, and no be in love wi' her." 

« It is a good thing in love affiaiirsi Wat, that thiere 
are hardly two in the w<N*ld wha think the same way.'* 

^^ Ay) but. this is a particular case; for a' the men 
in the oountry think the same gate here, and rin the 
same gate, to the wooing. It is impossible to win near 
die l^MHise on a Friday night without knocking your 
head .against that of some rival. Na, na» John, this 
pl^i^.iQ^-gsnging down by yoursell winna do. And 
now whefL I think on% ye h^ better no gang down 
ava ; for if we gang down fri^oMls, well come up ene- 
mies ^ and that wadna be a very agreeable catastroff." 

^^Jjfom shame ftJ me> gin ey&t I heard sie nonsense! 
To thmk that a' the warld seewi* yonr eeni Hear ye, 
Wirt—*! wadna gie that snap o' my fingers for her. I 
nev<Qr saw her till Sunday last, when I came to your 
kiik a^p^ arand for that purpose, and I wadna ken her 
again gia I war to meet her here come out to the glen 
wi' ypur yr^eyr—what ails you, ye fool, that you're dight-* 
mg your een ?** 

^ Come out to the glen wi' mi^ whey I Ah, man ! 
the wqrds gaed dnrough me like the stang of a bumbee* 
Gome put to the glen wi' my whey I Gkide forgie my 
sin, y/timt is the reason I eanna thole that thought? 



Wat, and as little 

ii win mlj be to Inm- 


* far the best 

Jaol 1^ JevKL VBM 4efvm ia d bb sig^ and Ingfa 

tai%biB between his 
/WacjMdtWbaaBySaBw-Aec^ astbisjMnk of a 

cdDed: Fer be it anderstood, 
^ oS in iW pnili wai BHMd after one of the 
bM»«f tbeav; ind ewnr aiBy too^ yoang and old, 
bni la I bj aaanf. by wbk& w« dUl £8tii^[iiiah than 
ttttMTiWpRaenL Tbi ^ SBaw4kd( s fitther was 
«dMT«d-L0«n^ (^ fax ;) bb eldest dang^tca-, the 
Eiiigie;iW9einM^ Ae Sf aiiw ; and his only son was 
ibniiiaiuil ^ Fonanrt, (pole-cat,) on acconnt of 
n notable bnnt be once had with one of these creatures 
in the anddle of ^ lugbt, in a strange house ; — and it 
was ibe wont name I emer heard for a young man. 
Oar di0COB9olate Iotct was called Window Wat, on 
nccowU of hb baahfnl nature, and^ as was allied, be- 

wiKDow WAT*s corarsHiF. 11 

cause be was in the habit of banging abovt die 
dowB fHien be went arconrting, and never fe nluiin g 
in. It was a good wb3e after tius first lencoonter be- 
fore the two sbepberds met again widi the qpportmuty 
of resominig the discnssion of their lore afiaiis. Bnt 

at length an occasion offered, and then But we 

mnst Boffsr ererj man to tell his own tale, else the 
^ort will be ^xnlt. 

^ Weel, Wat, hae ye been ony mair down at Low- 
rie's Lodge, sin' I saw you ?" 

^ And if I hae, I hae bem little the better o' yon. 
•I heard that yon were there before me— and sinsyne 

^ Now, Wat, that's m«re jealoosy and suspicion, for 
ye didna see the lass to ken whether I was there or 
not. I ken ye wad be hinging aboat the window^ 
soles as usual, keekii^ in, feasting your een, seeing 
other woosters beiking their shins at the ingle ; but for 
a' that, durstna venture ben. Come, I dinna like siccan 
jsachless gates as thae. I vxu down, Fse no deny't, 
but I gaed to wark in a manner di£Ferent from youra^ 
Unco cauldrife wark that o' standing peenging about 
windows, man I Come, tell me a* your expedition, and 
TUl. tell you mine, — ^like friends, ye ken." 

" Mine's no ill to telL I gaed down that night after 
I saw you, e'en though Wednesday be the widower s 
night. More than I were therey but I was fear'd ye 

kadgsuhvealoreHM^ aid dm, wT y6«r great JaSH 
• ^wsy«« wwtn, yeBugkftlaekftmeiiaeclHOMe 
«K a'. I WW dtore^ Imt I ni^ as weel kw staid st 
kHw, for tlwrt wve aw mony o' iIk ovi-wale ivaUie- 
mgle knid o' wooesB there, lice myed!, a' tliem that 
caiBM WB fafTH (» a Fikky ni^ that I got tiie back 
V the keHaa to keep; km iknes ae good tfamg aboot 
the aold Tod's homey — ^they neTer dbl mp ^bmr win- 
dows. Aae sees aye wkat*8 gam oil wiUm doors. 
They leare a* their actiona open to the ee o* naan, yen 
finaily ; wmd I often think it is nae ill sign o' them. 
Anld TodpLowrie himaell aometimea lookaat ike win- 
dow in a kind o* considering mood, as if donbtful that 
at thai moment he is both oTvheard and o v ciB ec n ; 
but, or it ia lang, he cocks i^ his bonnet and taracksaa 
cronae as ever, as tf he thought again, There's aye ae 
^ee that aeea ase at a' times, and a ear that hears mcr; 
and when that'a the caae^ what need I care for a' the 
birkieso'tke knd I-^I Hke that ofeai independent way 
that the £unfly has. But O, they are sarely sair ka^ 
raaaed wi' wooers I" 

^ The wooers are the very joy o' their hearts, except- 
ing the Foomart's ; he hates them a' imless they can teU 
him hnnders o' Hes ahont battles, bogles, and awfn' mur- 
ders, and peraecntions. And ihe leaving o' the windows 
ope9 too is not without an aim. The Eagle is begin- 
ning to weary for a hnsband ; and if yell notice how 

WINDOW wat's courtship; 13 

dink die dresses iienell ilka night, and jinks away at 
the mudde wheel as she war spinning for a wager. 
They hae found out that they are often seen at night, 
yon lasses ; and though they hae to work the foulest 
work o' t^e hit &rm a' the day when naehody sees them, 
at night they are a' dressed up like pet-ewes for a market, 
and'ilk^ ane is acting a part. The Eagle is yerking on 
at Ae wheel, and now and then gieing a smirk wi* her 
faoo to the window. The Snaw-fleck sits busy in the 
neuk, ais^ sleek as a kinnen, and the auld docker foment 
her 'Admiring and miscalng her a' the time. The white 
Sea^naw flees up and down the house, hut and hen, ae 
while i' the spence, ane i the awmrie, and then to the 
door wi' a soap-suds. Then the Foumart, he sits knit- 
ting his stocking, and quarrelling wT the haill 6' ihem. 
ThafeJnt a haed he minds hut sheer ill nature. If there 
be a good body i' the house, the auld Tod is the ane. 
He is a geyan honest, downright carle, the Tod." 

^ It is hardly the nature o' a tod to be saie ; and there's 
no ae bit o' your description that I gang in wiM It is 
a fine, douse family. 

< Bat O the Snaw-ffeck! 
Hie Innmy bonny Snaw-fleck ! 
She is the bird for me, O !* " 

<< If lore wad make you a poeter, Wat, I wad say 
it had wrought miracles. Ony mair about the bonny 
Snaw-fleck, ^ ? I wonder how you oan make glow- 


mmuSaf m a cnU w iiWw — ^No die 
TeD mt jiam^ dU ye ever get » 


^ Bf^r kmr np l—I OB Invilj «y tfaft I did ; fM) 
i Ihp Wm 'hdw foBBB «flie ■■ I mbit yiovu** 
' And CI * '< i m w d inr ^— r ■■■§ a' lie toaat?" 
Ni»«rliiid»ikft,»ti«. I kid iJtt plewm 
iMc> to^, iiiwt, ^d hmiy, bogy 
Iht ■ wl iii r fi vaik. I mw her nafle at li^ 
IvfidHr « cs«ldm wariB. ad I «■" tie aftprorii^ ^an- 
n» liMB fiw d» tvm adld Mk a «■. \IVbW&- 
TdNT Mii^ iinhMPW^ ake Mk W BUe, aod i^ 
)iiiPf^ di^nfthr in Ikt ee tW ««pi8 o* iKdy wiit, as the 
«^ wn TMid i^HB : ad lierieKe ia aiagi^ the psalm 
inHi » mDiv iMd as fwoA ai tke iate playi]^ aiar off. 
Ye nvr W£pve mw Jacis n^a I sftw Wr lift iq> her 
>iw«Or iu>f ia ««rM« ^e^«lM% I «wid aa the outside o* 
^ a ladim > aoMl ant £lae a hunu It was andr than 
nT)HancwMiMe;aBdcn]iiraiwfodiaBie,I wad 
amr t^mr aula •» 09*T ^ ^vb^ heavenly TisioD.*" 
<*« Ai^ Fai a Oavoa ■Ha^ Wa^ I heBeve lore kas 
aMidfajiMavraf yMa. Ye wawa hefiere nney man, that 
>i^f«T wmasar » aiiiai Wi |«n. Da joa thiak she did- 
Ml liMi Am tHp i«w lHr« and was anddar a* thae fine 
aMmpiaMt aa i fcuwi ^awwar ia i^mt em, and gar yon 
tNiarjiWwasanaMel? I MMMied otherwise ; but it 
is Vm I^ trH % fkia aaft> lise fiiends, ye ken. Weel, 


down I goes to Lowrie's Lodge, and, like yoi^ kedu 
in at the window ; and the first thing I saw was the 
auld Tod toving out tohaeco-reek like a moorhvni. 
The haill biggin was sae ehokefn' o* the Tapoory it was 
like a dark mist, and I could see naething through it 
but his ain braid bonnet moying up and down like the 
tap o' the smith's bellows, at erery poogh he gave. At 
length he bandit by the pipe to the anld wife, and the 
reek soon turned mair moderate. I could thou see the 
lasses a' dressed out like dolls, and several young boo- 
bies o' hinds, threshers, and thrum-cutters, sitting gash- 
ing and glowring among thenu — I shall sooa set your 
backs to the wa*, thinks I, if I could get ony possible 
means o* introduction.^ — ^It wasna lang till ane offered ; 
out comes a lass ¥d' a cog o' warm water, and she gars 
it a* clash on me. ' Thanks t ye for your kindness, my 
woman,' says L < Ye canna say I hae gi'en ye a cauld 
reception,' says she. < But wha are ye, standing like a 
thief i' the mirk ?' — < Maybe kenn'd folk, gin it war day- 
light,' quo' I. < Ye had better come in by, and see gin 
candle-light winna beet the mister,' says she. < Thanks 
t'ye,' says I ; < but I wad rather hae you to come out 
byy and try gin stem-light winna do I' — < Catch me do- 
ing that,* cried she, and bounced into the house again. 
<< I then laid my lug close to the window, and heard 
ane asking wha that was she was speaking to ? < I din- 
na ken him/ quo' she ; < but X trow I hae gi'en him a 

16 tHE shepherd's CALENDAl^ 

mark to ken him by ; I faae gi*en him & balsam o* boil- 
ing water.* 

**^l wish ye may hae peeled a* the hide aff his sliiitty* 
quo* the Foumart, and he mndged and lengh ; ' haste ye, 
dame, rin awa out and lay a plaster o' lime and linseed- 
oil to the lad's trams,' continued he. 

" < I can tell ye wha it is,' said ane o' the hamlel 
wooers ; ' it will be Jock the Jewel comed down firae llie 
moors ; for I saw him waiting about the chop and the 
amiddy till the divkness came on. If ye hae disabled 
him, lady Seabird, the wind will blaw nae mair out o' 
the west.* 

^ I durstna trust them wi' my character and me in 
hearing ; sae, without mair ado, I gangs bauldly ben. — 
* Gude e'en to ye, kimmers a' in a ring,' says I. 

« * Gude-e'en t'ye, honest lad,* quo* the Ei^le. 
' How does your cauld constitution and our potatoe- 
broo sort?' 

« < Thanks t'ye, bonny lass,' says L < I hae gotten 
a right sair skelloch ; but I wish I wama woundit nae 
deeper somewhere else than i' the shinbanes ; I might 
shoot a flying erne for a' that's come and gane yet.* 

" < That's weel answered, lad,* quo' the Tod. * Keep 
her down, for she's unco glib o' the gab,— especially to 

" * You will neyer touch a feather o' her wing, lad,* 
quo' she. * But if ye eould 1 11 say nae mair.' 

Wnn>ow Wat's COURTSHIP. 17 

** < Na, na, Mistress Eagle, ye soar o'er high for me,' 
says L < I'll bring down nae sky-cleaying harpies to 
pick the een out o' my sheep, and my ain into the bar- 
gam, nuiybe* I see a bit bonny norland bird in the nook 
here, that I would rather woo to my little hamely nest. 
The Eagle maon to her eyry ; or, as the auld ballant 


* Gaap and Aped to her yermit riven, 
Aibid the misto and the rains of heaven«* 

It is the innocent, thrifty little Snaw-fleck that will suit 
m^ wi' the white wings and the blue body. She'« 
pleased wi' the hardest and hameliest fare ; a picking o' 
the seeds o' the pipe-bent is a feast to her.' ** 

^ Now, by the ffiddi o' my body. Jewel, that wasna 
fair. Was that preparing the way for your friend's svc- 

Naething but sheer banter, man ; Hke friends, ye 
ken. But ye sail hear. * The Snaw-fleck's a braw 
l>east,' said I, < but the Elsie's a waster and a destroyer.' 

^ < She's true to her mate, though/ said the dame; 
* but the tither is a bird o' passage, and mate to the haill 

*< I was a wee startled at this observe, when I thought 
of the number of wooers that were rinning after the bou* 
ny Snaw-fleck. However, I didna like to yield to the 
haughty Eagle ; and I added, that I wad take my chance 
Q* the wee Snaw-lnrd, fpr though ^ war ane of a floek„ 



that flock was on honeet ane. Hub pleased them a ; 
and the auld alee Tod, he spake np ead nid, he hadna 
the pleasure o' being acquaint wi' me, but he hoped he 
shouldna hae it in his power to say sae agaku Only 
there was ae thing he beggit to renind me o', before I 
went any farther, and that was, that the law of Padta- 
aram was established in his family, and he could by no 
means gi^e a younger daughter in marriage before one 
that was elder. 

<< < I think you wUl maybe keep them for a gay 
while, then,' said the Foumart* * But if the Se^-goll 
wad stay at hame, I catena if the rest were at Bampb. 
She's the only usefii' body I see about the house.' - 
^ < Haud the tongue o' thee, thou illfa'red, <sal^wit- 
ted serf," said the auld wife. < Tm sure <«iy o' ihem*» 
worth a faggald o' thee I And that lad, gin I dinna iotBr 
fmst aglee, wlid do credit to ony kin** 

<< < He*8 radier (»wer weel giftit o* the gab^' quot th^ 
menseless thing. This remark threw a damp onjUy 
apirits a' the jiight aft^,* and I rather lost grousd ^htsu 
gained ony mair. The ill-hued weaseUblawft thiiig'€ff 
a brother, never missed an opportunity of ^ein]^,i|ie % 
yerk wi' his iU-scrapit tongue, and the Eagle was aye 
gieing hints about the virtues o' potatoe-broo. llie 
auld Tod chewed tobacco and threw his mouth, lookil 
whiles at ane and whiles at another, and seemed to &h 
joy the jok« us ^l^ckJe «s ony p* them, As for A© 

WINDOW wax's COURTSmPt 19 

bonny Snaw-bird, she never leugh aboon her breath, bnt 
«atasmimaiidasBleekaaaraoadie. There were some 
i^ry pretty smilee and dimples gaun, but nae gaffawing. 
She is really a fine kss." 

^ There it goes now I I tauld you how it would be t 
I «d you, Jewel, the deil a bit o' this is (air play*'' 

<< Ane may tell what he thinks — like a friend, ye 
ken. We^--40 make a lang tale short — I couldna 
help seeing a' the forenight that she had an ee to roe* 
I eouldna h^ tiatf ye ken* Gat mony a sweet blink 
and smile thrawn o'er the fire to me— <ouldna Jielp tha^ 
rnAer^ ye k^ir— never lost that a friend gets. At 
lengtk a' the douce wooers drew off ane by ane-Hsiaw 
it was needless to dispute the point wi' me that night. 
Ane had to gang hame to supper his horses, another to 
fodder tbe kye^ and anoUier had to be hame afore his 
master took the book, else he had to gang supperless 
to bed* 1 sat still — ^needless to lose a good boon for 
lade o' addng. The potatoes wwe poured and chamr 
pilH-r»aobody bade me bide to supper; but I sat still; 
and tiie SMld wife she slippit away to the awnirie, and 
broi^l^ fi knoll o' butter like ane's nieve, and slippit 
ihat into the potatoe«pot hidUng ways, but the fine fla- 
Ymr that filled the bouse soon outed tb^ secret. I drew 
in m^y seat wi' the rest, resolved to hae my share.^ I 
aaw that. J bad a hearty welcome frae them a' but the 
Foumart, and I loot him gim as muckle as he Uket. 


so THB shepherd's CALENDAB. 

Weely I saw it was turning late, and there was aneees^ 
sity for proceeding to business, else the prayere wad be 
4m» Sae I draws to my plaid and stafl^ and I looks 
round to the lasses ; but in the BMantime I dropi dhalf 
a wii^ to the Snaw-^edc, and I says^ ^ Weel, wba o* 
you bonny lasses sets -me the length o' the.towahead 
yett the night ?* 

^ < The f^t a aae o' them/ quo' the Foumart wi' a 

<< < The townhead yett the night, honest lad ?' qno' 
ike wife. < Be my certe> lliou's no gaun nae siccan a 
geat. Dis thou think thou can gang to the muirs the 
night ? Nay, nay, thou shalt take share of a bed wi* 
our son till it be day, for the night's dark and the i?oadf s 

^< < He needna stay uidess he likes,' quo' the Foumart 

<^ < Hand thy tongue,' said the wife. So I sat down 
agam, and we grew a' imco silent. At length the Ea^ 
rose and flew to the door. It wadna do — ^I wadna fol- 
low ; sat aye still, and threw another straight wiBk to 
ishe bonny Snaw^fleck, but ^ shy shirling sat snug ia 
her comer, and wadna move. At length the Eagle 
"comea gliding in, and in a moment, or erer I kemi'd 
what I was doing, daps down a wee table at my Isit 
hand, and llie big Bible and psalm>book on't. I never 
get sic a stound, and really thought I wad sink down 


through the floor ; and when I saw the keaes shading 
their faces wi' their hands, I grew waor. 

<< c What ails thee, honest lad, that thou looks sae 
hangh?*^ said the anld wife. < Sure thou's no asheamed 
to prdase thy Meaker? f<H: anthou be» I shall be ashea* 
med o' ihee. It is an auld family- eustom we hae, aye 
to gie a stranger the honour o' being our leader in thi$ 
duty ; and gin he refuse that, we dinna countenance 
him nea mair.' 

^ That was a yerliar I I now fand I was fairly in the 
mire* F(»r:the ssnl o' me I durstna take the book ; for 
though I had a good deal o' good wcnrds by heart, I did- 
na ken how I might gar them compluther. And as | 
took this to be a sort o' test to try a wooers abilities, 
I could easily see that my hough was fairly i the sheep- 
craok, and that what wi' stidung ihe psalm, bungling 
the prayer, potatoe-broo and a^th^ther^ I was like to 
come badly off. Sae I says, *. Gudewife> I'm obliged 
t'fie ior the honom: ye hae offered me ; andsae £ur frae 
beiti^ ashamed o' my Maker's seryioe, I rej/oice in it; 
hull hae mony reasons for declining the honoar. . In 
iha^firet place, war I to take the task out o' the gude* 
vunVhand, it wad be like the youngest scholar o' the 
sehori piietending to teach his master ; and were I to 
stay hare a' night, it wad be principally for the purpose 
of hearing family worship frae his ain lips. But the 
truth is, and that's my great reason^ I can not stay a' 


when twa folk think the saam gate, it ium a good ngn. 
< I*m in love wi* you, and am determined to hae yon,' 
iays I. 

<< < I winna hear a single word frae ane that's betcay- 
ing his friend/ said she ; — *• not one word, after yoor 
avowal to my father. If he hae ony private word, say 
it — and if no, good night.' 

<< Did she say that, the dear creatore ? Heaven bless 
her bonny face I" 

. << < I did promise to a particular friend o' mine to 
speak a kind word for him,' said I. < He is unco blate 
and modest, but there's no a better lad ; and I never 
saw ane as deeply and as distractedly in love ; for 
though I feel I do love, it is with reason and mod»»- 

tion.' " 

<< There agun I" cried Wat, who had begun to hold 
out his hand — ^< There again ! Do you ca' that acting 
like a faithfu' friend ?" 

<< < Not a word of yourself,' said she. > Who is this 
friend of yours I And has he any more to say by you ? 
Not one word more of yourself — at least not to-night.'*' 

" At least not to-night I" repeated Wat, again and 
again — << Did she say that ? I dinna like the addition 

<< That was what she said ; and naething could be 
plainer than that she was inyiting me back ; but as I 
was tied down, I wjbus obliged to say something about. 

WINDOW wat's courtship.' 25 

yxm» * Ye ken Window Wat ?* says I. * He is o er 
sight and judgment in love wi' you, and he comes 
here ance or twice every week, just for the pleasure o' 
seeing you through the window. He's a gay queer 
compost — for thou^ he is a' soid, yet he wants spirit.'" 

^' Did ye ca' me a compost ? That was rather a queer 
term, hogging your pardon," ohserved Wat* 

*^*1 hae seen the lad sometimes,' says she. ^ If he 
came here to see me, he certainly need not he sae 
mnckle ashamed of his errand as not to show his face. 
I think him a main saft ane.' 

<< < Ye're quite i' the wrang, lass,' says L ' Wat's a 
great dab. He's an arithmeticker, a 'stronomer, a his* 
torian, and a grand poeter, and has made braw sangs 
about yotM*8ell. What think ye o' being made a wife 
to sic a hero as him ? Od help ye, it will raise ye as 
high as the moon.'" 

" 111 tell ye what it is, Jock the Jewel — ^the niesi 
time ye gang to court, court for yoursell ; for a' that 
ye hae said about me is downright mockery, and it 
strikes me that you are baith a selfish knare and a 
gonameril. Sae good e'en t'ye for the present. I owe 
you a good turn for yom: kind offices down by. I'll 
speak for mysell in future, and do ye the same— *2i^ 
friends, ye hen — ^that's a' I say." 

<< If I speak for mysell, I ken wha will hae but a 
poor chance," cried Jock after him. 



The next time our two shepherds mety it was in the 
identical smithy adjoining to Lowrie's Lodge, loid that 
at six o'clock on a December eTening* The smith 
looked exceedingly wise, and when he heard the two 
swains begin to cut and sneer at one. another, it was. 
delicate food for Vulcan. . He puffed and blew at the 
bellows, and thumped at the stithy, and always be- 
tween put in a disjointed word or two« — << Mae hnnters ! 
mae hunters for the Tod's bairns— hem, pboogh, 
pho<^h— will be worried. now! — phoogh"— thump, 
thump — " will be run down now — hem I" 

*^ Are ye gaun far this way the night, Jewel, an ane 
may spier ?" 

'^ Far enough for you, Wat, I'm thinking. . How 
has the praying been coming on this while bygane ?" 

^< What d'ye mean, Mr Jewel ? If ye will speak, 
let it no be in riddles. Rather speak noQSQUfiye, as ye 
used to do." 

/^I $im speaking in nae riddles, lad. I wat weel a' 


the country-side kens that ye hae been gaun learoiiig 
prayers aff Hervey's Meditations, and ci^ooning them, 
o'er, to youi-seU in every clench o' the glen, a' to tame 
*. youi^ she-fox wiV 

; '< And that ye hae been lying under the hanjls q' the 
moor doctor a month, and submitting loan op^ra^igi^ 
frai^. the effects o' somebody's potatoe-broo—- isna^ that 
as weel kent p" 

IflMDOW wat's coi;rt8HIF.>^ 27 

«Tm% lads, tartr med the smitb—" that's the 
right way o* ganging to wark— phoogh I" — clink, clink 
—"pepper away I"— clink, dink — ^"soon be baith as 
het as nailstrings— -phoogh I" 

The mention of the potatoe-hroo somewhat abated 
Jock's sarcastic humour, for he had suffered some in* 
conyemence fixnn the effects of it, and ^e cirGumstance 
had turned the laugh against him among his companions. 
Ere long he glided from the smithy, and after thai 
Wat sat in the fidgets for fear his rival had effected a 
previous engagemoot with the Snaw-fleck. The smith, 
perceiving it, seized him in good-humour, and turned 
him out at the door. " Nae time to stay now, lad — 
nae time to wait here now. The himt will be up, and 
the young Tod holed, if ye dinna make a' the better 
speed." Then, as Wat vanished down the way, the 
sAiitk imitated the sound of the fo^-hounds and the 
cries of the huntsmen. " Will be run down now, thae 
young Tods — heavy metal laid on now — ^we*ll have a 
walding heat some night, an the tmek keep warm," 
said the ^mith, as he fell to the big bellows with both 

When Wat arrived at Lowrie's Lodge, he first came 
in contaet with one wooer, and th^i another, hanging ^ 
about the comers of the house ; but finding that none 
of lliem was his neighbour and avowed rival, he hasted 
to hia old' qtdet station at the back, window, not the 


windoTf where the Jewel stood when he met with fatf 
mischance, hut one right opposite to iu There he saW 
the three honniest hirds of the air sun-ounded with ad- 
mirers, and the Jewel sitting che^ hy cheek with the 
loFeiy Snaw-bird. The anhidden tears sprang to Wat's 
eyes, but it was not from jeak>iiBy, but from the most 
tmider affection^ as well as intense admiration, that they 
had their source. The other wooers that were linger- 
ing without, joined him at the window ; and Wat feel' 
ing this an incumbrance, and eager to mar hb rival'a 
success, actually plucked up courage, and strode ia 
amongst them alL 

<' How came the twa moorland duels on at the court* 
ing the other night ?" 

^' It s hai^ to say ; there are rarious accounts about 
the mattw. ' 

<< What does the smith say ? — for, though his ses^ 
tences are hut short, he says them loud enough, and 
often enough <ower» and folks reckon there's aye some 
truth in the foundation/' 

.'< X can tell ye what he says, for I heard him on the 
subject oftenarthan since, and hiB information was pris- 
cisely as Jbllows :i^^The Tod's bairns maun gang now, 
lads— I'lii ^ying)' the Tod s bairns maun gang nowv^ 
eh, ^ffenye^-^'fairly run down. Half-a-dczen tyk^^ 

#mDow wat's couRTsmiP. 29 

ewer sair for ae young Tod— eh ? Fairly holed the 
young ane, it seems- — ^Fm saying, the young ane's holed. 
Nought but a pick and shool wantit to howk her. 
Jewel has gi*en mouth there — I^m saying, auld Jewel 
has gi en mouth there. Poor Wat has been obliged to 
turn to the auld ane — ^he's on the full track o' her — I'm 
paying, he's after her, full trot. But some thinks shell 
turn her tail to a craig, and wear him up. It was Wat 
that got the honour o' the beuk, though — I'm saying, 
it was him that took the beuk — ^wan gloriously through, 
too. The saxteenth o' the Romans, without a hamp, 
hinny. Was that true, think ye ? — ^I'm saying, think 
ye that was true ? Cam to the holy kiss ; a' the wooers' 
teeth watered — eh ? — Think ye that was true, hinny? 
Tlie Jewel was amaist corned to grips at that verse 
about the kiss-— eh ? — I'm saying, the Jewel closed wi' 
the beauty there, I'm saying — ^Ha I ha ! — ^I tdink that 
wadna be true.'— This is the length the smith's infor- 
mAtion gangs." 

<< I'm sure, gin the Snaw-fleck take the Jewel, in 
preference to Wat, it will show a strange perversion 
of taste." 

<' O, there's naebody can answer for the fancies of a 
woman. But they're a geyan auld-farrant set the Tods, 
and winna be easily outwitted. Did ye no hear ought 
4>f a moonlight-match that was to be there ?" 

^ Not a word ; and if I had, I wadna hae believed it." 

80 THE shepherd's CAhESUASU 

" The Jewel has been whispering something to thai 
effect ; he's sae uplifted, he eanna hand his tongue; and 
I dinna wonder at it. But, for a' the offers the bonny 
lass had, that she should fix on him, is a miracle* Time 
tries a' ; and Jock may be cheated yet." 

Yes, time is the great trier of human events. Let 
any man review his correspondences for ten years back, 
and he will then see how widely different his own pro* 
spects of the future have been from the lessons taught 
him by that hoary monitor Time. But, for the present, 
matters turned out as the fortunate wooer had in- 
sinuated ; for, in a short monlii after this confabulation 
had taken place, the auld Tod's helpmate arose early 
oue morning, and began a-bustlmg about the house in 
her usual busy way, and always now and then kept 
giving hints to her bonny lasses to rise and begin to their 
daily tasks. — << Come, stir ye, stir ye, my bonny bairns. 
When thei stems o' heaven hae gane to their beds, it is 
time the flowers o' the yird war rising — Come, come ! 
—No stirring yet? — Busk ye, busk ye, like thrifty 
bairns, and dinna let the lads say that ye are sleepie 
dowdies, that lie in your beds till the sun bums holes 
in your coverlets. Fie, ^e I — There has been a reek 
i' Jean Lowrie's lum this half-hour. The moor-cock 
has crawed, liie mawkin cowered, and the whaup yam* 
mered abime the flower. Streek your young limbs^— 
open your young eeur^a foot on the cauld. floor, and 

^tNDOW Wat's courtship, 31 

sleep will soon be aboon the chids. — Up, np, my win- 
some bairns !" 

The white Lady-Seabird was soon afoot, for she slept 
'by herself; but the old dame still kept speaking away 
to^e other two, at one time gibing, at another coax- 
ing ^m to rise, but still there was no answer. ^ Peace 
Hbe faenre, Helen, but this is an unco sleep-sleeping I" 
said she«— <<"What has been asteer owemight ? I wish 
•your twa titties haena been out wi' the men ?" 

** Ay, I wish they binna out wi* them still ; for I 
'heard them steal out yestreen, but I never heard them 
steal in again." 

The old wife ran to the bed, and in a moment was 
•heiard exclaiming, — " The sorrow be i* my een gin erer 
I saw the like o' that I I declare the bed's as cauld as 
a curling-stanel — Ay, the nest's cauld, and the birds are 
flown. Oh, wae be to the day ! wae be to the day ! 
Gudeman, gudeman, get up and raise the parishen, for 
our bairns are baith stown away I" 

" Stown away I" cried the father — " What does the 
-woman mean?" 

" Ay, let them gang," cried the son ; " they're weel 
away, gin they bide." 

" Tewhoo ! hoo-hoo !" cried the daughter, weeping, 

— " That comes o' your laws o* Padanaram I What 

had ye ado with auld Laban's rules ? Ye might hae 

letten us gang aff as we could win.^— There, I am left 

32 THE shepherd's CAUaOkAB. 

, , . • • . 

to spin tow, wfaa might hae been married the fips^ Jisd 
it no been for your daft laws o' Padanaranu" , 

The girl cried, the son hni§^ed» the old H^aman 
rayed and danced through very despair, but tbegnds- 
man took the matter quite calmly, as if detwmiiied to 
wait the issue with resignation for better or .wof|se», 

<< Hand your tongues, ilk an^ o' ye,'\sai4 he— 
« What's a' the fy-gae-to about ? I haifi that^n^uckle 
to trust to my lasses, that I can lippen them pa ,ipreel 
out o' my sight as in my sight, and as weel wi*. young 
men as wi' auld women. Bairns that are brovight. op 
in the fear, nurture, and admonition o' their JMLaker, 
will aye swee to the right side, and sae will nune. ^ Gin 
they thought they had a right to choose for themselves, 
they war right in exercising that right; and I'n^ Uttlia 
feared that their choices be bad anes, or yet that they 
be contrary to my wishes, Sae I rede you to hayd i^' 
your tongues, and tak nae mair notice o' ought t]bi^t h^ 
happened, than if it hadna been. We're a' in^gud^ 
hands to guide us ; and though we whiles pu the reins 
out o* His hand to tak a gallop our ain gate, yet He 
winna leare us lang to our idn direction," 

With these sagacious words, the auld sly Tod set- 
tled the clamour and outcry in his family that .morn- 
ing ; and the country has never doubted to this day, 
that he plowed with his own heifers. 

On the evening previous to this colloquy, the.&mi- 

fmmow ttaVs ooirRTsam SS 

ly of th^ Tods went to resi at an early how. There 
had been no wooers admitted that night ; and no soon- 
er had the two old people began to breathe deep, than 
the eldest and youngest girls, who slept in an apart- 
ment by themselves, and had erery thing in readiness, 
eloped from their father's cot, the Eagle with a light* 
some heart and willing mind, but the younger with 
many fears and mis^yings. For thus the matter stood : 
-^Wat s^hed and pined in love for the Snaw-fleck, 
but he was yotmg and modest, and could not tell his 
mind ; but he was such a youth as a maiden would 
lore,-'— 4iandsome, respectable, and yirtuous; and a 
match with him was so likely, that no one ever sup-> 
posed the girl would make objections to it. Jock, on 
the other hand, was neaiiy twice her age, talkative, 
forward, and self-conceited ; and, it was thought, ra- 
ther wanted to win the girl for a brag, than for any 
great love he bore her. But Jock was rich ; and when 
OQ^ has told that, he has told enough. In short, the 
admired, the young,' the modest, and reserved Snaw* 
fleck, in order to get quit of h^ father's laws of Pa> 
danaram, agreed to make a run-away marriage with 
Jock the JeweL But what was far more extraordi- 
nary, her youthful lover agreed to accompany her as 
bridesman, and, on that account, it may possibly be 
supposed, her eldest sister never objected to acconr- 
pany her as maid. 

B 2 

34 TfiB MBMnaaClStt CAtJBlllMUk 

The sheplierds had each of them prorkled Irinrndf 
with a good hone, saddle, and pillkm ; and, as ^le cus- 
tom is, the intended hiide was committed to the care 
of the best-man, and the Eagle was movnted Mmid 
her brother-in-law that was to be. It was agreed, be- 
fore mounting, that in case of their being parted in the 
dark by a pnrsnit, or any other accident, their place of 
rendezYons was to be at the Golden Harrow, in the 
Candlemaker-Row, towards which they were to make 
with all speed. 

They had a wild moorland path to trarerse for some 
space, on which there were a midtiplicity of tracks, but 
no definitive road. The night was dark and chill, and, 
on snch ground, the bride was obliged to ride con- 
stantly with her right hand round Wat's waist, and 
Wat was obliged to press that hand to his bosom, for 
fear of its being cold ; and in the excess of his polite- 
ness he magnified the intemperance of the night at least 
seven-fold. When pressing that fair hand to his bo- 
som, Wat sometimes thought to himself, what a hard 
matter it was that it should so soon be ^ven away td 
another ; and then he wiped a tear from^fais eye, and did 
not speak again for a good while. Now the night, as 
was said, being very dark, and the bride having made 
a pleasant remark, Wat spontaneously lifted that dear 
hand from his bosom, in order to attempt passing it to 
his lips, but (as he told me himselQ without Ae small- 

#M>6W WAt'S C0UET8HIP. 35 

est hope of heiag permitted. But behold, the gentle 
rayishment was never resisted I On the contrary, as 
Wat replaced the insulted hand in his bosom, he felt 
the pressure of his hand gently returned. 

Wat was confounded, electrified! and felt as the 
scalp of his head had been contracting to a point. He 
felt, in one moment, as if there had been a new exist- 
ence sprung up within him, a new motive for life, and ' 
for every great and good action ; and, without any ex- 
press aun, he fek a disposition to push onward. His 
horse soon began to partake of his rider's buoyancy of 
spirits, (which a horse always does,) so he cocked up 
his ears, mtoded his pace, and, in a short time, was far 
a-head of the heavy, stagnant-blooded beast on which 
the Jewel bridegroom and his buxom Ea^e rode. She 
had her right arm round his waist too, of course ; but 
her hand lacked the exhilarating qualities of her lovely 
KSter's ; and yet one would have thought that thef 
Eagle's looks were superior to those of most young 
girls- outgone thirty. 

<* I wish thae young fools wad take time and ride at 
leisure ; we'll lose them on this black moor a'thegither, 
and then it is a question how we may foregather again," 
said the bridegroom ; at the same time making his hazel 
sapling pky yerk on the hind-quarters of his nag. *^ Gin 
the gowk letaught happ^ to that bit'lftssie o' mine tta^ 
der cloud o' night, it wad be a' ower%i'*tae-^I'cbu1tf 


never get aboon thau There are Bome thiiq;s, ye ken^ 
Mn Eagle, for a' your sneeniig, diat a man can never 
get aboon,'* 

<< No very mony o' them, gin a clneld hae ony spirit,*' 
returned the Eagle. ^ Take ye time, and take a little 
care o* your ain neck and mine. Let them gai^ thor 
gates. Clin Wat binna tired o' her, and glad to get qnat 
o* her, or they win to the Ports o' Edinburgh, I hae tint 
my computation." 

<< Na, if he takes care o* Aer, that*s a* my dread/' re- 
joined he, and at the same time kidded viciously with 
both heels, and applied the sapling with great vigour. 
But <^ the mair haste the waur speed** b a true proverb ; 
for the horse, instead of mending his pace, slackened it, 
and absolutely grew so frightened for the gutters on the 
moor, that he would hardly be persuaded to take one 
of them, even though the sapling sounded loud and 
thick on his far loin. He tried this ford, and the other 
ford, and smelled and smelled with long-drawn breadi* 
ings. << Ay, ye may snuff!*' cried Jock, losing all pa* 
tience ; << the deil that ye had ever been foaled l<— 'Hil- 
loa ! Wat Scott, where are ye ?** 

<< Hush, hush, for gudesake,'* cried the Eagle ; << yell 
raise the country, and put a* out thegither.*' 

They listened for Wat*s answer, and at length heard 
a &r-away whistle. The Jewel grew like a man half 
distracted, and in spite of the Eagle's remonstrances^ 

mxm^w WAT*6 couBxaiiiF. 37 

tbrafihed oa bis horsey curaed himi and bellowed out 
still the more; for he suspected what was the cas^ 
that, owing to the turnings and windings of his horse 
among the. hggg^, he had lost his aim altogether, and 
knew not which way he went. Heavens 1 what a sten« 
tooan voice be seat through the moor before him I but 
he was only answered by the distant whistle, that still 
went. farther and farther away* 

When the bride heard these loud cries of desperation 

so far.behind, and in a wrong direction, she was mightily 

tickled, and laughed so much that she could hardly ke^ 

her seat on the horse ; at the same time, she ccmtinued 

urging Wat to ^e, and be, seeing her so much amused 

and delighted at the embarrassment of her betrothed 

and sister, humoured her with equal good-will, rode off, 

and soon lost all hearing of the unfortunate bridegroom. 

They came to the high-road at Middleton^ cantered <m» 

and reached E^burgh by break of day, laughing idl 

the way at their unfortunate companions* Instead^ 

however, of putting up at the Golden Harrow, in order 

to render the bridegroom's embarrassmeirt etill more 

complete, at the bride's suggestion, they went to a dif^ 

ferent corn^ of the dty, namely, to the WUte Horse, 

Canongate. There the two spent the mondng^ Wat4W 

much embarrassed as any man could be, but his lotely 

companion quite delighted at the thoughts of whai Jock 

and her sister would da* Wat could not understand her 


for his life, and he coBceiTed tint file did not undentiiid 
benelf ; but perbape Wat Scott was mistaken. They 
breakfasted together ; but for all their long and &ti- 
gning jooraey) neither of them seemed disposed to eat 
At length Wat rentored to iay, <« Well be obliged to 
gang to the Harrow, and see what's become o' oar 


^ O no, no I by no means P cried die ferrentiy ; ^I 
would not, for all the worid, relieye them from such a 
delightful scrape. What the two «il^ diti is beyond my 

^U ye want just to bamboosle them a'thegither, ^ 
best way to do that is for yon and me to marry," said 
Wat, << and leave them twa to shift for themselyes." 

<< O that wad be so grand I" said she. 

Though this was the thiag nearest to honest Wat's 
heart of all things in the worid, he only made the pro- 
posal by way of joke, and as such he supposed himself 
answered. Nerertheless, the answer made the hairs 
of his head creep once more. " My truly, but that wad 
gar our firiend Jock loup twa gates at ance 1" rgoined 

^ It wad be the grandest trick -that ever was played 
upon man," said she. 

<< It wad mak an awfu' sound in the country," said 


^^It wad gang through the twa shires like a hand- 
bdl/' said she. 

<< Od» I really think it is worth onr while to try%" 
said he. 

<' O by a' manner p' means T' cried she, clasping her 
hands together for joy. 

Wal 8 Inreath cut shorty and his visage began to alter. 
He was likely to acquire the hlesmng of a wife rather 
more suddenly than he anticipated^ and he began to 
wish that the giii migfat be in her perfect senses. " My 
dear M — " said he, << are you serious ? would you 
really consent to marry me ?'* 

<< Would I consent to marry you I" reitenited she. 
« That is siccan a question to speer I" 

« It %8 a question," said Wat, "and I think a very 
natural ane. 

<< Ay, it is a question, to be sure," said she ; " but it 
is ane that ye ken ye needna hae put to me to answer, 
at least till ye had tanld me wheth^ ye wad marry me 

or no." 

^ Yes, faith, I will — there's my hand on it," eagerly 
exclaimed Wat. " Now, what say ye ?" 

^ No," said she ; — ^^ that is, I mean— -yes." 

" I wonder ye war sae lang o' thinking about that," 
said Wat. <^ Ye ought surely to hae tauld me sooner." 

<* Sae I wad, if ever ye had speered the question 
said she. . . 



"^ Wbtt a stupid idiot I WW r ezdaiMd Watr ttd 
npped on the floor with his stick for the 1— dhwrd. 
<< An it be your will, sir, we want a minister,'^ says 

*' There's one in the house, sir/' said the koidlord, 
diucklingwithjoy at the prospect efsofliefiBii* ^Kesp 
a daily chi^lain here— Tlnrlstaiie's motto, * Aye ready.' 
Coold ye no contriye to do without him ?" 

<^ Na, na, sir, we're folk frae the country," said Wal$ 
<< we hae corned fax and foul gate for a preefat h«t bo* 
nest hand-fasting," 

<< Quite right, quite right," said my landlord* ^ Nerer 
saw a more comely country couple* Your hasiiiess is 
done for you at once ;" at the same time he tapped on 
the hollow of his hand, as much as to say, some re- 
ward must be forthcoming. In a few minutes he r»* 
turned, and setting the one cheek in at the side of llie 
door, said, with great rapidity, << Could not contrive to 
do without the minister, then ? Better ?•— no getting 
off again. Better ?«*what ? — Can't do without him ?" 

<< no, sir," said Wat, who was beginning a long 
explanatory speech, but my landlord cut him short, by 
introducing a right reverend diTine, more than half«* 
seas over. He was a neat, well-powdered, cheerful 
little old gentl^naa, but one who never ai^ed any far* 
ther wanant Ux the marrying of a couple, than the full 
consent of parties. About this he was very particulari 

andrSdTiiMed'lihflmy in strong set phrase^ tabewtre of 
enkinng'raaUy inta that state ordained for the ha|ip»- 
nem-of mankind,. Wat thought he was ad\wig him 
against the match, bnt told him he was very particulaiv 
lymiMbtd^ Parties soon eame to a right understand- 
ing, the match was made, the mixiister had his fee, and 
aft^ficwprds he and the landlord invited themselves to 
the honour, and very particular pleasure, of dinii^ with 
thft young couple at two. 

What has become of Jock the Jewel and his part- 
ner all this while ? We left them stahled in a mossy 
moisr^,' surrounded with haggs, and bogs, and imres, 
ever]^.4Mie«of which would have taken a horse over the 
badi: ;,a|i least so Jock's g^eat strong plougfarhorse sup* 
posed, for he became so terrified that he absolutely re*- 
fused to tftke one of them* Now, Jock's^ horse hap- 
pened to be wrong, for I know the moor very weU» 
and there is not a bog <m it all, that will hold a iMN^e 
stilL But it was the same thing in eififect to Jock and 
the Eigle-^tbe horse would have gone eastward or 
we^ward akusg and along and along the sides of these 
little darjc stripes, which he mistook for tremendous 
quagmires ; or if Jock would have suff(^ed hint to turn 
his head homeward, he would, as Jock said, have gaW 
loped; Cor joy ; but northwards towards Edinburgh, 
never a^tep would be proceed. Jock, tbiashed hkn at 
one time, stroked his mane at another, at, one tiino 


eoazed, at another cnned him, till, vltiiiiatelyv on tiie 
hone trying to force his head homewaid in apite of 
Jock, the latter, in hi^ wrath, stmck him a hlow on 
the far ear with all his might. This had ihe effect of 
making the animal take the motion of a horizontal 
wheel, or millstone. The weight of the riders fell 
naturally to the outer side of the circle— Jock held hy 
the saddle, and the Eagle held by JodL — ^till down 
came the whole concern with a thump on the moss. 
^< I daresay, that beast s gane mad the night," said Jock; 
and, rising, he made a spring at the bridle, for the horse 
continued still to reel ; bat, in ibe dark, our hero min- 
ed his hold — off went the horsey like an arrow out of a 
bow, and left our hapless couple in the midst of a black 

" What shall we do now ? — shall we turn badf ?*' 
said Jock. 

" Turn back I'* said the Eagle ; <' certainly ^ot, uh» 
less you hae ta'en the rue." 

« I wasna thinking o* that ava," said he ; " but, O, 
it is an unfortunate-like business — I dinna like their 
leaving o' us, nor can I ken what's their meaning." 

" They war fear'd for being catched, owing to the 
noise that you were making," said she. 

^< And wha wad hae been the loser gin we had been 
catched ? I think the loss then wad hae faun on me," 
said Jock. 


<< We'll come better speed wanting the beast," said 
^e ; " I wadna wonder that we are in EUlinburgh afore 
them yet." 

Wearied and splashed with mud, the two arrived at 
the sign of the Harrow, a little after noon, and instantly 
made inquiries for the bride and best-man. A descrip- 
tion of one man answers well enough for another to 
people quite indi£ferent. Such a country gentleman 
as the one described, the landlady said, had called twice 
in the course of the day, and looked into several rooms, 
without leaving his name. They were both sure it was 
Wat, and. rested content. The gentleman came not 
back, so Jock and the Eagle sat and looked atone an- 
other. *•*• They will be looking at the g^^and things o' 
this grand town," said she. 

<< Ay, maybe," said Jock, in manifest discontent. 
<' I couldna say what they may be looking at, or what 
they may be doing. When folks gang ower the march 
to be married, they should gang by themselves twa. 
But some wadna be tauld sae." 

^ I canna comprehend where he has ta'en my sister 
to, or what he's doing wi' her a' this time," said the 

<< I couldna say," said Jock, his chagrin still increa- 
sing, a disposition which his companion took care to 
cherish, by throwing out hints and insinuations that 
Jkepthim constantly in the fidgets; and he seemed to 

44 THE shepherd's calrnbar. 

be repenting heartily of the step he had taken. A late 
hour arrived, and the two, having had a sleepless nig^ 
and a toilsome day, ordered supper, and apartments 
for the night. They had not yet sat down to supper, 
when the landlord requested permission for two gentle- 
men, acquaintances of his, to take a glass together in 
the same room with our two friends, which bdng 
readily granted, who should enter bnt the identical 
landlord and parson who had so opportunely buckled 
the other couple I They had dined with Wat and his 
bride, and the whisky-toddy had elicited the whole 
secret from the happy bridegroom. The old gentle- 
men were highly tickled with the oddity of the adven- 
ture, and particularly with the whimsical situation of 
the pair at the Harrow ; and away they went at length 
on a reconnoitring expedition, having previously settled 
the measures to be pursued. 

My landl(»*d of the White Horse soon introduced 
himself to the good graces of the hapless couple by his 
affability, jokes, quips, and quibbles, and Jock and he 
were soon as intimate as brothers, and the maid and he 
as sweethearts, or old intimate acquaintance. He com- 
mended her as the most beautiful, handsome, courteous, 
■and accomplished country lady he ever had seen in his 
life, and at length asked Jock if the lady was his sister. 
No, she was not Some near relation, perhaps, that he 
bad the charge of.— N<>«^^'< Oh ! Beg pardon — ^per- 

vnKDow Wat's courtship. 45 

ceive very well— *plain — evident— wonder at my blind- 
ness,*' said my landlord of the White Horse — << sweet* 
heart — sweetheart? Hope 'tis to be a match? Not 
take back such a flower to the wilderness nnplucked-— 
unappropriated that is — to blush luseen — waste sweet* 
ness OB the desert air ? What? Hope so ? £h ? More 
sense than that^ I hope ?" 

<< You mistak, sir ; you mistak. My case is a very 
particular ane/' said Jock. 

^* I wish it were mine, though," said he of the White 

<< Fray, sir, are you a married man ?" said the Eagle* 

^ Married ? Oh yes, mim, married, and settled in 
life, with a White Horse," returned he. 

<< A grey mare, you inean," said the Eagle. 

<< Excellent ! superlative V exclaimed my landlord. 
<' Minister, what think you of that ? Vm snubbed — 
cut down— shorn to the quick I Delightful girl I some- 
thing favoured Uke the young country bride we dined 
wiUi to-day. What say you, minister? Prettier, though 
-^Qpidedly prettier. More animation, too. Girls frottt 
the same country-side have always a resemblance." 

*< Sir, did you say you dined with a Inide from our 
countiryoside?" said Jock* .. i < 

^. Did so— ^d so." 

w^^ What was the bridegroom like?" 

^ f* A «<tft-4oles^«-miIk-and-water, ' 



:& Mt juiiiluni xsTv ike prg fa rmce lo the Eagle in 
:p&is»haie«L. Jocks kewt grew mellow, 

:*: bl' 

iwlKii aad wvpt ; and in short, they 

fi9 bifd xhmi nl^cht a samed couple^ to the great 
jtfT of ike Ei^rle *5 hcan ; for it was nerer once donhted 
that the whi>£e scheaMF was a contfiranoe of her own — 
a b<^ itFokje to «et hold of iha mn with the money. 
She knew Wat would manrj her sister at a word or hint, 
and then the Jewel had scarc^ an alternative. He 
took the dksaf pointment and affront so much to heart, 
^hat he removed with his £a^ to America, at the 
Whilsanday following, where their niocess was heyond 
aaatkripatioi^ and where they were hoth living at an ad« 
vanced age about twelve years ago^ without any survi- 
ving £unily. 




Some years af^ a poor man named Thoinas Hen- 
dersoRcame to me^ and presented me with a letter from 
a yalned friend. I allowed soHie little kindness to the 
man; and as an adcRowledgment, he gare me an ac- 
count of himselfy in that plain, ample, and drawling 
style, which removed all doubts c^ its authenticity. His 
story, as awhole, was <me of very de^intersat to him- 
self, no doiiht, hnt of yery Httle to me, as it would be 
to the world Rt large if it wwe repeated ; but as one 
will rarely listen»to even the most common^place in- 
dividual without hearing something to reward the at* 
tention bestowed upon him, po there was one incident 
in this man Henderson's life which excited myeurionty 
very much. I shall give it nearly in his own wocds :— 

I was nine years a servant to the Bad of n i , (said 
he,) and when I left him, he made me a handsome, pre- 
sent ; but it was on condition that I should never w^gosL 

VOL. II. c 

50 THE SUf9ff]^§,fik^^f^J^ 

conainduBahimdrednUai.oflikJiaiH^ TbfB.initb 
i% that I would haTe been there to thi? d/^p J|Md I 
not chanced to come at the kpowledget jgi^ Mq^ie- 
thing lelating to the bmily that I pegbt x^t .to l^oe 
known^ and which I never would have koawivljiid 
I gotten my own will* When the anld JBaili^ed, 
theie waa an nnco confiudan^ and at length tbe. yomig 
Lord came hame frae abroad, and toke the #^ffiTnfgMir 
He hadaa been master about twa fwn whax be imgs 
the bell ae morning, and aeods forme. Iwaamerdy 
a.gHMMi» and no naed to gang iq[» ataira ta my JUwd ; 
bnthe irfien spoke to me in the staUea, ^ I lHi4'lil^ 
charge o' his feyonritea Cleopatra and Vennsy a^i^ J[ 
tboaght he wanted to gie me some directions, .about 
tkem. • Weely up the stair .1 rias, wanting the. ji^chul 
and bonnet, and I opms the door, and I saysy ^^WIM 
18% my Loid ?'*««-«^.' Shat tbe dooi^ and," mjs 
bBk. Uaohl what- in 4be world is ia the^iriad-,mi£vrl 
tfaDdLaL Amlganntobeiiaulesemegcand-sitcaQle^^ 

«< Tom, has the Iiady Juliaordeiad tfie {C^iafli ^ 
dayB'iisaini^het ..-;u . .- n..'^ i.«,/. ,. 

** I belieye she has, my I^srd^ X^tVjW^ J^o^to^.lfnvi 

^ «* Aiidi» alistitt t^iiybMOd i^t e^ 

.^. That wioBtkhfi. htmfH itiU^ Hept(Wi w m>.^r,Wf^ 
But tbere isiiitdefdouh^AM^itr ii to^thfl^ saiaf^ijpi^qG^ 
She.neyer drives to ony other." 


^' Tom, I was long absent from home, but you have 
been in the family all the while, and must know all its 
secrets— What is it supposed my sister Julia has al- 
ways ado with the forester's wife at the shieling of 

^ That has never been kenn'd to ane o' us, my Lord* 
But it is supposed there is some secret business con* 
nected wi' her visits there." 

^< That is a great stretch of suppositkm, indeed, Tom ! 
Of that there can be no doubt. But what do the ser- 
vants suppiose (^secret relates to? (>ridiat4»9Dti 
snppdSi^coiiceniing it? Come, tell me homesEtlyitand 
frerff?'-^-- ■-■..-'. .-.- ■ 

''Ou/itttebody kens that, my Lord; ivr Ladyi Jailiat 
just !%hts Rt a certain point o' ^o road^ asd etdentkt 
coach to be there again at a e^rtaiR how«t<'iiight;' and 
that's B^ that has ever been keaui'd about iilUMBut we 
a' notice that Lady Julia is sair altered. And folks they 
88yUJbura« ta that i am %n<Nrant'-««4i]iey ny, .fe keuy 
that aoSd Eppie Oowan's A ^ti^'^ ' i Hn< 

<< And that it is on some business of 'tncbBiitment 
or divination timt my sister goes to her?*' ■ m-.^'^' • 

<< Na, na, I dinna say that, my Lord ; for a' tkalbl aay 
is just this, that I beMeVe naebody in ttn^worU^ ex-. 
ceptingLady Jufia andauld £ppie» tliemMBs twa, kens 
what their business is tfaegidieri or how^ they^ came to. 
be connected.'' 


krty tm kmem* Do ym-wl wit jwt avw^; *9» ofw 
file Aoaidyf BtMy-V^jJ^ifiArwgbmiiM Fliht, 
^ dM siniglrt iMli; ^ Vm A liiiiA n kiy li i tf ii B ay 
■ iB t wr;copcgdyoqfwJf a uiyc ii lMttCy ai tl i nkiw Maapawt 
of tlM boQi0, in » ^kbt or is s IM( Mte fli llM 
yiii <et Lady Jidi^€agiyd»*>4ifko wiiwii lnnjlij 

^•wliBt they doy asd wliBt4ii8yflif9.HBd.1ini9t»fi4 
trae leport of erery tfamg ; and ywrnr-nrnwAtimll^itB 
mittoMhg to yomr anceenk 'k:i! ,ii;/' 

iWti, tf I tini, iMd#iwrtii»iiakrtih> iMwnMri 
M»«iffkJNMl i4ifoi^ I got ayiflil OBttakidy €v;«dd 
Bp^ WHS TuimiBg oat and in, and in and o«t agan^in 

diqr'^iBruBiiHy tameualie eaat to the 4oar aha^ja^iacJaag 
l«iik4oimi the^f^aa^ md then a' naidiniwwrt lar^ttt if 
feaiad'Ibr Mnf catdied in a faaltk : u v • .- i . : « nn . 
't^had-^y^iiM tme f«i up to iheUtpml ajgroatalait 
tl^il^at«too«t«yeFloaked theiloo» o'Jtha dbWiidgytat 
wltoil i saw the «M twideM loaking nbont»liBrane 
i|iffttlyv^i.fNPfr frighted ; for i thoi^t^ if aba bneonteh^ 
I^^ihall aooii' be vKtocri'wed ; ■ and liun^ dboaldjdhaieJBM 
Oftf MMripa^Mt Aiaydamftiander ma^ 4ir shovld Isne 
flli;^«te<pat.«ia beaidaaiysett^ ^at sl^M iimnOkJg&kt 
I^iMid iWW »haa fi«ft aS'dia ctaes on<jn;f backnta fanv 
b(M^%lite!dMHVJagU%«Md IumI l>egm^«ttadyii0qaUc 
dMMM^hW^ ^MMtti^ndd^Ladf Julin «<Mnii% ttV>% 

up thagl«iv.wilii aanifaBt tn^vklJ^n iu* bes vMilmw. 
My heart began. b«w to quake like^la aq>€iilea^ for 1 
8iiqMdciedl«>lba(t>4Mine aaresooae aoenefwae-gaim to be 
traasaot^ thai oe«l4 Iniiig tbe acfM»ii^l]4i^ 
lia«t0« thatr(iidki retired jpot. . And yet wbeoL «he drew 
neat^ ber HiodeitiiiieB and. fading, beauty vnm sae^nuK 
Uke toiiy«thmg wicked er heUiah^ that«*t4n abort I didm 
keBiwbyt^to thnkeF what to £ear, but I bad a eonaidec* 
ableiattewiuieao' beitbr 

Witb many kind and obseqnioua conrteaie^ did-okl 
^|»]a«BBttTe»4he lady on the greeiv and after ej(cban- 
ging^^fewiwtank)' Aey both Tanisbed mtotbe.^aottagOK 
aad'ibiQMbB door.* Now^ tbinki I^ the. infernal wnxk 
wfll' begins but goodneaa be tbankity i'U aeei; nanteo't 
fini0iiiarabr^ chained my ^see <m the trae^ bowaver^ 
andHcaai^ $» near to the top of the lumjiathe brancfaea 
would eairy me. From tb^ice i heard- the voi^en of 
the ^tii«%> bait knew not what thoy ,were,aa>vig*. •']3ie 
Lady^iUki'a yoice waa seldom henrdy bninrbonit! wmk 
itted^die eoaacb of Agony ; «Bd I .certainly Jibought the 
wa» Jnpkirkiif the.^ Jmg to deaia^ frop^.toin^thlPg 
wyab4h£r>otheBpefai8tediin.< .Xbey<nce.o£.the li^tter 
nevet cijajod ; it wwliwab witb ane4Xintiiiiie4iiniMnbl% 
likovitteeoand'Of aidiatant wateiiiBU, The aonnds atiU 
iiioieaaady^Hid I aometimee made myaelf believe that I 
heai4'dM vmeof » third person; I cannot tell what 
I wonkl dieft bare giren to have heard what was going 

54 TBE shicphbkd's calendar. 

on, but though I strained my hearing to the nttennost, 
I conld not attain it. 

At length, all at once, I heard a piercing Bfaridc, 
which was followed by low stifled moanings. ^ They 
are murdering a bairn, and what wiU I do F*' Mdd I to 
myself, sobbing till my heart was like to burst. And 
finding that I was just upon the point of loafafg my 
senses, as well as my hold, and falling from the tree, I 
descended with all expedition, and straightway rah and 
hid mysell under the bank of the bnm behind the boose, 
that thereby I might avoid hearing the cries of liib anf- 
fering innocent, and secure myself from a felL 

Now, here shall be my watch, thinks I ; for here 
I can see every ane that passes out frae or into the 
house ; and as for what is gaun on in the inside^ tiiat*s 
mair than I'll meddle wi*. 

I had got a nice situation now, and a sale ane^ for 
there was a thick natural hedge of briers, broom, and 
brambles, down the back o' the kail-yard, lliose orer- 
hung the bum-brae, so that I could hide mysell frae 
every human ee in case of great danger, and ihere was 
Ian opening in the hedge, through which I could see aU 
that passed, and there I cowered down on my knees^ 
and lay wi' my een stelled on that shiefing o' sin and 

I hadna lain lang m this position lall oitt cmnes the 
Iwasome, cheek for chowe, and the auld ane had a cof- 

jSu, .uojto her ana ;.f^4 ^t^^raight on. tl^y coioqs fqr the 
very opening o* the hedge where I was lying. Now, 
ILtu^Jjil'in^ gone.mai^; for in below this very bank 
, w}|ere I am sitting are they coming to hide the co^se 
o'l tbepo^r bairn) and bere ten might lie till they con- 
f^met]^^^ ]^llLe^n'd to the haill warld* Ay, here tfiey are 
.«o;^ilig9,iiidee49( for there is not another bit u^ the l^hole 
r tluiQl^t.whecQ they can win through; ai^d in half ami- 
qnj^I will have the i^itcb and the miir4eress baith hing- 
ing At my throat like iyr^ wullpats I---^ w^ fumce Ji^t 
^ttiQg a' my joints to make a plean ly la^h dpwn ^the 
middle.<^ th^ bum like an otter ; but the power was de- 
j[[lie4ine| and a' th^t I could do, wi^ to ^wjp;iysell 
, iClosQ into my cove, like a har? into her form : and there 
^I,liat and hearfl the following dialogue, an^ I thi^ Ije- 
member it every word. ,,, , . 

.^ Nc^, my good Eppie, are you cert^ t||at^iiy per- 
. rpon .^ill .come upon us, or within vi^w «of us, before we 
.,|pav(^,^Pfie?," (Good Eppie I thinks I| He^^^re- 
,fi^»erire,i» a' frae sic goodne^ I) .„i_,^^„, 

,^„ u4^,AY9 «7> If eel am I sure o' that, Leddy Ju^y,' to my 
' u ^ g«)i^4num:is oil the watch; and I^ has a signal that 
>.«^^ylffin^.wlucki«iU warn us in goo4 tim^ ^9.^7 1^7 
,,T8lwre,Ae-lii^TWiay;\ , ^ ^ ^ 

^< Then open the lid, and let me look into it once 
mt wm!% % Ae poo^i^iaiMiBate renwiflf^tfiatjarp fn that 

^ ^^^f/u^^^Jif^'^^^A}^DAR. 

ifij^^il^jiotbing el^ Ui„4m^.vaiit^ q|a ^«v have again. 
O my dear boy I My coinely> my beautifiil, my anr- 
ifged boy!" r .•*< -r > - ■•:: . . '> . 

.t.^euQ Lady Julia iNvat ialp ^ibi.mMt w4ent and 
pawioyiata gne6dbgnek}BgaQil;WaaiiK^lxkeoiieuidiB- 
tr^yctjyoa^ I was terrified out o' a'.boivuia^biitl ^nld- 
n% help tbijaking to myaril what a alrapgiaiacoaBiiteDt 
croatore a wov&an was, £nt to takte aiMyaidaai' Uttle 
bo/s life, and then rair and scraugfa otw uriiatdie had 
(pone, lik^ a madwoman I Her passion. 9910 «ae>vk^ent 
aq^ 8ai».loud that I couldna take up wbatth^auld c&ono 
if§^ saying» although her tongue never lay for a mo« 
ment ;.but I thought a the time that she waa tiying to 
pacify and comfort Lady Julia ; and I thoughl I jbeard 
her saying dmt.the boy Wasna murdered* Ndw^^iinks 
1» that dings a' that ever I heard I: If a man a^oo im^ 
domtands a woman, ho'^needna be feared- to try oxight 

..•^^ N9W.h«:e they are, my Leddy July, jistaa your 
own. fair hands laid thenu There « no ane V/thmii oat 
oVlts place yet* There they a' liey little and mvckle, 
ktifi Ibei Cronnii o'. dto head to the soles o' the feet.' 
:< '< Chide fargietha woman I" aays I tomysell-<>-<< Cini 
these be the banes o* bairns that she ia^peakikig abom ? 
Itf jilf a qtiositioQ how mony.has been put isto that black 
kilt, afoo^lhia timei aaid there their banei^'will be lying, 

'■ \i»M. ,a\;> .;■■. i^.cu.'Kii ,^». .' ' . , 


tier aboon tier» like the eotttents of a caadlemaker^s 

<< Look, here is the first, my Leddy. This is the first 
year's anes. Thea, belowthat sheet o' silver paper, is the 
•eoond year's, and <m sae to tiie third and the fotorth." 

i didna tlunk there had been as nnu^le widkedness 
in^hnman ttat«Mre» tiionght I ; but if thae twa escape out 
o' this world widiovt some reesible joc^ent, I'm nnco 
sair MJstaen I 

^-Come aow, Leddy July, and let ns gae through 
them a' regakuiy; and gie ower greeting. See^ as J 
said, this contains the first year's snits of a' kinds, and 
here» amang others, is the frock he was bi^teezed in, 
far^ J&r Irae here. Ay, we^ I mind that day, and sae 
may ye, Leddy July; when the Bishop flung 1^ wa- 
ter on your boy's face, how the little chub looked at 
him I £ch— «ch-<^-ech — ^I'U never foi^et it I He didna 
whimper and whine, like ither bairns, but his little arms 
gae a quiver wi' anger, and s^c a look as he gae the 
priest I Ay, it was as plain as he had said it in gude 
ScotSy < Billy, I'll be about wi' you for this yet !' He 
-.4ie-^he-— my brave boy I Ay, there needed nae con- 
fessions, nor parish registers, to declare wha was his 
father 2 < Fai^; billy, I'll be about wi' you for this in*- 
#ultl' He— lie— he! That was what he thought plains 
ly enough, and he looked very angry at the Bishop the 
haill night. — O fie> Leddy July^dinna stain the bonny 



frock wi' your tears. Troth, they are aae worm and 
sae saut, that they will nerer wash oat again. There 
now, there now. We will hing tliem a' ont to the son 
ane hy ane." 

Shame fa' my stupidity I thought I to myselL Is 
the haill terrihle affair endit in a bichel o' hahy-clouts ? 
— ^I then heard that they were moring ftarther away 
from me, and ventured to peep through the boughs, 
and saw the coffin standing open, about three feet from 
iny nose. It was a small low trunk, corered tHth green 
yelvet, lined with white satin, and filled with clothes 
that had belonged to a princely boy, who, it appeared 
from what I oveiiieard, had either been privately mur- 
dered, or stolen away, or had somehow unaccountably 
di^pt>eaied. This I gathered from the parts of the 
dialogii^e i^t reached me, for always ndien they came 
iiear to the trunk, they were close beside me, and I 
heard every word t but as they went farther away, hang- 
ing out the bairn's claes to air, I lost the parte be^weuL. 
Auld Eppie spake without intermission, but Lady Ju- 
lia did little else save cry, and weet the different parts 
of the dress with tears. - It was excessively affecting 
to see the bonny young lady, tdia was the flower o* the 
haill country, bending ower a wheen claes, pressing 
them to her bosom, and greeting till the very heart 
within her was like to melt, and aye crying, between 
ifevery fit o' sobbing, " O my boy, my dear boy I my 

noble, my bieautiful Jkj^ I, JJqw mjf.^riji^^;fpatj^ .^p!^ 
theft I Oh, Eppie* rSifkY yau never k»pw /w^^^t, ^ ^3,|p 
hare^hm^iV^ <«jjy ^on, ^4 t».be feere^Fied ,pjf,,hii^j^ 
such a way as I have been !" ,.,■„.« 

At one time I heard the old wife say^ " $ee^|^^ is 
the^silk coi;$let that he wore next his briea^j^. tjl^t-v^y 
day/' xm n^l^di the Xiady Julia seized the liHl^.lf^c)^^ 
an^ii'i'^^t an hundred, times, and then said^ ,^< ^9f 
it once. w^. warmed in his dear little bospiPj^i]!^,^!^ 
ney^ oo<d iigain as long as his mother s js y^/^^^I ,^ 
^W^ sh^^laeed the relic in her breast, yveepiQj^^^^V 

Sppie's anecdotes of the boy were.withouf fOP^d^ Jt^ 
bei^eaved and beautiful mother often rebuking 4iei;^|)j|i^t 
all ti^ while manifestly indulging in a painful pl(^^i[<p. 
She showed her a pair of trews thait wpre ^cf^jpvf^ 
and added, << Ah, I ken brawly what m^^.th^^^ 
dim* His foster-brother, Ranidd, and, he y^^, 9j^(P 
fine painted butterfly one day* Tlie crea^i^re i(polf.^^pi^ 
a mire, a perfect stank. Ranald stopped; ^^r|,(J|>)|t 
Lewie made a bauld spring to dear it. . He I^afrdljf^T^ 
by the middle^ where he stuck up to the waisli i^MFf?* 
Afoce my goodman reached him, there W9» naei^lujflg 
aboott but the blue bonnet and the feather. , :^. You JA- 
tle imp, how gat you in there?' said my bus)^i^B||i|d. 
< That's not your concern, sir, but hoiv^ 1^ sh^jtl glA^^ 
again,' said the little pestilence* Al^*be^^^^^ l^^/^^^WIi 


that had the kind heart when kindneM was shown to 
him ; but no ae thing in this Versal world wad he do 
by compulsion. We could nerer make him compre- 
hend the power of death ; he always bit his lip^ and 
icoiyled wi* his eebrows, as if determined to insist it. 
At first he lield him at defiance, threatening to abeot 
or run him through the body; but when cheeked so 
that he durst not openly defy him) his resoIutioBi was 
evidently unchanged. Ha I he was the gallant boy ; 
and if he lives to be a man, he winua have his match 
in the three kingdoms." 

<< Alack, alack, my dear boy," exclaimed Lady Jn- 
lia ; ^< his beauty is long ago defiEu:ed) his princely form 
decayed, and his little unripe bfuies lie mouldering in 
some pit oar cimcealed grave. Perhaps he was. flung 
from these rocks, and his £ur and mangled lomn be- 
came the prey of the raven or the eagle." 

The lady B vehemence some way affected my heart, 
and raised sicoana disposition in me to join her in cry-* 
ing, that in spite o' my heart, I fell a-fiiffing like a goose 
as I was, in below the bum-brae. I was overheard ; 
and then all was silence and consternation for about 
the space of a minute, till 1 hears Eppie say, '^ Did you 
bear that, Leddy July? What say ye ? What in the 
world was that ? I wish there may be nae concealed 
spies. I hope nae unhallowed ee has seen our wark the 
day, or unblest ear heard our words I £h ? 


. Neck butt, neck ben, 
I find the smell o* quick men ; 
But be he liTing or be he dead, 
« rU grind his bones to mix my bread." 

So saying) the old hag in one moment rushed throi^ 
the thin part of the brake, by a retrograde motion, and 
^kapping down frcHnthe hanging bank, she lighted' pre- 
cisely with a foot on each side of my neck, . Itried to 
withdraw my head quietly and peaeeably, but she held 
me as if my head had been in a vice, and, with the moot 
unearthly y^, called ouK for a knife I a knife I I had 
now no other resource left but to make a tremeadoua 
bok forward, by which I easily overturned the old dame, 
and off Iiaa plash for plash down the bun^ t^ I came 
to an opening, by which I reached tho only padk down 
the glen. I had lost my bonnet, bat got off wdth my 
head, which was more than the roudees inteeikd. 

Such screaming and howling as the twO'Caffried On 
behind me; I never heard* Tfaeiv grond secpei was now 
out p and I suppose they looked open the. dlscovisryae 
vlitet ruin, for both of them> knew mei perlisctiy well,, 
and guessed by whom I had been smu I oiide the 
. best of my Way home, whese I anived/befove dark, and 
-gave my'mastK^ the £arl» a lull and fiuthfol accoont 
of all that I had seen and all that I had heacd. He 
saHl mbi a word until I had ended^ but his face grew 
dJEuck, and his eyes as red a» a coal, and I easily per- 
ceived that he repented having sOnt me. Wh^oilhad 

62 THE shepubrd's calbndaa. 

ooncladed my narratiTe, he bit Us lip for some time, 
and then said, in a low smothered Toiee^-— ^ I see how 
it has been — I see how it has been ; I nnderatand it all 

perfectly welL" Then, after a diort pause, he eoiitiniM4 
<< I beiieve, Tom, it will be imsafe for yon to stay lon^ 
here ; for, if you do, you will not be aliye till to-mor- 
row at midnight* Therefore haste to the sooth, and neTor 
ftn* your life come north of the Tweed again, or you aie 
a dead man, depend on that. If you promise me this, 
I will make yon a present of L.iO, orer and above your 
"wages ; bat if yon refuse, I will take my chance of h»* 
'ving your motions watched, and you may take yonia." 

As I had often heard hints that certain officious peo* 
pie had TBiUBhed from my Lord's mansion before this 
time, I was glad to make my escape ; and taking him 
at his offer, I was conveyed on shqiboard that same 
night, and have never again looked towards the north. 

« It is a great pity, Thomas," said I, when he had 
finished this recital, <^ that you can give me no account 
of the boy-*-»who8e son he was, or what became of hkn. 
Was Lady Julia ever married ?" 

I couldna say, sir. I never heard it said either that 
she was married, or that she was not married. I nev^ 
had the alightest su^icion that she was married tfll 
that day ;- but I o^tainly believe sinsyne, that she ainee 
had been married at ony rate. Last year I met with 
one John Ferguson from that country, who told me the 


Earl was dead, and that there was some dispute about 
the heirship, and that some strange secrets had come 
out ; and he added, << For you know very weel^ Tho« 
maSf I thai that fiimily nerer oonld do any thing likd 
other people." 

<^^ Think yon there is no person in that coimtry to 
whmn I eonld vpply,'* sud I, *< for a developement of 
tfacBO'mysterions drcnmstances ?'' 

**^ There is only one persim," said Hendersoo^ ^and 
I am sure he knows every thing about it, and that is 
the Bish(^ ; for he was almost constantly in the fomilyi 
was Kent for on every emergency, and was often away 
on long jaunts wi^ Ljidy Julia alone* I am sura he 
can inform you of every drcnmstance ; but then it is 
almost certain either that he will not dare, or thai he 
will not dioose, to disclose thenu" 

This 8t<Hy of Henderson's made so strong an im- 
pression upon me that I could not r^rain from addres- 
sing a letter to the Bishop, requesting, in as polite terms 
as I could, an explanation of the events to whidi it re« 
fertred. I was not aware that the reverend pr^te had 
'been in any way personally connected with the events 
referred to, nor did his answer expressly admit that he 
was ; but I could gather from it, that he had a very in- 
timate share in them, and was highly offended at the 


liberty I had takeo, wpon an arqimintafice that wb eer' 
tKoaly ali^ity of addrendiig him on Uie ntbjettm 1 ivat 
■ony that I alMwki imwe wmdmrtimtltf ^atubed faia le- 
Tonenca'a eqaanimhy, for his leplf betrayBd'-s^ gpiM 
deal of angry feeting; and as in it he took the la oaM a 
of entering at some length into ft defisiiee of the RoHan 
Catholie religioDy against wUeh I had maflhi ad iiiMni- 
ation^ nor even once reiorred to it» I sttipeetod that 
liMie had been something wrong, and, moie and more 
lesidved to get to the bottom of the «ffiur> I iieict wrote 
to Uie Phytestant clergyman of the plaoeu His r^ly 
informed me that it was altogether out of hie pow«r to 
ftmiish the information desired, inasmuch as he had 
come to the pastoral chai^ge of his parish many yean 
anbaeipiently to the period alluded to; and the Eavlof 

^'s family being Catholic, he had no iaterconBrae with 

them. It was considered imsafe to meddle with diem, 
he said ; they had the reputation of being a dangerous 
iBoe, and, interfering with no man's affiiirs, allowed no 
interfiBrenoe with theirs. In condunon, however, my 
tererend ocxre^Mudent referred me to a Mr Mac- 
Tayish, tenant of InnismcM^ as one who possessed 
more knowledge coaoerning the Earl's family than any 
one out of it. This person, he farther stated, was soTev- 
ty years of age, and had Hred in the district all hia Wb, 
thougfar the late Earl tried erery means to remoye him. 
Availing myself of this clew, I made it my business 


to address Mr MacTavish in such a way as was most 
likely to. ensure compliance with my wishes. I was at 
BOBie {>aios to. .procure iatroducti(ms, and establish a 
sort, of acquaintance with him, and at last succeeded in 
gaining a detail of the circumstances, ia so far as he 
knew them^ connected with the adventure of Henderson 
at the shieliag pf Abwduchra. This d^t^ll-was given 
me in- a seiaes of letters of -difif««nt dates, and many of 
them at long intervab frcHn each other, whiqh I sJudl 
tah» the liberty of thit>wjng into a c^mti^iouB narra- 
tive, retaining, however, the old gentleman s own way 
of tellmg the st(Nry» 

About the time when the French were all- to bekillr 
ed inLeehaber (Mr MacTavish's narrative comm^nces)^ 
I was employed in raising the militia soldiers, and se 
had often to make excursions through the country, both 
by night and day. One morning, before dawn^ as I 
was riding up the Clunie side of the river, I was-alanned 
by perceiving a huge black body moving al<mg the road 
before me. I knew very well that it was the cBogle of 
Glastulochan, and kept at a respectful distance -behind 
it. After I had ridden a considerable way in great 
terror, but yet not daring to turn and fly, the light be- 
came more and more clear, and the siee of the appari- 
tion decreased, and, from a huge undefined mass, 

66 THE sugpuerd's calendar. 

gamed sundry shapesy which made it evident that it 
meditated an attack on me, or, as I had some faint 
hopes, to evanish altogether. To attempt to fly from 
a spirit I knew to be needless, so I held on my way, in 
great perturbation. At last, as the apparition mounted 
an eminence over which the road winded^ and so came 
more distinctly between me and the light, I discoyer- 
ed that it was two persons on horseback, travelling the 
same way as myself. On coming up, I recognised the 
Popish Bishop accompaniedby the most beautiful young 
lady I had ever seen. 

^< Good morrow to you, pretty lady, and to you, reve- 
rend sir," said I ; but not one of them answered a word. 
The lady, however, gazed intently at me, as if she ex- 
pected 1 had been some other, while the Bishop seem- 
ed greatly incensed, and never once turned round his 
head* I cannot tell how it was, but I became all at 
lonce greatly in love with the lady, and resolved not to 
part till I discovered who she was. So when we came 
to the house of Robert MacNab, I said, << Madam, do 
you cross the corrie to-day ?" 

<< No,'' said she. 

'< Then I shall stay on this side too,'' said I. 

'< Young soldier, we desire to be alone," said the 
Bishop, (and this was the first time he had spoken,) 
« therefore be pleased to take your own way, and to 
^ee us of your company." 


<< By no meanB," said I ; *^ neither the lady nor your 
Reverence can he the worse of my protection." 

When I taid ^ your Reverence," the Bishop started, 
and stared mie in the foce ; and after a long pause, once 
more deored me to leave them. I would not do so, 
however, although I must acknowledge my hehaviour 
was exceeifingly improper ; hut I was under the influ- 
ence of a strange fascination at the time, which I am 
thie more convinced of now diat I know Ae events that 
ha,ye followed upon that rencounter. 

<< We travel hy the Spean," said he. 

<* It is the nearest way," I replied, *^ and I shall go 
that way too." The Bishop then hecame very angry, 
and I, I must confess, more and more impertinent. ^ I 
know hetter," said I, << than to trust a Popish priest with 
tiudi a lovely and heautiful, and amiahle dear lady in 
such a wild and lonely place. I bear his Majest/s com- 
misdon, and it is my duty to protect all th6 ladies that 
are his true subjects." Uns was taking a good deal 
up<m me, but I thought I perceived that the Bishop had 
an abashed look, as if detected in an affidr he was 
ashamed of; and so I determined to see the end of it. 
We travelled together till we arrived at Fort William, 
where we were met by a gallant gentleman, who took 
the lady from her horse, and kissed her, and made maoy 
ibie speeches ; and she wept, and suffered herself to he 
jed away towards the beach. I went with tbenii and 


ihcre bebg s grett stir at the aliora^ and ie«iig ibift 
they were going to take the lady oa board by laroe^ I 
dnw my awards andadvaneaigtotliegrtlenMHi,ciii« 

■■•dad kim Mt !• tike tke lady «A board aganai bar 
willy addiof^ that she was milder my protectiiMa, . 

<'Iaiheiiidaed»air?'* aaidha. ^^AMdi^aiynayXaafc 
to whaaa ihe m indebted for thia load wmd gratnitoa» 

« That l» to nyaal^ wr," said L 

He poshed me aride ia high diadaia, and aa I coor 
to show a di^MMitaon to oppcrae by force his 
pm'po a e of takhig the lady oa boards I was aurromui- 
od by rtneJorten fellows who were in readinesa to act 
upon hia 4md&n ; they disarmed me, and pemiiadihig 
the qpec tato i a that I was insane or intogdcated^ boand 
me} aa the only meana of preveatiDg me from annoys 
ing their maater. The indole party then went cm board^ 
and saHaddown ^M^fri^ ; and I saw no more of theiBi 
nop diaoovwed' any move oonceming th»ladya|i thi^ 
time.- .-■....• 

8oon after^na adventure) the Bishop retuiaed hom^ 
but iriianeivar he saw my ^MOyhe looked as if he had 
seen a'aerpaat ready to spring on him* Many a a<»e 
and heavy heart I had about the lady that I saw faUen 
among the P^>iBt89 and carried away by them; batfi^ 
a long while I remained in ignorance who she waa, 
hekig only able to ooi^ectnre that she was some yoang 


woman about to be made a nun^^cookiary to her own 
inetination. < 

At lengtb a.fearfiil report. began to ifgiad tbrami^ 
tbs ooimtiy of the loss of Lady Jaliay aadiial bei^ ba* 
▼ing be«L last seen in tbe company otf.heri osafaoor ; 
bot the Bishop &eqn«ited the Ca8tie^ie;iHHno«as be- 
foi«^ and thoef on people shook their heada-wbenoFtr 
the subject was mentioned, as if much were miq>ecled» 
though little durst be said. I. wondeNMl |^t}y if that 
lady withiWhom.I fsU so much kkh^ye in>o«r, passage 
through the Highlands, could bwre been this JUidy 
Julia. My father died that year, jw I left theiegiiQent 
in which I had beoi an officer, and being in Glasgow 
about the end oi September, I went fronit thence in n 
vessel to Fort- William. As we passed tbo island of 
lUismore, alady came iw.board n^hef in^aeecMt man- 
ner. She had « maid^servant witbJber, ladio eaiaiedja 
cfaihL. The moment the lady stepped i^ Iha.tabip's 
side, I perceiFod it to be the identical beauti£di oniatupe 
widi vdiom I had fallen in the year befei», when, the 
Bishop was carrying her away.' > But wfaa*^a» change 
had 'taken place an her appearaacel her eewntenanca 
wa» pale and emaciated, her loQk» dc^cted^: and tkm 
seemed to be heart^rc^en. At e«r first iMneovnter^ 
she looked me full in the fooB, and Lsaw^/thatdieffo* 
cognised me, for she hurried past me* into the cabia, 
followed by her maid. 

« .* 


When we came to the f ortressi and were paying our 
fiuneBy I observed some dispute between the lady and. 
the mate or master of the boat and a Weet-Islandery 
the one charging her for boatpAunei and ibeother for 
board and lodging. ^ I give yon my woid.of.hoiioii]^" 
riiesaidy ^ diat you shall be paid doaUe your demands 
in two wedcs; but at present I have .no means of 
satisfying yo«i«" 

<< Words of honoor won't pMscwrent bere^Qus- 
treas," said the sailor; <« money or yaibe I must bay/s, 
for I am but a senrant." 

The West-Islander was less uncivil, and ejq^^wng- 
his-reluctanoe to press a gentlewoman in a stfgit^ said, 
if she would tell him who she was, he woiuk} nsk no 
more security* 

^< Yom are very good," said she^ as she wiped, av?ay 
the tears that were streaming down her cheeks; hut 
she would not tell her name. Her confusion and des* 
pair became extreme, so much so, that I could no 
longer endure to see one who appeared so ingenuous, 
yet compiled to shroud herself in mystery, unifier so 
much kom so paltry a cause ; and, interfoni^g, I satis- 
fied the demands of the two men. The look of gra- 
titude which she cast upon me was most expressiye ; 
but she said nothing.. We tiavelled in company to 
Inyemess, I supplying her with what money was ne* 
oessary to meet the expenses of the road, which she 


took without ofiering a word of explaaatioiL Before 
we parted, she called me into an ^rartmMity and aso 
snriii^'iBie'that I shoald «eoiirhear froiii her, she thank- 
ed me' l^ri^y for the assistanee I had «£Ebrdeik«her* 
<< And this little felk>w/' contmued dbe^ «< if he ii^ to 
be a ittttE^ shall thai^ yon too for yonr }dadaess to his 
mothe^.^ She then asked if I conld know ^diild 
again, and I answered that I could not, all infeuEils wens 
so much alike* She said thwe waa a good reason 
why i/be wished t^t I ^uld be M^ to recognise the 
child at any future period, and she would show me u 
privttfe mark by which I should know Inm as h»g 
as I lured. Baring his little bosom aoeordia^y,<ihe 
displayed the mark of a gold ring, with a niby,innne* 
diately below his left breast. I said it war a veryeii'' 
riotri mttt^ indeed, and one that I could not ntutake. 
She neirt ifsked me if I was a Roman Catholic ?vbnt I 
shook my heAd, and said, God fo9:bid I and so^* we 

parted;" '■' ■ '^'- •••> 'ju '-v •■ 

I had learned fih&m the West-Islaadet^ tiiM^his laame 
was Hfklcdm M'Lebdj a poor and h(Rie^^«Roniifli*Ga- 
tholia, 'and that the thiid was bom mlat hotft^'^me 
of thetnoirt retiibte plae^in 1^ wo#ld|'beiiEig*'bn« 
sequSlfeiiefd and inftdceBsH>le peninsula la'DttMr^irfithe 
We^tM' Isles« The infant had been baptized'^ pri* 
rateiy by the Bishop of Illismore, by the name ^ Lewis 

72 THE shbphbrb's calkndar. 

William. Bat farther tke man ettiicr eonld mat or 
would not give me any infonMitmu 

Before I left IiiTmieoft I kaned tliat the kidy ma 
no other than the noUe and fiur Lady JvUay andahdrt- 
Ij after I got honae to LunanMire^ I leoeiTiad a hbek 
lettOT, encloaiiig the ram I had ezpeaded en her bdMd£ 
Not long aftoTya meaaage caBMy desiring an to ooHw ez- 
preas to the Bishop's house. Thiswaa^iHMileamemt 
of ^ message, andalthoogfa no deinite objectwaa held 
out to me, I undertook the journey. Indeedi thnmgh- 
out the whole transactions connected wi^ tfaia aSur, 
I cannot nndetstand what niotiyes they were that I 
acted <m. It seems rather that I was inAoenced by a sort 
of fatality throughout, as well as the other persona with 
whom I had to deal. What human probability was 
thore, for instance, that I would obey a smmnona of 
this nature? and yet I was summoned. There was no 
ioducemeot held o«t to procure my compliance wiA 
the request; and yet I did comply with it. Upon what 
pretext was I to gain admittance to the Bii^p'sbouae? 
I could think of none. And if I am called upon to 
tell how I did gain admitttfice, if it were not that sub- 
sequent eyents demonstrate that my proceedings were 
in acocHxIance willi the dedrees of a superior de^^y, 
I should say that it was by the mere force of impu- 
dence. As I approached the house, I heard there was 
such a weeping, and screaming, and lamentation, that 



I almost thought murder ^ros^going on within it. There 
were many voices, aU speakiBg at once; hot the eries 
were heard^abovo aU, «ad grew moi^ woliil and iHt- 
ter. . W}ionI enteied the house^ whiehl 4aA. without 
mnchi ceraniony, and 4nng op«Q the door of ihe 
aparii|ient Irbra which the noise prooeeded, dmre 'Was 
Lady Jnlia screamingin an agony of despair, and hold- 
ing hear child to her bosom, who was crying as Utterly- 
as hersalt . £^ was surrounded by ^ Bidiop and 
three other gentlem^i^ one of them on his knees, as 
if imploring her to consent to somethmg, and the 
o^ief tb'ee using- gentle ftHrce to take the diild firom 
her. My entrance seemed to strike them with equal 
t^Tor and astonishment ; tiiey commanded me loudly 
to retire; but I forced myself forward, while Lady 
Julia called out and named me, saying I washo* friend 
and protector. She wae .quite in a state of derange^ 
ment through agony and despair, and I was much 
moved when I saw how she pressed her babe to her 
bosom^ bathed him wilh tearS) and kissed him and 
blessed hkn a thousand times. 

^< O Mr MacTavish," cried die, << they are g<nng to 
take my child from me,->Hmy doar, dear boy I and I 
would rather part with my life. But they cannot take 
my child from me if you will protect me* They can- 
not — ^they cannot I" And in that way did she rave on, 
regardless of all their entreaties. 



<< iiy dear Ijf4y JuUwb wJmft widiifiM has aeiaed 
you ?'* a^id a FBTereml-WaluDg ganriemaiu << Ave you 
goiag to bring nun on yoaiaelf aad your whole ftmily, 
and to disgiace ibe holy raligioa whkh ymi {wofeM? 
Did you not promiie th«k you would giye.up.the 
chihl? did you not c^inohareiorthattpacial purpose? 
and do not we all engage, in the moat aoleinn manner, 
to tea him bred and educated aa beeomea hia hirth ?** 

*^ No» no, no, no I'' cried die ; '< I cannot, I cannotl 
I will not part with him I I will go with him to the 
£Nrthe§t- ends of the world, where our namea were 
iie?ec heard o^-— but, oh I do not separate me from 
my. dear bpy V 

The men stared at one another, and.held their, peace. 

<< Madam," said I* '' I will willingly protect your 
baby and you, if there is occasiMiu for itt as long as 
theva is a drop of blood in my body ; but it strikes me 
thaA these gentlemen are in the right, a|id tba^t you are 
in :lha wrong. It is true, I speal^ in ignonmce of dr- 
GunMtaaces ; but from all diat I can .gues^^ you cannot 
doubt of your baby's safety, when all these honourable 
man stapd security to you for him. But if it i& neces- 
sary ifaat you shojuld part with him, and if , you will not 
iotni8$ him to them„ giye him to me. I will hare him 
nufted apd educated in. my own house, and under mine . 
own eye." 

<< You are very good— -you are very good I" said she, 


rather calmly. << Well, let this worthy gentleman take 
Ae charge of him, and I yield to give him up." 

*^ No, no V^ exclaimed they all at once, << no heretic 
can have the charge of the boy; he mmgt be brought up 
under our own auspices ; therefore, dearest Lady Julia, 
betfaabftk you what you are doing, before you work your 
own ruin, and hk ruin, and the ruin of us alL" ■ . 

Lady Julia then burst into a long fit of weeping, 
and I saw she was going to yield ; she, however, re- 
quested permission to speal^ a few words with me ia 
private. This was readily granted, and all of them re- 
tired* When we were alone, she said to me softly, 
<^ They are going to take my child from me, and I can- ■ 
not and dare not resist them any longer, for fear a 
worse fiate befall him. But I sent for you to be a wit- 
ness of our separation. You will know my poor hap- 
less child as long as he lives, from the marie that I 
showed you ; and when they force lum from me, O 
watch where ihey take him, and to whatever quarter that 
may be, follow, and bring me word, and high shall be 
your reward. Now, farewell ; remember I trust in you, 
•—end God be with you ! I do not wish any one to see 
my last extremity, save those who cause it, for I know 
my heart must break. Desire them to come in, and 
say that you have persxuided me to yield to their wilL'* 

I did so ; but I could see that they only regarded 
me wiiIl looks of suspicion* 

76 THE shsphbad's gauoidab. 

I lingered in the nanrow lobby, and it was not two 
minutes, till two peFBOo% ene cf whom I bad preTioni- 
ly awertained by fab aoeenttd bo an Iiiah gentleman, 
bvriM by me witfa tbe eUld. I flhonld bam fbUow* 
ed^ bttf as, in their baite, they left open tbo door of the 
apartnupt where Julia wae,. vy atlentioB wae rtveled 
on the lady } ehe was paraljned with ailirtifln, and 
clasped the air, as if tiying^ to CTibrace aometfain£^-*-4mt 
finding bar diikl was no hmger in her boeom, she 
sfMmng ^p to an amarioy haigfat, uttered a tcniUe 
shriek, sod fell down strongly -eonvnlsed. Shortly 
aiteK^ she uttered a tremnkius aiea% and died quite 
away. I had no doubt that her heart was broken, and 
that she had expired ; and indeed the Bishop, and the 
othor gttHienian, whorraiained with her, seemed to be 
of the same optnion, and were benumbed with as*' 
tOniriinient* I caUednleud for aesistanoe, when two 
W^meneamebustliiq^inwith -wator; hut the Bishop 
ordMrecttme of lh«i^^ in' an ungry tooej to xedre. . He 
gavendtt- domtnand in Gariie, and the poor creature 
cowetnd'lilBS a spaniel: under ihe laidi, and made all 
hs0lex>ulrt>f hn eight; This' circumstanoe caused me 
to toU a look at the woman, and! peremred at once 
that I knew faer,Mbfui the hurry and confusion of the 
metttat preteiitbd me from ilnnking of the ineident, 
less ormem^ utttfl long afiterwattis. 
Lady Julia at length gave symptoms of letunni^ 


fmK*f*'«ij and thai I' nooUeeted the laei^eet of the 
fibaige the had ompaittedte.ineb , Ihvriad oat; but 
•iLtnoe-of the childLiCB&iQatii The-itwo gendaipeii 
«ha took him from his modier,iveee waUoDgjoid eon* 
^maBi% (Miberateljr ia^tfae gavi&B^.aaiif inothiaf^rhad 
happeMody and all my mquirieB of them and pf othtn 

were imaTiaUng. -.:».. 

Alkor the \gm of Lady Jidia'a cUldi I aearchedthe 
wfaole.coimtry>bntiiojdhfldixmklIaithacMe or hear 
of ; aiid at length myjonly hope jrealedon.beiiiig ahle to 
ranember.vho the old wxiBiaa.mBa .whom the Bkdiop 
ordered ao.ahnipitlyoul'ofihiBpreaenoe that day<die 
child wie disposed of. I was anre^:£xuii the manner 
in which she skidked away^ias- if* afraid of hdng jdis- 
coYored* that she had taken him awayy either dead pr 
aliver . pf all the sensatioQa I erer expepencedl was 
now enl^ieeted to thi9 most teasingri was iwnsiWft that 
{ koaw^e woman:perfectly.weU»-HiaweUf that htifarnt 
} beliey<e4 1 could call ber to^ my secollectioa wheooFer 
i cJKM; hu^ thpiigh I p«tJiiy.menM]«y to the rack a 
(hon^^^ J«d a thousfiqd iUmeg^ the.aamei residence, 
fiOd ^iweiuons of the woman wejit fiuther aadivdur 
|r<Hn my grasp, till a$ last ihoyiii^anidied like donds that 
m^ 1^ with fonDs of the. loog-*dc^arted^ , .. 
^; .A^^psm I am g<Hng H>. tfillA.yery manrei|oiBj|tory : 
0"^^ day, when I was bunting iftiGNrsiTbeg: o£:G)eKo 
Anam, I shot so well that I wondered at myself Be- 


fore my vnerring ainiy whole coveys of moor game fttt* 
tared to the earth ; and as for the ptarmigans, they IbU 
like showers of hailstones. At length I began to obserre 
that the wounded birds eyed me with strange, unearth- 
ly looks, and recollecting the traditions of the glen^ and 
its name, I suspected there was some oidiantmeBt ia 
the case. What, thought I, if I am shooting goodiiurieB^ 
or little harmless hill spirits, or mayhap whole flocks of 
F^ttsts trying feats of witchcraft I — and to Aink that I 
am carrying all these on my back I While standing ui 
this perplexity, I heard a ymce behind me, which saic^ 
« O Sandy MacTayi^ Sandy MacTaTish, how will 
yon answer for this day's woik ? What will become of 
me I what will become of me 1" 

I turned round in great consternation, my hairs all 
standing on end — ^but nothing could I see, save a 
Wounded ptarmigan, hopping among the grey stcnes. It 
looked at its feathery legs and its snow-ndute hreast all 
covered with blood, — and at length the creature said, in 
Graelic, as before^ for it could not be expected that It 
ptarmigan should have spoken Englisb, << How would 
you like to find all your family and friends shot and 
mangled in this way when you gang hame ? Ay, if 
you do not catch me, you will rue ^is morning's woik 
as long as you live, — and long, long afterwards. But if 
you catch me, your fortune is made, and you will gain 
both great riches and respect*" 


^ Then hare with you, crealnure I" exdaiioed ly.^* for 
it strikes me that I. cau neyer make a /ortune so 
easily ;" and I can at it» with my bonnet in both handfib 
to catch it* . . ,) 

<< Hee«hee-hee I" laughed the creature ; and away it 
bounded among ih» grey stones, jumping like a jackdaw 
with a dipped wing. I ran and ran^ and every time that 
r tried to cli^ my bonnet above it, down I came with a 
rattle among the stone»**-<< Hee-hee-hee !" shouted the 
bird at every tumble. So provoking was thjs, and so 
eager did I become in tJie pursuit^ that I flung away JDfvy 
gun and my load of game, and ran afiter the-bird 'like a 
madman, floundering over rugged stones^ laying on 
with my bonnet, and sometimes throwing myself aboYie 
the little creature, which always eluded ipe*- ,- -v 

I knew all this while that the creature jwas a witi^ 
or a fairy, or something worse^-<-but natbelesa J.«Qu)d 
not resist chasing it, being resolved to clutch it| C(^st ^hfit 
it woidd ; and on I i*aB, by cliff and oopriQ, till I paw/e .to 
a cottage which I remembered having seeapaoe b^^Sg^fd. 
The creature, having involved me in the ImUfi oC ^Ic^gipB^ 
had got considerably ahead of m«, and -took jshelte^/iiL 
the cottage. I was all covered with b}ood aa w^dlas 
the bird, and in that state I ran into the botI\y alter my 
prey* "'.••'.■■'}■ 'i'*" • f 

On entering, I heard a great bustjiey as,i£ aU^jihe^ jn^ 
mates were employed in effecting. ;tha,0QBCfa!inaf^nt-. of 


•omething. I took it for a concern of smuggling, and 
went boldly forward, with a '< Hilloa I who hides here T 

At the question there appeared one I had good rea- 
son to recollect, at sight of whom my heart thrilled 
This was no other than the old woman I had seen at 
the Bishop 8 honse. I knew her perfectly well, for I 
had been in the same bothy once before, when out hunt- 
U9g9 to get some refreshment. I now wondered much 
that I should never have been able to recollect who the 
beldam was, till that moment, when I saw her again in 
her own house. Her looks betrayed the utmost confusion 
and dismay, as she addressed me in these words, << Hee- 
hee, good Mr MacTavish, what will you be seeking so 
far from home to-day ?" 

^< I am only seeking a wounded ptarmigan, mistress," 
said I ; /^ and if it be not a witch and yourself that I 
have wounded, I must have it, — for a great deal depends 
up<m my getting hold of the creature." 

^ Ha, ha ! you are coming pursuing after your for- 
tune the day, Mr MacTayish," said she, <^ and mayhap 
you may seize her ; but we have a small piece of an ope* 
lation to go through before that can take place." 

<^ And pray, jA^bX is that, Mrs Elspeth ?" said I ; << for 
if it be any of your witchcraft doings, I will have no 
hand in it. Give me my bird ; that is all I ask of you." 

*< And so you really and positively believe it was a 
bird you chased in here to-day, Mr MacTavisb ?" 

A STBAlTOS 8J5(»UET. 81 

< * << Wliy> whst amid I think, mistress ? It l»d the 
appearance of » hird*'* : 

<^ .Maigati Coadbiid ! come hi^ber^*' said the old 
yitch:; ^.what is ordaiiied most be done;— lay hold of 
liiiiiy' Mtfgali.'' : . . * f ! .'. . ' 

-; The ^o women then ^d.h<^d of ine^ and beiiif^«ii« 
der aoiyie.qMll9 1 fa|Ml no power to renst ; eo they boiuid 
ptj haids and feet, add laid mb on a tal^le^ ianghing iat» 
noderitely at my terrore. They $hieiL begged I woinki 
eocense them, for they wer& imder the neoesnty of got 
ing on with the op«:aidbii» though it might not be qvite 
agveeahle to me in the finsb inatancOi '. . 

^ And pray, Mrs Elspeth, wluit is thos same opera- 
tion?** said I. ; . >. 

. << Why/' saidshe, "yon hare come here chasingiafker 
a great fortohey ikfid there is bo othari wa^of attaimag it 
itaTe by one^— and that is, touB hba&t's blood must 

bb'lbt oiJiJ' 

** Tbt IS a Very uncommon way 6i attaining a for-L 
Inne,^ Mrs El^th,'' said I, as goodNhnmooreitiy as I 
could, although, my heart was quaking within' Bia. r 

<^ It is nerertheless a rary excellent plan/' said the 
witch, ^ and it is very rarely thai afortune can besHUle 
without it." So saying, the beldam plunged m slanii^ 
ochO into my Inreast, with a loud and a €endish laugh. 
<< Therd goes tbs heart's blood of blade Sandy Jdbe« 
Tavish !" cried she; and that instant I heard the «6^4 


SS THE 8BXP8ni>'t CAimDAR. 

of it raBhing to the floor. It wm not like As mmnd of 

a cataract of blood, howerer, but radier like the tinklii^ 

of a stream of gold guineas. I forced up my bead, and 

behold, there waa a stream of pore and ahimnf^ goid 

pieces issuing from my bosom; Trhile a nmmber of 

dmnoBB, some in bladk gowns, and others in wisAe pet- 

ticoats, were rumdag off with them, and ffingaig diem 

about in every direction I I could stand tins no longer ; 

to faaTe parted widi sltttle blood I foimd woidd Jiare 

besn nothing, but to seemy vitsls dnoned of afMredons 

treasure, which I knew not had heenthere^ was more 

than human nature could bear'; so I roared out, in a 

▼oioe that made all the house and ail .the>hil]B to yell, 

<< Murder ! thieves I thieyes I robbers !— -Murder I Ho I 

ho I ho I'' Thus did I coajdnuekrudly to shoo^ till one 

of thewitclies,or lafomalsyBB I thought, dashed a pail 

of water;on<my fiuM^n porticm of ^hich going iBi»tty 

mouth and windpipe, chdced my utterance; birtnathe? 

less the>reinoradesS('wieldi centmned to dash water 

upon meeritkatttmspsringJwad, till at last- Ae qpell 

was.lwekeisand the whoktUunon vanidhcd. /'I . ' t 

In eider tbr^establish the credibiltty of liie ahoTO re- 
latiMi,! mnsttrilranodier> story, which shall be a very 
short .•one.'" ••>-■- 

<f 'Out mhaster slheeps fery Ihaog diis tay. Mis Roy 
MioCalluni," said my man, Donald, old hoose^ 
fcespar*' . ' • .■ ' ;: -v 

^ I 

iftDflnMycamMoaT. • m . M 

«< Hidi rliy^>rMnir^R«y <JiiBo€alVinR -aBtMi.lBerttll 
looknb^Mtrpoi'tojhoine^tef seedftwliislBPiimfl rndBiig 
andlKfyte eootindieakh-; Tand^ ^Mitdd >3nm«^f»eli0iBeH, 
Mm MmCMIubi?' iicv irlpiilgv gtaiMiy ^andt rtx iggt ii g 
MjfkeF'.weteiqitiieii&liBd^" ' / ■..'••. i: 7 >'•'') nr modi' 

■ ff QttlrftKi^ TonaldiMaiAitcshtl"- mmco >)/£(< ot 

tQt 6e jNure ; 'Imt^facvpie mhad fot •all tat p^mtAttei^ifmimae 
cnttbtrialy^tMis Roy^MmeQBl&nmi-mAnm mhiithilMlie 
iV«»il-<ft*«tisi'|iyi water.'*.'"!- v ^..t :♦>. ^^d/^nf t«uit ftofO'* 

i>i<It?ptt>|^ Croat «iid Uiast trad; leroaitpljrMvMn^" 
rejoineA'di&.sageifaoasekeepen ■ f»)t ^tr 1 1 toH loH 
Wiih that, M» Roy MaoddkMi md'iDMridf&Ifae- 
Jalidt oMMt into- my sleeping-dromHtwiliiqnilii^*^ %ra- 
tevf' :aaiA.« ba g w a itc ffiag it «iion met^iD^wileiii iteftos 
shovwft that w9aUiiif^«hekdd^«Bdritef^re9«bt 
nyMl^iraii faetng dio^med^ lapsHigriiii^l^iraitstiiiMlKy 
oontmiiedtetdadi.w8tar«p<m<niac At kngtiildaieimny 
own Mail Dani^'a ^nnee as « ]i^lietfd:<'Uai (cUttngi oat, 
M Claah 0ivMi8'Mai^aUum<i dtt^pb fot^lifii insftrntA.** 
^ Huh aye, ply on to water, Tonald \" cnaM^BwAer, 

: M Hold, hold, myigoodf fimd^'S-cnaiiid^ija^pping: 
romd.tbe room att^drippiiig' wafeHi%Hold^U[d^'«m.' 
awake now, and better*" -^^--^-.t 


<<HttkI plearitpeCat,«idphtritp#tecret Mae- 
Tamhr cried they both at once. 

'< Bat where is the witch of the glen?" enad L 
^< And where is the wounded ptarmigan?— «nd whoe 
ia all the gold that came out with my heart'a Uood?" 

« Claah cm te water, Mn MacCallmnr ezehumiMi 
Doaald; and the indafjatigahle paila of Donald and the 
honaekeeper were again put in requisition to aome par- 
pose. Having skipped about for some time, I at last 
esc^>ed into a closet, and locked the door. I had thm 
leisnre to remonstrate with them throngh the key-hole I' 
but still there were many things about which we eouki 
not come to a right understanding, and I began to dread 
a Iramendous shower4iath fWun aboTe, as I heard them 
carrying water up stairs ; and that dread iHonght me 
fint to my proper and right senses. 

It wall now be perceived that the whde of my ad* 
venteie in the glen, with the ptarmigan and the witches, 
was nothing more than a dream. But yet in my oim-^ 
mm it was more than a dream, for it was the same as 
realily to ana. I had all the feelings and sensations of 
aiatioBai being, and every ctrcmnstance was impgreB»^ 
ed Ml my mind the same as if I had transacted it awake. 
Besid es, dwre was a most singular and important reve- 
latiimtmpartedtomebylhe vision: I had discovered 
who tho old woman was whose identity had before p^* 
plezedme so much, and who I was sure ei^er had Lady' 

/ il«T]UNM«acitBT« §5 

JqUr'H boy, ^nT knew where he' was. About fi^e yenn 
preyichts to this I had come into the same woman'f 
liovaei^ treaty and hungry, and laden with game, and 
was rery kindly treated. Of ooime, hear hce was qmte 
fitmiliar'to me; bnt tail I had ^lis singnlar dream, all 
the efforts of my memory conld not recall the woman's 
Hame'ind habitation, nor in what coontry or drcom- 
9CaB<^ I had before wea her. From that morning forA 
I thought of nothing else sare toother risit tothe forest- 
er*s cottage in the glen ; and, thbngh my heart forebo- 
ded sdme eyil, I rested not till I had accomplished it. 

It was not long till I made a journey to Abo^uchra, 
in soarch of the old witch whom I had seen in my 
dream. I found her ; and apparently she had recently 
sirfbred mudi from distress of mind; her eyes were 
red with weeping, her hairs were hanging in elf-switdi- 
es, and her dress in much disorder. She knew me, and 
said, << God bless you, Mr MacTavish, where are you 
trarelling this way ?'' 

^ in truth, Mrs Cowan,'' I replied, <* I am just eome 
to siee after Lady Julia's little boy, poor Lewis Wil- 
liam, you know, who was put under your care by the 
Bishop, on the first of November last year." ^ 

She held up h^ hands and stared, and then Ml a- 
dyiag most bitterly, striking her breast, and wringing 
her hands, like one distracted, but still without answer- * 
iagmednaword* . - ; ^^.v . . 


«Odion, odion!" said I; «theiiit is all as I tii»- 
pected, and the deer child is indeed murdered 1*^ 

On iiuB she sprung to her feet, and uttered an i^ 
palling scream, and then yelled out, ^ Murdered I mw- 
dered ! Is ike dear boy BRirdered ? Is he-«^ he mnu 
deied?" I 

This Tehemenoe of feeling on her part at the idea of 
the boy's being cat off, convinced me that she had net 
murdered the child herself; and being greatly reliered 
in my heart, I sat still as in astomshment, -until she 
again pat the questi<Mi if her dear foster-child was 

^ Why, Mrs Cowan, not to my knowledge," I re- 
plied. ^Ididnotseehimmardered; batifhehaBnot 
been foolly dealt with, what has beccwie of hiitf ?— (te 
well I know he ?rae pat onder yoor diarge ; and he- 
fore the world, and before the jndges of 1^ knd^ I 
shall make you render an acconnt of him/* ■ 

^ Was the boy yours, Mr MacTavish,'' said die, 
*^ that you are so deeply interested in him*? For tiie 
love of Heayen, t^ me who was his father, and then 
I shall confess to you every thing that I know con- 
ceming him,-' 

I then told the <^ woman the whole story as I h&re 
here rdated it, and requested her to inform me wiwt 
had become of the boy. 

*' He was delivered to me after the most eolemttioh 


junedoiifl of concealment," raid she ; ^ uid these wero 
aooompmied with tfareatenin|K8, m case of dieobediettoe^ 
of na ordinary natare. He was to be hronght iqi m this 
inaeoeasihle wild widi ns as oar grandson; and fardier 
than that, no being was to know. Our reward was to 
be very high — too high, I am afraid, which may hare 
earned his abetractiim. B«t O he was a dear delight- 
ful boy ! and I loyed him bettisr than my own grand* 
son. He was so playfiil, so bold, and, at the seme 
time, so forgiving and generonsl 

^ WeU, he lived on with ns, and grew, and no one ac- 
knowledged or noticed him nntil a little while ago; that 
(me Bfll ^col came into the forest as foz-^hnnter, and 
came here to board, to be near the foxes, having, as he 
pretendeo^- the fitctoi's orders for doing so ; and every 
day he would sport with the two boys, who were both 
aUke fond of him,--^«nd every day wonld he be giving 
them rides on his pony, which put them half craay 
about the man. And then one day, when he was 
giving them a ride time about, the knave mounted be- 
hind poor little Lewie, and rode o£f with him abogeditf 
into the forest, and there was an end of him« Ranald 
ran crying after them till he could run no fiarther, and 
then, losing sight of them, he sat down and wept. I 
was busy at work, and thought always that my two 
little fellows were playing not hr off, until I began to 
wonder where they ooukL be> andiai»4Mit to tha to^ <s^ 


dM MtUe hukf knowe-lMid fhtate, and 6tll9if wnd 
lodfer caUed them ; b«t nothiiig «i«irered me, tave tht 
edMMs of my own YoioBfrom theroduaiid t»ee8;.00 
I grew rerj grrally distracted^ end na «p GIim'C— 
toty thoutiiig ae I went, and always imping betwMii 
wkiles to the Holy "^^fgin and to the gooditeintsiof^- 
•tofe me my boya* But they did not d» it-^-<Mt ao^ 
theynoTer did! I then began to tnBpact that lUi funa* 
tended foz4ranter might hare been the Wicked One 
come in disguise to take away my childrai ; and the 
more so, as I knew not if Lewie had been blessed in ho- 
ly ehmrdi. Bnt what oovld I do bnt nm ony callings 
and crying, and raring all the way, witil I came to the 
pass of Bally-keorach, and then I saw that no [kmy*s 
foot had passed on that path, and tomed and ran home; 
bnt it was growing dark, and there was nobody there, 
so I took to the woods again. How I spent that night 
I do not know, but I think I had fallen into a trance 
through sorrow and fatigue. 

** Next morning, when I came to my senses, the first 
thing I saw was a man who came by me, chasing a ' 
Wounded bird, like a ndbite moorfowl, and he was al<p 
ways trying to catch it with his bonnet, and many a 
hard fidl h^ got among the stones. I called afiber him, 
for I was glad to see a human bdng in that place, and I 
made all tbe.speed I could to follow; but he regarded, 
me not»biil ran after the wounded bird* HewJantdown 


thQ linns, which retarded him a good deal, and I got 
qvite near hipi* Then frmn that he went into a small 
liollow straight before me, to which I ran, for I want* 
ed to tell him my tale, and beg his assistance in rai- 
fling the country in the strath below. When I came 
into the little hollow, he had yanished, although a hare 
oould not have left it without my seeing it. I was 
greatly astonished, assured that I had seen a vision. 
But how much more was I astonished to find, on the 
Tery spot where he had disappeared, my grandscm, 
Hanald, lying sound asleep, and quite motionless, 
through himger and fatigue I At first I thought he. was 
dead,' and lost all recollection of the wonderful way in 
which I had been led to him ; but when I found he 
was alire and breathing, I took him up in my arms, 
and carried him home, and there found the same man, 
or rather the same apparition, busily employed hunting 
the wounded bird within this same cottage, and he de- 
clared that have it he must. I was terrified almost out 
of my wits, but tried to thank the mysterious being 
for leading me to my perishing child. His answw 
-^which I shall never forget--— was, < Yes, I have 
fofimd one, and I will find the other too, if the Al^ 
mighty spare me in life,' And when the apparition 
said so, it gave me such a lock m the face-<^Oh I ah I 
WhatisthisI what is this T 
Here the old woman b^an to shriek like oiie dis*. 


tracted, and i^peared in an agony of toror ; andi to 
tell the truth, I was not much better myself whea I 
heard the story of the wounded ptarmigan. B«t I tried 
to support the old woman, and asked what ailed her. 

^ Well you may ask what ails me I" said she. ^ Oh 
Mr MacTavish, what did I see just now hnt the very 
same look that the apparition gare that momiag ! The 
same look, and from the very same features ; for in^* 
deed it was the apparition of yourself, in erery linea- 
ment, and in every article of dress : — your very self. 
And it is the moet strange vision that ever happened 
to me in all my Tisicmary life V* 

^^ I will tell you what it is, Mrs Elspeth Cowan,' 
said I, << you do not know one half of its strangeness 
yet ; but tell me the day of the week and the >day of 
the month when you beheld this same vision of my* 

<< Ay, that day I never shall forget," answered El^ 
speth ; '^ for of all the days of the year it was the one 
after I lost my dear foster-son, tmd that was the serrmth 
of Avenle. I have always thought my boy was stokil 
to be murd^ed, or put out of the way most unfairly, 
till this very day ; but now, when 1 see the same matt 
in flesh and blood, whom I saw that day dbasing the 
wounded bird, I am sure poor Lewie will be foimd ; 
for with that very look which you gave me but a mi- 
nute ago, and in that very place where you stand, your 


^iptfition or yourself said to me, < Yes, I have fouad 
ibe one, and I will find the other if the Almighty spare 
me in USeJ " 

<6 I do not reeollect of saying these words, Mrs 
Cowan," said I. 

<< Reoolleet?" said she ; << what is it yoa mean ? Sure 
you were not here your own self that morning?'* 

^^Why^ to tell you the solemn truth," replied I, 
<^ I was in the glen that very morning chasing a wound- 
ed ptarmigan, and I now have some faint recollection 
oi seong a red-haired hoy lying asleep in a little green 
hollow heside a grey stone,**-and I think I did say these 
words to aome one too. But was not there something 
more? Was not there something ahout letting out 
somehody's heart's hlood ?" 

^^ Yes ; but then that was only a dream I had," said 
she, ^ while the other was no dream, but a sad reality. 
But how, in the name of the blessed saints, do you 
ha]^>en to know of that dream ?" 

^ It is not easy, now-a^days," answered I, << to B%y 
what IB a dream and what is a reality. For my part, 
from this moment I renounce all certainty of the dis-; 
tiniction. It is a fact, that on that very morning, and: 
at that hour, I was in this glen and in this cottage,-— 
and yet I was neither in this glen nor in this cottage. 
So, if you can unriddle that, you are welcome." 

<' I knew you were not here in flesh and blood* I 


knew it was your wraithy or anamp m we cell it ; foTy 
firaty you yanished in the hollow before my ^yea ; than 
you appeared here again, and when you went awmy in 
haate, I followed you to beg your atsiatancei; a»d all 
that I coidd hear was your spirit howling under a wa- 
tttfall of the linn." 

This confounded me more than ey^^ and it W9b some 
time before I recovered my aelf-possewon so ftr. as to 
inquire if what she had related to me was all she knew 
about the boy. . . 

« Nothing more,'* she saidy <^ save that you ane^def- 
tined to discover him again^ either dead oralive— -for 
I can assure you, from the words that I heard out .of 
your own spirit's mouthy that if you da not find bim» 
and restore him to his birthright^ he never will be ^»- 
Covered by mortal man* • I went, poor, sachlesa, and 
helpless being aa I was, to the JBisbop) and told him my 
woful story ; for I durst do nothing till I asked counsel 
of him. He was, or rather pretended to be» very an- 
gry, and said I deserved to be burnt for my n^ligenee, 
for there was no doubt the boy had fallen over some 
precipice. It was in vain that I told him how my own 
{grandson had seen him carried off on the pony by the 
pretended fox-hunter; he peroisted in his own belief 
and woidd not suffer me to mention the circumstancos 
to a single individual. So, knowing that the counsel 


of the Lord was with his serrant, I could do nothing 
but weep, in secret, and hold my peace/' 

Thus ended my interriew with Elspeth of the glen. 

After my visit to the old sibyl, my mind ran much 
on the extraordinary vision I had had, and on the old 
witch's haTiBg actually seen a being in my shape at the 
very instant of time that I myself weened and felt that 
I was there. 

I have forgot whether I went to Lady Julia that 
very night or some time after, but I did carry her the 
tidings, which threw her into an agony of the deepest 
distress. She continued for a long space to repeat 
that her child was murdered, — her dear, her innocent 
dnld. But before I left her, she said her situation 
was a«very peculiar one, and therefore she entreated 
me to be secret, and to tell no one of the circumstance^ ' 
yet by all means to lose no time in endeavouring to 
trace the foai^^hunter, and to find out, if possible, wlie« 
tber the boy was dead or alive. She concluded by 
saying, *^ Exert yourself like a man and a true friend, 
as you have always been to me. Spare no expense in 
attaining your object^ and my whole fortune is at your 
diqiosaL" I was so completely involved in the busi-' 
neas, thai I saw no alternative but that of proceeding, 
-<-4md not to proceed with vigour was contrary to my 

Lady Julia had all this time been kept in profound 


ignorance where the child had been concealed, and the 
very next day after our interview^ she paid a yiait to 
old Elspeth Cowan at the remote cottage of Aher- 
duchra, and there I again met with her as I set out on 
the pursuit. Loag and serious was our consults^n, 
and I wrote down all the marks of the man and the 
horse from Elspeth's mouth; and the child Ranald 
also gave me some very nice marks of the pony. 

The only new thing that had come out, was ^t 
the boy Ranald had persisted in saying, lliat the fgx« 
hunter took his brother Lewie dawn the glen, in place 
of up, which every other circumstance seemed to in- 
dicate. Elspeth had seen them go all three up the 
glen, the two boys riding on the pony, and the fox- 
hunter leading it, and Ranald himself was foimd hr 
up the glen ; but yet when we took him to the spot, 
and pointed up the glen, he said, No, they did not go 
that way, but the other. Elspeth said it was not pos- 
sible, but I thought otherwise ; for when I asked at 
Ranald where he thought Nicol the fox-hunter was 
going with his brother, he said he thought he was ta** 
king him home, and that he would come back for him. 
Elspeth wanted me to take the route through the hills 
towards the south ; but as soon as I heard the boy's 
tale, I suspected the Bishop had had some share in the 
abstraction of the missing child, and set out on my 
search in the direction of his mansion. I asked at every 


house and at every person, for such a man and such a 
pony as I described, making no mention of a boy ; but 
no such man had been seen. At length I chanced to 
be asking at a shieling, within a mile of the Bishop s 
house, if» on such a day, they had seen such a man ride 
by on a black pony* They had not seen him ; but there 
was a poor vagrant boy chanced to be present, and 
heard my inquiry, and he said he saw a man like that 
ride by on a blaok pony one day, but it could not be 
the man I wanted, for he had a bonny boy on the 
horse before him. 

<< Indeed ?" said L << O, then, it could not be the 
man I want. Had the pony any mark by which you 
could remember it ?'' 

" Cheas gear" said the boy. This was the very 
mark that little Ranald had given me of the pony. 
Oho I I have my man now ! thought I ; so I said no 
more, but shook my head and went away. Every 
thing was kept so close about the Bishop's house, I 
could get no intelligence there, nor even entrance— and 
in truth, I durst hardly be seen about the premises. 

In this dilemma, I recollected the words of the sibyl 
of the glen, as I had heard them in my strange vision, 
namely, that my only sure way of making a fortune 
was by letting out my heart's blood; and also, that 
when my heart's blood was let out, it proved to be a 
flood of guineas. Now, thought I to myself, what 

96 THE shepherd's calendar. 

does making a fortune mean but carrying out sncoess- 
fully any enterprise one may hare in hand ? and thongli 
to part with money is a very hard mattery espedally 
in an afiair in which I have po concern, yet I will try 
the efficacy of it here, and so learn whether the expe- 
riment is worth making in other cases where I am 
ihore closely interested^— The truth is, I fomad that I 
was deeply interested in the nSbir^ althongh, not being 
able to satisfy my own mind with reasons why I dionld 
be so, I affected to consider myself mightily indiffer- 
ent about it In pursuance, therefore, of ihe plan sug- 
gested in my dream, and on a proper opportunity, by 
means of a present administered to one of the Bishop's 
servants, I learnt, that about the time when the boy 
had been carried off by the fox-hunter, a priest of the 
name of O'Callaghan had made his appearance at the 
Bishop's house; that he was dressed in a dark grey 
jacket and trowsers, and rode a black pony with crop- 
ped ears ; that he was beliered to have some secret bu- 
siness with the Bishop, and had frequent consuhations 
with him ; and my informant, becoming more and more 
free in his communications,. as the facts, one after an- 
other, were drawn from him, confessed to me that 
he had one night overheard quarrelling between O'Cal- 
laghan and his master, and having stolen to the door 
of the apartment, listened for some time, but was un-^ 
able to make out more of the angry whisperii^ within 


thstt ar llireat from O^Callaghan, that if the Bishop 
vonkl not give him more> << he (O'CaUaghan) would 
throw him oyerboard iQto tibe first salt dub he came 
to* ' Oil mterrogatiDg my infonnant if he knew whom^ 
CyCaliaghan meant, when he said he would << throw 
faim overboard," he replied that he oould not guess. I- 
had, howeva*, no doubt, that it was the boy I was in 
aeerek of,. and I had as little doubt that the fellow- 
knew to whom the threat referred ; but I have offceii> 
known people have no scruple in telling all about a 
86cret» so as to give any one a key to 1^ complete 
knowledge of it, who would yet, upon no emisideraf^ 
tiaUf give utterance to the secret itself ; and judging 
this, to be ihe case in the present instance, I con* 
tented myself with learning farther, that when the 
]»iest left the Bishop's, he went directly to Ireland, of 
which country he was a native, and would, in all pro-^ 
liability, ere long revint Scotland. 

Possessed of this dew^ I was nevertheleas much a^^ 
a loss to determine what wa^ the most adnsable way. 
of following it out. My inclination led me to wait 
the fellow's return, and to have him swed and ex- 
amined. But then I bethought me^ if I could be in- 
^nunental in saving the boy's life, or of discoveriagt 
where he was placed, ov how circumstanced, it. woukl 
avaU me more, and give Lady Julia mere satu^actio» 
tiian any pumsfament that might he ii^cted mi- the^ 

VOL. II. £ 


perpetrators of this deed afterwards. So after a trem- 
bled night and day, which I spent in preparation, I 
anned myself with a pair of pistols and a pair of High* 
land dirks, a long and a short one, and set out in my 
ardttons imdertakii^, either to recover the boy or pe- 
rish in the attempt. And it is needless for me to deny 
to you, sir, that the vision, and the weird wife €^ the 
glen's prophecy, had no small part in urging me to 
this adventure. 

I got no trace of the priest till I went to Abertarf, 
where I found out that he had lodged in the hoQse of 
a Catholic, and that he had shown a good deal of 
Ipndness and attention to the boy, while the boy seam- 
ed also attached to him, but still more to the pony* I 
went to the bouse of this man, whose name was Au« 
gns &oy MacDonald ; but he was dose as death, si&^i- 
cious, and sullen, and woidd tell me nothing of 0*Cal- 
lagban's motions. I succeeded, however, in traciiig 
Urn till he went on board of a Liverpool sloop at 
Arisaig. I was much at a loss how to proceed, when, 
in the evening, perceiving a vessel in the offing, bear- 
ing against the tide, and hoping that the persons I 
sought might be aboard of her, I hired a boat to take 
me out ; but we lost sight of her in the dusk of the 
evaiing, and I was obliged to bribe the boatmen to 
take me all the way to Tobermory, having been aasn- 
V^d that the Liverpool vessel would be obliged to put 


in there, in order to clear at the custonl-hoiise. We 
did not reach Tobermory till the next day at noon ; . 
and as we entered the narrow passage that leads into 
the harbour, a sloop came full sail by us right before 
the wind, and I saw a pretty boy standing on the poop. 
I called out << Lewis" to him, but he only looked oyer 
his shoulder as for some one else, and did not answer 
me. The ship going on, as she turned her stem right 
towards us, I saw << The Blake of Bostcm" in golden 
letters, and thought no more of the encoimter till I 
went on shore, and there I learned on the quay that 
ehe was the identical Liverpool vessel of which I was 
in pursuit, and the boy I had seen, the very one I was 
in search of. I learnt that he was crying much when 
ashore, and refused to go on shipboard again till taken 
by force ; aod that he told the people boldly, that that 
man, Nicol the fox-hunter, had taken him from his 
mother and father, and his brother Ranald, having en- 
ticed him out to give him a ride, and never taken him 
home again. But the fellow telling them a plausible 
atory, they durst not meddle in the matter. It was 
known, however, that the vessel had to go roimd by 
the Shannon, as she had some valuable loading on 
board for Limerick. 

This was heavy news, as how to get a passage thither 
I wist not. But the thoughts of the poor boy crying 
for liis home hung about my heart, and so, going to 


Gnwnock I took a passage for Belfast, and txayelled on 
foot or oo horseback as I could, all the way to Limeric]^ 
When I got there, matters looked still worse* The 
Blake had not come up to Limerick, but discharge 
her bales at the mouth of the river, and again sailed; 
and here was I in a strange country witl^ no one pier- 
haps to believe my tale. The Irish, however, showed 
no signs of apathy or indi&rence to my case, as my 
own countrymen did. They manifested the utmost 
t^Tupathy for me, and the utmost indignation against 
O'Callaghan ; and the man being known in the coimtry, 
he was soon found out by the natives. Yet, strange to 
say ! though found out by twenty men all eagerly bent 
on the discovery, as soon as he gave them a hint rer 
apecting the person by whom he was employed^ off they 
went, and never so much as came back to tell either the 
Mayor or myself that their search had beefi succesafii) 
or not. 

But two or three officers, who were Protestants, be- 
ing dispatched in search of him, they soon brought hjm 
U> Limerick, where he and I were both examined, and 
he was committed to jail till the next court day. He 
denied all knowledge of the boy, and all concern w\^ 
ever in the crime he was charged with ; and the shi^ 
being gone I coidd procure no evidence against him. 
There was nothing but the allc^tions of parties upon 
which no judgment could bfs giveix ; I l^tQ piljthe 


e^pehses of process, and he gave secnrities for his ap- 
pedniiice at the bonrt of Inyemess, if he should be cited^ 
I spent nihe days more in searching for the boy on the 
Glare side of the river ; but all my efforts were fruitless. 
I foimd that my accusation of their vagrant priest ren- 
dered me very unpopular among the natives, and wa^ 
obliged to relinquish the investigation. 

O'Callagfaan was in Scotland before me, and on my 
arrival I cammed him to be instantly seized, secure now 
of enough of witnesses to prOve the fact of his having 
taken off the boy. Old Elspeth of the glen and her 
husband were summoned, as \^ere Lady JuHa and An- 
gus Roy MacDonald. When the day of trial came, 
O'Callagfaan's indictment was read in court, charging 
him with having abstracted a boy from the shelling 6f 
Aberduchra. The Bishop being present, and a great 
number of his adherents, the panel boldly denied every 
drcumstance ; and what was my astonishment to find,* 
(hi tfie witnesses' names being called, that not one of 
theiii' was there I The officers were called and examined, 
who declared that they could nOt find one of the wit^ 
nesses in the whole country. The forester and his wife, 
they said, had left Aberduchra, akid gone nobody knew 
whither ; Lady Julia had gone to France, and Angus 
MaicDoiaald to the Lowlands, it was supposed, with 
cows. The court remarked it was a singular aciid ra- 
ther suspicious circumstance, that the witnesses shoiild' 

102 THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

all be afatoiu O'Callagfaan amid sometlimg in his own 
ddence, and hsTing made a reference to the Bishop for 
hit character, his reTerence made a long speech in his 
praise. The consequence was, that as not one witness 
produced in support of the accusation, O'Calla^^ian 
once more liberated. 

I would never have learned what became of the hoy, 
had not a young soldier, a cousin's son of mine, come 
to Innism<H« the other year. He was a fine lad, and 
I soon became a good deal attached to him ; and he be* 
ing one of a company stationed in the neighbourhood 
to guard the passes for the jH^vention of smuggling, 
he lived a good deal at my house, while his officer re- 
mained nightly at the old mansionJiouse, the guest of 
Lady Julia and the young Lord. 

It is perhaps proper here to mention that Lady Julia 
was now the only remaining member of the late EarFs 
fiMnily, and the heir of entail, being the son of a distant 
relation, had been sent from Ireland to be brought up 
by Lady Julia. He was a perverse and wicked boy, 
and grieved her heart every day. 

The young man, my relation, was one day called out 
to follow his captain on a private expedition against 
some smugglers. The next day one of his comrades 
came and told me that they bad bad a set battle with a 
great band of smugglers, in which several were killed 
and wounded. << AmoDg the rest;" said he, << our gallant 


commander^ Captain MacKenzie, is killed, and yonr 
nephew is lying mortally wounded at the stiU-house.** 
I lost no time in getting ready, and mounting one 
horse> and causing the soldier to take another, I hade 
him lead the way, and I followed. It may well he sup- 
posed that I was much astonished on finding that the 
lad was leading me straight to the cottage of Aherdu^^ 
cfara I Ever since the old forester and his wife had heen 
removed, the cottage had stood uninhabited; and it 

' ' . ' ■ 

seems that, from its inaccessible situation, it had been 
pitched upon as a still-house, and occupied as such, for 
several years, by a strong band of smugglers from the 
Deveron. They were all bold, resolute fellows, itnd 

when surprised by MacKenzie and his party, and com- 

. '■->..•■»■ 

manded to yield, they soon showed that there was no*- 

>- " ' ' •.••> 
thing farther from their intention. In one moment 

every one had a weapon in his hand ; they rushed upon 
the military with such fury that in a few minutes they 
beat them back, after having run their captain and an- 
. other man through the body, and wounded several be- 
sides. Captain MacKenzie had slain one of the smug- 
glers at the first onset ; but the next instant he fell, and 
his party retired. The smugglers then staved their 
casks, and fled, leaving the military in possession of the 
field of battle, and of the shelling, in which nothing was 
found save a great rubbish of smashed utensils and the 
killed and wounded of both sides. 


Im liiis state I found the eottige of Ab eniil r nL 
Tbere wiere one sonnggler and a aoldier qnke deMl, and 
annmber badly wounded ; and among the latter was the 
yo«ig man, my relatiTe, who was sore wounded ift ^ 
leftdionlder. My whole attention was inftantlytUMd 
towards him. He was yery fidnt, hat the bleeding wai 
•lanched, and I had hopes of his recoyery. I gara him 
some himady and water, \Hiich reTired him a great deal ^ 
and as soon as he oould speak, he said, in a low voioi^ 
^ For 6od*8 sake, attend to onr gallant captain's womd 
Mine is nothing, but, if he is still Irving, hisi I fear, ii 
dangeroos ; and a nobler youth never breathed/* 

I found him lying on a bed of rushes, one soldier 
sapporting his head, and another sitting beside hia 
with a dish of cold water. I asked the captain how 
he did ; but he only shook Ins head, and pointed to tha 
wound in his side. I mixed a* good strong cup of 
brandy and water, and gare it him. He swallowed it 
greedily, and I had then no doubt that the young man 
was near his last. << I am a great deal the better of that,*' 
said he. I requested him not to speak, and then ariced 
the soldiers if ^ wound had bled freely, but they said 
no, it had scarcely bled any. I was quite ignonmt of 
surgery, but it struck me that, if possible,, the wmaai 
should be made to bleed, to prevent it from blee£ag 
inwardly. Acccnrdingly, the men having kinged i 
good fire in the cottage, I got some warm walei^ tad 


begiEtn to foment tlte wound. As the stripes of crost^ 
ed blood began to disappear, judge of my astonisb-* 
ment, wh^ I perceived the mark of a mby ring below 
his left breast ! There was no mistaking the token. 
I kniew that moment that I was administering to Lady 
Julia's son, for whom I had travelled so far in vain, 
ajdd over whom my soul had yearned as oyer a lost 
child of my own. The basin fell from my hands, my hair • 
stood on end, and my whole frame grew rigid, so that* 
the soldiers stared at me, thinking I was bewitched, or 
seized with some strange malady. The captain, how- 
ever, made signs for them to proceed with the foment* 
atiOn, which they did^ tmtil the wound bled considera- 
bly ; and I began to have some hopes that there might 
be a possibility of saving his life. I then sent oif af 
soldier on one of my horses for the nearest surgeon,* 
and I myself rode straight to the Castle to Lady Julia, 
and informed her of the captain's wound, and the 
miserable statei in which he was lying at' the sheiling 
of Aberduchra. She held up her h^ds, and had nearl j^ 
fhlnted, and niade a lamentation so grievous, that I 
wfes convinced she already Idiew who the young matf 
wtA, She instantly ordered the dEuriage to be got 
r^dy^ and a bed put into it j in order to have the cap- 
tain conveyed straight to the Castle. I ex][)ected sh^' 
would have gone in the carriage herself, but' when she 
only gave charges to the servants and me, I'then kh6w 

£ 2 

106 TH£ shepherd's CALENDAR. 

tint the quality and propinquity of het guest were not 
known to her. 

My reflections on the scenes thai had happened at 
that cottage, made a deep impression on me that night, 
as wril they might, considering how singtdar they were. 
At that cottage I had once heen in spirit, thou^ eer* 
tainly not in the body, yet there my bodily form was 
seen speaking and acting as I would have done, and as 
at the same moment I believed I was doing. By that 
▼ision I discoYered where the lost boy was to be found, 
and there I found him ; and when he was lost again, 
on that very same spot was I told that I should find 
him, else he neyer would be discoyered by man. And 
now, after a lapse of fifteen years, and a thousand 
wanderings on his part overgone, on that Y&ry same 
qK>t did I again discover him. 

Captain MacKemne was removed to the Castle, and 
his recovery watched by Lady Julia and myself with 
the utmost solicitude— -a solicitude on her part which 
aeemed to arise from some mysterious impulse of the 
tie that connected her with the sufferer ; for had she 
known that she was his mother, her care and anxiety 
about him could scarcely have been greater. When 
his woimd was so far recovered, that no danger was to 
be apprehended from the agitating discovery, the se* 
cret of his birth was communicated to himself and Lady 
Julia* It is needless for me to trace &rther the de- 

A 6TRAKQB 8B0RBT. 107 

tails of their eventfiil history. That history, the evir 
dence adduced before the courts of law #or the rights 
of heritage, and before the Peers for the titles, hare 
now been divulged and laid quite open, so that the 
deeds done in darkness have been brought to lights and 
that which was meant to have hem concealed firom the 
knowledge of all mankind, has been published to the 
whole world, even in its most minute and intricate 
windings. It is therefore needless for me to recapitu- 
late all the events that preceded the time when this 
narrative begins. Let it suffice, that Lady Julia's son 
has been fully proved legitimate, and we have now a 
Protestant Earl, in spite of all that the IKshop did to 
prevent it. And it having been, in a great measure^ 
owing to my evidence that the identity of the heir was 
eitabHshed, I have now the prospect of being, if not 
the richest, at least, the most independent man of either 
Buchan or Mar. 

M^ Tumwamamm^cAumDAML 



iH^ wan MMi^ <MM» iiiiniiniff matt Imd wiA then ntmiy 

I v^wt^mKHrbim wi^ : W wis » tsH vngiiiiiy fig«re» 
4br««w#d itt » kwfr b^H^ eo«i» ^kMifrnt uadfAttimr' 
r(> w««^ cotti I •vvr sm V : tub Twt WIS soaedmig like U«e 
Yii>N«i« ukI Ki» W «gl i> s of Umdwr^ lyvckM with sihcr 
kne4^^«K4Jk». H<^ wwe ahrmys wloto ^read slockiDgB, 
ami as las b w < cW caMe exartly to the knap of ^ 
knef\ Ida legs appeared so lai»fr and tkm^iat it was a 
Marrel to me horn d»j canried biau Take in black 


f/fiAy mttt rT«ry naifow-brimmed hat, tfnd yon \m^ 
die %iire eompllete; any painter might take his likte^ 
Resa, piiotided he* did not make him too straij^t in thi^ 
baek, which wonld never answer, as his formed the^egt- 
ment of a great circle. He was a doctor ; but whefliei* 
•f'lavT, medicine, or divinity, I never learned ; perhaps 
elf t^em all, for a doctor he certainly was — ^we called 
Mm so^ and never knew him by any other name ; soihe, 
ifideefd, called him' the Lying Doctor, dome the Herb 
Dt>ctoi^, and sotne the Warlock Doctor ; but my mother,' 
behiiidhis back) called him always 'Tit a MARVELtotid 
Doctor, which I have chosen tb retain, as ^e one^ 
aboiit^ whose aconrac)^ there caii be no dispute. 

His whole ocmipation was in gatheiing flowers and 
herlft^ and arranging them'; and, as he picked a nUtnber' 
of lliese out of the chnnchyaid, the old wive6 in the vi- 
cinity grew terribly jealous of him. He seemed, by lua^ 
own a€!Cimnt, to have been over the whole wtrrid, on 
what business or in what capacity he never mentioned^ 
but'fi'om Ms^stbries of himself, and of his wonderful ifesCts, 
(me might have concluded that he had been every thii^' 
I remember a number of tUese^ stories quite distinctly^ 
for at that time I believed them all ' for perfect trutbf 
though I have been dbce led to sus|>ect-tbat it wliv 
scarcely consist^^t with nature or reason they ooiddbe 
wtu One or two of these tales I shall here relate, bnt^ 
with this great disadvantage, that I have^ in maiiy io^^ 



I kimof 


f tlie 


«. it CM M w««a 7<an' bad 

ttanH iiig ; hrt at hrt I dfcct- 

wIk'H' It* fuf^wet ?-^-iBy^ fiutlmw ww 
Hf line was lost, ami I mysdf was twenty times 
en d» peiBl ef beia^^ lost toow' 




*^ Dear Doctor, tell us some o' your ploys wi' that 
4rog ; for they surely must he very curious, especially 
if yon used it as a love- charm to gar the lasses follow 
you." — ^The Doctor, be it observed, was one of the 
most unlikely persons in the world to be the object of 
a tender passion. 

^ I did use it as a love-charm,'' replied the sage, smi- 
ling grimly ; << and sometimes got those to follow me 
that I did not want, as you shall hear by and by. But 
before I proceed, I may inform you, that I was offered » 
hundred thousand pounds by the College of Physidana 
in Spain, and twice the sum by the Queen of that coun- 
try, if I would impart my discovery to them in full ; and 
I refused it I Yes, for the sake of human nature I re- 
fused it. I durst not take the offer, for my life." 

<< What for, Doctor?" 

** What for, woman ? Do you say, what for? Don't 
you see that it would have turned the world upside 
down, and inverted the whole order of nature ? The 
lowest miscreant in the country might have taken 
away the first lady — ^might have taken her from her 
parents, or her husband, and kept her a slave to him 
for life ; and no opiate in nature to counteract the power 
of the charm. The secret shall go to the grave with 
me ; for were it once to be made public in any country, 
that country would be ruined ; and for the sake of good 
order among mankind, I have slighted all the grandeur 


Vfld uDi IPOVM MWd BBW MMOWCQ* xBfr flMt ClVIKt 

trial of vr fkm wat a pdbfie mut ;**— and Ae t>o4slor 
ipnt on to pnalc Oat n iwcancu as roll<ywa ? 

^9f yynnfp !pmffpar« 

Ha V1XG brough t mv Tahied dnrm to foil pa'feetion 
dbroad, I retmrned to Bntun to enjoy die fruit' of my 
labonn, conyinced that I would ensure a patSmt, and 
cairy all the world before me. But on my arriyid' in 
London, I was told that a great Spanish Professor had 
made the discorery five years before, and had armed 
at great ribhes and preferment on that accotmt, under 
tb^ {fotronage of the Queen. Convinced that' no man 
alive was thoroughly master of the charm but myself, 
I went straight to Spain, and waited on tins eminent'Fro- 
fessor, whdse name was Don Felix de Valdez. This 
man liv^ in a style superiot to the great nobility and' 
gnmdees of his country. He had a palace that was litft 
exceeded 'in "splendour by aftjr in the city, and'aistdte'ctf^ 
lacqueys, young gentlemen, arid phyBicians, attending' 
Uhhi as if he had been the greatest man in the world: 
It cdst me much trouble, and three da^' atiendatk^,* 
Mfcnre I could be admitted to his presence -; arid ereii* 
thelf'Ntf received me so cavalierly that liiy BritiBh lAoM' 
bofled with indignation. 

<« ynkX is it yori'wtet with m*, fellow?" saM hfe 



« Sir, I would have you know," said I, « that I m 
an Englifik Doctor, and Master of Arts, and t/af& fel^ 
l4W in any respect. So far good« I was told in iny 
dWH country) sir, that you are a pretender to the pro^ 
foiind 1^ of attachment ; or, in other words, that yon 
hbre made a discovery of that divine elixir, wMdi at*- 
laches every living creature touched with it to your per^ 
son. Do you pretend to such a discoveiy ? Or do yon 
»oir, sir ?'* 

<< AAd what if I do, most suhlime Doctor and Mafi^ 
ter of Arts ? In what way does that concern your gteBk 

" Only thus far. Professor Don Felix de Valdez,** 
sftyb I, *^ that the discovery is my chvn, wholly my owafj 
laid solely my own ; and after travelling over half tti^ 
world in my rese^ches for the proper ingredients, and 
making myself master of the all-powerful nostrum, ih 
it reasonable, do you think, that I should be deprivii^ 
^ my honour and emolument without an effort ? 1 am 
e<^e from Britain, sir, for the sole purpose of challe^ 
^iBg you to a trial of skill before your sovereign and kH 
bis people, as well as the learned world in general I 
throw down the gauntlet, sir. Dstre you enter lite Kstft 
a^/Hh me? 

'< Deske my lacqueys to take awfty this mad fereigijh 
er/' said be to an attendant. " Beat him well wii^ 
fffstveS) for his impertinence, and give bim up to^tHe oi* 

114 THE shepherd's CALENDAIU 

ficen of police, to be put in the House of CoRection ; 
and say to Signior Pbilippo that I ordered it*"* 

<< YoQ ordered it T said !• << And who are yon, to 
order such a thing ? I am a free-born British subject) 
a Doctor, and Master of Arts and Sciences, and I }iaT9 
a pass from your government to come to Madrid t0 
exercise my calling ; and I dare any of you to touch a 
hair of my bead.'* 

<^ Let him be taken away/* said be, nodding disdain* 
fully, << and see that you deal with him as I have com- 

The students then conducted me gently forth^ joe* 
tending to pay me great deference ; but when I was put 
into the hands of the vulgar lacqueys, they made sport 
of me, and having their master s orders, used me with 
great rudeness, beating me, and pricking me with 
needle-pointed stilettos, till I was in great fear for my 
life, and was glad when put into the bands of the police. 

Being liberated immediately on making known my 
country and erudition, I set myself with all my might 
to bring this haughty and insolent Professor to the test. 
A number of his students having heard the challenge 
it soon made a great noise in Madrid ; for the young 
King, Charles the Third, and particularly his Queen^ 
were half mad about the possession of such a nostram 
at that period. In order, therefore, to add fuel to the 
flame now kindled, I published challenges in every one 


of the Spanish journals, and causing three thousancl 
copies to be printed, I posted them up in every comer 
of the city, distributing them to all the colleges of the 
kingdom, and to the college of Toledo in particular, 
of which Don Felix was the Principal — ^I sent a seal- 
ed copy to every one of its twenty-four professors, and 
Caused some hundreds to be distributed amongst th^ 

This challenge made a great noise in the city, and 
Mxm reached the ears of the Queen, who became quite 
impatient to witness a trial of our skill in this her fa» 
vourite art. She harassed his Majesty with such ef- 
fect, that he was obliged to join her in a request to 
FrofesaOr Don Felix de Valdez, that he would vouch* 
tafe a public trial of skill with this ostentatious fo-^ 

The Professor besought that he might be spared the 
indignity of a public exhibition along with the crazy 
half-witted foreigner, especially as his was a secret art* 
and ought only to be practised in secret. But the 
voices of the court and the colleges were loud for the 
trial, and the Professor was compelled to consent and 
name a day. We both waited on their Majesties to 
settle the order and manner of trial ; and on drawing 
lots who was to exhibit first, the Professor got the pre« 
ference. The Prado was the place appointed for the 
exhibition, and Good Friday the day. The Professor 

1 ii TSB shepherd's CALENINUL 

C E g i ggd xm enter the lists precisely «t half past twelte 
•flock ; Kat he hegged that he might be snfiered to 
ceme in disguise, in order to do away all siiapiieiofiil ef 
a prirate understanding with otho^s ; and assured iheir 
Majesties that he would soon be known ib thdtt by 
his works. 

When the i^ipointed day amved, I yerily belkfed 
that aU Spain had assembled to witness the trial. I was 
placed next to the royal stage, in company with many 
learned doctors, the Qneen bdng anxious to witnesB 
^ ^fect that the display of her wonderful Ptofessor's 
skill produced on me, and to hear my remarks. The 
anxiety that preyailed for almost a whole hour trai 
wonderful ; for no one knew in what guise the I¥o* 
fessor would appear, or how attended, or who wars 
tlie persons on whom the effect of the unguent was to 
be tried. Whenever a throng or bustle was perceited 
in any part of the parade, then the buzs began, <^ Yoin- 
der he is now I Yon must be he, our great Professor, 
Don Felix de Valdez, the wonder of Spain and of the 
world I" 

The Queen was the first to perceive him, perhaps 
fr6m some private hint given her in what disguise he 
ttroidd appear ; on which she motioned to me, poinih^ 
out a mendicant Friar as my opponent, and added, that 
ahe thought it but just and right that I should witness 
fdl his tiiotions, hifi( feats, a^d the power of his art. L 


d^d ^Qp and thought very meanly of the whole exhihJL- 
tian, it heing, in fiact, nothing els^ than a farce got up 
ainong a great niunjber of associates;, all of whom were 
combined to carry on the deception, a^d share in th0 
profits accruing therefrom. The Friar did nothing tiU 
be came opposite to the royal stage, when, beckoning 
slightly to her Majesty, he began to look out for hi^ 
game, and perceiving an elegant lady sitting on a stagQ 
i|dth her back towards him, he took a phial from hit 
bo^om, and letting the liquid touch the top of his finger^ 
lie reachjed up that finger and, touched the hem, of th^ 
lady's robe. She u;ttered a scream, as if pierced- to 
tbq heart, sprung to h^r feet, at^ held her breast as if 
wounded ; then, after looking round and round, as if la 
great agitation^ she descended from the stage, followed 
t^e l^riar, l^eeled at his fj^et^ and entreated to b^ i^<> 
loy^^d to foUoTv; and serve him. He requested her tQ 
4/^^aift} as b^ 9^^^ ^^^ ^^ served by woman ; but she 
ix^pt and fpUow^d on. He Qame to a thidj;-lippe^ 
African, who wa^ stan4ing grinning at th^ sqene. Th^ 
Frof^^v touched hip^. with. Ifis, unguent, and immc^ 
.dkjtely bla^kie fell a-strivipg, with. the lady, who should 
.w|4^ n^sU. the wpn4^i^}, ^!^^ ^^ ^^ ^^^ actually 
went to blows, to the greid; afoausement of, tl^e spec^ 
t^lf^, who applauded these two feats prod^ously, 
iai4 hailed their Professor as.the gieal^at nouiQiu.thf 
world* He w:alked t\v;ice th^ ^Pgl^h of th^ fJiPM&g^i 

lis THB shepherd's CALEMDAS. 

and certainly every one whom he touched with his abdr 
ment followed him, so that if he had been a straoger 
in the commwiity as I was, there could scarcely have 
been a doubt of the efficacy of his unguent of attnc* 
tion. When he came last before the royal stage, and 
ours, he was encumbered by a crowd of persons fol- 
lowing and kneeling to him ; apparently they were of 
all ranks, from the highest to the lowest. He then 
caused proclamation to be made from a stage, that if 
any doubted the power of his elixir, he might have it 
proved on himself without danger or disgrace ; a dowa- 
ger lady defied him, but he soon brought her to ha 
knee with the rest, and no one of the whole b^;ged to 
be released. 

The King and Queen, and all the judges, then de- 
claring themselves satisfied, the Professor withdrew, 
with his motley followers, to undo the charm in secret ; 
after that, he returned in most brilliant and gorgeous 
array, and was received on the royal stage, amid deaf- 
ening shouts of applause. The King then asked me, 
if I deemed myself still able to compete with his li^ 
kinsman. Professor Don Felix de Yaldez? or if I join- 
ed the rest in approval, and yielded the palm to his 
merits in good fellowship ? 

I addressed his Majesty with all humility, acknow- 
ledged the extent of the Professor's powers, as very 
^wonderful, provided they were all real; but of that 


there was no proof to me* << If he had been a foreign- 
er, and a stranger, as I am, in this place, and if pre- 
judices had been excited against him," added I, << then 
I would have viewed this exhibition of his art as highly 
Wimderfiil ; but, as it is, I only look on it as a well 
eontriyed £Eurce." 

The Professor reddened, and bit his lip in the height 
of scorn and indignation ; and indeed their Majesties 
imd all the nobility seemed offended at my freedom ; 
cm which I added, <^ My exhibition, my liege, shall be 
a very short one ; and I shall at least conyince your 
JVlajesty, that there is no deceit nor collusion in it." 
And with that I took a small syringe from my bosom, 
which I had concealed there for the purpose, as the 
liquor, to have due effect, must be always warm with 
the beat of the body of him that sprinkles it ; and with . 
that small instrument, I sqidrted a spray of my elixir 
on Professor Don Felix*s fine head of hair, that hung 
in wavy locks almost to his waist, 
i At that moment there were thousands all standing 
agape, eager to witness the effect of this bold appeaL 
The Professor stood up, and looked at me, while the 
tears stood in his eyes. That was the proudest mo« 
ment of my life I For about the space of three minutefi, 
his pride seemed warring with his feelings; but the 
energy and impulse of the latter prevailed, and be cam^ 
find kneeled at my feet. 

)20 TUB $HfiPH£BI>*t CAJJBtn%At^ 

<<Felix9 you dog I what i» tke nawming of tin?'' 
cried I. " How dare you go and dreM yovraalf Hkea 
§^aiidee of the kiDgdom, and thea oome fiorth aad 
Hioimt Uie stage in the presence of royalty, kMMRmg, 
as yoa do, that yoa were bom to be my slave ? Ge 
this instant ! doff that gorgeous appaisly and pal on 
By liyery, and come and wait here at my heeL And, 
do you hear, bring my horse properiy caparisoned, and 
one to yourself; for I ride into the country to duumv 
Tal^e note of what I order, and attend to it, else 1% 
beat you to a jelly, and have you distilled into iha 
elixir of attraction. Presumption indeed, to come in- 
to my presence in a dress like that I" 

He ran to obey my orders, and then the admiratJon 
so lately expressed was turned into contempt. All t)ie 
people were struck with awe and astonishment. They 
could not applaud, for they were struck dumb» and 
0yed me with terror, as if I had been a divinity. <« This 
exceeds all comprehension," said the judges. ** II he 
^Ad.told me that he could have upheaved the Pyroiean 
o^oiintains from their foimdations, I could as well baiBS 
belieyed it," said the King. But the Queen was die 
niOBt perverse of all, for she would not believe il| 
thpi)gh she witnessed it; and she declared she nef«r 
would bqlieve it to be a reality, for I had only thrown 
ghmipur ift their eyes. " Is it possible," said she, ^ tlml 
the most famous man in Spain, or perhaps in the woiH 


who has hmidreds to serve hhn, and run at his bidding, 
^lOuld all at once, by his own choice^ submit to be-- 
come a slave to an opponent whom he despised, and 
ho buffeted like a dog, without resenting it ? No ; 111 
never believe it is any thing but an illusion." 
' « There is no denying of your victory," said King 
Chaples 4o me ; << for you have humbled your opponent 
is the dust. — You must dine with me to-night, as we 
have a great entertainment to the learned of our king- 
dom, over all of whom you shall be preferred to the 
iHghest place. But as Don Felix de Valdez is like- 
wise an invited guest, let me entreat you to disenchant 
him, that he may be again restored to his place in so- 

^ I shall do myself the distiagmshed honour of di- 
ning with your exalted and most Catholic Majesty," I 
replied. <^ But will it be no degradation to your high 
dignity, for the man who has worn my Hvery in pub- 
lic, to appear the same day at the table of royalty ?" 

^This is no common occmrence," answered the 
King. <^ Although, by one great effort of art, nature 
has been overpowered, it would be hard that a great 
man should remain degraded for ever." 

** Well, then, I shall not only permit him to leave 
my service, but I shall order him from it, and beat 
him from it. I can doxio more to oblige your Majesty 
at present.'* 

VOIi. IT. F 

122 THE shepherd's calbmdab. 

** What I can you not then lemoye the cfasm J^ 
said he. <<Yon saw the Profieasor could do that at 

«« A mere trick,'* said L << If the Profesaor, Don 
Felix, had heen in the least conscious of the power of 
his liqnor, he would at once have attacked and de- 
graded me. It is quite evident* I expected a trial at 
least, as I am sure all the company did ; hat I stood 
secure, and held him and his art at defiance. He is a 
sheer impostor, and his boasted discovery a cheat." 

<< Nay, but I have tried the power of his ungumit 
again and again, and proved it,'' said the Queen. << But^ 
indeed, its effect is of very short duration ; therefore^ 
all I request is, that you will give the Professor his 
liberty ; and take my word for it, it will soon be ac- 

I again promised that I would ; but at the same time 
I shook my head, as much as to signify to the Queen, 
she was not aware of the power of my elixir ; and I 
determined to punish the Professor for his insolence 
to me, and the sound beating I got in the court of his 
hotel. While we were speaking, Don Felix approach- 
ed us, dressed in my plain yellow livery, leading my 
horse, and mounted on a grand one of his own, that 
cost two hundred gold ducats, while mine was only a 
hack, and no very fine animal either, 

<< How dare you have the impudence to mount my 


horsei sir ?" exclaimed I, taking his gold-headed whip 
from him, and lashing him with it. ^< Get off instantly, 
you blondering booby, take your own spavined jade, 
and ride off where I may never see your face again/' 

^< I beg your pardon, honoured master,'' said he, 
humbly ; ^' I will take any horse you please ; but I 
thought this had been mine." 

<<You thought, sirrah I What right have you to 
think ?" I demanded. ^< I desire no more of your at- 
tendance," I continued. ^' Here, before their Majesties, 
and all their court and people, I discharge you my ser^ 
vice, and dare you, on the penalty of your life, ever 
to approach my presence." 

<^ Pardon me this time," said he ; << TU sooner die 
than leave you." 

" But you shall leave me or do worse," said I, " and 
therefore disappear instcmtly ;" and I pushed him 
through the throng away from me, and lashed him with 
the whip till he screamed and wept like a lubberly 

^< You must have some one to ride with you and be 
your guide," he said ; <* and why will you not suffer 
me to do so ? You know I cannot leave you." 

His Majesty, taking pity on the helpless Professor) 
sent a livery-man to take his place, and attend me on 
my little jaunt, at the same time entreating him to de- 
sist, and remember who he was. It was all in vain. 

He fiwighi witk tke Kings Mnrant for the privflege, 
■J hack, and followed dm to the TiU% aheiit 
milce firom the dty, where I had been fgaged ta 
diae. The news had not armed of my yieloiy whea 
Igotthere. The lofd of the manor was at the exhibi- 
tkin» and he not having retaraed, the ladiea wen all 
impatience to learn the reenh. 

^ It becomes not me, noble ladiesy" said I, ^^ to bring 
the news of my own triamph, whidi yon might Terf 
reasonably expect to be nntme, m overcharged; bat 
yon shall witness my power yonrBelTea. 

Thou they set np eldrich screann in firolic, ud 
begged, iw the sake of the Virgin, that I wonld not 
put my skill to the test on any of them, for they had 
no desire to foUow to England even a master of the 
arts and sciences; and every one assured me penKmally 
that she wonld be a horrid plagae to me, and that I 
had better pause before I made the experiment. 

<^ My dear and noble dames," said I, << there is no- 
thing farther from my intention than to make any of yon 
the objects of fascination. But come all hither,** and 
I threw up the sash of the window — ^< Come all hither, 
and behold a pro<^ ; and if more is required, it shall 
not be lacking. See ; do you all know that gentleman 

*^ What gentleman ? Where is he ? I see no gmtie- 
man,*' was the general rejoinder. 


<< That gfflitleman wlie is lioldiiig my horse— -he on 
the s<»iy hfu^ there> with yellow livery* You all know 
him assuredly. That is your great Professor, Don 
Felix de Valdez, accounted the most wonderful man in 
Spatn^ and by many of you the greatest in the workL** 

They woidd not believe it, until I called him dose 
up to the door of the chateau, and showed him to them 
tike any wild beast or natural curiosity, and called him 
by his name. Then they grew frightened, or pretended 
to be so, at being in the presence of a man of so much 
power, for they all knew the Professor personally ; and 
if one coidd have beUeved them, they were like to go 
into hysterics for fear of fascination. Yet, for all that, 
I perceived they were dying for a specimen of my art, 
and that any of them would rather the experiment 
•fa<Hild be made on herself, than not witness it. 

Accordingly, there was a very handsome and en- 
gaging brunette of the party, named Donna Bashelli, 
en whom I could not help sometimes casting an eye, 
hmog a little fascinated myselL Tins was soon per- 
ceived by the lively group, and they all gathered round 
ise, and teased me to try the power of my philtre on 
RashellL I asked the lady's consent, on which she 
answered rather disdainfully, that *^ die would be fsm* 
dbrnted indeed if she followed me / and therefore she 
Jifdd me at defiance, provided I did not touch her, whidi 
ahe would noi allow." 

126 THE shepherd's CALBNDA8. 

Without more ado, I took my tube from my bosom, 
and squirted a little of the philtre on her lefi-foot shoe 
— at least I meant it so, though I afterwards peroeived 
that some of it had touched her stocking. 

^ And now, Donna Rashelli/' said I, ** yon are in 
for your part in this drama, and you little know wbsX 
you have authorized." She turned from me in disdain \ 
but it was not long till I beheld the tears gathering in 
her eyes ; she retired hastily to a recess in a window, 
covered her face with her hands, and wept InNterly. 
The others tried to comfort her, and laugh her out of 
her frenzy, but that was of no avail ; she broke from 
them, and, drowned in tears, embraced my knees, re- 
questing in the most fervent terms to be allowed the 
liberty of foUowing me over the world. 

The ladies were all thrown by this into the utmost 
consternation, and besought me to undo the charm, both 
ibr the sake of the young lady herself and her honolnr* 
able kin ; but I had taken my measures, and paid no 
regard to their entreaties. On the contrary, I made 
my apology for not being able to dine there, owing to 
the King's commanding my attendance at the palate^ 
took a hasty leave, mounted my horse, and, with Doa 
Felix at my back, rode away. 

I knew all their power could not detain Donna Rai^ 
elli, and, riding slowly, I heard the screams of mad- 
ness and despair as they tried to hold her. She tors 


their head-dresses and robes in pieces, and fought like 
a fury, till they were glad to suffer her to go ; but they 
^ folio nred in a group, to overtake and entreat me to 
restore their friend to liberty, 

I forded the stream that swept round the groimds, 
and waited on the other bank, well knowing what 
would occur, as a Spanish maiden never crosses even 
a rivulet without taking off her shoes and stockings. 
Accordingly she came nmning to the side of the stream, 
followed by all the ladies of the chateau, calling to me, 
and adjuring me to have pity on them. I laughed aloud 
at their tribulation, saying, I had done nothing but at 
I their joint request, and they must now abide by the 
consequences. Rashelli threw off her shoes and stock- 
ings in a moment, and rushed into the stream, for fear 
of being detained ; but before taking two steps, the 
charm being removed with her left-foot shoe, she stood 
still, abashed ; and so fine a model of blushing and re- 
pentant beauty I never beheld, with her ravea hair 
hanging dishevelled far over her waist, her feet and 
. half her limbs of alabaster bathing in the stream, and 
,^her cheek overspread with the blush of shame. 

** What am I about ?" cried she. " Am I mad ? or 
bewitched ? or possessed of a demon^ to run after a 
mountebank, that I would order the menials to drive 
from my door I" 

^< So you are gone, then, dear Donna Rashelli?" 

ViS THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

cried I. '* Farewell, then, «nd peace be with you. 
SImll I not see you again bef<n:e leaving this countiy?" 
hot she looked not np, nor deigned to reply. Away 
•he tripped, led by one lady on each hand, barefooted 
as she was, till they came to the gravel walk, and then 
Ae sUpped on her morocco shoes. The moment her 
left-foot shoe was on, she sprang towards me again, and 
all the dames after her foil cry. It was precisely like 
a hare-hnnt, and so comic, that even the degraded Don 
Felix langhed amain at the scene. Again she pltmged 
into the stream, and again she retm-ned, weeping for 
shame ; and this self-same scene was acted seven times 
cyver. At length I took compassion on the humbled 
beanty, and called to her aimt to seize her left-foot i^ioe^ 
and wash it in the river. She did so ; and I, thinking 
all was then over and safe, rode on my way. But I bad 
not gone three furlongs till the diase again commenced 
as loud and as violently as ever, and in a short time ihe 
lady was again in the stream. I was vexed at Ais, not 
knowing what was the matter, and terrified that I might 
have attached her to me for life ; but I besought her 
friends to keep her from putting on her stocking like- 
wise, till it was washed and fomented as well as her 
shoe. This they went about with great eagerness, an 
old dame seizing the stocking, and hiding it in her bo- 
som ; and when I saw this I rode quid^ly away, afraid 
I should be too late for my engagement with- the King. 


We had turned the comer of a wood, when again the 
•creams and yells of females reached our ears. 

<< What, in the name of St Nicholas, is this now ?' ■ 
said I. 

^ I suppose the hunt is up again, sir ; hut surely our 
hest plan is to ride <^ and leave them/' replied Don 

« That will never do," returned I ; " I cannot have 
a lady of rank attending me at the palace; and no 
power on earth, save iron and chains, can detain her, 
if one-thousandth part of a drop of my elixir remain 
about her person." 

We turned hack, and behold there was the old 
dowager coming waddling along, with a haste and agi*- 
tation not to be described, and all her daughters, niecesy 
and maidens, after her. She had taken the river at the 
broadest, shoes and all, and had got so far a-head of her 
pursuers that she reached me first, and seizing me by 
the leg, embraced and kissed it, begging and praying all 
tbe while for my favour, in the most breathless and gro- 
tesque manner imaginable. I knew not what to do ; not 
in the least aware how she became affected, till Donna 
RasheUi called out, ^ O, the stocking, sir, the stock- 
ing I" on which I caused them to take it from her alto- 
gether, and give it to me, and then they went home in 

I dined that night with their Majesties, not indeed at 

f2 ^ 

? 1 ■•■ 

ma* 4Stfr^ ar & piItnoL JtutsL v5ca. £-o£d fcr 

W :^ lD^!4f <^ tllLlUS be- 

^qp-^ffij ■■M.i dttte 

^I^ SfL I 

19^0^ mm im::^itcii ^ itw iasss^ ^kt wr^pesttd man, 

yt <C 4W ii£iMMiy:^ttrk«^miMK»oawiikI|Hrepared 

*A,>Mnut^ >K ^ «4S(v-« jcWi^Kini br the chann in die 
)NMk««<«MKMW«NMM. Had I vMded to die ic 


quests of the young nobles for supplies, I migbt almosl 
have exhausted the riches of Spain ; but as it was, I had 
got more than my own weight in gold, part of which ( 
forwarded to London, and put the remainder out to in- 
teirest in Spain, and left IV^Mirid not without fear of be- 
ing seized and sent to tlie Inquisition as a necromancer. 
•In place of that, however, the highest honours were be- 
stowed on me, and I was accompanied to the port by 
'numbers of the first people of the realm, and by all the 
friends of the Professor Don Felix de Valdez. These 
people had laid a plot to assassinate me, which they 
would have executed but for fear that the charm would 
never leave their friend ; and as Felix himself discovered 
it to me, I kept him in bondage till the very day I was 
4ibout to sail ; then I caused his head to be shaved^ and 
iBeadied with a preparation of vinegar, alum, and cinna- 
mon ; and he returned to his senses and right feelings 
once more. But he never could show his face again in 
the land wherein he had been so much caressed and ad- 
•mired, but changed his name and retired to Peru, where 
lie acquired both fame and respectability. 

When a man gains great wealth too suddenly and 
with much ease> it is not imusual for him. to throw it 
away with as little concern as he had anxiety in the ga- 

132 THE shepherd's CALEia>AR. 

of it. This I was «wve of, and detennifledto 
myoid. I began, therefore^ widiout Iom of time^ to look 
about me for a respectable settlement in Hfe ; and ba- 
▼mg, after mncb inquiry, obtained a list of tiie nnmanied 
ladies possessing the greatest fortunes in England^ I fix- 
ed on a young Countess, who was a widow, bad a kige 
fortune, and suited my wbbes in every respect Poa- 
sessing as I did the divine cordial of love, I bad no fan 
of her ready compliance; so, titer providing mjsdf 
with a suitable equ^age, I set off to her residence to 
court and win her without any loss of time. 

On arriving at her mansion about noon, I was radier 
eoldly received, which was not surprising, for I had no 
introduction, but trusted to my own powers alone. 
Though shy and reserved at first, she, however,, at 
length invited me to an early dkmer, lettkig me know 
at the same time that no visitor remained thi^re ovei^ 
night whsa her brother was not present. This was ao 
much gained ; so I made my aeknowledgmeats^ and 
accepted the invitation, — ^thinking to myself. My pret- 
ty Countess, before you and I. part, your baaglitineas 
shall be wonderfully abated ! — ^I waited my ppportuni* 
ty, and as she was leaving the apartment, aimed a small 
sprinkling of my cordial at her bushy locks ; but owing 
to a sudden cast of her head, as ladies will a&ct pret- 
ty am of dkdain, the spray of my poworfid eMxir of 


lore feU on an embroidered scarf that hvng gracefully 
cm her shoulder. 

I was now sure of the effect, provided she did not 
thrvw the scarf aside before I got her jM-eperly sprink- 
led anew, but I had hopes its operation would be top 
instant and potent to permit that. I judged right ; in 
tfivee minutes she returned to the drawing-room, and 
proposed that we two should take a waUs in her park 
before ^nner, as she had some cwiosities to show me. 
I acquiesced with pleasure, as may well be supposed. 
*— I haye you now, my pretty Countess, thought I ; 
if k be in your power to escape me, I shall account 
you more than woman. 

This park of hers was an immense fieM enclosed with 
"B high wall, with a rafl on the top. She had some roes 
in it, one couple of fallow deer, and a herd of kine. This 
last was what she pretended that the wished to show 
me ; they were all milk-white, nay> as white as snow. 
They were not of the wild bison breed, but as gentle 
and tame as lambs'— <»une to her when called by thek* 
ofumes, and seemed so fond (^ being caressed, that se- 
veral were following and teasing her at the same time. 
One favourite in particular was so foody that she became 
troublesome ; and the kdy wished to be quit fd her. 
But the beast would not go away. She followed on, 
-humming, and rubbing ou her mistress with her ehedc, 
till at last the latter, to rid herself of the annoyance, took 

1S4 THE shepherd's calekoar. 

ker scarf, and struck the cow sharply across the face 
with it I The tassels of the scarf fastened on the far 
liom of the cow, and the animal heing a little hurt by 
the stroke, as well as hlinded, it sprang away ; and in 
one moment the lady lost hold of her scarf. This was 
4eath and destruction to me ; for the lady was thus be- 
Teayed of all her attachment to me in an instant, and 
what the Countess had lost was transferred to the cow. 
I therefore pnrsned the animal with my whole speedy 
calling her many kind and afiectionate names, to make 
her stop. These she did not seem to understand, for 
atop she would not ; but perceiving that she was a little 
blindfolded with the scarf, I slid quietly forward, and 
making a great spring, seized the embroidered scarf by 
the comer. The cow galloped, and I ran and held, de- 
termined to have the scarf, though I should tear it all 
to pieces, — for I knew well that my divine elixir had the 
effect of rousing animals into boimdiess rage and mad- 
ness, — and held with a desperate grasp. I could not ob- 
tain it I All that I e£Fected was to fasten the other horn 
in it likewise, and away went the cow flaimting through 
the park, like a fine madam in her gold embroidery* 

I fled to the Countess as fast as my feet could cany 
Ine, and begged her, for Heaven's sake, to fly with m^ 
for that our lives were at stake. She could not under- 
•tand this ; and moreover, she, that a minute or two be- 
fore had been clinging to me with as much confidenoe 


as if our acquaintance had been of many years' standing^ 
and of the most intimate kind, appeared to have con* 
ceived a sort of horror of me, and would not allow me 
to approach her. There was no time to parley ; so I 
left her to shift for herself, and fled with all my might 
towards the gate at which we entered, knowing of no 
other point of egress. Time was it ; for the creature 
instantly became furious, and came after me at full 
speed, bellowing like some agonized fiend escaped from 
the infernal regions. The herd was roused by the out- 
rageous sounds, and followed in the same direction, 
every one galloping faster and roaring louder than an- 
other, apparently for company's sake ; but, far a-head 
of them all, the cow came with the embroidered scarf 
flying over her shoulders, hanging out her tongue wd 
bellowing, and gaining every minute on me. Next her 
in order came a stately milk-white bull, tall as a hunt* 
ing steed, and shapely as a deer. My heart became 
chill with horror ; for of all things on this earth, I stood 
in the most mortal terror of a bull. I saw, however, 
that I would gain the wicket before I was overtaken; 
and, in the brightness of hope, I looked back to see what 
had become of the Countess. She had fallen down on 
a rising ground in a convulsion of laughter ! This net- 
tled me exceedingly ; however, I gained the gate ; but, 
O misery and despair I it was fast locked, the Countess 
having the pass-key. To clear the wall was out of my 


powvBsodimdilemiiiaaBltbenwwin, SO I hadno- 
fUag hii for it Imt swiftness of foot Often had I 
vahwd myself on ^t qualification, bnt little expected 
wm to have so nradi need of it. So I ran and ran, pnr- 
••ad by twenty milk-wfaite kine and a Indl, all bellow- 
ing lika as many infnnal cre a t u re s . Nerer was there 
wmA anodier diase I I tried to reach the place wha« 
dM Conntess was, thinking she might be able, by her 
▼oiee, to stay them, or, at all events, that she would tell 
me how I coold escape from their fnry. Bnt the drove 
having all got between Yn&r and me, I conld not effect 
it, and was obliged to mn at random, which I continned 
to do, straining with all my might, bnt now fonnd that 
my breath was neariy gmie, and the terrible race draw- 
ing to a crisis. 

What was to be done ? Life was sweet, but expe^ 
dientsthoe were none. There were no trees in the paric 
acre young ones, dropped down, as it were, here and 
there, with palings round them, to prevent the cattle 
from destroying them. The only one that I could per- 
ceive was a tall fir, I suppose of the larch species, which 
aeemed calculated to afford a little shelter in a despe- 
rate case ; so I made towards it with a last effort. There 
was a triangular paling around it, setting my foot oil 
which, 1 darted among the branches, domb like a cat, 
and soon vanisbed among the foliage. 

Then did I call aloud to the Countess for assistance, 


imploriiig her to raise the country for my rescue ; but 
&11 that she did, was to come towards me herself, slow** 
\y and with lagging pace, for she was feeble with laugh- 
ing ; and when she did come, the cattle were all so 
infuriated that they would not once regard her* 

" What is the matter with my cattle, sir ?" cried aha. 
** They are surely bewitched." 

" I think they are bedeviled, and that is worse, 
madam/' returned I. '< But, for Heaven's sake, try to 
regean the scarf. It is the scarf which is the cause of 
all this uproar." 

<< What is in the scarf?" said she. << It can have no 
effect in raising this deadly enmity against you, if all ia 
flB it should be, which I now begin to suspect, from 
some strange diversity of feelings I have experienced." 

<< It is merely on account of the gold that is on it, 
madam," said I. << You cannot imagine how mad the 
right of gold, that pest of the earth, makes some ani- 
mals ; and it was the effort I made to get it from the 
animal that has excited in her so much fdry against me." 

<' That is most strange indeed I" exclaimed the lady. 
^ Then the animal shall keep it for me, for I would not 
for half my fortune that these favourites i^ould be 
driven to become my persecutors." 

She How called the cattle by their names, and some 
of them left me; for it was evident diat, save tha 
diarmed animal, the rest of ihe herd were only numiag 

138 Til£ Sll£rU£aD*i> CALENDAR. 

for company or dirersiou's sake. Still their looks were 
exceedingly wild and unstable, and the one that wofe 
the anointed shawl, named Fair Margaret, continued 
foaming ipad, and would do nothing but stand and bd- 
low, toss her adorned head, and look up to the tree. I 
would have given ten thousand pounds to have got hold 
of that vile embroidered scarf, but to effect it, and re* 
tain my life, at that time was impracticable* 

And now a scene ensued, which, for horror to |n# 
could not be equalled, although, to any unconcerned 
beholder, it must have appeared ludicrous in the ex- 
treme* The bull, perceiving one of his favourite mates 
thus distempered, showed a great deal of anxiety ; be 
went round her, and round her, and perceiving the 
flaunting thing on her head and shoulders, he seemed 
to entertain some kind of idea that it was the cause of 
this unwonted and obstreperous noise. He tried to 
fling it off with his horns, I know not how oft ; but so 
awkward were his efforts that they all failed. Enraged 
at being thus baffled, he then had recourse to a most 
unexpected expedient — he actually seized the scarf 
with his great mouth, tore it off, and in a few seconds 
swallowed it every thread ! 

What was I to do now ? Here was a new enemy 
and one ten times more formidable than the other, who 
had swallowed up the elixir, and whom, therefore, it 
was impossible ever to discharm ; who, I knew, would 


pursue me to tfaer death, eren though at the distance of 
fifty miles. I was in the most dreadful agony of ter* 
tor imaginable, as well I might, for the cow went away 
shaking her ears, as if happily quit of a tormentor, and 
the bull instantly began to tear up the earth with hoof 
and horn, while the late bellowings of the cow were, ta 
fais, like the howl of a beagle to the roar of a lion. They 
made the very earth to quake ; while distant woods, and 
walls, and the very skies, returned the astounding 
echoes. He went round and round the tree, digging 
graves on each side of it ; and his fiiry still increasing 
lie broke through the paling as it had been a spider's 
web, and setting his head to the trunk, pushed with all 
iiis mighty force, doubled by supernatural rag^. The 
tree yielded like a bulrush, imtil I hung dangling from 
it as if suspended from a cross-beam ; still I durst not 
quit my hold, having no other resource. While in this 
situation, I observed the Countess speeding iLway. It 
seemed to me as if she were Hope flying from me and 
abandoning me to my fate, and I uttered some piei^ 
cing cries of desperation. The tree, however, was young 
and elastic, and always as the infuriated animal with* 
drew his force for a new attack, it sprung up to its 
original slender and stately form, and then down it went 
again ; so that there was I swinging between heaven and 
earth, expecting every moment to be my last; and if the 
buD had not, in his mad eflforts, wheeled. round to the 


I Hiigbi kave been swiogiiig thoe to tUv 
4ftf . WkeA he riii^d adfli» Ok fibres of the Me 
wkened^attd at last I cum down to the earthy aad 
hoBwiaelMe vhh Ibll force; it waa m Trnm that I 
called to him to keep oi^ aed bellied him, and pie- 
teadfid to heat dogs on him ; en he came, and {dnaged 
Ua bona into die fohage; die eows did the same €oc 
cempeays aake^ and, Tm soie^ aoTer was there a poir 
aonl so completely BMibbed by a Talgar herd. StBl 
te tree bed as mnch strength left as to heave me 
gently abore their reach, aad no more, and I now be* 
gan to lose all power t h ron gh terror and deepair, and 
amely kept my hold instinctiyely> as a drowning man 
woold hold by a msk The next push the txee got it 
was again laid prosUate^ and again the ball dadied hift 
hams into the foliage^ and throngh that into the earth. 
I now WW there was no longer any 1m^ of safety if I 
remained where I was, aad therefore quitted hold of 
dm treew How I escaped I scarce can t^ bnt I did 
ea cap e dnrongh amongst the feet of the cows* 

At first I stole away like a hare from a coTer, and 
eoidd not help admiring the absurdity of die oows, diat 
eontinned tossing and tearing the tree with their homi^ 
as if determined not to leairea stiver of it; whilst Aa 
boll continQed grovelling with his bonis, down throagh 
the brandiea and into the ground. Heavens ! widi 
:«diat vdacity I dove the wind I I have fled fiKun bal- 


tie— I haye fled from ihe face of the lions of Asia, the 
dragons of Africa, and the snakes of America — 1 haye 
fled hefore the Indians with their scalping knives ; hot 
neyer in my life was I enahled to run with such speed 
as I did from this infuriated monster. 

He was now coming full speed after me, as I knew 
he would, the moment he disengaged himself; but I 
had got a good way a-head, and, I assiu'e you, was 
losing no time, and as I was following a small beaten 
track, I came to a stile over the wall. I never was so 
thankful for any thing since I was bom I It was a 
crooked stone stair, with angles to hinder animals from 
passing, and a locked door on the top, about the height 
pf an ordinary man. I easily surmounted this, by getting 
hold of the iron spikes on the top ; and now, being 
clear of my adversary, I set my head over the door 
and looked him in the face, mocking and provo- 
king him all that I could, for I had no other means of 
retaliation, and felt exceedingly indignant at having 
been put in duiger of my life by so ignoble an ^lemy. 
I never beheld a more hideous picture of rage I He 
was foaming at the mouth, and rather belching than 
bellowing ; his tail was writhing in the air like a ser- 
pent, and his eyes burning like small globes of bright 
flame. He grew so enraged at length, that he rushed 
up the stone stair, and the frame-work at the angles 
b^;an to cxash before him. Thinks I to myself^ 

148 THE shepherd's calendar* 

Friend, I do not covet such a close yicinity with you; 
•o, with your leave, Y\\ keep a due distance ; and thai 
descending to the high road, I again began to speed 
away, though rather leisurely, knowing that he could 
not possibly get over the iron-railed wall. 

There was now a close hedge on every side of me, 
about eight or ten feet high, and as a man who has 
been in great jeopardy naturally looks about him for 
tome safe retreat in case of an emergency, so I con- 
tinued jogging on and looking for such, but perceived 
none ; when, hearing a great noise far behind me, I 
looked back, and saw the irresistible monster coming 
tumbling from the wall, bringing gates, bars, and rail- 
ing, all before him. He fell with a tremendous crash, 
and I had great hopes his neck was broken, for at first 
he tried to rise, and, stumbling, fell down again ; but, 
to my dismay, he was soon again on the chase, and 
making ground on me faster than ever. He came close 
on me at last, and I had no other shift than to throw 
off my fine coat, turn round to await him, and fling it 
over his horns and eyes. 

This not only marred liim, but detained him long 
wreaking his vengeance on the coat, which he tore all 
to pieces with his feet and horns, taking it for a part 
of me. By this time I had reached a willow-tree in 
the hedge, the twigs of which hung down within reach* 
I seized on two or three of these, wrung them to-; 



getlier like a rope, and by the assistance of that, swung 
myself over the hedge. Still I slackened not my pace^ 
knowing that the devil was in the beast, and that no*^ 
thing but blood would allay his fury. Accordingly, 
it was not long till I saw him plimging in the hedge ; 
and through it he came. 

I now perceived a fine sheet of water on my lef^> 
about a mile broad, I knew not whether a lake or 
river, never having been in those bounds before. I made 
towards it with all my remaining energy, which was. 
not great. I cleared many common stone-walls in my 
course, but these proved no obstacles to my pursuer,^ 
and before I reached the lake, he came so close upon, 
me, that I was obliged to fling my hat in his face, and as 
be fortunately took that for my head, it served him a 
good while to crush it in pieces, so that I made to the 
lake and plunged in. At the very first, I dived and 
swam under water as long as I could keep my breath, 
assured that my enemy would lose all traces of me 
then ; but when I came to the surface, I found him puf- 
fing within two yards of me. I was in such horror, that 
I knew not what to do, for I found he could swim 
twice as fast as I could; so I dived again, but my breath 
being gone, I could not remain below, and whenever 
I came to the surface, there was he. 

If I had had the smallest reasoning faculty left, or 
bad once entertained a thought of resistance, I might 


Msily have known that I was now f^^Hy safe. The 
beast coold not harm me. WheBerer he made a padi 
at me, his head went below the water, whidi confoimd- 
ad him. My perturbation was so extreme^ that I WM 
•n the point of perishing from exhaostiony before I per- 
ceived this to be the case. When, howerer, I did ob^ 
serve it, I took courage, seized him by the tail» eloaib 
npon his back, and then rode in perfect safety. 

I never got a more complete and satb&ctory re- 
venge of an enemy, not even over the Spanish Prote- 
8or, and that was complete enough ; but here I had no- 
thing to do but to sit exulting on the monster's back, 
while he kept wallowing and struggling in the waves. 
I then took my penknife, and stabbed him deliberat^y 
over the whole body, letting out his heart's blood. He 
took this very much amiss, but he had now got enong^ 
of blood aroimd him, and began to calm himself. I 
kept my seat nevertheless, to make all sure, till his 
head sunk below the water, while his huge hinder parts 
turned straight upmost, and I left him floating away 
Hke a huge buoy that had lost its anchor. 

'< Now, Doctor, gin a' tales be true, yours is nas 

lee, that is certain," said my mother, at the condomn 

of this narration ; << but I want some explanations— it*s 

a grand story, but I want to take the conseqneneea 



aiang wi* me. What did the Queen o' Spain wi' a' the 
ointmmit yon left wi' h^ ? I'm thinking there wad 
be some strange scenes about that Court for a while.'' 

<< Why, Margaret, to say the truth, the elixir was 
not used in such a way as might have been expected. 
The truth appeared afterwards to have been this : The 
King had at that time resolved on that ruinous, and 
then yery unpopular war, about what was called the 
Family Compact ; and finding that the clergy, and a 
part of the principal nobility, were in opposition to it, 
and that, without their concurrence, the war could not 
be prosecuted with any effect, the Queen took this 
very politic method of purchasing plenty of my divine 
elixir oi attachment, and giving them all a touch of it 
ev^y one. The effect was, of course, instant, potent, 
and notorious; and it is a curious and incontestable 
fact, that the effects of that sprinkling have continued 
the mania of attachment among that class of Spain to 
this day." 

*' And how came you on wi* your grand Countess ? 
Ye wad be a bonny figure gaun hame again to her 
place, half-naked, and like a droukit craw, wi' the life 
of her favourite animal to answer for I" 

^' That is rather a painful subject, Margaret — rather 
a painful subject. I never saw her again I I had lost my 
coat and hat. I had lost all my money, which was in 
notesy in swinmiing and diving. I had lost my carriage 


146 TBE 8HBPHraU>*8 €AI£K1>A1L 

and horees, md I had loet my good name, wbick ww 
wont of all ; for from tiiat day forth, I was branded 
and shnnned as a necromancer. The abrupt and ex- 
traordinary changes in the lady*B seartiments had itot 
escaped her own notice, while the distraction of ths 
animals on the transference of the en<^anied scarf to 
them, confirmed her worst 8ns[ncions, that I was a 
dealer in milawfiil arts, and come to gain p o s s easie p 
of herself and fortime, by the nKist in£Mnoiiia tneMwee^ 
and as I did not dioose to come to an explanatioa with 
her on that snbject, I escaped as qnietly from the dis- 
trict as possible. 

^ It sm%ly can be no sin to dive into the hiddisii 
mysteries of natmre, particularly those of plmts and 
flowers. Why, then, haTe I been pmushed as Be«rar 
pharmaeopolist was pmiished before ; can you t^ me 
that, Margaret ?'* 

"Indeed, can I— weel enou^i— ^Ooctor. Other 
men haye studied the qualities o' yirbs to asstat HaMie ; 
but ye haye done it only to pervert na!ta!re/>*«-«uid I 
hope you hae read your mn in your puilishment/' 

<< The very sentiment that my heart has whispoed 
to me a thousand times ! It indeed occurred to me^ 
whilst skulking about on my escape after the adven* 
ure with the Countess ; but it was not until fartiier 
and still more bitter experience of the dangerous ef- 
fects of my secret, that I could bring myself to destroy 


the maddening liquid. It had taken years oi anxiety 
and labour to perfect a' mixture, from whidiyl antici- 
pated the most heneficial results. The consequences 
which it drew upon me, although, at first, they pro- 
mised to he all I could wish$ preyed in the end evtarj 
way annoying, and often wellnigh fiatal, and I carefid->> 
ly ccmsutned wit^ fire eyery drop of the potion, and 
every ficrap of writing, in which llie progress of the 
tliscovery had been noted. I cannot myself forget 
the pamfal and tedious steps by which it was obtain- 
ed. And even after all the disasters to which it has 
subjected me — after the miserable wreck of all my 
high-pitched ambition, I cannot but feel a pride in* the 
consciousness that I carry with me the knowledge of 
a secret- never before possessed by mortal man, which 
no one shall learn from me, and which it is all batcer" 
tain that none after me will have perseverance endugh, 
or genius, to arrive at I" ^ '^ 

The learned Doctor usually wound up the hbtory 
of an adventure with a sonorous eonchision Hke the 
above, the hi^- wrought theatrical tone of which, as 
it was inoomprehensible to his hea^rers, for the tiost 
part produced a wonderfal efiect. Looking upon the 
gaimt form of the sage, I was penetrated with immea- 
surable reverence, and thou^ the fascination of his 
marvellous stories kept me listening with eager curi- 
osity while they lasted, I dways retired* shortly «i^^ 

■M Wise able n» cadne the iBg[B8t 
I ftnmmmtwmht appeared to 

Vat tikflie aie snfficieBt 
wr aipieci—. aad it wawUJ be idle to pvmie the Doc- 
ur » fcarifmaiiiTa rmWr, AH I caa aay about these 
aArcBSaEe* «*' bk k. tbat whea 1 heard them fim, I 
necciwd thea at stiictiT trae ; my mother bdieved 
dhem iMas aBpfimAV, aad die Doctor related diem 
» it be bad believed ia ^ trvdi of them himself. 
Bat there vere dwpatei cwy daj between my mo- 
aad bim aboat ^ iaveatiai of the chaim, the 
alvajs mtiatiiaiag tbat it was known to the 
<bse£» of ^ ppsy Hibes for cmtaries hygone ; and 
as proob of her fomkm, she cited Jidmie Faa's ae- 
dactioa of the Ead of CaasiUis's lady, so well known 
in Lowland song^ and Hector Kennedy s eedoctidii of 
three bndesy all of high q[aafityy by merely toodniig 
the pafana of their hands after wluch no power ooold 
p feTc ni any of than from foDowing him. She like- 
wise tohl a rery aflfectii^ story of an exceedingly besii- 
tifol giriy named Sophy Sloan, who left Sarkhope, aDd 
eloped after the gipsies, though she bad never ex- 
changed a wwd with one of them. Her father and 
uncle followed, and found her with them in an old 
kihi on the water of Milk. Her head was wounded, 


blood}r, and tied up with a napkin. They had pawn- 
ed all her good clothes, and covered her with rags, 
and though weeping with grief and despair, yet she 
refused to leave them. The man to whom she was 
attached had never asked her to go with him ; he even 
threatened her with death if she would not return with 
her father, but she continued obstinate, and was not 
su£fered long to outlive her infatuation and disgrace. 
This story ivas a fact ; yet the Doctor held all these 
instance^ in utter contempt, and maintained his pre- 
rogative, as the sole and original inventor of the 
Elixir of Love. 

There was not a doubt that the Doctor was skulk- 
ing, and in terror of being apprehended for some mis- 
demeanour, all the time he was at Ettrick Manse ; and 
never one of us had a doubt that it was on account of 
some enchantment. But I had reason to conclude, 
long afterwards, that his seclusion then, and all the 
latter part of his life, was owing to an imfortunate and 
fatal experiment in pharmacy, which deprived society 
of a number of valuable lives. The circumstances are 
relisted in a note to the third volume of Eustace's 
Pharmacopoeia, and it will there be seen that the de- 
scription of the delinquent sidts exactly with that of 
THE Marvellous Doctor. 




There was once a young man, a natiye of Traqnair, 
in the coimty of Peebles, whose name was Colin Hys- 
lop> and who suffered more by witchcraft, and the in- 
tervendon of supernatural beings, than any man I ever 
heard of. / 

Trai^uir was a terrible place then! There was a 
witch almost in every hamlet, and a warlock here and 
there besides. There were no £ewer than twelve 
witches in one straggling hamlet, called Taniel Bum, 
and five in Kirk Row. What a desperate place Tra- 
quair had been in those days I But there is no person 
who is so apt to overshoot his mark as the DeviL He 
must be a great fool in the main ; for, with all hi^ sup* 
posed acnteness, he often runs himself into the most 
co-founded blund^s that ever the leader of an op- 
position got into the midst of. Throughout all th^ 
annals of the human race, it is manifest, that whenever 
he was aiming to do the most evil, he was uniibrmly * 


employed in such a way as to bring about the most 
good ; and it seems to have been so, in a particular 
manner, in the case with which my tale shall make the 
reader acquainted. 

The truth is, that Popery was then on its last legs, 
and the Devil, finding it {as then exercised) a very con- 
venient and profitable sort of religion, exerted himself 
beyond measure to give its motley hues a little more 
variety ; and the making witches and wai'locks, and 
holding nocturnal revels with them, where every sort 
of devilry was exercised, was at that time with him 
a favourite plan. It was also favourably received by 
the meaner sort of the populace. Witches gloried in 
their power, and warlocks in their foreknowledge of 
events, and the energies of their master. Women, be- 
yond a certain age, when the pleasures and hopes of 
youth delighted no more, flew to an int^^ourse with 
the imseen powers, as affording, aa excitement of a 
higher and more terrible nature ; and. me%' whose 
tempers had been soured by disappointmeol: aiul ill 
usage, betook themselves to the Prince of the-Pow^ of 
the Air, enlisting undw his banuer, in hopes of obtain- 
ing reVenge on their oppresscNrs, or those against whom 
they had conceived displeasure. However extra-vi^ant 
this may appear, there is no doubt of the fact, that, in 
those days, the hopes of attaining some energies be* 
yond the reach of mere human capability, inflamed the 


and widied to attempts «id acto of the most 
dbbolkad natiini ; lor haadiedi ackMwkdged tkeii 
prinrtples axi fkxiad in tfaoBy beion the ti^Nnak 
tliat adJBiliPMl them to the stake. 

«« I aai aow fiurljr wader the posrer af witchcraft," 
Md Colm Hplop, as he eat OB the flida of tfe Fcathen 
HilL with his pkid diawn over his head, the tesrs 
down his brawn laaalf diedc^ aad a p^er 
■rith aacoath lines and figures in has hand/— 
** 1 «a now hhiy nadcr ^ power of witchcraft, «id 
BMWt sdbmit to my fiite ; J am entangled^ eaehamed, 
saUated ; and the fanh is all my own, for I have corn- 
degree of sia which my sainted and dying 
me would snlject me to the snares of 
my heUidi neighboars and sworn adversaiies. My 
piokir she^ hare a* been bewitched, and a great part 
o* t h em have died daadng hornpipes and ¥Vench cur- 
lilfians. I hnve beca changed, and ower again c^ian- 
gcdt into shspew and fams dmt I darena think of, far 
lam name ; and a* throi^ acooont of my ain sin. 
Heth ! hat it is a qneo* thing that sin ! It has sae 
IT hiroadB to the heart, and oatlets by the edifies, 
to live and breathe in it. And I canna 
traar that the Deil is the wyte oi m onr sins neither. 
N% na : Uack as he is, he canna be the csase and the 
aia v e r of m our transgressions, for I find them often 
engenderii^ and breeding in my heart as fast as mag- 


gots on tainted carrion ; and tfaen it is out o' the power 
of man to keep them down. My father tanld* me, that 
if aBc6 I let the Deil get his little finger into tthect my 
transactions, he wad soon hae his haill hand into them 
a*. Now I hae found it in effect, hut not in helief ; 
for, Irotn a' that I caii borrow frae Rob Kirkwood, the 
warlock, and my aunty Nans, the wickedei^ witdi in 
Christendye, the Deil appears to me to be a geyan ob- 
liging chap. That he is wayward and fond o' sin, I 
hae nae doubt ; but in that he has mony neighbours. 
And then his 'great power over the senses and condi- 
tions of njen, oyer the winds, the waters, and the ele- 
ment of flame, is to me incomprehensible, and would 
make him appear rather a sort of yicegerent ortx the 
otltskirt^ and unruly parts of nature, than an Opponent 
to its lawful lord.^ — 'What then shall I do wiili this ?'* 
looking at the scroll ; << shall I subscribe to the con- 
dil^ns, and enlist imder his banner, or shall I not ? O 
love, love I were it not for thee, all the torments that 
Old' Mdioun and his followers could inflict, should not 
induoe me to quit the plain path of Christianity^ But 
that disdainful, cruel, and lovely Barbara! I must and 
will have her, though my repentance should be with- 
out measure and without end. So then it is settled! 
Here I will draw blood from my arm-^— blot out the 
sign of ihe cross with it) and form that of the crescent, 
and these other things^ the meaning of whidi I do not 


!54 THE shepherd's eALBNDARi. 

know. — Halloo I Whftt*s-that? Two beantifiil deers, 
118 I am a sinner, and one of t&em lame. What a prey 
for poor rained Colin ! and fairly off the royal bounds, 
too. Now for it, Bawty, my fine dog ! now for a 
clean chase I A' the links o' the Feath^i Wood winna 
hi<Ie them from your infallible nose, billy Bawty. 
Halloo I off you go I and now for the bow and the 
broad arrow at the head slap I — ^What I ye winna hunt 
a foot-length after them, will ye no ? Then^ Bawty, 
there's some mair mischief in the wind for me I I see 
what your frighted looks tell me. That they dinna 
leare the scent of other deers on their track^but ane that 
terrifies you, and makes your blood creep. It is hardly 
possible, ane wad think, that witches could assume the 
shapes of these bonny harmless features ; but their 
power has come to sic a height hereabouts, that nae 
man alive can tell what they can do. There's my 
aunt Nans has already turned me into a gut, then to 
a gainder, and last of a' into a three-legged stool I 

'< I am a ruined man, Bawty I your master is a ruin- 
ed man, and a lost man, that's far waur. He has sold 
himself for lore to one beautiful creature, the comelies 
of all the human race. And yet that beautiful creature 
must be a witch, else how could a' the witches o' Tra- 
quair gie me possession o' her ? 

<< Let me consider and calculate. Now, supposing 
they are deceiving me — for that's their character ; and 


supposing they can never put me in possession of her, 
then I bae brought myself into a fine scrape^ How 
terrible a thought this is I Let me see ; is all over ? 
Is this scroll signed and sealed ; and am I wholly given 
up to this unknown and untried destiny ?" (Opens his 
scroll with trembling agitation^ and looks over it.) 
<< No, thanks to the Lord of the imi verse, I am yet a 
Christian* The cross stands uncancelled, and there is 
neither sign nor superscription in my blood. How did 
this happen ? I had the blood drawn — the, pen filled 
— and the scroll laid out. Let me consider what it 
was that prevented me ? The deers ? It was, indeed, 
the two comely deers. What a strange intervention 
this is I Ah I these were no witches I but some good 
angels, or happy fays, or guardian spii'its of the wild, 
sent to snatch an abused youth from destruction. 
Now, thanks be to Heaven, though poiH* and ^educed 
to the last extremity, I am yet a free m^^ a^Qid in my 
Maker^s hand. My resolution is .cbangf^-.*!my pro- 
mise is lH*oken, and here I give this my^ic scroU to the 
winds of the glen. , , 

<< Alas, alas I to what a state sin hai^ reduced me I 
Now shall I be tortured by night, and persecuted by 
day; changed into monstrous sbap^^ torn by.i^ts, 
pricked by invisible bodkins^ my heart, racked by insuf- 
ferable pangs of love, imtil I either^ and 
yield to the dreadful conditions held out to me, or aban- 


(Ion all hope of earthly happiness, ami yield up my life. 
Ob, that I were as free of sin as that day my iadier gave 
me his last blessing I then might I widistand all (heir 
I'harms and enchantments. But that I will neyer be. 
So as I have brewed so must I drink. Hiese were his 
last words to me, which I may weel rem«nber :-— < Yon 
will have many enemies of yom* soul to contend with, 
my son ; for your nearest relations are in compaot with 
the deril ; and as they have hated and peor^ecuted me, 
so will they hate and persecute you ; and it will only 
be by repeating your prayers evening and morning, «Btd 
keeping a conscience void of all ofience towards God 
and towards man, that you can hope to escape the snares 
that will be laid for you. But the good angels firom^the 
presence of the Almighty wiU, perhaps, guao'd my poor 
orphan boy, and protect him from the coimsels of the 

<' Now, in the first place, I have never i»uyed at all ; 
and, in the second place, I have sinned so much, that I 
have long ago subjected myself to their snares, and 
given myself up for lost. What will become of me ? 
flight is in vain, for they can fly through the air, and fol- 
low me wherever I go. And then, Barbara, — O lliat 
lovely and bewitchmg creatm^ I in leaving her I would 
leave life and saul behind I'' 

After this long and troubled soliloquy, poor Colin 
hurst into tears, and wished himself a dove, or a spar- 


row-»hawk, or an eagle, to fly away and be seen no more ; 
but, in etdier oase^ to have bonny Barbara for his mate. 
At this imtant Bawty begun to cock up his ears, and 
turn his head first to the* one side and then to the othfer ; 
and, when Colin locked tip, he beheld tWo hares cow- 
ering away^ from a bush behind him. There was nothing 
that Colin was so fond of as a chase. He sprung up, 
pursued ^e hares, and shouted to his dog. Halloo, hal- 
loo I No, Bawty would not pursue them a foot, bnt 
whenever he came to the place where he had seen them, 
and put his nose to the ground, ran back, hanging his 
tail, and uttering short barks, as he was wont to do when 
attacked by witches in the night. Colin's hair rose up 
on hrn iiead, for he instantly suspected that the two 
hares were Robin Kirkwood and his aunt Nans, Watch- 
ing his motions, and the fulfilment of his proinise to 
them. Colin was bonified, and knew not what to do. 
He did not try to pray, for he could not ; but he wish- 
ed, in his h^irt, that his fkther s dying prayer for him 
had been heard. 

He rose, and hastened away in the direction contra* 
ry to that the hares had taken, as tnay well be supposed ; 
and as he jogged along, in melstncholy mood, he was 
aware of two damsels, who approadned him slowly and 
cautiously. They were clothed in white, t^th garlands 
on their heads ; and, on their near approach, Colin per- 
ceived that one of them was lame, and the other sup- 


p«ir*i!U htr by the boML TW tm comely hinds tkat 
laa omue vpoo him «» iiidiifhrMd— m|Kiiedly, and 
\imi pn*v«*acv«i himi^ ac cfae v«rT dccinw mo ment , ^om 
itftlioic hi» "tahnitiua iw* seoMml taj^fTBomiXy instuidy 
^•«ine ^>v«r Ctiaa*'» Mmwktaed racollKtioiv Hid he «k 
^((rtack with iii«iiM«.Til]iih««» &w«. Bavty was afiiBCted 
^MOwwiMB in die «bm^ ■Hoocr widk he ■mslKw The 
ibmniT be nnntike^oed wa> dtfiecmtl from that mapued 
W thtf aciaorks or' vicirhw imi wvWcks; he crept ckfle 
:m the ccvoDii.. ami nonoic Ua iKo half away from the 
naJiaac »i^ cte ». anecv^i a mci af attied mwnaor, as if 
aMvvd boch W i f up if ir t «ai iear. Colm pcgce i fe d » from 
«Kf!» tnjyiibltf !»ympciNiu^ that die heiaga with wham 
be anas^ innr omhbm: i& cmtact were aot the aolyects of 
the P^wer ef D^ckaMw 

He thtfce(vce threw hi» plani over he ahookier in the 
inae^htfphen^-style.. toek hi» stalf helow h» Mi ana, 80 
thait hi» n|chc haaii ausht heat Ghtiti to lilt hk honnet 

Kcoated hian^aadrBot choosing 
theaa^hepoKcdat a reapectfal 
in thnr patk It^'hen they came with- 
in a Ww |aKe» of hias» diey taanred cendy from the path» 
M' k to psBo Ima on the kit snfe. hot all the while kept 
their W^lAit eieo fixed on hias» and nhatp e ied toench 
athar^ CoKn was §mred that ao mnch comelinesB 
jh o oM (OBo hr w ith o nt sahrtiay hiaiy and kept his re- 
yretfid eyw itingy on Acaa, At length they paned» 


and one of them called, in a sweet but solemn voice, 
<< Ah, Colin Hyslop, Colin Hyalop ! you are on the 
braid way for destruction." 

" How do ye ken that, madam ?" returned Colin. 
"Do you ca' the road up the Kirk Rigg the braid way 
to destruction?" 

" Ay, up the rigg or down the rigg, cross the rigg or 
round the rigg, all is the same for you, Colin. You are 
a lost man ; and it is a great pity. One single step far- 
ther on the path you are now treading, and all is over." 
<' What wad ye hae me to do, sweet madam ? Wad 
ye hae me to stand still and starve here on the crown 
o' the Kirk Rigg?" 

" Better starve in a dungeon than take the steps you 
are about to take. You were at a witch and warlock 
meeting yestreen." 

~ " It looks like as gin you had been there too, madam, 
that you ken sae weeL" 

'< Yes, I toas there^ but imder concealment, and not 
for the purpose of making any such vows and promises 
as you made. O wretched Colin Hyslop, what is to 
become of you I" 

" I did naething, madam, but what I couldna help ; 
and my heart is sair for it the day." 

<< Can you lay your hand on that heart and say so ?" 
" Yes, I can, dear madam, and swear to it too." 
<< Then follow us down to this little green knowe, 


TSXk afenr hrv liw^ mik ■■ b^ vccOTMiea uwm- 

*«*lOB!^BflB^ ^^& Jm^^^ M^KW v^H* ^^^HHHHB^r ^^V ^V ^^BK^B vv^HB SBIH9 ^^^"^*J M^^ 

aK&HT «i» & SBRfir aAevnn «€ fk» RdbrnKn, vida 
«iMiL ClncBBL : \mti po«r Ca£fli ns bom at TMri- 

wi Pfiii Md ■ IhIm.b ; sod the 
W Ifti. a MlRMl MBt, WW 1^ lad- 
aiy w^fc^^f Ar iijLfci»Mfc itA» C ca w qii ently, Colin 

to miqvlf, VBtil dl tiie 

iil^w>t— i»ifti» ns arroMplBfeML !■§ wicked mt 
iwr >mii i ii lags, jadgiiy Imi ftgly gMwJ, mm! 
^ frie «f ndMip6«L Im^sd to erariK cflh 
tnp«w tli^ B4Wt coMical, «zhL st the same time, the wtet 
nit d l m ti ai iu, i> hw exp e iM e ; fd 1 1cBgthyimbe- 
•anvad of evci j eai thlr eujo^ Hioily he engi^ed to 
thMT heUnk caannuaitT, only aa ^ in g tiiree dliys 
ti^amdy their m i trteii es , before he shoald bleed himarif, 
aii4 with the blood extracted from his Tens, extingii]^ 


the sign of tlie cross, aad -tiliereby roioimce his hope in 
mercy, and likewise make «oine hieroglyphics of 
strange shapes and mysterious efficacy, and finally sub- 
scribe his-naiheto the whole* 

Whendie rektion was finished, one of the lovely 
auditore said,— *" You are a wicked and abandoned 
persoQt Colin Hyslop. But you weir^ reared up in 
iniquity^ and know no better ; and the mercy of Heaven 
is most readily extended to such. You haye, besides, 
some good points in your character still ; for you have 
told us the truth, however much to your own disad- 

'< Aha, madam I How do you ken sae weel that 1 
hae.been telling you a' the truth ?" 

'< 1 know all concerning you better than you do 
yourself. . There is little, very little, of a redeeming 
nature in your own history; but you had an i^right 
and deyout father, and the seed of the just may not 
perish for ever. I have been young, and now am old, 
yet have I never seen the good man forsaken, nor his 
children east out as vagabonds in the land of their fa- 

'< Ah, na, na, madam I ye canna be aold. It is im- 
possible I But goodness kens ! there are sad change- 
lings now-a-days. 1 have seen an auld wrinkled wife 
blooming o'emight like a cherub." 

<< Colin, you are a fool I And folly in youth leads to 

162 THE shepherd's CAI£NDAR. 

miseqr in old age. But I am your fnend, and you 
have not another on earth this night hut iB3r8^f and my 
sister here, and one more. Pray, will you keep this 
little vial, and drink it for my sake ?** 

<< Will it no change me, madam ?*' 

" Yes, it will." 

<< Then 1 thank yon ; but will have nothing to do 
with it. 1 have had enow of these kind o' drinks in 
my life." 

<< But suppose it change you for the better ? Suppose 
it change you to a new creature ?" 

<< Weel, suppose it should, what will that creature 
be ? Tell me that first. Will it no be a fox, nor a 
gainder, nor a bearded gait, nor — n<H* — a three-legged 
stool, which is no a creature ava ?" 

<< Ah, Colin, Colin I" exclaimed she, smiling through 
tears, " your own wickedness and unbelief gave the 
agents of perdition power over you. It is that power 
which. 1 wish to cotmteract. But 1 will tell you no- 
thing more. If you will not take this little via^ and 
drink it, for my sake, — why, then, let it alone, and fol^ 
low your own course." 

<< O dear madam I ye ken little thing about me. 1 
was only jokiug wi' you, for the sake o' hearing your 
sweet answers. For were that bit glass fn' o' lank 
poison, and were it to turn me intil a taed w a wonn, 
I wad drink it aff at your behest. I hae been aae lit- 


tie accustomed to hear aught serious or friendly, that 
my yery heai't clings to you as it wad do to an angel 
coming down frae heaven to save me. Ay, and ye 
said something kind and respectfu ahout my auld fa- 
ther too. That's what I kae heen as little used to. 
Ah, but he was a douce man I Wasna he, mem ? — 
Drink that bit bottle o' liquor for your sake ! Od, I 
wish it were fu to the brim, and that's no wha;t it is 
by twa-thirds." 

" Ay, but it has this property, Colin, that drinking 
will never exhaust it ; and the langer you drink it, the 
sweeter it will become." 

" Say you sae ? Then here's till ye. We'll see whe^ 
ther drinking winna exhaust it or no." 

Colin set the vial to his lips, with intent of draining 
it ; but the first portion that he swallowed made him 
change his countenance, and shudder from head to 

<^ Ah I sweeter did you say, madam ? by the faith 
of my heart, it has muckle need ; for siccan a potion 
for bitterness never entered the mouth of mortal man. 
Oh, I am ruined, poisoned, and undone !" 

With that poor Colin drew his plaid over his head, 
fell flat on his face, and wept bitterly, while his two 
comely visitants withdrew, smiling at the -success of 
their mission. As they went down by the side of the 
Feathei^ Wood,^ the one said to the Qther,^ << Did you 


not percdve two of that infatuated commimity haunt- 
ing this poor hapless youth to destmctioii. ? Liet us go 
and hear their schemes, that we may the better coun- 
teract them/' 

They skimmed oyer the lea fields, and, in a thicket 
of brambles, briers, and nettles, they found-Maot two 
hares, but the identical Rob Kirkwood, the warlock, 
and Colin's aunt Nans, in close and imholy cox^sulta- 
tiou. This bush has often been pointed out to me as 
the scene of that memorable meeting. It perhaps still 
remains at the side of a little hollow, nigh to the east 
comer of the Feathen arable fields ; and the spots oc- 
cupied by the witch and warlock, without a green 
shrub on them, are still as visible as on the -day they 
left them. The two sisters, having chosen a disguise 
that, like Jack the Giant-Killer's coat of darkness, 
completely concealed them, heard the following dia- 
logue, from beginning to end. 

<< Kimmer, I trow the prize is won. I saw his arm 
bared ; the red blood streaming ; the scroll in the one 
hand, and the pen in the other.'' 

" He's ours I he's ours I" 

" He's nae mair yours." 

" We'll ower the kirkstyle, and away wi' him I" 

'* I liked not the appearance of yon two pale hinds 
at such a moment. I wish the fruit of all our pains 
be not stolen from us when ready for our lord and 


master's board. How he will storm and misuse us if 
this has befallen V* 

<< What of the two hinds ? WhiLt of them, I say ? 
I like to see blood. It is a beautiful thing* blood." 

^< Thou art as gross bb flesh a^d blood itself, and 
hast nothing in thee of the true sublimity of a super- 
natikral being. I love to scale the thundercloud ; to 
ride on the topmost billow of the storm ; to roost by 
the cataract, or croon the anthem of hell at the gate 
of heaven. But thou delightest to see Uood, — ^rank, 
reeking, and baleful Christiwi blood. What pleasure 
is in that, dotard?'' 

<^ Humph I I like to see Christian blood, howBom- 
eyer« It bodes luck, kimmer-^it bodes luck." 

<< It bodes that thou art a mere block, Rob Kirk- 
wood ! but it is needless to upbrsdd thee, senseless 
as ihou art. Listen then to me : — It has been om* 
master s charge to us these seven years to gaott that 
goodly stripling, my nephew ; and you know that you 
and I engaged to accomplish it ; if we break that en- 
gagement, woe unto us ! Our master bore a grudge 
at his father ; but he particularly desires the son, be- 
cause he knows that, could we gain him, all the pretty 
girls of the parish woidd flock to our standard; — But, 
Robin Kiricwood, I say, Robin Kirkwood; what two 
white birds are these always hopping around 'tis ? I 
dinna like their looks imco weel. See, the one of 


theM b luDe loo ; aBd fktj Men to have a language 
id their owa to one aoolher. Let as leate this places 
Robin ; bv heart w qaakiBg like aa ai^>eB.'* 

^ Let then hip oa. Whit ill cm wee bits o' bindk^ 
do till ai? CaaM» let ai try soaie o' yon cantrips ^nir 
anster levned as. Gruid sport ytm. Nans I** 

^ Rohin, did act yon see that the Inrds hopped tisee 
UBies roaad as ! I im ifraid we are dunned to^he 

** Nerer mind, anld fool ! It's a very good spot^ 
Some id oar cantrips ! some of oar cantrips I** 

What caatrips they performed is not known ; hut, 
on that day fortnight, the two were found still sitting 
in the middle of the hash, the two most miserable and 
diagastiag figaies that ever shocked hnmanity. Their 
cronies came with a hnrdle to take them home ; bat 
Nans expired by the way, uttering wild gibberish and* 
hlasi^iemy, and Rob Kirkwood died soon afto- he got 
home. The last words he nttered were, *^ Plenty o' 
Christian blood soon ! It will be running in streams ! 
-^in streams ! — in streams !" 

We nowretam to Colin, who, freed of his two great- 
est adversaries, now spent his time in a state bordering 
on lu^piness, compared with the life he had formerly 
led. He wept nrach, staid on the hill by himself, and 
pondered deeply on something — ^nobody knew what, 
and it was believed he did not know weU himself. He 


Was in love— -over head and ears in, love ; which may 
account for .any thing in man, however ridiculous. Hei 
waa in love with Barbara Stewart, an angel in loveli* 
ness as well as vii'tue ; but she had hitherto shunned 
a young man so dissolute and unfortunate in his con- 
nexions. To her rejection of his stdt were attributed 
Colin's melancholy and retirement from society ; imd 
it might be partly the cause, but there were other mat- 
ters that troubled his inmost soul. 

Ever since he had been visited by the two mysteri- 
ous dames, he had kept the vial close in his bosom, 
and had drunk of the bitter potion again and again. 
He felt a change within him, a certain renovation of 
his nature, and a new train of thoughts, to which he 
was an utter stranger ; yet he cherished them, tasting 
oftener and oftener his vial of bitterness, and always, 
as he drank, the liquor increased in quantity. • 

While in this half-resigned, half-desponding state, 
he ventured once more to visit Barbara* He bought 
to himself that he would go and see hei, if but to take 
farewell of her ; for he resolved not to harass so dear 
a creature with a suit which was displeasing to her. 
But, to his utter surprise, Barbara received him kind- 
ly. His humbled look made a deep impression on 
her ; and, on taking leave, he found that she had treat- 
ed him withr as much favour as any virtuous maiden 
could display. 

168 TUE shepherd's calbndaju 

He therefore went home rather too much i^lifted 
in spirit, which his old adversariesy the witches, p^- 
ceived, and having laid all their snares open to entnp 
him> they in part prevailed, and he returned, in the mo- 
ment of temptation, to his old courses. The day af- 
ter, as he went out to the hill, he whistled and soag, 
—for he durst not think, — till, behold, at m distance, 
he saw his two lovely monitors approaching. He wsb 
confounded and afraid, for he found his heart was not 
right for the encounter ; so he ran away with all his 
might, and hid himself in the Feathen Wood. 

As soon as he was alone, he took the vial from his 
bosom, and, wondering, beheld that the bitter liquid 
was dried up all to a few drops, although the glass 
was nearly full when he last deposited it in his boscMD. 
He set it eagerly to his lips, lest the last renmant 
shoidd have escaped him ; but never was it so bitter 
as now ; his very heart and spirit failed him, and, trem- 
bling, he lay down and wept. He tried again to draxQ 
out the dregs of his cup of bitterness ; but still, as be 
drank, it increased in quantity, and became more and 
more palatable; and he now continued the task so 
eagerly, that in a few days it was once more nearly 

The two lovely strangers coming now often in his 
mind, he regretted running from them, and longed to 
see them again. So, going out, he sat down within 



the fairy ring, on the top of the Feathen Hill, with a 
8<Mrt of presentiment that they would appear to him. 
Accordingly, it was not long till they made their ap* 
pearance, hnt slill at a distance, as if travelling along 
the kirk-road. CoHn, perceiving that they were go« 
ing to pass, without looking his way, thought it his 
duty to wait on them. He hasted across the moor, 
and met them ; nor did they now shun him. ^e one 
that was lame now addressed him, while she who had 
formerly accosted him, and presented him with the 
vial, looked shy, and kept a marked distance, which 
Colin was exceedingly sorry for, as he loved her hest. 
The other examined him sharply concerning all his 
transactions since they last met» He acknowledged 
every thing candidly — the great folly of which he had 
been guilty, and likewise the great terror he was in of 
being changed into some horrible bestial creature, by 
the bitter drug they had given him. <^ For d'ye ken^ 
madam," said he, << I fand the change beginning with- 
in, at the very core o' the heart, and spreading aye 
outward and outward, and I lookit aye every minute 
when my hands and my feet wad change into dutes ; 
for I expeckit nae less than to have another turn o' the 
gait, or some waur thing, kenning how weel I deserved 
it. And when I saw that I keepit my right propor- 
tions, I grat for my ain wickedness, that had before 
subjected me to such unhallowed influence." ■ 


1 70 THB shepherd's CALENDAR^ 

The two sisters now looked to each other, and a 
beirenly beneyolenoe shone through the amiles with 
which that look was acoMnpanied. The lame oae 
said, '< Did I not say, sister, that there waa aeme hope?" 
She then asked a sight of his Tial, which he took from 
his bosom, and put into hear hands ; and when she had 
viewed it carefolly, she returned it, without asy in- 
junction ; hut taking from her own bosom a. medal <^ 
pure gold, which seemed to baTsbeen dipped in blood, 
she fastened it round his neck with a chain el steel. 
<f As long as you keep that vial, and use it/' said she^ 
<<the other will never he taken from you« jari/witb 
^ese two you may defy all the Powem ^ QafJmcAS." 

As soon- as Colin was alone, he surveyed hispuiple 
medal "mth great eamestness^hut eauld make-nothiug 
of it ; there was a mystery in the diarscteiis.and figaces 
which he could not in the leaie^ comprehend ; -yet he 
kept all that had .happened closdy concealed 4 'and 
walked softly. 

' The witches bow found' that he was .^t %» their 
commumtyyand,'enraged beyond measuEe^aiTbeingde* 
prived of such a prize^ which they bad jnidged £urly 
their- own, and of iidiicb. their master was so? desirous, 
they now laid a plan ta destroy him* 
• Golin w^Qft ' down to the Castle one nighjt ti^ see 
Barbara Stewart, who talked toi him much of religion 
and of the Bible ; but. of these thisig» Colin knew very 


little. He eagsgedy howeyer, to go with her to the 
house of pvayeff^— not the PopU^ chapeV where heJmd 
once beea a most irBevecesit, auditor^ hut to tke^Be- 
formed: chuireh, which theft hegan to divide the pari»h». 
and the. pastor of which was a deyQut mau. . . ..> 

. On toking leave of Barhaca^ and promising to. atr 
tend her on the following . iSabhath, a burst, of eldrich 
laughter arose elose by, and a vmce^iwith a iioacae and 
giggling sound, e^^elaimed^ 'f.No.sae fasty cannyJad*-* 
no eae &st.. There will maybe be a wh^ping ol-crip;* 
pies afore that play be. played." . <*, ^^ 

• Barhaaa consigned them .both to the care of the Al- 
mighty^wHh great fervency, wondering^howi thty coukl 
have (been watehed and overheard in siieh.Acpkiee* 
Colin' trembled from head to foot, for he >knew the 
hmgh^too well to he that of Maude Stotty 'the leadings 
witch of the Traquair gang, now that his aunt /was to- 
moved... He had no:Booaer;oros0ed the Auair, than>iat 
the junction of a little streamlet, called to tfais^'day the 
Satyr Sike^ he was set upon by a cewmtless numbo* of 
eats, winch aurronnded him, making the most infemal 
noises, and putting themselves into themost threatens- 
ing attitades. For a . good> while they did not < touch 
him, but leaped around him, often as.highas hia^oat, 
screaming most furiously; but at length ^hnr/faith£sil« 
ed him, and he etied out in utter despair. At that mo^ 
ment, they aU closed upon him, some round his neck, 


aome round hii legs* and soBie •Bdearanring ta>te8r 
out his heart and howels. At length €B(ib -of tpro/fkt 
cadQ» ia contact wnth tfa» laadak/iatifaia^^ bo6D9i,4ed 
vwmy^ iiowling moat Hearfollj^r and did m^t letnro,,. JSjtill 
he vm» ki> gfeat jaopardy of Wingk inatautlj %vmft0 
pieces'; i ^on wbi^^h ha flung hiMBelf 4at 0|i -hisi i^MlSriD 
the onidstvof !■& ^kevonringcnflttiieat and iai^dL^ ai sar 
crod ^nawn.y j 'That iBDmcnt he felt |MurttaLji«^e^ as if 
soma Jane wmre ^ving them ^ ^oaai hy one^^^Mwi^^ 
raising' fab haad^ he heheld his kyreljr lane -Tiaitw(^)of 
the^ mountains^' drHring diese infernals ^ wiib. ja^^vjbjj^ 
wakid> iiiid< mockiiig their thfeaftening lo6ka aadtinii^at- 
tetnpts^llo'fatiinii « Off with ymi^ifioari ipjilmaled 
wretda8!V>: cried, she: <« Minions • of perd^lwip^ fllito 
yantf ^abodes of miaery and da8pair!v«^jy9i«r» jf^mnh 
yoiw^boastad whii^ping of cripples ? S«»i if ^Mie poor 
cripple cannot whip yanaUr <•.; tiMtiHii >>'fiiitd^4i 
tt^By^^thiattimA ihe mansters^had'aU .laliAaitIi^r.^H!^ty 
8«feu>ne,i4hat had iastenedits AalQAajMi«X3<i4Jll<9 W^ 
•^idej^andjiwaa making a last'^andydaspfsaita^dafl^H^ftto 
vieilchv; hi»i|ritafe>^:hut >he^. bein^.iwiirtfftead if^m^ill^ 
mt, l»i«>tt>«a<Uow witbtSadi gQaid-^i«aiil^i'9»i!^adl^it 
dpeadilyLidciBiat^ ^and ifly > itanibfaigiittdLtnairipgv^dwn 
'tiw^favaai^'> tHe» shKewdlyrtgiiessedi itdi»i|hiar ipiWliKWto 
aaaaila&t^<waa; «'^^'vras'die>vau8tBke»p tolneigfT^By 
l!t|«ade<'Stott'waA<iyingipowerks»<o«./a(^^WU) 9^ > 
broken limb^ and seyeral of her cronies were in great 


torment, hftving* beea Btrnek' by the white rod of the 
Jjtudy <i€ the Mow^ ' ■' - •-"« • » », -.j.,.} -u' 

But the great M«itev> Fknd^ Beeingtinow thai ias 
^mlssaries^ were'.all baffled aiid elxtdoii^ wtat* €nniged 
beyotid bounds, and set himself with itdl his wk^ and 
wi^ all' his power, So ii«reicenged<OB poor luolin^ As 
to his p^)wer, no one^sputed it; ImttMs witiand in- 
geimity always a{>pear' to miata bfttery leqiBiToeal* 
He'4ried'to assauh CoMn-s hmiible:dweUing that same 
nighty tn svq^ teriifio 8hiq)es ;' but maaif eli tba vil- 
lagefrsperceired a slender form, clothed-iil' white, that 
kepl^ikteh at his door until the moisaini;. twilight*^ The 
next day> he haunted him on the hill ia thetiormiOf a 
great i^iaggy bloodhound, infected with.madaaaa) ^ut 
finding his utter inalnlity to toudi him, iiO'iitlered a 
howl that made all the hills quake^ and, likoa.flash of 
lightning, darted into Glendean Banks. /• 'in. >> ;^ < 

Hen^t set hims<^l£to piaewre Celin/a 'punishment 
by ollM$r weans^' namely, by the hands rof. Christian 
men, 'idio miiy way now left lor hkn« He accordingly 
engaged his emissaries to inform aggiaat him to holy 
MotherChurch, as a warloekandneeromanoen The 
Crown- and 'the Churck had at that timo joined in ap- 
pointing judges o£ these difficult and int^resling ques-* 
tionsii Hie quorum amounted to seren^ oonsisting of 
the King's Adrocate, and an equal number of priests 
and laymen, all of them in opposition to the principles 


of die Refoittation, whidi wts ct that time obn<xKlotti'at 
court, Colin was seized, arraignecl, and lodged in prison 
$i Pedbles ; and never was there anch elamoiir and dis- 
eotttenC in Strsthqnair. ' The yowng womM wept^ «id 
tore thw hair, fior the goodliest lad in this valley ^^iflnr 
mothma scolded ; and the old men acmtched their grey 
iMills, bit their lipa, and remained ^eae^nt, b«t were 
1^ loCigth compelled to jein the oomhinatioii^ 

Colhi's trial came on; and his aecaaem being tom- 
mdned as witnesses againft him, it msljr Wisll be eup- 
posed'how little chance he had of eseapfaigy eapectally 
as the noted David Beatomi sat that day as jndge, a 
severe and bigoted Pafiist. There were many tlni^ 
proven against poor CoUn, — as much as 'would have 
been at one time sufficient to bring d> tbeyoMfa of 
IVaqoair to the stake. 

For instiince, three sportsmen swere, tlbait they had 
flftarted a; large he-fbx in the Feathta Wo»d^atidj^alter 
pnfsnSpg Um all the way to* GleniMli-hdptf,^^^ iMRlefl 
and hounds, <ri ccH&iog up, they found C^lhi Hyslop 
lying pantmg in the midst of the hoitttdiy'laid^carMbg 
and endeavouring to pacify them. It wais fturtor de* 
poned; that he had been dlsedvered iii llie Mh^»e of a 
huge gander iritting on e^' ; and in thel^iapcNif Bibee- 
legged stool, which, on being tossed ab^iut'tbd 4>ver- 
tumed, as three->legged stools are apt tdbe, hadgfoan- 

'I^ii£ WITCHES OF traquaia: 175 

ed^and giv^i^ther symptoms of animation, bf which 
its identity with Colin Hyslop was discoyered* 

But when they camQ to the story of ,« Jie^oat, 
whidi'had proceeded to attend the service in the 
^mpel of St Jehsi the Evaiigelist, and wjuch said he- 
f>eat proved to be the imhappy delinquent^ Beotom 
growled with rage and indignation^ and said, thal^i^ndl 
a dog deserved to suffer death by a thousanf^^(»rtiare0> 
and to be excluded from the power of xt^ientance by 
1^ instant infliction of th6m« The most of the judges 
were not, however, satisfied of the authentidliy of 1^ 
monstrous story, and insisted on eaKaminmg.a.great 
number of witnesses, both young and old> ipany of 
whom happened to be quite unconnected with the 
honrid community of the Traquair witches* . Among 
the rest, a girl, named Tibby Frater, was •examined 
about that, as well as the three-legged sUxd ; and her 
examination -may here be copied- verbatim* The 
querist, who wafr a cunni;Dg man, began as foUipws : — 
'< Were you in St Jdho^s Chapel, Icfabe)i on the Sun- 
day after Easter ?" 

^ Did you there see a man changed into i^ Jie<^at ?" 
^< I saw a gait in the chapel that day." 
*^ Did he, as has been declared, seem indent on dis* 
turbing divine worship ?*' 

176 TBE tHttBCRD's CALW0AB. 

coidd fM OKpeet of ft gAit?" 

^ PliMlB t» d— cribe^irliit yoreiiw*^- '' 

*<0O| he was jiistrampaiigiis^^«bottty tf(tf''Aigiiig 
Mkmrar. Tkedeik^Mtilie flftc]»t»li4tt& tbit^^ 
laiiit Imtlie^toMi kkL4haii Mth )iroeka(le.'' Mm JUm 
imiyid igwisl Mm, in La^ thty aid» aad trfed to 
Isy Jia% a* if he^hadlbeai a cleil ; tal he lieyer bMh 
ihat^ and jvsl nnnpit mi.'* ' 

^IMdlie^^er^ome near «r moleet yov in die ietai« 
pejr: . 

"$ Ay, he did llttt." 

M What did he do to you ?•— describe it idl.*' 

«f Oo, he didna do that miicUe ill, titer a: ; hut if il 
wittiflh^ poor yomig man that was changed, 1*11 war* 
rant hehad aae hand in it, far deariy he paid the kuBt 
Ere long there were fifty staves raised against lim, and 
he was beat^i till there was hardly life left in* him,*' 

<< And what were the people*s reasons tot liefieving 
that this he-goat and the prisoner were the ^gitie ?^ 

** He was found a* wounded and hmised tbb next 
day. But, in truth, I beUere he nerer denied these 
changes wrought on him, to his inthnate Mgnds '; hut 
we a' ken wed wh»iit was that effected them. Od 
help you ! ye little ken how we are plaguit and ^kkras- 
sed down yondei^bouts, and what scathe the country 
suffers, by the emissaries o* Satan I If there be any 

will discern plenty o' thefi|.]^I^il|>09^:«IQMif b^^ 
that bae been witji^esi^iig agyopsttlMt^ p^^^r ijtojtW tnd 

sure.p^,Teog^a|k^9 asdtbej^gnaifaedJlieiriMnrii iHi(thif 

Ugainst them, and execrations were ponredifT<iBiieiW^ 
i^qifpfiX,;^^f-f3m ^r^wded 09iiil» Gxiee j>^«*-^MEMfcj^ o* 
proof o' what Tibby has said I''— « Let the saddli 1^ 
laid on the right horse I" — << Dowa m^ihe^plaf^ked^o* 
the landr>,^4 nw^y siich e^laioationfl^avtete smVforth 
by th^.^ood. people of Traquair* . ■■ They dorsiiiiot'itied-^ 
dl^ jjritli|th^ i^i^j?ies.^t.home, becaw^- wheo flpttfiiMif 
w;ag,^o^ tiPs#^Ug^tbe«ai| the sheep? anil cattleiWMP, 
s€^ig^d^.wi%.9/^w:iu^d fiigbtfnl diateonpecB, ^ OMmiffiil^ 
barlcg^^jf ^f p];)a]^n,;«l»d. th6.konet< pe«plallMiM!t^' 
qu^^jjaa^ ^9g^i(i^ ^we»tu)g8^.aikd fresthoinrois of 
mind«, ,^ ^ju^t j(^w, jbbi^ ith^y. had Akemm^oplteeftid ^ii^^ 
cQfi^ Qi^ji^^if^,|aidl,wese all assembled idiems^lrlte, 
an(l<(^^^W^^ present,' they hoped to bring l^delki^' 
qi^ts J^ ,^ $m»lmwt 9^ laAt^< . JBeadonn, hoit^Ksft*^^ 
sej|iped,j4)fpl]9^y^^^tL.ont;ihetdtt8trnotH!n ofCdiid;^ 

ii), ]$ii[f^ QA? of. j)i9 ^attiens during the periods e^Ad 
metamorphoses, even although he himself had no sha^l; 


178 fttfe i^f^^M^RD^fl tA\]i»t^AW^ 

in dficUfig tbese raetailKii^plioliM ;'!ie tlMftrefeve aM^l 
ft rerdlct agidnst the |»moner, as did i^ao the King's 
Advocate; Sit* James Stitart of l\>Hiqptt3r; 1m^^ 
rose vp^d spoke widi gr^t fflOqneilbii^ lind etti^tgy m 
fiiTOiif of his Yateal, and inniited on liatklg'liBf ^aecnfen 
tried fki^ to hob with Um/ when, he had Bor4dAK ft 
woaU be aeen on whiefa side the soraeiy had hem'^^ 
erdML ^^Forl^ipealtoyoairhODom^blejiidgiiw&ti^'' 
cotttodiied be^ **\f any man wonld transforai ^asMf 
into a foky ht the sake of beikig hnnted t^ deoth^'niid 
iQira'ittto ^eces by honnds ? Neitheri I diiidc/ #imld 
any peiMfi ehoose to translate himself into** gander^ 
for the p urpoa e of bringing out a few wovthlesB ges* 
lings I But, aboye all, I am nondly certaiiij sbat no 
Hying man would tun himself into a-Aree^l^ged^tool, 
for no oAer purpose but to be kicked into^hemkes^aa 
the oTidenoe shows this stool to hare been^^ And as 
for a rery handsome yonth turning hims^ iitirr he* 
goat> in order to exhibit his prowess*in> oiattbrtivii^-tfid 
beatingthe men of the whole congvegatkMs, that winild 
be a supposition equally absurd. But as we have a 
thousand instances of honest miefU being affected and 
injured by speHs and enchantmefttS) I gfivie il n^imy 
finn o]nnion^ dial dfis yotong man has been abaaed 
gtierously in this manner, and ^t these liiar aeetMerB, 
afraid of exposure through his agency, are drying in 
this way to put him down." 


Sir JaHieftVispeech.:«»$,]^i^i[ed wltb.mimii^ of 
applause, throngh the .whole crowded Qpu^ :, )^t the 
piiB^^^iai jodge contiBued /ohalinate^ And oiade a ^pi^ech 
m reply, ; Beiog. a> man of a inost anst^e ,^teinpenu 
m^iti aiid«8 bk>pdy-.mipded,|i« pjbstio^tojjt^ W^ ^^ 
objections to tbe 8eizipg:.,of 4be ^roiitb^^uxii^^ and 
called to the offi£«ra to.gii^ia^d tbe>4oo]; if^ ^bifjl^ the 
eld aftcriatan. of l^'raquair. i;eiiiai:ke4 ^a^oad^ ** 3y. my 
fjEothia the hoLy Apostle Jobn, my lord goreemer^you 
most. be ^^k in. yo«r. seizures ; for an ye gie.b^t the 
witches V Traqnair ten minuteS) ye will hae nsething 
o' thea but moorfowk and paitricka.bbtt^ngog, about 
the riggiitf e' the kirk; aod..a' .the offisb^ra yei hae 
will neither eatch nor keep them.^' 

They, were, howeFec, smzed and incBr4;eral;e4*« f^Tbfi 
triala ladted'for lluree days, at whicfatha ^no^ ynagyig 
crowds atteaded^-for. tkeeridence was of. .the most 
extraerdinafyttataiie ^¥er elicited^. displaying soch a 
system of/diablerie^ maleFolenoey and uabcwdrof wick» 
ednessy' aa never came .to li§^ a Cbri^^liaa.iaadA 
Seren woman aiMl two men were found, guilty, and 
condemned to be burnt at tbo stake ; and several ^lore 
would have shared theaame fate, had the private marks, 
which werethfitt thoroi^hly and perfectly known, coii* 
incided with the evidence produced* This not having 
been the case, they were banished out of the Scottish 
dominions, any man being at liberty to shoot them, if 


Imvib from that date. 

nBv.^aif mm mem mhm attaded.dw oowte in 
ilMse ^ysy catted fiffiA— m Tnmy tiiey wMmV" 
isvd ta take Calm into tl» fcatry^ (llie4i«)9JiavBi9 
lalrwn piaoc m. a d— ch,) aad piMwiHia biiM stn^y ^ 
the dbbotical maiks* They coidil find none; but in 
the oouiaaafthabin(f6Htigiitkip they foimd the vial in 
his boBom, as well as the Hwdal 'Aat wore the hoe of 
biaod^ and which was lacked to his neck^ ae that the 
handB of van covkl not remoTe it* They letmaed to 
the judge, bearuig the vial in tiiunph, and aayiiig* they 
hid found no private nsaik, as proof of the maatcrhe 
'aerved, hut that here was an nngaenty which tihey had 
BO doubt was proof soffideaty and wonld, if they judged 
aiighty when aceompanied by proper incantaidonsy trans* 
form a hnman being into any beast or monster iatend- 
•d« It was banded to the judges who shook his head, 
and acquiesced with the searchers. It was then hand- 
ed around^ and Mr Wiseheart, or Wi^iart, a learned 
man, deciphered these words on it, in a sacred Ian- 
guage,*-^^ The Vial of Repentance." 
. The juries looked at one another when they heard 
these ominous words so unlooked for; and Wishart 
Remarked, with a solemn assurance, that neither the 
term, nor the cup of bittf mess, was likely to be in usq 

among th0 slayer aS £taite%«iid/tfae >k>iiiidBa/drii^[ea 
of the land of perdition, ^ '.l» t*iilr imyii >r'jj<j»f 

ilM seia^to>nowl»egged theC«fiiTt tOBHi^wndil^ 
judgment for aflpac^, as tbet^riseiieip #«fei>fi(jdiafmi(i( 
a Moody iiuey#kich was lodged to iiie ]bod^i;i4tfaiateek» 
$0 tbM no hanliseoiiM loose it^'awdi whidb ^yijudgfad 
of for more ominoais import than aUth^ijOthat)ti|N:aob 
put together^ Colin xyas theft hroogbfe (inba Gonotionoe 
more) and the^medal examined eareMly-^ andJoilnoti 
the one side were engrared^ m tesafendtsfaaiBfit^^ttWO 
words^ the n^eanings of whieh Wero deciidad ^Hittiiei 
(^ FoigiveHeBs" above, and <<rA€oeptaiioa"iJ>^^lRir ^Qn 
the otho' side was a representation of'ftheiGruaifilioli) 
and these words in another language^ Crud^duM4pir4^ 
fidoi which words stmck the judges wifikgreKftamaJie* 
ment* They forthwith ordered the bonds Ki/Jb^'teken 
off the prisoner, and commanded him to ^ak for^him* 
self> and'tell^ without fear and dr^ad^ liowihe cbme by 
these precious and holy bequests^ ' V < .j^Hi'^vii < : 

Colin, who was noted for<i>simplicity} 
began and related the oireumstanoes «f*{^^'hie»'his 
temptations, his follies, and his diSregiird-oC^ the 
dudes of religion, wibich had auhjo^ted (hiBi>inno^ com- 
mon degree to the charms and enchantments ^of hia 
hellish neighbours, whose principal effiirts and energies 
seemed to be aimed at bis destruction. But when fae^ 
oame to the vision of the fair virgins on the hill, an4 



#f their gmciotw bequetrta^ tbst bad preBerred ban 
thenceforward, both from the devil in per8Qii,~aflid imk 
tiM vengeance of all hia emiBsariea eombinedy ao wdl 
M this suit the BtreoiiGiia efbrta theft rnddng to ob» 
laki popularity for a falling system of fiatth^ that the 
jvdges instantly claimed the miracle to thdr onm 9dc^ 
and were clamorous with approbatioii ef his madeatyy 
and cravings of forgiveness for the insuitB -and- con- 
tmnely which they had heaped iq>on.liHB.£avo«rite^ 
Heaven. Barbara Stewart was at 'this time, eitdag-ffiii 
the bench close behind Colin, weqiing for joy -ftt tins 
fovburable turn of afi^urs^ having, far seFeial dsya pie« 
vions to that, given up all hopes of li^ lif^;«]Ma Mr 
David Beatoun, pointing ta the image of dio> Ho^ Vir^ 
gfai, asked if the fair dame who btetewed* .these rkm^ 
luable and heavenly relics bore ^ any resemblance- 4o 
that divine figure. Colin, with his accustomed hkmt 
henesty, was just about to answer in the negatife, 
when Barbara exclaimed in a whisper briiiad him, 
\rA\k\ howliker 

^< How do you ken, dearest Barbara ?" said b0,4Mft- 
ly^ over his shoulder. 

- ^ Because I saw her watching your door onoe when 
aiimunded by fiends — Ah! how like T 

**< Ah, how like !" exclaimed Colin, by way of re- 
sponse to one whose opinion was to him . as a thing 
sapped) and not to be disputed. How much hung on 


ttiat momeiit I A denuil might perhaps hat^ fltSl 4ti^: 
jected him to ohioquy, honds, and death, hat aii asxi<^' 
ens maidte's ready expedient saved him ; acnd now it 
was with difficulty that Mr Wishart could prevent the 
Gotholit; part 6f the throng from falling down and wor- 
shif^ing him^ whom they had so lately reviled imd ac- 
cused of the hlaekest crimes. ■ ' • 

Times were 'now altered with Colin Hyslop. David 

Beatouii^tookliim to Edinhmrgh in his diariot, and pre^ 

sented him to the Queen Regent, who put a ring on 

his right' -handi a chain of gold ahout his neck^ and 

loaded him with her bounty. All the Catholic nobles 

of the'j^onrt presiented him with valuable gifts, and 

then he ^ «i<»ed to make the t<mr of idl tbe ric& 

ahheys of Fifb and the Border ; so diat, without' evef 

having one more question asked him ahout bis tenets,' 

he retnnied home the richest man of all Traquair, even 

richer, as men supposed, than Sir James Stuart him* 

self* He married Barbara Stewart, and purchased the 

Flora from the female heirs of Alexlmder Murray, 

where he built a mansion, planted a vineyard, and lived 

in retirement and happiness till the day of his death. 

I have thus recorded the leading events of this tale, 
although many of the incidents, as handed down by 
tradition, are of so heinous a nature as not to bear re* 
eital. It has always appeared to me to have been 
moulded on the bones of some ancient retigious alle* 


gory, and by being that trvudanaed into A nvrserf 
tide, rendered unintelligible* It would be in Tain now 
to endeayonr to restore its original stmctrve, in the 
tame way as Mr Blore can delineate an ancient abbey 
firom the smallest remnant ; but I should like exceed- 
ingly to understand properly what was represented by 
the two lovely and mysterions' sistel^ one of whom 
was lame. It is most pcoliable that "they were sup- 
posed apparitions of renowned female saints ; or per- 
haps Faith and Charity, Thisi however, is maiufef t, 
that it is a Reformer's tale, fomided on a Catholic alk^ 

rt.-.-* i' • > • ' ■. ' •^- 

Of the witches of Traquair there are many^pthj^ 
traditions extant, as well as many anthent^ re^;ci|i^.t 
and 80 far the talQ accords witli th^; hisjloiy ^qf^^l^ 
times. .Tliat they were tried and suffered tbexre^^ 
doubt ; and the Devil lost all his popujiarity i^.^^I{9|i^ 
district ever after, being despised by bis friends for^jj^ 
shallow and rash politics^ and booted, ^and ^f^d^pp.^ 
ridicule by his enemies. I still maintam>, that.tlien 
has been no great personage sii^ce;d(e wft^fd.'Vf:^^ ji^^ 
med, so apt to commit a manifest blund^r^^md tp.OTei:-^ 
shoot his mark* as he is. 

'I*V't fjii ,»■-♦".' *■ «• • '■■'■ • • '»5'- ,''■'»''*/ "ff*. r"!^Vt w.'O.'^' v«.^ • '. •••.'••' * '"'i. ■* *»> .5. -T 'iM.'. iTfO ' 

•.•.£,.{ ■ X •;■.-. i^ ■. ■. . .. ■ .■».;»•. ♦' .>iJ .1 'n b'jlfV 

mtKP. *^ 185 


The sheep has scarcely any marked character, save 
that of liatoral affection, of wluch it possesses a very 
great share. It is otherwise a stupid, indifferent ani* 
mal, hatui^ few wants, and fewer expedients. The 
old hlack-Eoced, or Forest hreed, have far more power- 
ful capabilities than any of the finer breeds that have 
been introduced into Scotland ; and therefore the few 
anecdotes that I have to relate, shall be confined to 

So strong is the attachment of sheep to the place 
where they have been bred, that I have heard of their 
returning from Yorkshire to the Highlands^ I was al» 
ways somewhat inclined to suspect that they might 
have been lost by the way. But it is certain, how* 
ever, that when once one, or a few sheep, get away 
from the rest of their acquaintances, they return home- 
ward with great eagerness and perseverance. I hare 
lived beside a drore-road the better part of my life. 


and many stragglers have I seen bending their steps 
northward in the spring of the year. A sh^herd rarely 
sees these joumeyers twice ; if he sees them, and stops 
them in the morning, they are gone long before night; 
and if he sees them at night, they will be gone many 
miles before morning. This Strang, attaehmcsnt to the 
place of their nativity, is much more predominant in 
onr old aboriginal breed, than in any of the other kinds 
with which I am acquainted. 

. The most aingnlw instance that I knpw o£, to be 
^te jirell aothenticated, is that of a Uad^ «w«^ that 
retained with her lamb from a £urm in the betd oi 
Glen-LyoBy to the. farm of Hareh^pe^ in Tweeddale, 
and.acyompliihed the journey in nine days.. . She was 
soon miflsed \^ her owner, and a s^pherd /waa>^ 
patched in pursuitof her, who followed her all 'Uieway 
to Cxiei^ where he tumed,^ and gave lies iqit. . > He^ 
intelligence of her all the way, and every one tiU«him 
tfaat.i^ i^elntely persisted-m^ trav^lkig'-on-^-She 
woidd-not hetvned, regarding^netthep ehe^'nopvhep' 
herd^hy 4ho^ way. Her lamb was • often £bp bdhmd, md 
she had coiiBlaiitly tO' urge it on, by impirtieii*^ bleat- 
ing. • She 'Unluckily came to Stilling on^thevienihig 
of a great iuraual fair, about the end of May,'aifdj«d* 
ging it imprudent to venture through the crowd ^with 
h^ l«nb, she baked on the north side of thetown^the 
vwhol^ day> wh^e she waaseen by hundreds, lying-elose 

SHEEP. 187 

by the road-side. But next morning, when all became 
quiet, a little after the break of day, she was observed 
-stealing quietly through the town, in apparent terror 
of the dogs that were prowling about the- street* The 
last- time she was seen on theroad^ was at a toll-bar 
near St Ninian's ; l^e man stopped her, thmking she 
was a «trayed animal, and that some one would claim 
her. She tried several times to break through by force 
when he opened the gate, but he always prevented her, 
and at loigth she turned patiently back. She had 
found some means of eluding him, however^ for home 
-she came on a Sabbath monung^ the 4ith of June; and 
she left' the farm of Lodis, in-Glen-Lyon, either oni;he 
Tfamday afternoon, or Friday momiBg, a week and 
two days before-. The fiurmer ofHarehope paid th^ 
Highland fisrmer ihe price of her, and she' r^maified oh 
her^ native' farm tall she died of old agO) in her -seven- 
teentii year. 

^' There is another peculiarity in the Baliiire"Of slraep, 
of wUchlhave witnessed iBBumeraUe^xamides^;- But 
'fls they are all idike> and show how much the sheep i6 
«>toreatare of habit, I shall only' relate one : 
' A sh^herd in Blackhouse bought a few sheep from 
^another hi 'Crawmel, about ten miles distant. In ^he 
vprisg fi^wing, one of the ewe» went back to her 
native place, and yeaned on a wild hill, called Crawmel 
Craig; One day, about the beginning of July follow- 


vagf the shepherd went and brought home lus €we and 
bun b' ^to ok the fleece firom the .ewe, aod h^^^Um iaonb 
for one of his stock. The lamb. lived andi^lhc^iirify Jbe- 
came a hog and a gmuner, /and never QiKaied«<to J^ave 
home ; bat when three yearsof age, and about, to have 
her first lamb, she vanished ; and the .nMnraiQig^ i^fler, 
the Crawmel shepherd, in going his rounds, fpimd her 
vvith a new-yeaned lamb on the very gair pf tliei Craw- 
mel Craig, where she wa# lambed herpelf. She re* 
mained there till the first week^of July, the time when 
she was brought a lamb herself, and then sbp came 
home with hers of her own accord; and this, custom 
she continued annually with the greatest, puni^tuality 
as long as she lived* At length her lambs>, whcoi they 
came of age, began the same practice, and the sh^herd 
was obliged to di^ose of the whole, breeds. 

With regard to the natural affection lof thbianinuil, 
stupid and actionless as it is, the instances^.tbat nii^ 
be mentioned are without number. When mm loses 
its sight in a flock of short sheep> it is iwrftly abpndonp 
ed to itself in that hapless and helpleesrjstate.. Som^ 
one always attaches itself to it, and by bleating calls 
it back from the precipice, the lake, the po^pjl, and all 
dangers whatever. There is a disease among sheep, 
called by shepherds the Breakshugh, a deadly 8(M*t of 
dysentery, which \a as infectious as fire, in a flock. 
Whenever a sheep feels itself seized by this, it inst^t* 

9H£EP. 189 

ly witbdrsnUB from ail the rest, siiiimuBg tbeir society 
wiik the gv^afest'care; it even hides itself^ aadis often 
very ha^ to he foimd* Though this propeiusity^caa 
hardly 'b^ attlibiited' to natural instmot^it as^at tall 
events, a prtmsi<m of nature' of the greatest kirnkwes 
andh^tefioenee, iw .« 

Anotha: mMufest < provision of nature ^vith> vegaitUlo 
these toimals, is^^ that the more inboi^kable the kn4 
is on which they feed, the greater- thek kindness and 
attention' to ^^r young*^ I once herded tvn years oa 
a wikl aiid hare form called Willenslee^uon ihe^horder 
of Mid^Lothian, and of all the sheep I ever sasf^ these 
W€s^d)fe kindest and most affectionate to their young« 
I W^ €»ften deeply affected at iscenes whiob I wstnessf 
edr^'IWW had'one veryhard winter, so that^mrebe^ 
grew lean in the springy and the thwartep-iU^^eort of 
parstytie MAffeetion) came among^ them, and .oarided 
offrlkimtanber. Often have I seen these poovivictims 
when foHen down to lise^nomore, even ^hea unable 
to lif^Md«$fr heads from, the ground^ holdmg up ^ legp 
te^%rvite t^ staar^Hpg lamb to tM misendble. pittance 
thftfr'the udd^roitifi eould supply, r I had never seen 
anght^^nete pak^ully^'affectingw > j ^ - < t ; ^ < ) u v .is 
i it^Bs w^ known that it is a cnston^widiidiepherdsi 
wh^-a Imnly dies, if the mother faaTi^ ai-siifficiency 
of Milk, to brmg her< from thejthUl, and put anothi^ 
l(i$|^ to her. This is done by^patting the^kin of the 

190 THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

dead lamb upon the liTing^ one ; the ewe immediately 
acknowledges the relationship, and after the skin has 
wanned on it, so as to give it something of the smell 
of her own progeny, and it has sucked her two or thr^ 
times, she accepts and nourishes it as her own erer 
after. Whether it is from joy at this apparent reani- 
mation of her yoimg one, or because a little doubt re- 
mains on her mind which she would fain dispel, I can- 
not decide ; but, for a number of days, she shows far 
more fondness, by bleating, and caressing, over this 
one, than she did formerly over the one that was real- 
ly her own. 

But this is not what I wanted to explain ; it was, 
that such sheep as thus lose their lambs, must be dri- 
ven to a house with dogs, so that the lamb may be 
. put to them ; for they will only take it in a dark con- 
fined place. But at Willenslee, I never needed to 
drive home a sheep by force, with dogs, or in any other 
way than the following : I found every ewe, of course, 
standing hanging her head over her dead lamb, and 
having a piece of twine with me for the purpose, I tied 
that to the Iambus neck, or foot,^ and trailing it along, 
the ewe followed me into any house or fold that I 
chose to lead her. Any of them would have followed 
liie in that way for miles, with her nose close on the 
lamb, which she never quitted for a moment, except 
to chase my dog» whict she would not suffer to waHc 

SH£EP. 191 

near me. . I .often, out of curiosity, led them in to the 
side of the kitchen fire hy thid means, into the midst 
ef serviants and dogs.; but the more that dangers mul" 
tiplied around the ewe, she clung the closer to her 
dead offspring, and thought of nothing whatever but 
protecting it. 

One of the two yell's while I remained on this &rm, 
a severe blast of snow came on by ni^t about the lat- 
ter end of April, which destroyed several scores of our 
lambs ; and as we had not enow of twins and odd 
lambs for the mothers that had lost theirs, of course 
we selected the best ewes, and put lainbs to them. As 
we were making the distribution, I requested of my 
master to spare me a lamb for a hawked ewe which he 
knew, and which was standing over a dead lamb in the 
head of the hope, about four miles from the house. 
He would not do it, but bid me let her stand over her 
lamb for a day or two, and perhaps a twin would be 
forthcoming. I did so, and faithfully she did stand to 
her charge ; so faithfully, that I think the like never 
was equalled by any of the woolly race. I visited her 
every morning and evening, and for the first eight days 
never found her above two or three yards from the 
lamb ; and always, as I went my rounds, she eyed me 
long ere I came near her, and kept tramping with her 
foot, and whistling through her nose, to frighten away 
the dog ; he got a regidar chase twice a-day as I pass- 


edby: but, howerer excited and fiei^ee a ewe may be, 
she nerer oSen any raaktaiioe to mankind, being per- 
fectly and meekly pasrife to them. Tlie weather grew 
fine and warm, and the dead lamb soon decayed, idiich 
the body of a dead lamb does particularly soon ; but 
still this affectionate and desolate creature kept hang- 
ing orer the poor remains with as attachment that 
seemed to be nourished by hopelessness. It often 
drew the tears from my eyes to see her hanging with 
snch fondness orer a few bones, mixed whli a aoodl 
portion of wool. For the first fortnight ahe neTer ipil* 
ted the spot, and for another week she Waited it engf 
morning and eyening, uttering a few kindly and hsiil* 
piercing bleats each time ; till at length eveyrttipiiaBt 
of her offspring ranished, mixing with the soil, or wait- 
ed away by the winds. 




TttBftB i% I beliei^, no d&ss of men professing the 
fVotafitaat faith, so truly devQvt ns the siioj^iords of 
Scodand* lliey get all the learning ^at the {Muish 
schods afford ; are thoroughly acquainted with the 
Scripfnses ; deeply read in theological wprks, and 
reaily^ I am sOny to say it, generally mudh better in- 
formed on these t<^H€s than th^ir masters. Every 
shepherd is a man of rei^ectabUity'— he must be so, 
eise he must cease to be a shepherd* His mast^'s 
Aodk is entirely committed to his catey and if he dees 
not manage it with constant attention* cautak«» and d^- 
dsion, he cannot be employed. A part of the stock is 
his own, however, so tliat his interest in it is ihe same 
with thut of his master; and being t^ms the most inde- 
pendent of men, if he cherishes a good b^iayiour, and 
the most insigitdficant if he loses the esteem of his 
employers, he has every motive for maintaining an 
nnimpeachable character. 



It is almost impossible, also, that he ckn h^ biKer 
tlian a religions diaracter, beiog so rnxuik conireiiBuit 
with the Almighty in his works, in all tb^ ^ings-on 
of nature, and in his control of the otherwise resisflesB 
elements. He feels himself a dependent b^Hg,' moin* 
ing and evening, on the great Ruler of the tmiyerse ; he 
holds conyerse with him in the cloud and the storm — 
on the misty mountain and the darksome waste— in 
the whirlmg drift and the overwhelming thaw— ^kiid 
even in voices and sounds that ore only heard Vf the 


howling cliff or solitary delL How can svch a tiS& 
fail to be impressed with the presence of an eWruA 
God, of an omidscient eye, and an tdmighty ar^' ^' 

"The position generally holds good; ^for, as T'iave 
said, the shepherds are a religious and devoid Mi of 
men/ and among them the antiquated hut deligiitifiil ex- 
ercise of family worship is never neglected. It'is al- 
trays gone about with deeency and decorum ; biii tW- 
mjlity being a thing despised, there is iio compoflitKm 
that I' ever heard so truly original as these prayrn'oo- 
cayBi6hatIy are ; sometimes for rude eloquence and pa- 
thos, at other times for a nondescript sort of pomp, 
and not unfrequently for a plain and somewtmt un- 
becoming tieaniliarity. 

One' of tte most notable men for this sort of family 
eloiqu^nce was Adain Scott;, in Upper iDalgUesfa. I 
had an uncle who herded with him, from whonoi I heard 

^.^-^.^^VmMvr.y-^. *9^ 

. are as foUowis. 
n. *v1^^.?^^^F17 thifijkthee fpr % greaj goftdijifiss 

/iS^M^Kf >R4.*#'^v^? ^ came, into y9jl^• h^ad^tp jl;al^^ 
f^^^^l^ou^ht of sic an useless b^ af ;her," CXhis 

^iw i^Jittle ^rl that ha<J beM somewhat, miracnlously 
saved from drowninff.) , 

"JJor thy mercy's sake— for the sake, of thy poor 
«infu i^vant^ that ai'e now a^dres^ine thee^i^ their 
j^ 8l^l}y-shfdly way^ and for the sake o'lnair than we 
dare wejel name to thee, hae mercy on R^lv. Xe. ken 
^^ur^^ll a wild mischievous calljont^t an4 thinks 
nae mair o' committmg sin than a doe does o' licking 
a d^h^; but^^ut thy hook in his nose> and thy Vndle 
^m |is gab^^^^ him conaQ hftck to the^ wji^^ jerk 

^M3^P??^^'?f*^?^*^^^^^ ^^^^ ^'^^ ^^^^" 
•F " ^?i^ .fer«?*,,P9<>r, Ja^ whM :fi^ >^^X . ftlie 

?S?^t?; ^a,*? Sfe^** ^®®P;^^yjwri9 P'pp^/Bi: iiJbp^it 
-^-'ffr^.??^^? t?1?^ ye wad epdow ^ wi' ftJJ^fl^J8JIW* 
and smeddum^o act for himself Por if ye.f^^fSJ^^H 
be but a bauchle in this worldt and ^ backsitter m the 

<< V^e desire to be submissive to thy will and plea- 

sure at a* times ; but our desires are like ,new-bjidled 

polts, or dogs that are first laid to the brae^r-thev run 

, wil^ fjjftQ ynder oiju: control*^ 'Iliqu.hi^st a44^^ om to 

our ^Eonily-'SO has b^^n thy will ; b|it it would never 


tei4M» nbet If tf • Pf tte^ dk^Jlfav* l^ttps ii4iptll- 
per the connexion ; but if the fool hath done b Mc^rf 
tmmi dmiMtf againti all r eaio fi jaid^gwJifc guy^ 
«Hdd nmy «kMid df«dra«itf settle iMUtbdritMtaib 
tiU Jh0 thim in the flaae ihst hk f oV^ hstk IndWr 
<I thUL tWs WM erid to be itt alhMno» «a 1^ MHoiiHe 
of ene of hifl sou*) . .^ .. . ^:./y/f 

^ We're a' like hanrlo, Wie aMike «iiMli» Wte« 
like efegia liddlee i«4ike Imrke^ to do ern^ lite 
to d» goody foid like dogie riddki^ that let tfuMiM' 
the ffood^ and te^ tibe bad" .:.;•>,, fvrf 

<< Bring down the tyrant and In lang itdl^ -ferlkLhiB 
doae BMxUe ill the ymr^ and gie hiai arrcafiftf lHy 
vfnih^ and gin he tmaa Iri^ tlaa» gie ifin^kei^^ 
(JEoi^ aigvfies doaMe, 4tF tmo' ea^^lXU^viHiaa 
oceaMnal patiticm for «ae a e aeo a mif^ 'aiid>ia7^Befe 
aaro^tOcaildceiapiabeiidiriiatil.iMaiit^ k' ' S^^j .u:n 
^. ISiageBeral character <>f&oiliaaii»ne ti. i ot bm 
aad^aatinly; ooaBtant in the djataee^ialipeKi^ hi«Mt 
otaiietrict Kith legaid to some of iia a(#n|l jiver^i 
. ; I baae keaid Ae lc»Uowfng i^tioas siairirji i£ff^^ 
the fiunily poray^ns of an old relation of «A^^opi%rMf 
8ia(»^gOM ila hia.reftt. - '.. -ui "i: j.u; , W4u 

nv^, Am} mappoa^ md abooa, die th0iijl>leHi>aacai)il&' 
lii|r}iait?aaridl|r Ueflsiag**'^ «(«^^MiVA%if«ii 

tbidkhuf tot tfas baid£«*a lantf etiideand -a'CktiriBa-eidh» 

afibtt(^^y'ihevpeUtkai«e»$ M>'0pbm thiii^ ^hifim 

qiember before their Maker, eitW j>|i way-^f 'pcHUbli^ 
o&tt£emonf or thaaksgi ving. \QM»^foUowjft$ 'vnm told 
tO'iiia ttii port of- the mom woF^^ld ama^-firsq^ 
qcfipiinatiy>>fog:aogie weekaJMrforO' b» left-m/^Mifiiv 
iu wfaose/ather's service and hift<iwi| tktt decafed^ibqM- 
l|9tjd ibad> apgnt j|he vhok oltbb :U£b4 ^ r?' -"-' 
V >i^ Bkfa^^iof jnstaraii^ bi^^^ipimty widi itiy best bks^ 
ttiig^iU'^GUrkl^.Jii^ Proalieyall bis.wJonldlfiiKHi^ 
0anifl^«8pa&lly<4ati«iiiaUe yfft^wi4clii>i?iiti$pi ^ d 
ttfoBiy ffiieua^ JjtiKre wcmv^nMt wyjyufeiBitlid'i^^ 
him aad Ua iialbAi%8iid^i]|lGB0t|Eepit«haiit i faa^eiMf 
ner^^xMired »kaee« betoe tkee imthmit 9iiti0QdM»Hng^ 
tfaaxa^ ' 111031^ kti#wea^-al8ef ^Aatl I'hftve>i^cr«itt^Bed 
ni^t^r felsi^ iMt da/s GOtnfb]?t^ wliffla^in^iii <aBi|«ti^ 
«ioA»,Jwkl|~4liek ititdresi. : 1^ <loiile«fr dayb 4ad -the 
t^lUMlnkiBrtilJt^ iii» a|i th^ MgbMI «f^imtf 

mer ^ and if he has not done weri ia^'ca0th%^0itt'yft 
ai^d^ls|^iiilti#tlKi«loigitehii&^ IfdfP^iMmih 
l^ti^kterl/flad yiUa^i^das^ t»|)i^^jMf^4]l9»; tat 

lyaid bjMmg||ard the ffl»y be|id»>pdjMyjto JdatteB) <I 


wish to God that my anld herd had been here yet!*^ I 
ken o' neither house nor habitation this nighty but for 
the sake o' them amang as that canna do for thems^ 
I ken thou wilt provide ane ; for though then hast tiwd 
me with hard and sair adversities, I have had more 
than my share of thy mercies, and thou kens better 
than I can tell thee that thou hast never bestowed them 
on an unthankful heart.^ 

This is the sentence, exactly as it was related to m^ 
but I am sure it is not correct ; for, though very like 
his manner, I never heard him come so near the £iw- 
lish language in one sentence in my life. I once h^pl 
him say, in allusion to a chapter he had been readinff 
about David and Goliath, and just at the close of his 
prayer : " And when our besetting sins come bragn^ 
and blowstering upon us, like Gully o' Oath, O enaUe 
us to fling o£r the airmer and haimishing o* the law^ 
whilk we haena proved, and whup up the simple slin^^ 
o* the gospel, and nail the smooth stanes a* redeemmg 
irrace into their foreheads.'' 

Of all the compositions, for simple pathos,, that I 
ever saw or heard, his prayer, on the evenmg of that 
day on which he buried his only son, excelled ; buiat 
this distance of time,^ it is impossible for me to do it 
justice ; and I dare not take it on me to garble it. He 
began the subject of his sorrows thus : — 

<< Thou hast seen meet, in thy wise providence, to 

PRAT£RS. , 199 

.. . f< . ' 

remove the staff out of my right hand, a^t the very time 
when, to us poor sand-blind mortals, it appeared that 
1 Stood maist m need o t. But O it was a sicker ane. 
and a sure ane, and a dear ane to my heart I and how 
m climD the steep hill o' auld age and sorrow with- 
out i1$ thou mavst ken, but I dinna. 

His singing of the psalms surpassed (ul exhibitions 

■ ■„[ ...I-.-.. ,. ..• )../ . '• ■If;.:-. .^'lilBjl.' 

thai erer were witnessed of a sacred nature. He had 
not the least air of sacred music ; there was no attempt 
at it ; It was a sort of recitative of the most grotesque 
kind ; and yet he deliirhted in it» and s^ng far more 

J.I ; ■■■••. •;■;.,.■.. .T).:i •::(»« ?m* 

verses every night than is customary. The first time 

VhL"*-' "'v'f"» • ■ ' • '* -^ '• • •."..'• • ^.« ''>.' 

I heard him. I was very young ; but I could not stand 

it^ and leaned myself back into a bed, and laughed till 

my strength could serve me no longer.. He had like- 

went on. And such remarks I One evemng I heard 
Dim reading a chapter— I have forgot where it was— - 
out ne came to words like these : <^ And other nations, 

:i'' '.^iKfv 

whom the great and noble Asnapper brought over'' 
John stopped short, and, considering for a little, 
says: ^Asnapper! whaten^a king was he that? I 
dinna inind o' ever hearing tell o' him afore. '— " I din- 
na ken,*' said one of the girls ; << but he has a queer 
name.'' — " It is something like a goolly knife, said, a 
younger one. << Whisht^ dame," said John, aivl then 


went oil wit& tbe dMVter. I bcuieTe it wis jibantibe 
foanb or fifth chapter of ^xnu He addonoL for a ainrie 
jQudiL miaaed a few obaervationa of the aame aort. 

Anotber ^ighl. aot kmg after ,th^ tiaw abore not^ead^ 
he waa reading of the feata of ao^ Sawhallat; whr aet 
himself against the buildiBg of the .s^ocpd tem|de : on 
doaing the ^ble John ottered a long bemb I and Aai 
I knew tliere was aomething fortheonii^. « He w 
been aiiother nor a gade ane that," added he : '< I hat 
tme brow o* their Sandy-baHet,** 

Upon another oecaaioa he ato]^»ed m ll^^iiiifl^ of 

a chapter and uttered his ^ heaoh Y* of dnamirpyBli and 
then added, « If it had been the Lovd> will. I^^itek 
they mi|^ hae left oat that vena''--T-*f j(|t,^ jbasiA ^q^ 
his will, thoi^hr said oa& of the £^.~^'It jjeeiqa ^^ 
saidJohn. I.hayeentii^lyfoigotwhat^e.waa^r^i^ilg 
about, and am often vexed at baring foj]|;9t the Te^^e 
that John wanted eaqpunged from the BiJMe. , It uras 
in some of the minor prophets. 

Th^re was another time he came to 
law's house, where I was then liyii^ and Jo^ h|ing 
the dde^t man, the Bible was laid down.before him to 
make family womhipw He made no objection l^B^J'^ 
gaiij as was always his custom, by. Asbipj^ a bleamtig ^n 
their deration ; and when he had done, H beiiu&eQ9- 
ternary .for thqee who make fiemuly. Ti^orc^P toj^ng 
straight through the Psalms from beginnii^ to end. 


Jdm BKpf ^ We'Q yoer ofdinar]^. Where ia 

li?^— -^'VTe do notdwayBOOig in (Mneplaoe)'' feiaidtlie 

gJDbdbaan cif the boose. <'Na, I diuretey'lSo, or 6be 

yeli niai^ tlitt pkee threadbare,*' aaid Jdfli,'iff rshor^ 

'crabbed style, manifestly suspecting thil his Iriaid was 
«.."■■ " . - . ■ 

not ngidar m his &nuly devoti^Mis* Thb "petA ci fiharp 

wU after the worship Was hegtuk had to IM ain eflect 

highl; ludicroiis. 

When he came to give put the diapt^ , hA ranaKbed» 

thai there woold be no ordinary there eithffiv be itdp» 

posed. <« We have been reading in Job to a lao|^ time," 

sfldd the goodman. << How tai% ?" said Jdkn.dyjy, as 

he turned over the leaves, thinking to caSdi Ms ^ieod 

at fault. « Oy I dinna ken that," said the other ;^ but 

thereVft mark laid in that will teU yoii ibe Ut^-^M^If 

.j^ hae rcfid w^ lang in Job," isaya John, ^^yon wiU 

^Uai^idade him ^eadbare too^ for die mark hi eo9f at 

tlffi ninth i^pter.** There waa no answer, ao be t^td 

"cxL^ In tiie course of the chapter he^canur to these 

worda— -<< Who commandeth the son, and itriseth nou" 

~<^I never hetfrd of Hioor doing dkal,** says Jolm. 

-.^ But Job, honest man, maybe means the darkneiitf.Aat 

waa hi the land o' Egypt* Itwad b^afearBome'ilnng 

ak'die stm w»ma tin rise," Alitdefiitther'oiibeicame 

lo^ tteae in^cHrds-^^^ Which makethr Arcturtts, OiiOD, 

'ftad=!Pteladbs, and the cfaamb^a of the south.".^^^^ I hae 

' ofteif #dndared at that verse," says John. << Job has 

1 2 

98f THE SUBFltlakkf^tAlXSI^AtU 

Gowden Plough.** .:i j^mu u.:«i i^ini ^lar 

»'* 0» rwrfiag tke^litc i iipt o r of lii§Mok%rM6/4ilieii 
iitttiiae^t^theeiiiB BWfc ti m oMie yiMaMN M f^ ^ti i ^ 
iM^ramatked, « He hm hid b* laico iagmMar iifeima ai 
Pmxum-iknmmi tk^t Hdwinolr^^^^tlMtt'tia. 

'¥fmA ^ a dMktfd^cooliBtkMitii hk €iiftpfaig» i i ii # qiift i - 
iiig«« 'fiiz^li^tittad^ttmeH ftthooMftd'yoke'of^Oi) 
ftDd a lliMMid dlie-asMs. Wlist^ te the' ttdd^-wiilld, 
^Id he do wi* a^ Ihae txtBimrmf Wad i»^4idhi«^%(Mli 
mair purpose-like if he had had theia a* milk fejfte^K^ 
•M Whairad he kae goitea to have niHiktfmhtmk?^ ttid 
'oae of tfae-glrh; > «< It*8 teni true,** «aSd\Miiik'i f-< "^ 
'-* OiietbM^'dtiyiiig' a long itid'«eVere 1]^^ tftornTof 
«tiolir^ki'all<ifiieaid^Bie chapter h^'h«dhe<^'iMffiri|, 
'hepi«fed^M'folloit%-: (QThte k tom4iettt«h)h) -^Is'^ihe 
Whdcedeto of d«K^tieii Id Uto %tin M^^ vitfMikli^ df 
^itr'ted ibf ^cMoff is^th^ eeAMf h<^W*^lf)^li«H^M8 
terperfeh Mtf'tfriBlhi^ of-tfae^iliEdrtli?:^^^ 
Vhduted hilk ar^thiii^ aiid Urieif'tit^'^r dettilUrtNld 
he^iflelliii^fatliefr-^^«hoii wad a^ef^^ 
' the pooler ; hat it is a grM matter t6 a^. ' Have ]^t)r, 

rt A <~V'* r r 

l?iWr}^i?q%fFT. ',v": $AS 

^1^ (mttl^ Uy««fQf4b]riTi^tnf^|9iri#^ 

tare fdncemair appear.*'. '.H^iMoiH ciobv/o;* 

jtH^moti ebep)t|^.y(HiqgaA(^iel4y)tii^ 
imgh(Mi4r^re|«aii tbaB)i»iajt,iaeid-tiDieyili iiU.4^^ 
Bingtal^ibe iddeAl»faBd>gpiiig.^,<«t lih» J^^omgcu^ntbai^ 
9»^|nre «^ivaah4Mi rf^peci^of pec90i»r)wil]i <sQd»e9t>>dlBte 

)^}^itiUi^)!^ wiM» vito i^iuigei^.iKbt «l^tiiui|^)y 
fi^AMecLo /0£.ico«rae^iii;^deydT«44|gcua>i9«i!Jkd»^ 
|;p]mfi^Hlff> Jii» l^coad bQnBt^^. l toift > a dd r essed hb ^Abk^ 

in thy bJi^VKKi mwdytkxit ^se^Jio are^^imediaf tbee 
»n4^tby aww€^<>f^tlwBi tlum w^ Veiarf^wftedi^hen 
i^Q%^M)^2fl^t iWitP/iky.Ii^3gi|oiQ»..Now««Jljlmtiir^^ 
Mye)>egfQ(fl^ija||}this.tiDM i^ tb»t»(&»0«^1W»y iliot 

». <yii<WIi*P|d» Aou^b^^ ,tha$f ps^^<|jii^|» j^*U^iP^^ a 

9M THE i Wl —H'i UJ H I IIPAB, 

TIm yamg mm khikm leMcs ^m^^ flmniyv A 
fJMt gffvw M led M fluM, aad it ww wiwml dftyv W 
fon iM coidd aMone Ilk ihmI Unilsr* Had I Jmd 
with Jokft s fiNT yevBr I coald Imsm.fkik&A np fai&n. 
marks on the greater part of thete^itoBB^ te to vead 
aadaotiiiakexiHii|i^WMp«tqfhie]MM««r. Tliatlory 
af BAth wae a gieatfimante wiA Iiifli!--4ia afit^ 
HtohiateailyolaSbU^athaTeDsii^as «*a.goodlaam 
oa aatarali^ ;** b«l 1» neTer iinM laakiag tiM fttnadi^ 
that' <f ii jaaa ate mwr acf dniiy ia,kmd^ tmmp m 
bewdaiAai i w H i na i a ir.tthe aighMfanaHiPkeB.ha.aiai 

.i-i/i^ |I:m«.W »!• ,V--.m - • . f ..I -.■ Mw « itivfi. i tr^f:!^, 

■ " .-»• , ii^tjtt r.i; ,, . <:/>.. ...^ .i .»•. * ;. f*"^ i:«i*. ^^^y^ljviiifif 

^1 t,- 1«,;. 114 . , . ». , 1^ ». .■■•^;(. ^»^i t«» 4{t|^»^. ^^r.- j^j 

-i ;^«' »> ,-, iJilv*.- 

'■ ■ • 

-"^i! ^yj^L) unj*Yt^>i ^F7? Ji bin? ,^aiiili hb i>t>i 2B whts *}.•)«* 
t*Ryi or i«*'i v'tJi/j/qri)^ ^iif to mq i^JBtrr^ i)iij iioH^iiarri 

88 otliei^ ooniieeted witii faiglier ii«iiw8««-lw|Aiiai'4AB 
place I ahall confine myaelf to a £bw> of whicb several 
Tehite to tbe same penon, and are tfam il hwtnUi va of 
indi vidBBl dnmeto^ The first that dabn attssttion aie 
ibose eoBoerniag a man reiy £unons iahia ocvin spheret 
'an anceslor of my own9-*-4)iB redanbtad 

WiirL o* PHAUPy one of the gauuiie LaUUavra af 
Crsiky was bom at that place in 169L Hewaasbep- 
herd in I4iaap for fifty-fiTe years. For feats of froUf, 
strength, and agility, he had no eqnal in his day. In 
the hall of the fadrdy at the furmer's ingle, ^nd in the 
sh^herd's cot, WiU was alike a welcome guest ; and 
in whateTer€<»Dpany he was, he kept the whole in one 


xoir of mmtimmL in 1WBlVd^N%HliiiiHi!f mamki 
conmoa drink ia thie eowitiy ;>-a8ifar'1dbflik|f/it Mi^ 
like tilvec in the- days of ^knion^ >nodhipyjMieanBiii 
oC CkMd block Ffwcb iMMdy-vraBtfce-fltestiiMplei^ 
Torago ; and a haaTy neighbour Wil|ywBO(on^ii^"Mia{f 
a bard boiiso bebadaboii^Moffiit^VidT«aaDy!ain(WtAft 
rUt goneraUy for wag^wa of ao aaa]r*fiirtaiDf-bniikd(fi; 
and in aU bis life bane YW. was ha^ Hetonce taaot 
Moflbt for a wager of five gakinssif ^icb one*of shs 
clnefii of iJb JohiMUm belted^ Q» biar headlMifisiOlip^ 
nam was a eakbnrted ■ nmnec^froas^ Ciawii ■ ibiMiibi! tf 
tbo wune ofMBkikUfy oa wbose bead^ov iRlIiaiii^li 
vbose £bo^ a Captain Doag^ hadniffiai^iiidiv '^Wttl 
knaw^aodnngof the match till ha wmtAto Meg$itf>mtt 
was vary arose to it. ><.No ^thaa.herwaa aatffymlf 
fear'dJror4faedii^"rhe said; ^ bathabHl osbUhs fli»^ 
day daesy and a» momf lad^ea «Bd f[mikMaai«waatta 
be there to see the raee, he didoa hko to appear eibre 
them like an asaie ffhaipi" v .j:uJ ., i in;. 

However, he was urgad, and obVged to gO'ontjaad 
fttnp;andyas be told it» <<a poarifigooBtfl teAdoMiida 
ihe^sUeld wi' his grand nifled sark*^^ I laas attemiftatatie 
at thinking^ tha^ WiU V . Flmnp. shaobl basi loadbisicia 
dirty i^iabby f^peasance afore sae (mony giit^ fayur^Wnd 
bonny laddiesy that not a fit I eeiild>rin Biaiv(jiSn^\i bid 
been a diber. Tbe'iace waa downmt AnnanHsideirtLasI 
jimply a miky^ ot^t and in;r and| at the vary firat^ the 

maivi¥i' lhrfufiM.^tailL fle6(ir off likif^wilfiM!, ttld^feh 

]r)JiaAsieidieF«kent>i[ior powefy isl) <a ^H^ qtt^^ aci^S^ 
4Aiil4bie&Utine(f >for^ Scots iprtmd I di^ tik^ t^ng'o^ tiiy 
okNrtbfarednbiiekioQBe, ettidia'a isttomeiit ^th^y i^^i at 
m^hittdb^^BBditliero wb» I staac^l^Ilke i. hip^cdg^N 
i^l^iiOfHn* then, i^attp I ^ Off tH'th^rctM 
aiie. jf^Qdy Bhyl jmt spiwg'out o'^tliem; luid tiiett itl<^ 
fitent i^imdrsriH i^bits ran t» 4&»pvop€Ar p^tek ' 'Tli^ 

jfBf^a{bm9^ o'ertak iBm^ ^r I sotPcelif^keiill'd^fi^tltt^ 
lil^Mto tcHMJbiBgrtbarfri»d«rfie^ii th# ah^ tind-ito I 
diMietbjriMr^WBldi^ Inboard hka sajdiig, ^'PbftiA|i('Bili 
UmrywifV fta^he mr Blaikley faUuig. I^thyWrn, 
hum ittidma* midDlef to brag^ o^^for h^keeptt^be^t^ 
on BttF/tiU witfbmm ^g^-dbot 9' tbe fltMitig^po^ ."'"^ 

nf^SHmoi^KiD^ wis 8ie« fittscf ab^ittkni^by'th^Wi^ 
ning party, and naetbing wad ^MTfo tbem' btfi;' tMt 1 
fllMmld^fliiw vli^1faoBtlnthe/pdbUeto«m•< ^^'Nl^iSbtld 
Jii^itbfllre^heii,^ Mr JbbBBto< sajral, (^ fbr tioi^ •ydftf 
ladiieioiily lencb atmy aoddem^ if I 'war id^Rmiei' 
iriMli«ai in thin siai^ i kemilk bow tfa^y^%llf "tift^ it;^ ^ 

Oii¥SiittiiWfflww« yoii!iglad^iOiij|^«htteett^y^iM<^ 
Agoi and'tfaBf>'v«iy'fintt<y«ar he waai&Fhaot^^bn^ttftt* 
t»ri»€^fetd^<9iiieeiofjlik' wbole dn><^ bf I%ttilp bogis 

on^ 1b8 baod, at a race witb att^EngiiBfawan im^th^ 


fllicirbttik. Jtmm Antem, Enq. of EttricUiaB, «w 

tlui bnner of Phnqs nd he hid noled at the ahed- 

dii^ before his youig ihephod left hooiey that wliv 

efor a iheep got by wrongs he never did more thaanm 

enight after it, lay hold of it by sheer speed, and briaf 

it back in his arms. So the laird ha^ag fivmed la^ 

ideal of Will's swiftaees, without letting faim knoir of 

the matter, first got an'Englidi gentleman uato a'hesti 

by hragging the English rannen with Soots ones, and 

then profiered betting the piioe of his 90Q wodder hof|i^ 

)hat he had a poor starred barefooted boy who was hdp- 

ing to drira then^— whom he believed io be abodt die 

worst nmner in Scotland^— who wonld yet bieai Aebiflt 

Englishman that could be foand in Stagahatrbank-ftir. 

The Englishman's national pride waa tooched, ai 

weD it might, his oonntrymen beii% well ImoWKaa'As 

saperior mnners. The bet was taken, and WDl woo 

it with the greatest ease^ for his' master, witfaonttefaig 

made aware of the stake for wUeh he ran* Hum &s 

never knew till some months afterwidtdi^ tint lua mas* 

ter presented him with a guinea, a pair of new aboes, 

and a load of oatmeal, for winning him the prfe^ of 

the Fhaup hogs. Will' was exceedingly prdud of the 

feat he had performed, as well as of the pro s eii^ tgWch, 

he remarked, was as much to faim as the pricie^of die 

hogs was to his master. From that day €ordi be was 

neyo* beat at a fair race. 



H« Mver went to 'Sjo^M, that"t)i«..^Fmen'£^ not 
gat fum ii^ tbrir company, and um nenr d^ ^ get 
him ttfPiaap afibv. Vae n^feafivUatie ibm 
faAf^Ofed,WKte,taT an a^ tbe ■Kfndbwj^^vf di» 
Ogmtn, and i&say (rf hi{B avpaga settled ifitar^guar 
piiiy b a of^by-wwidfc Uis gmt, oul^,i)w .<* Scots 
grandr.And " $cotB niuid, .^oo' AVill g|* I%ai^p," !». 
R Bta^Un^ excl^ma^n to this day — " One ptaao "^^f^ 
fmiW^ o' ^tuip,?.iB another, — and there on nan^ 
^^ar raw., ..T)ie b^t menSioiKd had ha of^f^ ^i* 
Ofl^of^l^KMft Mo&t bonaei, from which the fanner of 
Salm^jH^I Will vere returning by night ^Jiesdiy 
fawbnstqd, t{ie fanner ridii^ and WiU fmmb^bj'lu 
aide. |do&t wator being aomewfast hooded, tfa^^- 
mfyjirnynnwl wiring TiaicHnir nn thn borsalicidni l^uo. 
W^,afpi^6a,\fst, aa he avEnxed, never got aeUed 
rigl^ till f^ imp^ent ^ixml plniwed into tbe .traterr 
and-tltt two ^friends came, oS, and.flqated doini the 
nm^hfmmgj>y m»^9^ieT. The &fioOT ^ to hia 
Iwrt &n, but in pnlling ont WiQliJaat hp ^qoilUiriaiD 
,» aeccnd ^m^ ynd plunging headloag i^itoytl^ Btr^ini, 
dp^.Le weat.^-,Will ma^ (l^^in ti>e,iitma|U per- 
|ij|[pjyj fOT^^jj^lJ^^ IU14 dnc^ng yi^dipr,^ he 

«IBif qi^,be|tiuabe^ K(d,th(( i^J w^a ifa djudE as 
f^elit;,,^,^ dqwR t|!e.^de of ,t|)iq Bfig^ tn^atiocoifi 
Ua friend, and loaing all ugbt.of turn,, h^ knew sot 
«tet to da ; bnt bemng A. great plunge, be made t«> 

210 THE shepherd's caxjekdar. 

wards the place, calling out, '^ Que plash niqre^,j9ir« 
and I have jourr-One pladi nc^or^ quo' Will o'.PIiaii{ij." 
but , all was silent I << Scots gcond I qm' Will pVPl^ 
«.^ man drown'd^ and me bereT Witt ra^.to./i 
stream, and took his station in the middle of ,|bs 
water, in hopes of feeling his drpwnUi; friend Q0ipi9 
against his legs^^bnt the farmer got safely out. |)y 
himself. .. ,;. 

There was another time at Moffi^it, thathe was tals^ 
in, and had to pay a dinner and drink for a wlu^]|^|^ 
party of gentlemen. I have forgot how U bgypwy)fl|» 
but thi^k it was by a wager. He had not only t^r^gfff 
with aU his money, but had to pawn bis w]biole H^f!^ 
of sheep. He then came home widi a heavy hew^ 
told his wife what he had done,, and tibat he^ ;^i^^ 
mined tnan* She said^ that since he ha4 ^^f4i)^ 
cow, they would do well enough. ,,, .j^: 

. The money was repaid afterwards^ so that WiJ^^Jj^ 
not actually _ lose his stock; but after idiat b^.^^f^ MojObt.. He fell upon a miicl^.ea^l^]^ 
of getting sport;, for, at that period, there ys^^j^ffge 
s^i}tly ba^ds of smugglers passing from the. So^^fnyii 
through the wUd region where heliTedfitQW^ni^f^ 
Lothians. From th^e Will purcjbosed.oQcas^of^f^^ 
sfQC^rptJ^iandy, and then the gentlem^ fn^^ fffip^P^" 
c^n6 aU .B^ drank with him, paying.hinn a^ the e^)^ 
mQai:4lLt^<^,a;dbilUng per bpttte^ all ,lcis^^ji|ep^f||9f 

being despised, attd out of teptite, at Pbitupf: It hfS^ 
ciiliifo'apbU^e of conttantraide^^^^ 
thej^ (irank too deep to he a safe pla^i for'j^^htltoi^ii 
to meet* Tli^re were two iiyal homes of Andersbnsat 
tbat tbne that nerer ceased qnairelling, and Aef we^ 
wont always to come to Phatrp with their swords by 
ibeir sides. Being all exceedingly stout into, 'a!tid eqtaib^ 
ly good swordsmen, it may easily be supposed 'i!Mf' 
^^re^dangeroiis neighbowB to tne^^t iii sixch a wild re* 
mi^te place. Accordingly, there were iiiaiifyqtiarrelsaild 
blbody bouts there as long as the Andersons possessed 
FluLup ; after which, the brandy Eastern wais laid asidd; 
WID' twic« saved his master^s life in these afimys ^ 
oi^e; i^dieik he had drawn On three of the Amosea, 
tefiaittt»'6f Fotbitfn, and when they had mastered his 
s^ot^, broken it, and were dragging him to the nrSr 
by the neckcloth. Will knocked dowh one, dut Us 
nttsti^s irtfekcloth, tod defended him stoutly^ he 
glidiei^Hd his hr^ath ; and then the two jobtly £d 'dmUli 
tit6 A^beeS^id A^ heisrif s satisfaction ! ' And attotfliir 
ti!M6, froin thid Word of Michael of TuShielaW'; btit tk^ 
diiUd hot'heIj(» the tt^ fight^ due! ^i^srr^fMfif 
il/ldtki9(iiiiiih^t«^ mii^dnef, and mm^htti^ii^ 

bi6ifti^;'«rtk)tig tftese^i^ :ki < jm. . 

-Will ahidhy'ilQttsteroitee fdughtkbirtiteilietais^ryito 
tWtt; ii^ iri^ a' WiW glentttBed PhWip'CbtMto;'' TW§y 
diffi^^d aMftft a y6ui^h<Ar8e,ivhiiAlih^ ]j«^ 


wiai» die Agp had 

te the dbcpiMxi^, nd lit 

Uten.* He tried flBfoaltiBHrteckMBv* 

Cv liiii tamrity. At kagtbi^ 
HiMiMl ^nra Iw kaai^ took n loimiiiir ■crow ^e 

JB ilHl MWIllBIW, hit kit ill Kill tutiM 

wliA Wm clflMd wkli liin» Viatmd Jam- wi^^ 
bfp^Iiiii ifiw% 9mA hok&ig him tet|--4nit«lLl)i^ 
li#4D9«dddo^lwciQld]M»l pacify hiMb hfjUUIljimiliwi 
l»vimUlbaf»U»lNWEi'sblMd. T/^WltiwkM 
IholMd pnantd fer m time, Imt be mgbi M imU 
|Af« ttibd to cetcb a vee4Mflk ; m be wchI; hiek tii 

• . » 

'. X122D CHA3IACrniai& H^ 21S 

Witt} eixpieted asnmiDdBB 9f remanral ii^xt^^doyv^^ 
fiftjttlemat ibefactheBl^lMl; Mr ikudencautookvo 
aodcft of the sffa^^^ aor ««er w nmdi'BS iSN^liaiMl it 

.. Wtt had many pitdmd bttbdfisviPith 4^ 
^■ngll^eiSy ia- deiBBoe •£ i&is snstai^s fnBb^viiyuiiigy 
MTMe noised iddoadiDgogii "dig kadt of ri9iaa)i^tifd 
toaiiaf tbeir li<»nM to tii# beH gtan tkff coi&dilBfl. 
Aitoaidbig to hk acoottttt^tiieBe Mlows were «niibtfl^ 
ia^laiiiilew; and aocoontBd aeAing «f «uidD|plraBi 
tlie «a«t]itoy peq^e wliat6verthey''iiaededlttJiHn«r- 
gtnd«k M!fae f^pAs% toOf mnn ibsa acGosteiaeiL'te 
ttsrasB jfaa- catmtsy da baadaiof front twimtjtbsiartyj 
Bad.anBra no batter tbaa fceebooteiB;:iiBat>la neoid 
eoeiy.DBa of Will io* I^urap's licroiciibalSy i^toald vn 
qoiraajiaduiae^ i aiuJl^ tiMSEefarey atdf mentioauoae 
laKtwm: ofi faifl db«zact»v wfakii was {faia-*P«r.i. ji::vz 
i •^^iv^aJ^iafirtiaanof tlw wild regaai, who htiaid, 
flaw^laad ooiaivrfi^ ^f«i^ tha FainM 9 kid al^ 
or «aiil«^vtwt cot irandi^ timet Bid 11ieaMi« 

iB|«r wincdi Witt lived lor nbe betterifath oliiiiaiife, 
al'01d:(Jf|Mir Fbrnp, was ane^tftiia aK>st)onfld3raad 
diBnntIsiMiitto]»that«ff«r was <he dai^iog otf^toataa 
oMtwesj vIimT»:Joft€«i 9iKmdsMid,lio>w^^ 
imddi iiWaoilaaf, and «Mff so^xiaibM^easidbdiinspeb- 
labfatai tadlf , ia aocli4kMbksi;ioai:> It kJottiUfao my 


o^Ukirts of Ettrick Forest, quite out of tlie raqge Of 
•OQial intercourse, a fit retirement for lawless banditti, 
and a genial one for the last retreat of the spirits qf 
the. glen — ^before taking their final leave of the lan4 of 
their love, in which the light of the gospel tbeii .grew 
too bright for their tiny moonlight forms. Th^re has 
Will beheld them riding in long and beautiful array, 
by the light of the moon, and even in ,the summer 
twilight ; and there has he seen them sitting in js^ven 
circles, in the bottom of a deep ravine, drinking nector 
oat of cups of silver and gold, no bigger than the ^eyf' 
cap flower ; and there did he behold their wild uQ^ijhly 
eyesy all of one bright sparkling blue, turned every Qoe 
vpon him at the same moment, and heard thek piy9|^ 
nous whisperings, of which he knew no ^pr^^ b^ 
• now and then the repetition of his own. naoofii w^db 
was iflways done in a strain of pity, WiU wf^J^Jf^p$ 
from the hill one dark misty evening in 'f^ri^iteL an^ 
for a good while, imagined he heard a :greaf ,g«^^^g 
of'children's voices, not far from him, wbich.sti^tgreyr 
more and more audible ; it being before sunset^ h^ l|ad 
no spark of fear, but set about investigating whoKoe 
the sounds and laughter proceeded* H9>,at leiigth, 
discovered that they issued from a deep deugh nptfar 
distaniy and thinking it was a band of gipsfes, or spipe 
marauders, he laid down his bonnet and plaid».and 
creepmg softly over the heath, reached the brink of 

0£>D CHAlUCTfiR& 215 

the precipice, peeped ov^r, and to bis titter astbbisb- 
menit, beheld the Fairies sitting in seven circles, on a 
green spot in the bottom of the deU, where nd green 
spot iever was before* They were apparently e&tihg 
and drinking ; bnt all their motions were so quick and 
inomentary, he could not well say what they were 
doing, ' Two or three at the queen's back appear- 
ed to be baking bread. ' The party consisted wholly 
of ladiesy and their nunibers quite countles8«->dre6sed 
iQ green poUonians, and grass-green bonniets on their 
heads. R6 perceived at once, by their looks, their 
^gglihjQ^, and their peals of laughter, that he 'was disk 
•covered* Still fear took no hold of his heart, for it 
wtis^ybght, 4nd the blessed sun was in heaven, al- 
thftftgh' obscured by clouds; till at length he heard 
t&ti prbkidunce his own name twice ; Will then be- 
^ko. io thhik it might not be quite so safe to wait till 
they pronounced it a third time, and ai that moment 
of'hesitaiaon k'fit^t came into his mind that it was 
All Hallow Eve I There was no farther occasion to 
warnWill to rise and rim ; for he well knew the Fairies 
Werfe privOeged, on that day and night, to do what 
a^ihi^d good in their own eyes. ** His hair," he said, 
^< stood all up like the birses on a sow's back, and every 
bit d* his body, outside and in, prinkled as it had been 
b^bnt' wi^ nettles/' He ran home as fast as his feet 
could carry him, and greatly were his children astonisb- 


^ (far Im vmt ihrn t wiitow*) t» «e6 ifaar tebir 
r«BHBg Klu ft niriiMB, vMovft riAor lis hiii^ 
or pkUL H« Mw mM eJi dMB to ^fimfm% md 
ghm d» door, Iml did no« teH then wl«l lie iMd «Mi 
lor wvonl ycom. 

AnodMr tioM Im followed o whide troop of dMBif 
o iriM 1^ odM Eirtartnmyy from ono «d 4o db 
fidMry widioat ow boiBg^ Ale to edmo uf iroA lM% 
ahiM«Bli dMy nefer oi^flONd lo be MOW A«i iknd^ 
poeei m ednaee* Ikkdmwmeihtyftymgtcamiim; 
lor inatMd of bebg nmang el tMr qpeedt OS he ino 
dbmg» t|iey wtmod to be ilMidiBg in e leige dtde. It 
ittiqpeoed to be tbe day after eMoAtfiufar^ end lie eqp* 
poMd them to be a peitf of Mi ne^bbomre i t Btiuai^ 
froei U» wbo wished to lead lum li long chaee betae 
diey anffiBred themeehea to be overtakeau He hmd 
them ^Mekingy mngiag, and langbing ; and heitig e mm 
eo fiond of aociaUty, he eierted hknself to eoBie ig[^ "Widi 
tbemi but to no porpoee. Several tunoa did he bail 
thee^ and desire them to hah» and tell hnn the newa 
of the £ur; bnt wfamefcr he ahoatod, in n mo m e m all 
laraa silent, nntil in a riwrt time he heard the eaaaeiioiBB 
of keeling and Gonvorsation at soeae diatanee fma boa. 
Their talk, althongh Will coald not hear the wotda of 
it Aatincdy, was evidently very animated^ aad he bed 
no donbt they were reoonnting their feata at the fiur. 

is always excited his cariosity afresh, and he made 

. ODD CHAB^CXfiltt. 217 

every exertion toorertidia-liie parly^ and when' he 
juclgjGKi, from the wsaada, that ha was ckseiqKMi them^ 
he sent.fQrtb bis stentoBian holWr-^' ^top, lads, and tell 
us the newa o* the fair r whieh.produeed the saone ef- 
fect of deep silence for a time. Whea^ this had heen 
r^eate^ sarecal timesi anda£keF the usual paiue, the 
sikfacawa^agiun broken by a peal of ^ddrich laughter, 
that Sfdemed to i^ead along the skies a?«r bis- head^ 
Will bjpgai^ to suspect that that unearthly lai^;h wasaot 
altc^c^tljii^ unknown to him. Hestaod still to ocmsider, 
and tbat n^oment the laugh waa repealed, and a^Toice 
out <^ tba crowd called to Inm, in a ahnlLlaughmg tone^ 
'< Ha» ha, hal Will o' Phaup, lo<^ to your ain be&rth«> 
staQe tb^ night.'' Will again direw off every «M^um* 
br^iMi^.and fled home to his hmely eotythe most like» 
ly spot in^e district for the Fakies to congregate ^ but 
it is |v<mdei:ftd-wbat an idea of «afety is conferred by 
the s^ht of ^ man's own hearth, and family drde. 

Wbeik Will had become aright old man, and was sit- 
ting^pn a lit^'greenhilloidLattheend^ his houses 
one evenifig^ resting himself, there came three little 
boya up jbo ihiiu^. all exactly like one- anotber> when the 
following abiNn dialogue turned between Will and 
them.- . ■ 

« Go^ e'en t'ye, WiU Laidlaw." 

" Good e'en t ye, -creatures. - Where ir- ye gaun this 



, « C» yo g:i« «» up-puttiag f«r di^ m^S^ ,fj,: 
'. ^I ihmk threesiccan bitto* ahredfr^VJuuicb^ 
na be ill to put up. — ^Where came ye fins^p'Ji^ ^f.,v 
'. . ^^Fiae a place that ye diium hm» But .ifv ^r^jf^BDi 
. :<Hi * commiBsioii to you**' *7.--;i.b 

;■ , ^ Cone away in theiii and tak tic cbe^r aa^-v^ Jqe*" 
.Will Foae and led the way into tbo hoiwe^j^ilhe 
. : Jittle boys followed ; and a» he went, he md.ouQ^^iply) 
•without looking back^ << What'a your conwiafiigykto ^e, 
r baima?*' He thought they might be thojBonSiof,4|pe 
wgentleman, who was a guest of his master's* ...,:, 
. *^ We are sent to demand a silver IcBy.that ywb^^ 
in yomr possessionb" . . ,. ,^, 

. Will was astounded ; and standing atiU ,to ^jWfU^ 
jai some old transaction, he said, widiout l|f(iiig^luB 
eyes from the ground, — , ,^ , t, 

.. << A silver key ? In Gods namoi wh^e..pune ye 

There was no answer, on which Will wheeled roand, 
fMid round, and round ; but the tiny beings wera f^ 
gone, and Will never saw them more. At tljb^ name 
of God, they vanished in the twinkling of an ey^ It 
. is curious that I never should have heard t}ia secret of 
the silver key, or indeed> whether ther^. was such a 
.thing or not. 
I But Will once saw a vision .vhich was -more unac- 
countable than this still. On his way from Moffat one 

^^ t^B CHARACTERS. £19 

time, abottti^idiii^lit^ be perceited a ligiit vefy near 
^'td'^ib'yetjj^ ^f a Bteep bill, whieh be knew perfectly 
well, on "^Isolds of Selcouth. The )igbt>«ippeared 
"^^^JbuHly Hite one fr4m a window, and as if a kuip mo- 
Ted frequently within. His path was by the -bottom 
df th^-hill, and the light being almost dose ait the top, 
^' b^ Md at iSnit no thongbta of yisituig it: bat as it 
'^* ^f&onie^in sight for a full mile, his emiosity to see what 
^1t Was e^Btinned still to increase as lie ^i^roiached 
^ 'KMiiers ' At length, on coming to the bottom 4>f the 
steep bank, it appeared so bright and near, that he de- 
' ^ittiined to climb the hill and see what it wai^ There 
was no moon, but it was a starry night and not very 
^^Hta^k^ and Will clambered up the precipice, and went 
"^'^^'^sft^Aigfcl; to^tbe light, which he found to proceed from 
an opening into a cavern, of about the dimensions of 
"^'^ ^ tkilinary bam. The opening was a square one, and 
just big enough for a man to creep in. Will set in 
lis head, and beheld a row of casks from one end to 
^^ ^m otheiS imd two men with long beards, bu£F belts 
"^ ^botit t&eir w^ts, and torches in th^ hands, who 
* seeined busy in writing something on each cask. They 
wier^ not 1^ small casks used by smugglers, but large 
t>ti^, about one half bigger than common tar-barrels, 
and aU of a size, save two very huge ones at the fur- 
ther end. The cavern was all neat and clean, but 
there was an appearance of mouldiness abolit the casks. 


as if they had Btood there for ages. The men were 
both at the farther end when Will looked m, «nd bu- 
sily engaged ; but at length one of them came toin^ 
him, holding his torch abore his head, and, as WHI 
thought, haying his eyes fixed on him* Will nerer 
got such a fright in his life ;«-niany a frigiht lie had 
got with unearthly creatures^ but this was the worrt 
of all. The figure that i^proached him horn the ca* 
rem was of gigantic size, with grizly features, and 
a beard hanging down to his belL Will did not. stop 
to consider what was best to be done, but, quite for- 
getting that he was on the face of a hill, almost per- 
pendicular, turned round, and ran with all hia mig^ 
It was not long till he missed his feet, fell, and hnrl- 
ing down with great celerity, soon reached the bottom 
of the steep, and getting on his feet, pursued his way 
home in the utmost haste, terror, and amazement ; but 
the light from the cavern was extinguished on the in- 
stant — ^he saw it no more. 

W^ill apprised all the people within his reach, the 

next morning, of the wonderful discovery he had made ; 

. »- .J 

but the story was so like a fantasy or a dream, that 
most of them were hard of belief; and some nev^ did 
believe it, but ascribed all to the Moifet brandy. How- 
ever, they sallied out in a body, armed with cudgels 
and two or three rusty rapiers, to reconnoitre; Wt 
the entrance into the cave they could not find, nor 


hm it er&r been discovered to this day. Tiiey observed 
very plainly the rot in the grass which Will had made 
in his rapid descent from the cave> and there were also 
found evident marks of two horses having been fastened 
chat night in a wild cleuch-head, at a short distance from 
llie spot they w^« searching. But these were the on- 
ly discoveries to which the investigation led. If the 
whole of tins was an' optical delusion, it was the most 
singular t ever heard or read of. Fw my part, I do 
not believe it was ; I believe there was such it cavern 
existing- at that day, and that vestiges of it may still 
Ibe discovered. It was an unfeasible story altogether 
for a man to invent ; and, moreover, though Will was 
B-man whose character had a deep tinge of the super- 
stitions of his own country, he was besides a man of 
pvolnty, tmth, and honour, and never told that for the 
truth, which he did not believe to be so. 

Daft Jock Amos was another odd character, of 
whom many droll sayings are handed down. He was 
a lunatic ; but having been a scholar in his youth, he 
was possessed of a sort of wicked wit, and waver- 
ing uncertain intelligence, that proved right trouble- 
come to those who took it on them to reprove his ec- 
centricities. As he lived close by the church, in the 

2St THE BnvneoBip'B cAuani^xR. 

tiiMt of die Aff^famed BcMtoil, die miftister ondl hsirm 
oooMsitly Gomiiig in eontect, aad hmui^ of tiiekp Unit 
dialogues are presenred* 

<< The mabr fool are ye» quo' Jiock iIbhw «<r the arf* 
iditer,* is a constant hy-word in Eltriek to tkis day. 
It had its origin simply as follows i — Mr Boeteft -was 
taking his tralk one fine svunmer erttung afteivBerisoa> 
and in Ins way came mpon Jock, very hasy enltiSf 
some grotesque figures in wood with his knifet. Jedk« 
looking hastily up, found he was fairly caught) asid not 
knowing what to say, hurst into a fo^ii^ bnigli--«>^ lb I 
halhal Mr Boston, are you diere ? Will yon oesM 
gdddwhittle wi' me?" - .i i . 

. << Nay, nay, John, I will not exdiange knives .Kk 

dajr. ■■..•. -K ^ 

'^Tlie mair fool are ye," quo' Jock Amoa t9 tlie jat^ 
nister. u ;; 

'' ^ Btit,~John, can you repeat the fourth oaomand- 
ment? — I hope you can«^\¥hififa k the fourth cma* 
mandment ?*' 

^ I daresay, Mr Boston, it'll he A^imm^^ikeatAtb 

■»;•* (. ji. 

. " Can you not repeat it ?" • '■ • ;t*; 

. ^*^ t atn no sure nbout it^^I klen it has>«o«io uSieecam 
hy the rest." -^ - .:.* t :;.;; 

. WBoston repeated i^ and ttied to dbow hioi. his 

V ■ • ' ^ • > *. I 

efTarf'ifif' woikkg .wilh knives on; j^ Sabba|ii»,daf^|, 
Jofaft.trrgttght ^w»y till the divide adc|e4, . , ,.,, ;;»;,o.^ 

<< But why won't you rather come to ctixa;^,iIpiiJjLj,^ 
— ^^iriiati «» iha i^easoD yoa ibst&c come to cbn^h ^'j 

>^£ecaiise yoai^yer preadi on tfae^ti^ I xirfuit^jj^i^ 
toi^t'^emkon" , , , ^. .... .. , . ^^^.^,^ 

,.1^1 What 4ext wo«ld you have loe tP preach qn/!^'] 1^.. 

{{i^iOa the iiuiie4ui4-twenty knivee tha^ cane .jbi(^ 

fron Babyloa/' ^ . ^. ^t> 

' ^ I never heard of them hefore.*^ - ^ . . .. 

• /ff It U a sign you have never read yonr^^B^h^. ^^^ 
hBLfhaLf Mr'Boeton I aic fool sic mioLBter/' / 

Mr Boston searched long for John'atexl; itha^ej^g^ 
hig^ioad at k»t ^finding it recorded in Ezra, Ju.^,vhe 
wondered greatly at the acuteness of the fool, doj^ 
deting the subject on which he h^ heen rej^ving 

okmMMBtf how anld.wiU ^rau ha?"^d« sifg|Q^)fifa to- 
fafanAiieiday, whentalkiag4if the^.ag^ ,. , . .p,„^ 

• << O, I dmna ken," said John. « It wad t^fifffff^ 
hiibA(dm3LiWim to ^ yQu.tbaC'i t/ .^^^^jy ^ >. 

^ It is unco queer that you dinna ken how auld^{{ii 

are/ returned she, , - -^ : ., ^j ) ^ 

^a^l!i»a<]preel>^i^ugb how f^uldl am,'* .^^ ^ohn ; 
" but I dinna ken how auld Til be/' • ^y.^,^^!,. .^^t 
e £[ Aa.old juaoi naqied Ad9^JfiAton» poi^^ft^v!^ 
running from home in the grey of the morning. « Hey, 


Jock Amoi)" eaid h^ << wheie «r& yen- iMyudfor so 
briskly thii momiiig r 

«' Ahal He*8 wise thil W8t» that, and «i dsftwba 


speen^"' stys Joek, wiihoat takkigliie^ eye hmiti some 
ol^tcllhet it seemed to be foUowtng.. 

^< Are you running after any body ?* eaidrJLiittoiL 

<« I am that, man," returned JocJc ; *^ Vm TbaiSng 
afiker the deil e messenger. Did yea see oagfat e* him 
gaun by ?** 

« What was he like ?" said Lintom 

** Like a great big black corbie," smd Jodc, ^cur- 
rying a bit tow in his gab* And what do yok think ? 
— 'be has tauld me a piece o' news lite day ! Thm^'s to 
be a wedding ow^ by here the day^ mai^— -sy^ « wed^ 
ding I I mauu after him, for he has gien me an iniita* 

** A wedding ? Dear Jock, you are raying. What 
wedding can th^re be to«>day?'' said Linton« 

<< It is £ppy Telfier'Sy man--uira}d Eppy Telfiea:^ to 
be wed the day ; and Tm to be therei and the minis* 
ter is to be there, and a' the elders. Bat Tammie^ 
the Cameroaiaa, he darena come, for fear he should 
hae to dance wi' the kimmers. There will be braw 
wark there theday, Aedie Linton,-<^bnw wark there 
the day I" And away ran Jock towards Ettrickhonse, 
hallooing and waving his cap for joy. Old Adam came 
in, and said to his wife, who was still in bed, that he 

• >^p chakaccbhs. ^25 

tiipp^s^iAe^nMKHi^was at ^ luUyf<H^ JcmJe Aniios was 
*^ gane quite gyte awthegither, aAd was< aaray: BhoBting 
to jS^nft^Uipttse to, £ppy Teller's wedding." 
,,fyThi^" said his wK^ **SiC be be iU^ she will be 
wanr, for they are always affected. at the same time ; 
ai^^ t)|p«gfa:£ppy is better than J^k m her ordinary 
i^y^,f^e i^'waur when tbe^moen-iaadnets'iieomes x)wer 
h^'' -(TMl^woiBaiiy Eppy TeLEer, waa4ikewiie' object 
to lunatic fitsof insanity^ and Jock bad a great Ml will 
-at her ; he could not eTepir.ondure'4he«igbt of h&t.) 

The abp^ litde dialogue was hardly ended -before 
w^,pa¥^;th^Eppy Telfer bad <^ put-dowii'* herself 
oyer^ jQIghfcf fuid.was found hanging 4eed in her awn 
4i^jl^ qpt^^ge at dayrbreak. Mr Boston was sent for, 
-w^o^ wi^ lus serrant man and otte of hia eld^r^^ at- 
tended, but in a state of such perplexity and grief, that 
'besoemed ^dmost as much dead as' aUyOk y^Tbe body 
was tied on a deal) cariied to tbe peak^f the Wedder 
%A^^fmdt;\t!^^Bi there, and all the while* jf^nk Am6% 
-attei^^d^^ax^ never in bis Jife metwitb Itn ontertain- 
^^^;j^t appeared to pleasa him more.- While the 
m,en ;^er^ milking the graye, be sat qn a^tone im^ by, 
jsd^b^ring^ and^Hspoaiong one wfailey' always addressing 
E^^^^ ^d ia^gbing ipost heartily at another* 

- Aft^: tiii^ high fit Joeb tost bis spirits entirely^ and 
neyw move •re^iOTered them» -^ -He became a i^mplete 

. K 2 


n WM nt ity; td ky moatiy m bis bed till the day of jtii 

. I 

VHICnit €9aMtm* 

AxoTHKE ftotiUe nan of dmt day was WjUitfn 
Sioddsrt, mdmained Candleoi> one of the fenaia of ^£^ 
triddtoase. He was simple^ unlettered,. and xado^^ 
an Ins 8ayii%s ikil are presenred tes^. B^og aboat 
to be married to one Meggie Coltardy a great p^tny- 
wedding was simoimced, and the niimbers duit .cane 
to atiead it were immense. Candlem and his b^ide 
went to Ettrid^ church to be married, and Mr fiosten, 
who was minister there, paroeiying such a motley csctwd 
following them, repaired into the church ; and after ad- 
mittiog a few respectable witnesses, he set hia son Jabi>) 
and Ins servant John Carrie, to keep the two.doors,;and 
restrain the crowd from entering. Young Boston lej^ia 
a nmnber at his door, but John Came stood manfidly 
in the breach, tefusing entrance to alL When tb^ mi- 
mster came to put the question, << Are you willing to 
take this woman," &c 

^^ I wat weel I was thinking sae,*' say^ Candlem^— 
« Hand to the door, John Currie I" 

When the question was put to Meggie, she bow^ 
assent like a dumb woman, but this did not satisfy 
Willie Candlem.«-<« What for d'ye no answer, Meg- 

^ofiD eaxBsj^wm^^ • m : 9S^ 

gtel>** fayftAe.i <^Dkiiia y^lwir whaif ^Aeifeoi^rffl^ji^ 
speering at ye ?" dji;^i> 

In due time Willie Candlem and Meggie bad a 8on» 
and as the custontdMn wjap^it^ VIA decreed that the 
first Sabbath after he was bom he should be bapt^ed* 
It mk about the Martinmaa timai tJbe day ^ff^/^^qrmy, 
iii^d'the'wan^T flooded ; howewt, ii wa9 $fffi^^f3^^^e 
ba^m could not be put o£P> for fear ^ thiitfj^f|l|^;ii90 
thi^babe i^as well rolled up in awaddliiig .otoibo?^ Kpd 
laid on before his father on the white ingFe^mftb&iStOttt* 
tiBit of the kimmers stemming, the water Qn^fQ)9|4>>*Wil-' 
HiijGandlem rode the water «lowly ,«nd jwMiqaisty. 
Wbei^ about the middle oi the 8tream>,l^,Jidard 9 mpst 
tifieanhly yelling and screaming riae :b<))npd JHua; 
^ What are they aqueeUng at ?" said ha. t0 rhiw^^I^ J^t 
dukt not look back for fear of his: chaoge^ (. v/Vfl^.be 
hiid erossed the river safely, and a 8and«4>ed 9ifo^ bb 
wide, Willie wheeled his white mare s beafi abcmtf-and 
eSl^kimed— «< Why, the neer a haet I hae..bii|< the 
sloii^h !'* Willie had dropped the child int<K|h^jflood^ 
e^ riVa*, without missing it out of the hugCL buMUe of 
clothes ; but luckily, one of he kiinmen picked him upy 
arid "As he dbowed some signs of life, they hurried inta 
a house at Goosegreen^ and got 1dm brought round 
again. In the afternoon he was so far r^bovered, that 
the kimmers thought he might be taken up to church 
for baptism, but Willie Candlem made this sage remark 


gotten eneugh o* the water for ae daofj^-r ^Qageng 
home to hit poor vnitii hb firafe uddraet io^lier-was— 
^ Ay^ ye HMy tehe n^ yoiir hMidy#ai:k»' Moggie, in 
niiki<g a dovgfa open ot haith endii^ ^ ^ll^ift'ftigiiifieB » 
tlnng thidWiOpett «t hohh eads ?*^ 

Another time^ in hanre pt^ 'it camoa miaiT' day, and 
theElinckhegantolookvevybig'iAlheeVieBaig. Wii- 
Uo Candleatii'pecoeiTing-his erbp:ntdaiigev$> yoked' the 
wfaite^naro in <he sledge, and was ^n^deediB^ to-lMd 
hie com out of watermark; hiii'OtttiCttBB»ihfeggic^'aBd 
began oxpoelnlatmg^wilh' Inm on Ae bkifi:dhieoa of <thcf 
act,-— <f Put in 3ronp^heB8t again^ iiko a^^^ood Okiistian 
nian» WiUie»'' said she, ^ and dinna be setting-an itt ex- 
ample to m' the parish. Ye ken» ihat'thie t«» day the 
minkterJl>ade os lippen to^ ProTidenee in onr atnit% and 
we wad never me*t. Hell take it yery ill off your 
handy the seltittg of sio an example on llie Lmti*s day ; 
therefore, Willie, my man, take his adviee jmd ndne, 
and lippen to FroTidence this time.** 

WiltieCandlen was obliged to €omply> for who can 
witlistand the artillery of a woman's tongue? So he 
pnt np his white mare, and went to bed with a heaty 
heart ; and the next morning, by break of day, when he 
arose and looked out, behold the greater part of his crop 
was gone.*— ^< Ye may take np yonr Providence now, 
Meggie \ Where's yonr Providence now? A' down 


the water wi* my corn I Ah 1 1 wtid trust ni«ir to my 
gnde white mare than to ywx and Proyidence baitii !" 
Meggie answered him meekly, as her duty and cus« 
torn wa8w« O Willie I dinna rail at ProTideiice> but 
down to the meadow-head and chitm ^nU** ' Willie 
Candlem took the hint, galloped ' on hie wUte mare 
down to the Ettridk meadows, over wfaieh the river 
spread, and they were. «OTered with floating sheaves; 
so Willie began and hauled out, and carried out, tiD he 
had -atileast six 'times as muchxom^rhehad lost. At 
length-one maa'Came^ andbanotiiei^. bm Willie refused 
aU partition of the spoiL :^ lAy,; ye may idee up your 
cen^fumr w^Mse .ye can; -flndit^ lads," said Willie ; ^' I 
kcppit nana bat my 4iin»- . lYoiirs. is ganvfturther down. 
Hadye'^amewhett Ixame; yemi^-bave keppit it a*.*' 
So'WilisB drove «nd drovey til) thestMkyard was fnlL 
- « <> I ihink'tfae crop hasriura^d no Aat ill ouTafter aV 
said^Meggie• rM You've Iteenjiaertbe wamrti* tmstmg 
to iVcm&dence.'* 

: ^ Na,r. rejoined Wiilie^^^ iioi«ot':taking'yo«r'Bdvice, 
Meggies and ganging -down^ to- kep aad^vkin 'tttthe 



• ■ » ■■".■.. ■ I •.'-.•.«: i I'j;"' ■•■ f I,, vouv- 

' • •- 

■ , ' ■ . • !■» iM»' 


.. ■' . ■*••.■ ■ ' >j?/- 

: ' * • J " '»?>-» 

John Chisholm, fSum^r of MooTkggaii,'*fms( in 
the early part of his life, a wealthy and highly Tee|M6- 
table man, and associated with the best gentknen^ 
the country ; and in those days he was accoimted <ib 
be not only reasonable, bnt mild and benevolent iflD#B 
disposition. A continued train of unfortonate 8pe«ll^ 
latioiis^ however, at last reduced his circnmstanoes bo 
much, that, though at the time when this tale oomr 
mences, he still continued 6<4rent, it was well enough 
known to all the country that he was on the brink i>f 
ruin; and, by an unfortunate fatality, too inherent in 
human nature, still as he descended in circumstances, 
he advanced in pride and violence of temper, until his 
conduct grew so intolerable, as scarcely to be submit- 
ted to even by his own family. 

Mr Chisholm had five daughters, weU brov^it up, 
and weU educated ; but the second, whose name was 
Nancy Chisholm, was acknowledged to be the most 

beautiful and accomplished of them all. She was so 
buoyant of spirits, that she hardly appeared to know 
whether she was treading on the face of the earth, of 
bounding on the breeze ; and before Nancy was eighf 
teen, as was quite natural, she Was beloved by the hand- 
^mest lad in the parish^ whj^s^ plover Christian name 
was Archibald Gillies, but who, by some patronymic ot 
designation of whg^ import I am ignorant, was always 
called Gillespick. 

Young Gillies was quite below Nancy ia rank, al'* 
though in circumstances they #ere by this time- much 
the same. His father being only a small sub-tenant of 
Mr Chisholm's, the latter would have thought his cldld 
degraded, had she been discovered even speaking to 
the. young man« He had, moreover, been bred to. the 
profession of a tailor, which, though an honest oecupa- 
tion, and perhs^ niore lucrative than many othars, is 
viewed, in the country places of Scotland, with a degree 
of contempt far exceeding that with which it is regard- 
ed in more polished communities. Notwithstand- 
ing of all this, Gillespick Gillies, the tailor, had the 
preference of all others in the heart of pretty Nancy ; 
and, as he durst not pay his addresses to her openly, 
>or appear at Moorlaggan by day, they were driven to 
-an expedient qidte in mode with the class to which 
Gillies belonged, but as entirely inconsistent with that 
propriety of conduct which ought to be observed by 


yomig ladies like th<Me of Moorlaggaa— they met by 
It ; that IB, about night-fiill m Bommer, and at the 
hour in winter, which Biade it very late in the 

Now it nnlnckily had so h^pened, that Gilliei^ the 
yonag dashing tailor, newly airiFed from Aberdeen* 
hady at a great wedding the preTions winteri paid all 
hU attentions to Siobla, Nancy's ddest sister. This 
happened, indeed, by mere accident, owing to Nancy'i 
many engagements ; bnt SioUa did not know that ; 
and Gillies, being the best dancer in the bam, led her 
to the head every time, and behaved so coarteonsly, 
that he made a greater impression on her heart than 
she was willing to acknowledge. As all ranks mingle 
at a country wedding, the thing was noted and talked 
■of| both among the low and high ; but neither the high 
nor the low thought or said that young Gfllies had made 
■a very prudent choice. She was not> hoivever, the 
•tail<nr's choice ; for his who].e heart was fixed <m.beT 
sirter Nancy. 

The two slept in one chamber, and it was impossi- 
ble for the younger to. escape to her lover without 
confiding the secret to: Siobls, which, therefore, she 
was obliged to do ; and from that moment jealousy-— 
for jealousy it was, though Miss Siobla called it by an- 
other name— began to rankle in her elder sister's bo- 
som. She called Gillies everydegradingname she could 

KAlfCY cmsHout i3S 

imrent^'-^-r profligate, a fibertme,^-4aid to siim up' all, 
she <adied hiin a tailor^ the^f finiafaiitg the sum of 
degeneracy, and crowning the climax 6f her re- 

Kaney i>ira8, neverdielesB, exceedingly happy with 
her hiAdsome lover, who all bnt adi>red her. Shcr 
enjoyed faia company perhaps the more on' two ac- 
counts, one of'which she ml^ probably deduce from 
the worda of th^ wise man, that ^stolen waters are 
sweei, and bread eaten in secret is pleasant ;** bnt an<« 
otheir most certainly was, that Gillies haYCQg opened 
her eyes to the true state of her fathei^s aifeirs, and by 
tldaled her to perceit^e that she was only <^ apennyleea 
lass wl* a lang ^digree,^ she could not help drawing 
tfaecmichision, ^at the isSlor was as good as ishe^ and 
that Ae course she was taking,^ beddes b^g very 
agreeable to her o^vm wishes, was ^ moat prudent 
that^uld be conceived. 

This itifbrmation preymg en Nancy's mind, she 
could not help communica^g it kt confidence to one 
of her sisters, {Siobk, it Is to be suj^pesed,) who, be* 
liieving the report to be a maltdkiuff fals^ood, went 
straight to her iather with 1^ new% as soon as htf 
arrived from the markets Some vexatioua occurrences 
connected with his depressed fortunes, had put hini 
sorely out of humour that nighty and he had likewise 
been drinking a good deal, wUdi BEiade matters worse ; 

tS4 * THS sHsramD*i» causkdaa. 

tolhil wiiea SioblaiiilMiiMd lam^tAhmoQnBtgyjm 
vaimtf'limX bb was abmtt t* become. a liankr^ity In. 
Ivy -rose to n noywrernnyo^ pitch, mtdy. n\wm%\Mab 
by the amii he adjured her forthwith tm-mumt hta K 
fonuer, against whmn he at the Baine.4iaaa ■ *rcmtd Ae 
flMMtconaanunateveageance. Hkdaof^itea'xaafiigktA 
enedy^'tad widMnit hesitatioa told hiaiithai^ the hd 
leaittttbe report from her aister Nancy. Nanc^waialM 
▼ovrHe with old Chiahohn, hut that drcmnstaiieetaeeifti 
ed only to inflame him the more; that one aa anBh 
ehenshed and beioTed should make heiaelf roi^ta;i^i[yif»« > 
tal m. breakkig his credit> was, he tho«ght> 9L»da§najd 
iapalitode that justified his sOFerest reaeactiiieaiy sad 
with a countenaiice of the utmost linrjr^ ha:>tpnied>4il 
hefv ind demanded if what he had h&ead waa rtni^ 
With a iiftce as pale as death, - and traaib]ni|r Ups, jha 
aeknowledged that it was. Bf|t whai^ 4^«ipd>to>aaiaf 
her informer, she remained silent, trembled, and YnfU 
On being Ituther tinged, and thiealmud, <8le ieatd,ih^- 
tatingly, that she did not invent theiStDcgM- .-aadaiip* 
poiedahe had heard it among the aaDv^uti,^ ,ji:^ ./ 
^ <<ThiB will not do, miss," exclaimed hnr litfifiri 
KleU me at once thename^afiyonr iafenneil;-aiid de- 
pead^'upon it, that person, whoevar it as^th^fiub^litai 
ne^^'beto'jboni* «>. /*« *(t-a -jji »***.»•» i>-'»Ltitr 

Nancy could not answer, hut nnbhnd niidiWiir|iri in 
, ' Jait^aMhat imlud^ moraeni, a^/whistla waavhean}. 

haxcy cBSsaoiMt ■•... 239 

franiytfae J wood* opposite the i^princkrvr* IdUft WM^i^opf 
tioed by Mr Cbisholmy \i^ ^looked, » Ultler.^sta]:^^^ 
and enqaiied wliat or <wW it >was ; bui no oneigaYO 

hiflnaay «Mwer. ..:;> / 

it Ittd been settled betweon tiie two hvwcnf thM 
)diba Oiliiet name to see Nancy, he 
from a certain apot ia a oertaiii maimer^ wUe aba 
was to; open the window, and hold the. light doaa^ to 
the filaaafor an instjEmt, that being the teka[i.that4bA 
beard aadundentood the signaL . In tko; present; djb* 
lemma,, the performanee of her part iof the agreem^i 
waaitqpmoti£ab&» ^ and, of conrBe, wben:«il<|.Chiriioli» 
was. once 'more rinng into a paroxysiQitfC i«gQ aJi )m 
jtoghtBft the Qpinona whistle was rajKiatodt. > . it »» 
>.^What It tUs?'* demand^ he,.iB^^^ pemaptf^ry 
tone*' .^Xett ma: instantly ; fo^ I %ei9 by yow; loofas 
yoiLknow and Badentaai whf^t it isw Siobhi*- dp ymk 
jflsew/">i> • J- ■..■».• o 'I v.-i". 

. <c4^Ye%Ida,VnpKed.Siobla. <ajaMiWWe)Lenoi^ 
wjiatiiis^rn^danot hearitsoaeM#m«>V i. ; .r< 'ik:- 
<^ Well, then, inlorBi nie at onoe what itimeiAs^r-aMd 

ii^itiB.liBJivfB sweetheart coma tOt.srbistlaJier.'ant 
.^yoliiig taijor Gillies f an9wered Siohl% without nay 
endeavour to avert her father's writtbi^Qng. tim 
infoA^tatiOB'ki an hudiiect way* . ivit i-.-. c. -n^iu"' 
: i^Ohe i la it Ana,?? asdaimdllihe. ioimmi, fa- 


iher. ** And N aa cyii w a yB answetB) and attendi to 
thkandacioiis taildr^i wiustl^ does she ?" 

.^ Indeed she doe% sirtgenerallf once or twice eveiy 
week," replied the young womauy In the same wiQing 

<< The secret is then outl^ said oki C^iyiolm, is 
wordi tbit (pMYered with anger* ^ It is plain fh>m 
whence the unjurioas report has hem attained I Too 
fond iather I alas, poor old mto ! HttTeinattas al- 
ready come thos low with thee ? And hast thott indeed 
■oarished and cherished this fardatite child, giving her 
aa education fitting her for the highest rank in society, 
and all that shen^t throw herself away i^<m a — a— 
a tailor l-^Begone, girls I I nrast ccmTerse with this 
degraded creatni^ alone." 

When her sisters had left the apartm^t, Nancy 
kne^ty weptf prayed, and begged* forgiF^aess ; but s 
temporary distraction had banished her father's reasdni 
and he took hold of her long fair hair, wound it round 
his left hand in the roost methodical manner, and begu 
to. beat her with his cane. 8he uttea^ a scream ; on 
which he stopped, and told her that if she uttered an^ 
other sound before he had done chastising her, it should 
be her last; but this causing her to scream only ten 
taaes loader he beat her with such violence thi^ be 
shivered the cane to pieces. He then desisted, call- 
ing her the ruin of h^ sisters, of himself, and all her 


father's house ; opened the door,, and was about to de^ 
part and leave her, when the tailor's whistle again 
sounded in his ears, louder and nearer than before. 
This, once more drove him to madness, and seizing a 
heavy dog-whip that hung in tiie lobby, he returned 
mto the parlour, and struck his dau^ter repeatedly in 
the most unmermfol mannei*. During the cenelnding 
part of this: horrid scene, she opened not her month, 
but eyed -her ferocious parent with composure, thinking 
she had nothing but death to expect from his boids. 

Alas ! death was nothing to the pangs she then suf- 
fered, and those she was doomed to suff^^r I Her fa« 
ther at last ceased frdm bis brutal treatment, led her 
frop the house, threw her from him, with a curse, and 
closed the door with a force that made the casements 
of t(ie. house clatter. 

There never was perhaps a human bdoig- whose dr- 
ctpnstances in life were as suddenly changed, or more 
deplorable than Nancy Chisholm's were that night. 
But it was not only her circumstances m life that were 
changed :. i^e felt at once that the very nature within 
her was changed also, and that from being a thing of 
happiness and joy, approaching to the nature of a seraph, 
she was now converted into a fiend. She had a cup 
measured to her which nature could not endure, and its 
baneful influences had the instant effect of making ha: 


ikhor her dim nature, and become a reM to afi te 
ttfflder ^laafities. 

' "The first resolatioa she formed was that of frilad 
Miple revenge. She determined to make sncli adteiid- 
M retaliation, as should be an example to all jetton 
^^tsters and onnataral parents, while the world lasiaL 
Her plan was to wait till after midnight, and thee «et 
6e to the premises, and bum her fiatiier, ber siMeny 
^and an that pertained to them, to adies. In littleiMK 
than an instant was her generoos nature so forakered, 
that she exulted in the proi^ct of this horrid Ottis- 

With such a purpose, the poor Wretch w^it aodidd 
henelf until all was quiet ; and there is no dodbt ibat 
ibe would have put her scheme in ej[ecuti(m^ had it 
not been for the want of fire to kindle the house; for 
as to going into any dwelling, or seeing the face of an 
acquaintance, in her present degraded con^tkMi, her 
heart shrunk from it ^o^ after spending some honis 
in abortire attempts at raising fire, dbe was obliged to 
depart, bidding an eternal adieu to all that she had hi- 
'therto held dear on earth* 

On the approach of daylight, she retii^ into a 
tliicket, and, at a brook, washed and bathed her bloat- 
ed arms and face, disentangled and combed her yellow 
hair with her fingers, and when she thought she was 
unobserved, drew the train of her gown over her head, 


tlbid sped away on her journey, whither she kaeW nqt. 

No distinct account of her escape, or of wba^ became 

4»f hsr for some time, can be gfiren ; but the whole bent * 

*of her mclinations was to do eyil; she felt hariielf 

s impelled to it by a motive she could not account for, 

/ikut which ^ehe had no power or desire to rei^istr .She 

jIbIi it as it were incumbent on her always to retaliate 

:^«y3 for good,— the most fiendish disposition that the 

.«4aviunwL heart could feeL She had a desire that the 

^ .JByilOne would appear in person, that she might enter 

.into a f<»rmal contract to do evil. She had a longmg 

to impart to others some share of the torment she had 

■tlien^f endured, and missed no opportimity of inflict- 

.ji^ilig Buch* Once in the course of her wanderings, she 

•itn^ti in a sequestered place, a little girl, whom she 

^vseiiedy and beat her << within an inch of her life,'' as 

-,-elie catted it. She was at this period qidte a vaga- 

•bond, and a pest wherever she went. 

The manner in which she first got into a place was 
not the least remarkable of her adventures. On first 
coming to Aberdeen, she went into the house of one 
Mr Simon Gordon, in the upper Kirkgate, and ask- 
ed some food, which was readily granted her by the 
housekeeper ; for, owing to her great beauty and su- 
perior address, few ever refused her any thiug she askr 
ed. She seemed little disposed to leave the house 
again, and by no means could the housekeeper prevail 


t40 THE shepherd's causkdar. 

upon her to depart, unlaas she were admitted to speak 
with Mr tjordon. 

This person was an oU hachdor, rich and miseily'; 
and the housekeeper was terrified at the very idea of ac- 
kaowledgiDg to him that she had dispoeed.of the kaat 
mofsel of food in charity ; far less dared she allows 
meadicant to canry her petition into her master's Tery 
presence. But the pertinacity of the individual she had 
now to deal with fok-ly overcame her fean, and she 
carried up to Mr Simon Gordon the appalling nes- 
8^;e, that a << seeking woman," that is, a begging wo- 
man, demanded to speak with him. Whether it was 
that Mr Simon's abhorrence of persons of that cast was 
driven from the field by the audacity of the announce* 
ment, I cannot pretend to say ; but it is certun that 
he remitted in his study of the state of the public 
funds, and granted the interview. And as wonders 
when they once commence, are, for the most part, 
observed to continue to follow each other far a time, 
he not only astounded the housekeeper by his ready 
assent to let the stranger have speedb of him : but the 
poor woman had nearly sunk into the groimd with 
dismay when she heard him, after the interview was 
over, give orders that this same wanderer was to be 
retained in the house in the capacity of her assistant. 
Here, however, the miraculous part of this adventure 
stops; for the housekeeper, who had previously been 


a rich old miser's only serrant, did, in the first place, 
remonstrate loudly against any person heing admitted 
to share her labours, or her power ; and on finding all 
that could be sud totally without effect^ she refused 
to remain with her master any longer, and immediate- 
ly departed, leaving Nancy Chisholm in full possession 
of the premises* 

Being now in some degree tired of a wandenng un- 
settled life, she continued with Mr Gordon, testifying 
her hatred of the world rather by a sullen and haughty 
apathy, than by any active demonstrations of enmity ; 
and what was somewhat remarkable, by her attention 
to the wadts of the peevish and feeble old man, her 
master, she gained greatly upon his good- will. 

In this situation her father discovered her, after an 
absence of three years, during which time his com- 
punctious visitings had never either ceased or dimi- 
nished from the time he had expelled her his house, 
while under the sway of unbridled passion. He never 
had more heart for any thing in the world. All his 
afi^rs went to wreck ; he became bankrupt, and was 
driven from his ample possessions, and was forced to 
live in a wretched cottage in a sort of genteel penury. 
But all his misfortimes and disappointments put to- 
gether did not affect him half so much as the loss of 
his darling daughter ; he never doubted that she had 
gone to the home of her lover, to the house of old 


US THE mKfm«ff» QAIilEKDAR. 

Gillies ; and tUi belitf was. ens ^tiiat cairied great 
bitterness to his heart Wlien he discoTered that she 
had never been oeen there) hie next temxr wml that she 
had committed suicide ; and he trembled niirht and 
day, anticipattpg all the honid ahapefr in. which he 
might hear tjbat^the despeca^ act ba^ been acc<nn- 
plished. When the dread of thia begsua^taiwear away, 
a still more frightful idea arose to haunt lua' doubled 
imagination — it was that of his once beloved child dri- 

If^eif b^ a^.)a^t;«et put^witb,^.fo^i^ii ^t^il^^ 

yl,^ i*^»,*iAt.oC;th# 99mm^^^^m0 
i^h^9X length. di9CQF9i;^.hf c,j|[^<lil^ l|(^^9ed«| WtS' 
XHgp ifl,vi4t.i^j thq^b, h^^tolftrilff)I|S«b(|lf fcfiRbe^lR^ 

bBtf>m^^/lh^ ^w^ Mlif}f»ijin|«|fc^Sti^ft,,^^Wjff and 

' XAKCY GHKflffOMr. $43 

. i-lWKkMtiiiy wajifLtlielfghtof 4ay, 

And the nutes of heav^a I will never won. 

rt\T iltmat al|^ would part fgrnBtay Imndng beut^ . . 
Or one tear would rise in mv thirsty eye, 
" ' 'Through wo and pain it niight ooine again— " 
'): ' . -i: - The aouL tint Aedy from^dtep btjnrj-.. « 

In one hoiur of grief 1 would find relief^ 
>^ ivii f. . />' Ona ftogfii sonow would eass my pdm ; 
Bvt joy or wo, in this world below. 
1 can nerer never know again ! 

'WMiiB^she ii»te thas engKged, old Cinsbohn, with an 
tl^ikt^d li6iB9rt told trembliiig finone, knocked gentty at 
^ dodi'i wliich"was slowly and carelessly opened Ky 
}iitfidkd^\iif;idt she performed etery thing sb if she 
fiMi&^i6»ei/h'b^it The two gazed on one anothM' 
for a moment, without speaking ; bat the eyes of tho 
IKQfa'^WeM'b^itti^g with love and tenderness, while 
tlUM^^jMeidatf^^itetbad that glazed and joyless^gleam 
ii^fai^ Miy^vM^' bespoke hei' hardened spM The old 
idiyb^i^^ 6iftl^ arififlf to embrace her ; but she t 
&ff'^M ttp<Af iitm. He retired again to his poor 
IMgteillfS, firMrirtiencef fae'sent her a letterfravght whh 
tenderness and iiotih»tr,-^whSdl pr^need ManaWer/ 
t'^'^l»»«^<Witii^aiioliiar besides her fitther MM' bad 
"fbb^'ter^'^rie^'befete ilnbi' ^e, ilioilgfa he had n«ter 
ventured to make himself kUtfWiK t6 hei* ; and iiMP^m 
her former lovi^j f^illeq^ck GigUjieSi jdfe tailor. He 
had traced Imii^^iifhtr^^mLiikdug^mtd though h 


had been once his intntioii to setde in Edmlniigfa, yet 
for her sake, he hired himself to a great clothier tnd 
taflor in the city of Aberdeen. After her father^s in- 
efiectnal application to her, yonng Gillies ventared to 
make his appearance ; bat his veceptioB waa far from 
what he hoped. She was embarrassed and cold, at- 
taching blame to him for ewery tlmigv particularly for 
persuading her ont to the woods by night, which had 
been the means of drawing down her father's anger 
upon her. He proffered all the reparaticm in his power ; 
hot she wonld not hear him vpetlk, and even fmMiB 
him ever to attempt seeing her again. 

The tailor s love was, bowever, too de^ly rooted 
to be so easily overcome* He woidd not be aakd nay, 
but waited upon her evening a^d ipoming'*; still she 
remained callous and unipqved» notwithslandnigof all 
his kind attentions. 

The frame of her spirit at this pmtfd mnat hate 
been an anomaly in human nature; she knew no fa^ 
piness, and shunned, with the utmost pertinacity, every 
avenue leading towards its heavenly abrine* fiheoAii^ 
said afterwards, that she b^eved her father e rod- had 
beat an angel out of her, and a deinon into its place. 

But Oillefipick, besides being an iiffeetionii^ HM 
faiAful lover, was a singularly acute yOitfhi He-4okl 
this perverse beauty again and agion that ishe wais ac- 
knowledged the flower, of sH Ab^idiocffii.'affvitig n.Miss 


Marshall, who sat in the College Churdi every Sun- 
-day, to whom some gentlemen gave the preference ; 
and then he always added, ** But I am quite certain 
tliat were you to appear there dressed in your hest 
style, every one would at once see how much you out- 
shine her." He went oyer thi^ so often, that Nancy's 
vanity hecame interested, and she proffered, of h&c 
own accord, to accompany him one day to the College 

From ihe time that Gillies got her to ent^ the 
chm:ch-door again, although she went from no good 
motive, he considered the victwy won, and counted 
on the certainty of reclaiming his beloved from des- 
pair and destruction. All eyes were soon turned on 
her beauty, but hers sought out and rested on Mary 
Marshall alone. She was convinced of her own su- 
periority, which added to the elegance of her carriage 
and gaiety of her looks ; so that she went home ex- 
ceedingly well pleased with — the minister's sermon f 

She went back in the afternoon, the next day, mud 
every day thereafter; and her lover noted that she 
sometimes appeared to fix her attention on the mkiia* 
ter's discourse. But one day in particulars^ when he 
wi» preaching on that divine precept, contamed in St 
Luke's Gospel, ** Bless them that curse you, and psiy 
for them which diBspitefully use you,*' die HMoMi d 
the while enrapt by the most ardent feelings^ and 

^ 0116 aioiiisnt took -her ey» from itenpaioBi^i iflir 
lover perceived this, and keptliiB eyiea ateadfMlJly SgK- 
ed ^n ker &C8* At last the'^nw^ his 
>if»plication of this doctrine to* miona dhwaoteoiixpiait- 
od her ofvm case hLsnoli a light thattt«a|>poaredd«mm 
lironi luitiire. , He thea cspatiatedon thoij»w«9ldMld 
faeaftoni^ joys oi Corgrfaiess with jmoh ardowr, noddi^ 
▼oCioDy that tears once^ more bfiOfp^iQ Akj^ 
bright eyss, whose fountains seemed Ipng: to hvfe {i^ 
dried lip; and ere the preacher condhided, i^e^illlis 
forced to hide her face^and^give freo rent U^i^fyii' 
nigf, weeping abondaniljr. . .1 .lui 

^ Her lover conducted her bome^ and: ^^immr^dt^k^ 
.id ^teeation in her manner towards>bim«; 1}^ <^i^ 
im^hei^searod and.faardeiMKl^nriiV^iraaMon^y 

' than her frame conld brodu v < ISie lltaellidl|;^^)«hftlgfafi 

4&> and she grew worse and werse;^ dfd]^,4,i^^9^l90ge 

•.disease was hers^ for she was. sei««d ffiil^#l|»))^f§(||pd 

ia;cepanxi7am% v^mucb romob^gdla^m^ifmm^ 

<adi(tf deyili^ in the dawnuAg «9C C%QiBliMM)il^ v;4l69I>* 

> peajped exactly as if, a good^irit undM m^>iM%jS^ 
ioontendiogi.for the possession of h^r.^p^i^i^il^irll^ 

iitcbeinacle^none of the medicid fiMmltyJ^illg>^^to 

"'^iceoiint £9r>> these eixtraordinary changf^iAt^^a Mtl'&^ 

'^ ^way« Harlover hireda siok-nnrstf^v wh^atteiuj^feotb 

on^ber and the oldjooyaiv which pl^i8«4^Mte<>Weil) 

^Hd, ha tboiight diaiB'Wn ii«tiBiicli:a^.iiimi>w <he ^ 
4dI j^Wrdeenas the ynimg tailcnr. ....,, ...^ v^mi 
JUanefs diMaae^vms «ib length •mastened^.tetiit Mi 
Itor^fMible' and enuKaoted, and Cbobl 'that. -tune f^ij^b^ 
^te showed heiB6l£iuidGML^ait'4iltflred»wooitfi» ^jiXlie 
fmt^ divine whafirdt c^ned hetieye»;4*.hart4)^t 
toflditiMiy httd Tkhcd her fJDeqoently.ia.hfc. mokiiM^ 
iButfd Mpealed his exhortadona* ' Jiei/lover. waitfiAi^n 
h^ every day; and not only this^ b«t /hdngv 9»]ik^ 
fore ohaervedy an acnte yonthy he oanied to* itha hM9e 
with him cordials for the old nnsei^ and told or^iead 
him the news from the Stock Exchange^ ; i . Naacy,w»8 
now atttodbed to GiUespidc wilhtheniQst^rdenl and 
fMri^ affection, and more deeply than in her early days 
•Offte^and^thonghdessneas; fornowherloYetaiiNrd 
liiiil waa mellowed hy « ray Irom heaven^ iln. lew 
'mis6sf^th&f were martied. Old l^oMm Gordon dfed 
'lihWiy after, and left diem more lliaa half his fovtieie, 
''MiMnlhig', it was said, to L»l 1,000^ » picoe of ^eie- 
''toidty t<^!Wliich he was moved, not only by the atten- 
'^ ildtf l^dwn him m his latter days by the yoaag^peir, 
■f^ti ad'fae espteiised it in hie will^ << being 'OOQ.vinoed 
-'^^bm^ GMllies would ti^ cane of the money^*^ >^ iTUa^e- 
' gicy waa a great fortane for an Aberdeaa tailos )and 
dotMdr. He boeght the hall of hie nunlfer'a^i^ick 
- and bittiiMBiiB, and in • conseqiieiice ofvaeitifidaniiilynaiid J 

' •1 

248 THE shephebd's calendar. 

navy oantneCi, Teelbed a veiy large fmrtttne in a ttort 
time* ' ' ' 

Old Cliiiliobn waB by tins tanatedvoed to abaoHrte 
beggary; be lived aoaong his foaMr^eiiHbf liioqliagit- 
aaoes, aoMetimes in the hall, Bamatiiiiea la tfe ]Mr« 
kyoT) aa their good or bad hamoor prefrallbd. ffii 
daagbtefa> likewise^ were all forced to accept aitna> 
tiona at apper aemmts, .aad irere, ti conrac^ inery as* 
happily piaoad, countenanced by to class, being too 
prond to asaooiate with those in tbe atation to wlaA 
they had IsHen. The company of k)Wl8nder8 tbUt bid 
taken Moorlaggan on Cfaisholm's failnre, follow6d Us 
example, and fmled also. The fanta was again ki the 
market, and nobody to l»d any thing for it ; at lengA 
an agent fnna Edinbnrgh took it for a ikii bidy^ il 
half ^ r«at that had been paid for it befcM^e ; and 
then every cme said, had old John Chi^iQlm h^Id h as 
9ach a rent, he would have been the head of the conn- 
try to that day. The whole of the stod^ and fttmi^ 
tare were bought up from the creditors, pud ih ready 
money> and the discount returned ; aad a^ iJas tmis aH 
done by the Edmburgh agent, no one knew who wais 
to be the fmaeTf ^although the i^ephei'ds and ^servants 
were hired^ and the business ot the farm vresA on is 

Old Chi^lm was at this time living in the houses 
of a Mr Mitchell, on Spey, not far from Pitmain, 

NANCY Cfil^OLM. 249 

wh^ he received a lett^ from this same Edmbnrgfa 
agents stating, that the new farmer of Moorlaggan 
wa&ted to -speak with him on very important business 
renting ta Abt farm ; and that all his expenses would 
be paid to that place, and back again, or to what other 
plate ia the country he chose to go« Chii^olm show- 
ed Mr Mitchell the letter, who said, he imdmiBtood it 
was to settle the marches about some diluted laud, 
and it would be as well for him to go and make a good 
chtt^ for his trouble, and at the same time offered to 
acGOnmiodate him with a pony. Mr Mitchell could 
noir spare his own saddle-horse, having to go a jour- 
ney ; so he mounted Mr Chisholm on a small dbaggy 
highland nag, with crop ears, and equipped with an old 
saddle, -and a bridle with hair reins* It was the even- 
ing of the third day after he left Mr Mitchell's house 
before he reached Moorkggan; and as he went up 
Coolen-aird, he could not help reflecting with bitter- 
ness of spirit on the alteration of times wit^ him. It 
was not many years ago when he was wont to ride by 
the same path, mounted on a fine hcnve of his own, 
with a livery servant behind him ; now bQ rode a little 
shabby nag, with crop ears and a hair bridle^ and- even 
that .diminutive o-eature belonged to mmtbe^jftn^iiifit 
Formerly he had a comfortable home, and a 
family to welcome him ; now he had u» faeni^ imA 
that family was all scattered abroad*. << AhiB 1" said 


960: THB smmKm» ^msup ab. 

dad tbat die.nwkviM^ii* dyi7ai4^^i9mu%j9f|B#^^ 
4t 4lM ofiwbich be ia aalip^ied, 1h>A b^fe^e Gq^. and 

d«)uig child I iWhuVlluiivo mSemAif^f:} hm h^m 
^dywniii^.imdimtiwrd«iBl»t0r^ -.,;.. :, ; ,v ,yx 
iiiiii tbb doiwcMk and qucndctts mckod jlid theiinim 
tU)9isiiireikcb biaiiMmia^ bsA^italioib'AllAim ne^wA 
thgwnt about the .places aad.tIiere>TBai»)* cbma^iaMfk 
sag al theieod o£the borne* .Wbm-oJdr^Clfidii^hnim 
llii% be did nolimatuse.i^ to> tbe fiMHitdfior> hmJt-tiiif^ 
iri^aiidied bia crop-eared pony, to iliie.iback^dqo^tt 
jriwib be knocked, and Jha[vdDg^atatadi<tbe£jBnauid iiptti 
iriadibaicaQiByWaa, after some deisjiv uaberodinto ^ 
presence of a courtly dame, wbo^eotatsd bim infMsmd 
Mbdigiiifiad language «a lliUDWft^lM'^^ ..: n 

.oi <f IT^tir. jaane ifr Idr Jobn GUahobaar I belaeire ?" 
-id^. Iti^Diadani^ At:|toiir>8erneeJ')i> b -^^ jhp -». ..c n: .. 
a94( ^d yoa wete imc^baxkbr^hso^Ji^heii^v^^^l^^ 
bow.) << Ay. Hem. And how did yoo. jiMberyonr 
'•iJaiani? .jii,'i»-M;;.t>^ i.M .j^.^.^i^ ;iff«'^ ^-nj I j-^^ii/! • 
u {^jXbisaiig^misfortaiieai^^ midami an^ i^tgiTOig tao 
*IIUBcbiorfdititOiiQin£k9ent^artiobMi imb ji'iq^n ->.;. 
<< Ay— -so I That was not pradMrfoi^oir^ta-giTe 
so much credit in such quactei»^£bif'rii 

•'i,'l r 

ploy you as factor or midiitg^rjof 'tl»efa'4aii»di^iur/lHy 
kiuitaiiid'«nd< ^I ' miiM; Uira toi the - gt«»ler< >t>avi)Dfiliie 
y«itr«»>ft ureaiidisUaiciiw Wt^ ai«n»tillk|^ tbfiTeiarf dcid 
8ttlit)^;MttidtX bd4«re'tii^e'ifiriM>iaa|i «6i fir fol?^^^ 
poaei'^Biil:!! fia^hearel accowiU «f 'ysQiJlhat^Ijdo |Mit 
Ittc^dnit yotturere aa kicsMabiifr tfiBivliiii i^x)«t 0v^ 
fam^yf aBii8ihg> and maltreating' t}ie -laosti ainlsdblQbtf 
tiNpi Iiia4I^ vevf ittnadiy masiiieir. . Andy JOifeiT^ Uoo^ 
btitcXiibpe>iMit t^riidyv that-you drcrre on6 daa^hMto 
diagiraes and UfeMiruelioiL'^ ^♦■'■.- - .'uro- *■ i..- ...i/r ><id')cj • 

Here Cliisholm4i»)«diliil9 iM^lwvrai^sl^ 
burst into t^atsiandisaid) hekbpM edielilidiniitts^nt for 
a miserable and degraded :^ld*>ttiaa 4xinitbiJtiir6!ifaLt feel<^ 
logs by^^^obiiJgrthode^^voiBidfriof dBa" sou^ iluMt were 

<< Nay, I beg your pardon, old gentleman, iugott 
ioT you ts> 4^ yon a senrice. i tvvvonlyijtaeKticiung a 
vile report that reiBdifed<(my'»eid^jjaibo]>0ii>yoa(bottid 
«xtulpate\yoBrBriL'' r ; •..^,l '.;:'• n-tiT Nj< — -^A ■ 

" Alas, madaitv 1 49aaiiaktf?i ii>L'<' ixi ubt^v:^ ihuiti '-r 


«Dr«ulfii]! DnBidfiil! Father of heareii, could thy 
ksad frame a being with feelingt Uke diis I B«tIliope 
yon did not, as b reported^<*^Na-— yon could not— -yon 
did not strike her, did yon ?*' 

*< Alas ! alas I" exdaimed the agonised old maa. 
. ^ What ? Beat her— -econrge her— 4hTow her from 
yonr hooae at midni|^ 'with a father's carae npon ber 

<«Idid! IdidI Ididr 

«< Monster I Monster ! Go, and hide your deroted 
aad execrable head in some cavern in the bowels of the 
aarth, and wear out ihe remainder of your life in pray- 
ing to thy God for repentance ; for thon art not fit to 
herd with the reet of his creatines I" 

^ My cap of sorrow and misery is now full," said the 
old man as he tmned, staggering, towards the door. 
'< On the very spot has this judgment fieJlen on me." 
' << But stop, sir— -stop for a little space^" said the lady. 
^ Ptthaps I hare been too hasty, and it may be p^ 
have repented of that unnatural crime already ?" 

** Rq>ented I Ay, God is my witness, not a night or 
day has passed over this grey head on which I have not 
vepented ; in that bitterness of spirit too, which the chief 
of sinners only can feel." 

** Have you indeed repented of your treatment of 
your daughter ? Then all is forgiven on her part. And 
do you, father, forgive me too I" 


The old man looked down with bewildered vision, 
and, behold, there was the lady of the mansion kneeling 
at his feet, and embracing his knees I She had thrown 
aside her long flowing veil, and he at once discovered 
the comely face of his beloved daughter. 

That very night she pnt into her Other's hand the 
new lease of all his former possessions, and receipts for 
the stock, crop, and furniture. The rest of the family 
were summoned together, and on the following Sabbath 
they went all to church and took possession of their old 
family seat, every one sitting in the place she occupied 
formerly, with Siobla at the head. But the generous 
creature who had thus repaid good for evil, was the 
object of attraction for every eye» and the admiration 
of every hetfrt. 

. This is a true story, and it contains not one moral, 
but many, as evny true portraiture of human life must 
do : It shows us the danger of youthful imprudence, of 
jealousy, and of unruly passions; but, above all, it 
shows, that without a due sense of religion there can be 
no true and disinterested love. 


llA •>: ' ' * ■ . '"r ■•■■' n ■.•■■.. 1 ...f <-j; uf T t'T' 

■ M '!■ . ' • .• : '»•■■' ■■« • ■ r-'iV^'fl*' - ()*. 

^«>11'! '■ . ' . '■/-.!:.'•?»• 'i; -,j* >'''«'(:n.<- 

•• • • •'•■-«.-• J ,<;,•> ;Tjr- 


■V7<>I!> •• ■ ■ • - -..•■••• ^ ::< ■ f i«> >-f tf 

.8mdw*8TORMS eonstatnte the vbriuM enis-of Ae)>tfii>^' 
tUMftlife. TheyaretberedlmtBin thedbepliifiM^niio'' 
mrtM-tlw nemeiiibTanoeEB ef ydftn sbA a^m tlialPflifr 
pM»'**4he tablets of meMory by wliMi'<die'^igei>iirMi1 
chifalBBBy the timai of fak aweesiN^iaird tliB'vi«& wiit 
ddwnfidl of fsBiniliesy are inyambiy aMier|lBUed;jTj;fiyeii^ 
tha^^iirogress of improveinent m Sooldi'iMii&g^^Cflmitie^' 
trftMd-tnditknnUy frcmi tbesf^ Middie«^t o^iaxfttfUf 
or eiMegiTea^th preciBk>ii;4>efoe andtlkiapsiiidi sad* 
stick A stormy tfaongii the rattrator lie tmoertMiv Jtt ttiHl^ 
C6iit«ii|r Aeaaid notable storm iu^ipeiiedv^^'tVte^iriredrjv 

and ^lim^ year the Hielaaden tiili/' me- UnriteOildM^ 
m—cntos to liie Year Nine alid Ae Y^ar^^Ftety-^j.) * 
th^ atattd in i>]oody capitak inthe «tiDahr€ff*thcr]KUN 
tohd^iife^ as well as many more that shall heftQttfter be> 
mentioned. ^i» ^ -t « « 

ISit most dismal of all those tm recard is the TNir- 
te^BL' JMity Dayst This extraordbaty storm^ ms near 

as I have been able to trace, mtist bare occaired in the ~ 
year 1660. The tradili(mary stories and pictures of de* 
solation that remain of it,-are the most dire imaginable li 
and the mentioning of the Thirteen Drifty Days to an 
old shepherd, in a stormy winter night, never fails to 
impress his mind with a sort of religious awe, and often 
sets him on his knees befW thtft Being who alone can 
avert such another calamity. < 

It is said that for thirteen days and njghts the snow-., 
drift oievtriOBce abated — the ground was covered ivilb 
frosen snow when it c(»nmenced, andduiittg all thir 
time: ofistt oettttnuance the sheep never broke their f»aU 
Tim oold was intense to a degiiee sever before rememsr 
bered ; and about the fifth and siitth days of the stoomii; 
thayoimgiaheep began tofaU into a sleepytmd tor^ 
sta<e^«nd all that were so affected in the evening died: 
ovav4iight. The intensity oi the frost-wind often cwtt 
them ifSf when in that state quite - instantaaeoui^yi' 
About the ninth and tenth days, the shephenki begaor 
torbuUd up huge semicircular walls of their dead^ is; 
order to afford some shelter foe the living renudndec^ 
but audi. shelter availed little/for about the same tinsi. 
theilY<^' ctf food began to be Mt so severely that they: 
were^freijptently eeen tearing one another's wool with- 
their teeth. '•> r 

When the storm abated, on the Ibmteenth day iroai 
its commencement, there was on' many ^ high4Jring' 

266 THE shepherd's CAI.ENDAR. 

fiuin not » fimg dieep to be teen. Luge miiii<ipfn 
wiUa of dead, rarroimdiDg b nmll pnottiftle fiodt Ifo 
wise all deed, and frozen stiff in tUr bdcs, vms^ all 
that femained to the forlorn sbepberd and hm tam/bm; 
and though on lQw*lyingfigmB,^db<re the aa o w wasnot 
so hard before the tempest began, maaaben of ihetf 
weathered the storm, yet their cenatitatiQiia reeeifed 
such a shock, that the greatOT part of tbem perished 
afterwards ; and the final consequence wsa, thad aboat 
nine-tenths of all the sheep in the South cf Scotland 
were destroyed. 

In the extensive pastoral district of Eskdale^mvir, 
which maintains upwards of 20,000 sheep, it is said 
none were left alive, but forty young wedders on one 
fiirm, and five old ewes on another. The fain of Pfaaap 
remained without a stock and without a 'tenant for 
twenty yean after the storm ; and when at length one 
very honest and liberal^niinded man ventured to take- a 
lease of it, it was at the annual rent of ^ a grey coat 
and a pair of hose \" It is now rented at £^0Q, J^m 
extenmve g^ien in Tweedsmuir, now belonging to Sir 
James Montgomery of Stanhqie, became a conunon at 
that time, to which any man drove his flocks that, 
pleased, and it continued so for nearly a c^tnrj^. Qn 
one of Sir Patrick Scott of Tbirlestane's farmsi that . 
keeps upwards of 900 sheep, they all died save one 
black ewe, from which the farmer had high hopes of 


preserring a breed ; but some tinlucky dogs, that were 
all laid i^e for want of sheep to nm at, fell upon this 
poor solitary remioait of a good stock, and chased her 
into St Marys Loch, where she was drowned. When 
w(H^ of tfab was Inflight to John Scott the fanner, com<^ 
flsooly called Gonffing Jock, he is reported to have ex- 
piessed Mmself as follows : '< Ochon, odion 1 and is 
that this gate o't ?-^« black beginning maks aye a black 
end.*' Then taldng down an old rusty sword, he add- 
ed, ^^ Come thou away, my auld friend ; thou and J 
maon e'en stock Bowerhope Law ance main Bessy, 
my dow, how gaes the auld sang?-«* 

There's walth o* kye 1* bonny BraidlMs ; 

There's walth o' yo wes i* Tyne ; 
There's walth o* gear i' Gowanbum^— 

And they shall a* be thine. " 

It is a pity that tradition has not preserved any thing 
fartlier of the history of Gouffing Jock than this one 

The next memorable event of this nature is the 
Blast o' March, which happened on the 27th day of 
that month, in the year 1724!, on a Monday morning ; 
and though it lasted only for one forenoon, it was cal- 
culated that it destroyed upwards of a thousand scores 
of sheep* as well as a number of shepherds. There is 
one anecdote of this storm that is worthy of being pre- 
served, as it ^ows with how much attention shepherds, 

858 THE shsprebdIb calendar. 

at w^ M Mdkmi akmld obsttve the appetmactt irfihe 
•ky. The previous Sunday emmisg #aa 8o WBiin tiat 
Act lisftes irent iMme fireni ehiurcii barelboti and the 
y^raog men ttxtew off their {lUdsand ooats^ tiAd ciitM 
ttem over their shoolderB. A large groap of iImm 
ytenkers, going home fitym tiie drarcb of Yatftw, 
eqivipped in this manner, dianced to paaa hy an old 
ahepherd on the farm of Newhonaey named 'Writer 
Blake, who had all hn dieep gathemL to the aide ofta 
wood. They asked Wattie, who was a very reSp&m 
man, what conld have indaced him to gatiier his sheq) 
on the Sabbath day? He answered, that h^ Imd iMa 
an ill«hued weather-gaw that morning, and was afraid 
it was going to be a drift. They were so mttdiamttted 
at Watde*s apprehensions, that tiiey clapped' '€^ 
hands, and laughed at him, and one pert girl dried, 
** Aye, fie tak care, Wattie ; I Wadna say bttlT h may 
b6 thrapple deep or the mom.* Another askcl^- ^< If 
he wasna rather feared for the snn bnming the een ^nt 
tf their heads ?" and a ihkd, << If he didna ke^ a «or- 
irespondence wi' the thieves, and ken they were t(> tide 
that night?" Wattie was obliged to bear all diis, for 
the evening was fine beyond any thing generally seen iX 
Aiat season, and only said to them at parting, ** Wisely 
Wed, callants, time will try a* ; let him laagh that wins ; 
btit slacks will be sleek, a hogg for the howking ; well 
a^ get horns to tout on the moivi.-' ^ llieflAyi^ grew 

ixy wk^mavM, the, wbola «f )m -ftocfc,] r , i j ,. * ] / >{h 

MKongthOi Aofcka of s^ieep^ IalJ^;latte^, tl^ sxiQ\^^)^y 
^0i%;the sxiiddle pf Deee^ifaer uotil.thesH^dleQfi^B^y 
md iffas all ll^fct timi9.bai^ fros^m^ Partial tfaf^^^rfi^ 
waya/ktp;(.ljbe farmer s Jbopes q£ r^lie^ aUye, an^.tb^a 
I)|pev<?i>;tediliu;ft f^oi^i r^moyiptg his 8he^p,|tQ, |i,Jow(^.^i- 
.j^io^i^^igtb they grew ^o weajt th«kt they could 
.§^ he remayed*. There has not been Buch a ^e|vei^ 
loss ill), (th^ days of any man liviog as in tli^t year^ Jt 
4ft ijQr,jt^swi years that the severity of all subsequent 

/^4.F^M^ 1^^ 1:^^^^^^^^^ also, of late^ by 

. ibat of^ 1705 ; and when the balance tnms out in favour 

o^^^e calculator, there is always a degree of thankful** 

. i^jE^ssrex^essedy as well as a composed submission to the 

« ftwaiH^ ofJDivine providence. The daily feeling naturi^* 

IjT ii^ressed on the shepherd's mind> that all his coija- 

foii^ wa, so enturely in the hand of Him iha^ rules the 

.jQlen^i^ contributes not a little to that firm 8{^rit of de« 

.Tiolipn for which the Scottish shepherd is so disti^gui^* 

e^,.^li^Xifiw> of no scene so ii9pressiye^ as that of a^isi* 

jfgpij sequestered in a lone glen during the time p^ a 

;9mU^ atpnb; — and where is the glen in the kingdom 

} . t)^t w^nl». siich a Jbabitation ? There they ar(^ left to 

A^ |ifptectiflx> of Heaven ; a^d they know i^id feel it 


Throughout all the wild vidnitadeB of natore^ tfaef 
have no hope of aaaistance from man, but expect to le- 
ceif« it from the Almighty alone. Before retirii^ Co 
rest, the shepherd uniformly goes out io ftYamiiwf iAk 
state of the weather, and make hia rep(»t to tim iMe 
dependent group within — ^nothing is to be seen but ihe 
conflict of the elements, nor heard but the ravii^ of tte 
storm— then they all kneel around him, \diilelM rce t f 
mends them to the protection of Heaven ; and 'dioi^ 
their little hymn of praise can scarcely be beard ev«i 
by themselves, as it mixes with the roar of tbe tempMt, 
they neyer fail to rise iVom their deyotiona with tbck 
spirits cheered and their confidence renewed, and go to 
sleep with an exaltation of mind of which kings and ooi- 
querors have no share. Often haTe I been a i^iaref 4b 
such scenes ; and never, even in my yoiugast yean, 
without having my heart deeply impressed by the cir- 
cumstances. There is a sublimity in the very tdea^ 
There we lived, as it were, inmates of the cloud and the 
storm ; but We stood in a relationship to the Ruler ol 
these, that neither time nor eternity could ever canDd. 
Woe to him that would weaken the Ixmds witb tvhieh 
true Christianity connects us with Heaven and with 
each other I 

But of all the storms that ever Scotland witacnsod^ 
or I hope ever will again behold, there is non^of tbsfli 
that can once be compared with that of the memorable 


night between Friday the 24di and Saturday the 2dth 
of January, 1794. This storm fell with peculiar vio** 
lence oa that ^visicm of the South of Scotland that 
l]j0B between Crawlbrd'imiir and the Border, in these 
beuBds seventeen shepherds perished, tod upwards of 
thirty were carried home insensibly who- afterwards 
recoyerod. The number of sheep that w^e. lout far 
outwent any posfiibility of caleulatioo* OnJef fiEumec 
alone, OMr Thomas Belittie, lost sjB^^enty^two seoresH-^ 
and many others, in the same quarter, firom thirty to 
forty, scores each. Whole flodss' were orerwhelined 
with snow, and no one ever imew where they were 
till the snow was dissolved, and ^ey were all found 
dead. I myself witnessed one particuHir instance of 
this, on the farm of Thickside : there were twelve 
sooner of excellent ewes, all one age, that were missing 
all the time that the snow lay, which was only a week, 
and no traces of them could be found ; when the snow 
went away, they were discovered all lying dead; with 
their heads one way, as if a floek of sheep had dropped 
dead going from the washing. Many hundreds were 
diiren into waters, bum^ and lakes, by the violence 
of the storm, where they were buried or frozen Ttp, 
and these the flood carried away, so that they were 
never seen or found by ^e owners at all» The fdl** 
lowiAg anecdote somewhat illustrates the confusion 
and devastiktion bred in the country :-*-The greater 

262 THE SUEf^XBlSfs'tA'L'ES1>AIL 

ptrt <>f lite Hren <m irlmJ^ the dttfrtki was m^«t ilef^ 
itm iftto llie StItwKf Frhli, ^m wlilcb tli^^s id « flhte 
Ctlldd ih^ Bech cf Esk, wh^M the tide tte-oWCr oti^ 
iitd letves whatevei' is tluni^ intd it l>y ili^' riti^ 
When the flood after the stomi ^btided> thare-^M^im 
fatmd on thftt pkce, send ibe thoroB ftdj«een^-<^ 
thoittand «ght hundred atod forty thee^, nhuf \Mk 
cftttle, three hofses, two men, one wottmn, feHy^i^ 
dogi, and one hnndred and eighty hares^ besi^l^'^ 
munber of meaner animals. 

The anow lay a week on the ground, lihe ^Htw%B^ 
▼hig began on Friday, the Slat of Jtfmary; Sita» 
registers that I hard seen, placethe d^1« oftlasiMo^ 
6n the ^4th of Dec^eniber, a monih too e^y ;*hitt''ftii 
day was one of the finest winter' days rcre*"i4awi' ^* 

To relate all the picrticnlar Scen^ of diiitfe^ iHllk 
occtmred dnring ^is tremendous hnnicanfe'ii^hiipoiil- 
ble— aTolnine would not cointahi ihyni; I ^tUSiiW^ 
Me, in order to git^ a tru^ pictm*^ df 'i'M'^ikiMy 
^ei^ly i^kte what I s^w, atfd shdl'litiiolbii^'^bM^ 
tfeti. But before domg thfe, f nttist liieniSdn^l^Wf- 
dumi^'c^, ctiHdus in its batun^^ and'cottiL<<tf^^^ 
biheH 'rfhat AftcfrWfti^s ocm^ii:- ' '' ' ^^^ r'^^^' 
' Sbiiie thne heforfe that, i few y^rtin^' 8ftfepHfird^(W 
wtfotnT i^Hk otie, and th^ ^ith^'^mi^ if^4e 
liBfa6t'kMWt!<!^8, bf'ifae nuta^ %kd'foiii»^''i!MWh 

»l u 

a , ^^ifmr^^mn^ h^na 263 

o^^ ; and after tha4, ev^ry essay waa mjja^ly jiif^^l;^* 
gftlied and criticised- W^ met, i^ tb^ i^Fonv^, 9^d 
co^tjam^om ituportaQt discussions. all iug|it„M^|Ji^y 
t)^ 2^ of Januaiy wasi.the day.^pppini^ fq^ooie^x^f 
Hik^^, meetings^ and it was to be held at ^teH^rpAy), a 
i|4)d aia4 remote shieling, at tbe very souriii^fi^ of the 
£ttcic)i^., I had the honour of being named presesT— 
so, leaving the charge of my flock with vay master> off 
If^tvfrimi Siackbouse, on Tbmrsday, a very iU day, 
^i^^z flying bombastical essay in miy pocket, and 
H^otOQglhe trained to many wise 9iid profomid remarks, 
io^sat|;(9nd thi|i extraordinary m^tiiiig, tjiougb the place 
ky a$ tbQ dbtfuace of twenty nuleS|. over the ^wjldest 
}^ ip.^the;k]|^dQm, and the time the fl^tb of win- 
l^^^^l^ .Trained that nigbt with my parents al^ Etitxick- 
J||9^^> ;«ft4 pexi} ^y s^g^ set o^t, pn my.^omrney. I 
f^jOot^thoweyeiv proc^ded for, before^. I perceived, 
-^S^^Sbf i..p€Xceiyad,.8ymptpmf3,p)^ ^^proadiing 
.i||9rpi,,^..tbat„pf n9 ordinary nature,,^ember 
(ll^^^yrW^Hr; the. wind, whidb wa§^,:fpug!* W%. Pre- 
ceding day, had subsided Wtp a di^^qilm.j t^^j^ was 
l^>[4fg]^t^(^l ofi^i^pwi^ ^bich de8ce?[>4ed in^sflanfj^in 
eflf^^^,^>^™«4 ^<tov^T anA r^l^,^ej^ as if 
-fflWrt»ifr,j#e4i^i^ to. go, up^i^d or 4pw?i|raffd7-.the 



qff^btd togvtheiu^lyat o^the Aww t Aft Uki h W 
Aijple lod flea«7 tppevEncf iijn^ akagvtboi^ I a0^ 
li(|ll«ldaday«ls«i^.glai0itty«iqpaol. (A tlmq^iftav 
bigia to kitnide iudf on m% dwngh L«taa#ft.^fite 
XxiNdd to 9eii|iut of iti that ttiwould bft-^wkq iwuMi 
ia me to uptum iMUtne to ]iiy.akMp« IndinatiopDwiiMl 
noon, and I tried to iHiny. itMunn to har • Md» bfikiq^*^ 
'mg to myaelfy <<I hove no reason in tbe worfal to be 
a^faid of my abeep ; my maitBP taok><ihe charge of 
tlNMH cheerfully ; there is notabetterishophirdinthar 
Uagdom, and I cannot donbt his baTiaf 
them right." All would not do ; I atood etili and 
contemplated the day, and the more deadly I exami" 
ned it, the more was I impi^ssed that aome mischief 
was. brewing ; so, with a heary heart, I tnmed on my 
heelf and made the best of my way hack the road I 
came ; — ^my elaborate essay, and all my wise dhserrft- 
tiooSi had been proTided in vauau ' ,<: 

Pn my way home, I called at a-plaee named the 
li^boufie, to see a matenml.imdo^'whom.I iovedi; 
he was angry when hejsaw me, Imd said it waitfJuotlike - 
a pi^ent lad to be running up aad^lomn: th^ ttaimtry^ 
in imch weather, and atL such a sflasom ;( andrtnged^me : 
to mii]^e haste home, for .it would bo.'aiiirifeliefom«it. 
m<>cnmg« He aeiHwaiWBmed motto tikjtop ogiWhdgh^ 

8]iaw-«Tosin. 265 

called die Bbck Otehead, waaA m pttting) htAook 
tm heady Mid Mttd, ^^Ahlit k s dwag c h m e^ l ookii^ 
dby ! la troA Fm amttBt fear'd to look at h."* I nid 
I vimld BOt mkid it, tf iny one loew from wlmt f«ttr«- 
ter the itonn would arise ; Imt we might, ki i^ likdi" 
haody gather eior sheep to the place where Aef would 
be most exposed to danger* He bade me keep a good 
jook'Out all the way hom^ and wh«iever I observed 
the first opening throngh the rime, to be 8ssm*6d -the 
wind wonld rise directly from that point : I did as he 
desired me, but the clouds continued closerset jail 
ardund, till the fall of evening; and as the snow had 
been accumulating all day, so as to render walking 
Tery unfurthersome, it was that time before I readied 
home. The first thing I did was to go to my m&ster, 
juid inqtdre ' where he had left my ^beep. He told 
,nle ; but though I had alfi^ys the most perfect con- 
Adenee it his experience, I was not pleased wil^ what 
he had done — he had left a part of them far too high 
.o«t on the hills, and the rest were not where I would 
ha?e had them ; and I told him so : he said he had 
doB^ aU for the best, but if thore a]^>eared to be any 
tjange^*, if I would cdl him vp in the morning, he 
would assist me. We had two beautiful servant girls, 
and with them I sat chatt^ing tall past eleven o'clock, 
afid dben I W«Dt down to the Old Tower* What could 
have tak^ me to that mittous halntatioii of the Blade 



DoMghinni At that vntiiiieaiia baar, I cannot recollect^ 

tal ii certainly nmst have been from a snpposition that 

mm of the girls wonld follow me^ or eke that I would 

aaa a hare — both Tery nnlikely erenta to hare takes 

pboe on tmch a night. HoweTer, certain it i% thil 

there I was at midnighty and it waa wluie standing (a 

die top of the staircaie tonet, that I first beheld a 

bright bore throngh the cloads, towards the north, 

which reminded me of my ancle's waming abont the 

pmnt from which the wind would rise. But at this 

time a smart thaw had commenced, and the breese 

aaemed to be coming from the sonth, so that I langfaed 

in my heart at his prediction, and accounted it quite 

abaonL^-Sbort was the time till awiid experience told 

ne how tme it was I 

I then went to my bed in the byre-loftt, where I 
slept with a neighbonr shepherd, named Borthwick; 
Imt though fatigued with walking through the snow, I 
could not close an eye, so that I heard the first bunt 
of the storm, which commenced between one and two, 
with a fury that no one can conceiye who does not re* 
member it* Besides, the place where I lived being 
exposed to two or three ** gathered winds," as they sie 
called by shepherds, the storm raged there with re- 
doubled fiiry. It began all at once, with such a tremen- 
dous roar, that I imagined it was a peal of thunder, 
until I felt the house trembling to its fouodatiiHi. In 


a few miirates I thrast my naked ami through a hole 
im the TOof| in order, if possible, to ascertain what was 
l^oiog on without, for not a ray of light could I see. I 
coidd not then, nor can I yet, express my astonishment : 
So completely was the air oveiioaded with falling and 
idriTing ^low, that, but for the force of the wind, I 
ielt as if I had t^ust my arm into a wreath of snow. 
I adeemed it a judgment sent from Heayen upon us, 
WDid went to bed again, trembling with agitation. I 
4ay still fol* about an hour, in hopes that it might prove 
'•nly a temporary hurricane ; but, hearing no abatement 
«f its forji I aWakened Borthwidc, and bade him get 
t^ for it was come on such a night or morning, as 
siever blew from the heavens. He was not long in 
obeying, for as soon as he had heard the turmoil, he 
-fltarted from his bed, and in one minute throwing on 
fab diOthes, he hastened down the ladder, and opening 
the door, remained for a good while, utteiing excla- 
.mations of astonishment. The door where he stood 
was not above fourteen yards from the door of the 
' 4welling-house ; but a wreath was already heaped be- 
tween them, as high as the walls of the house— and in 
-trying to get round or through this, Borthwick lost 
himself, and could neither find 'the house nor his way 
back to the byre ; and about six minutes after, I heard 
him calling my name, in a shrill desperate tone of 
voice, at which I could not refrain from laughing im- 


t«ly» Aotwitbttonding the dismal prospect, thit 
k]f' before uk I lieard from his cries where he wa& 
He hm\ trm\ to make his way omer the top of a hrp 
ihungbilU l*ut going to the wrong side, had fallen OTer, 
iiMl wreatled long among snow, quite over the head. 
I did not tliink proper to move to his assistance, bat 
lay still, and shortly after, heard him shouting at the 
lttldiau*4loor for instant admittance. I kept my bed 
for about three quarters of an hour longer ; and then 
fOfe, ami on reaching the house with much difficulty, 
loQiid our master, the ploughman, Borthwick, and the 
two servant maids, sitting round the kitchen fire, with 
looks of dismay, I may almost say despair. We all 
agr^ at once, that the sooner we were able to reach 
iha sheep, the better chance we had to save a remnant; 
and as there were eight hundred excellent ewes, all in 
OM lot, but a long way distant, and the most Taluahle 
lal of aity on the furm, we resolved to make a bold ef- 
tot to reach them. Our master made fismily worship, 
m duty he never neglected ; but that morning, the man- 
aar in which he expressed our trust and confidepoe 
in Heaven, ii*as particularly affecting. We took our 
bfeak&st — filled our pockets with bread and cheese— 
•awed our plaids around us — tied down our hats with 
naplrins coming below our chins — and each taking a 
•troi^ staff in his hand, we set out on the attempt. 
No sooner was the door dosed bdund us than we 


lost sight of each other ; seeing there was none-^^it^was 
impossible for a man to see his hand held up befere 
him—and it was still two hours till day. We had no 
means of keeping together but hj fdUowing to one 
another's voices, nor of working our way save hf gvo- 
jjing before us with our staves. It iaoo^ appearl;d to 
me a hopeless concern, for, ere ever we got clieiar of 
the houses and hay-stacks, we had to roll oursel^*^ 
over two or three wreaths which it Was impossible to 
wade through; and all the while the Wind and drift 
were so violent, that every three or four ininuteS' we 
were obliged to hold our faces down between our 
knees to recover our breath. 

We soon got into an eddying wind that was alto« 
geth^r insufferable, and, at the same timoj we wel'e 
struggling among snow so deep, that our progress- in the 
way we proposed going was very equivocal indeed, for 
we had, by this time, lost all idea of east, west, norths 
or south. Still we were as busy as men determined 
on an enterprise of moment could be, and pers(evered 
on we knew not whither, sometimes rolling over the 
snow, and sometimes weltering in it up ^to thi^ ^chin. 
The following instance of our successfol exerticms 
marks our progress to a tittle : There was an enclosure 
^ound the house to the westward, which we deiio- 
minated "the Park," as was customary in Scotland at 
that period, and in that quarter, where a farm seldom 


^QtitodiMretlHUiOiieendoeed piece of girand. Whoi 
we went awmy we cslciileted tiiat h was two been 
uBtildey ; die Perk did not extend abovB diree inuidM 
ywds ; end we were fttill engaged in it when day-i^ 

When we got free of die Puk, we oko got freeef 
tbe eddy of the wind. It was now atnog^ in (Mr 
&ceB ; we went in a line before each other, and dialed 
placet efery three or four minvtee^ and at lengih^'afl* 
great fatigne» reached a kmg ridge of a hill where lit 
anew was tbinna-> haring be^k blown off by the feree 
of the wind, and by this we had hopea of readdig 
within a short space of the ewes, which w^ere^stilW 
mile and a half distant. Oar master had ttken 'tte 
lead; I was n^xt him, and soon began to enspect, fiein 
the depth of the snow, that he was kading ns qitUt 
wrong; but as we always trvsted implicttly to the 
person that was foremoet fw tibe time^ t eaid liothl^ 
for a good while, until satisfied that wo wo^e g^^fi^^ia 
a direction very nearly right opposite to that well* 
tended. I then tried to expostulate with him ; but lit 
did not seem to understand what I said ; and, on get- 
ting a glimpse of his countenance, I pereeited diAt'lt 
was qtnte alt»ed. Kot to alarm die others, n<nr etea 
himsdf, I said I was becomiog terribly "^ttiguetj^ttld 
proiMMted tiiat we should lean on the snow and like 
each a 12td6 whisky, (for I had brought aBmallhoitlle 


ia my pocket for fear of the worst), wad Bome bread 
and dieese. This was nnaaimously agreed to, and I 
noted that he swaiiowed l^e spirits rather eagerly, a 
thing not usual with him, and when he tried to eat, it 
was long before he could swallow any thing. I was 
convinced that he would fail altogeUier, but, as it 
would have been eaiaer to have got him to the shep* 
herd's house, which was before us, than home again, 
I made no proposal for him to return. On the con- 
trary, I said, if they would trust themselves entire- 
ly to me, I would engage to lead them to the ewes 
without going a foot out of the way. The other two 
l^eed to this, and acknowledged that they knew not 
where they were ; but he never opened his mouth, nor 
did he speak a word for two h<Hirs thereafter. It had 
only been a temporary exhaustion, however, for he 
afterwards recovered, and wrought till night as well as 
any of us ; iiiough he never could recollect a single cir- 
cumstance that occurred during that part of our way, 
nor a word that was said, nor of having got any re- 
freshment whatever. 

At about half an hour past ten, we reached the 
flock, and just in time to save them. Before that, both 
Borthwick and the ploughman had lost their hats, not- 
withstanding all their precautions ; and to impede us 
still farther, I went inadvertently over a precipice, and 
going down head foremost, between the scaur and the 


iw» kmtd it impcMnble to extricate myself te the 
■MKe I ttraggled 1 went the decker. For att-ev 
trooUea, I beard Borthwick above eoBLTQlaed with 
laagbtcr ; — be tbov^ be bad got tbe affiur of. the 
dnagbill paid badi. By bolding by one anotber^ tmd 
letting down a plaid to ioe» tbey hauled me i^; latf 1 
was terribly incomiiioded by snow that bad got laiide 
my clothes. 

The ewes were standiiig in a dose body ; one half 

of them were covered over with snow to tbe depth of 

ten £eet, the rest were forced against a brae. Ws 

knew not what to do, for we had no spades to d% 

them out ; hot to our agreeable astonishment^ wbefL 

those in front were removed, the rest walked out frwa 

below the snow after their neighbours in a bodyi £v 

they had been so closely pent together, as to be sU 

touching one anotlier. If the snow-wreath bad sot 

broke, and crumbled down upon a few that were hii|d^ 

most, we should have got them all out^ without putting 

a hand to them. This was effecting a good deal mora 

than any of the party expected a few hours beforei. 

There were one hundred ewes in another place near 

by, but of these we could only get out a Tery few, and 

lost all hopes of saving what remained. 

It was now wearing towards mid-day, and there were 
occasionally short intervals in which we could see round 
us for perhaps a score of yards ; but we got only 6119 

nloib^ntaiy^iglaiiee of l)ie liiHsaromd tiB iiftdat cUiy. 
'f *grew tpi&te ftt^tfent to be at inftfWtL'thvtgfliiAd 
IkfUfmgitik'TeH lArent atray to tbem by iny^lf/thiit Is, 
Fireitt i6 {fae diviBion tbat was lefVfar oiit oh tB^ UllS, 
^#1^ oiir master and the ploogbifiati roloiiteefed'to 
td^me those that were down oh the lower grouiid. I 
fbhM mine in miserable circmnstances, but hialdngall 
possible exertion, I got out about one half of them, 
wliich I left in a' place of safety, and made toWfirds 
Borne, for it was beginning to grow dark, and the storm 
Wtts again raging in all its darkness and fury. I was 
not in- th^ leaM afraid of losing my Way, for I kuei^ all 
th^' declivities of the hills so well, that'I coidd have 
c^e home with my eyes bound up ; and indeed, long 
A^ I ^6t home, they were of ho use to me. I was ter* 
rifled for the water (Douglas Bum), for in the morning' 
ii'iras flooded and gorged up with snow in a dreadful 
inli&iUier^'ihd I judged that it would be how quite im- 
passable. At length I came to a place where I thought 
the'l^ater should be,'and fell a-borihg and gropingfor 
it with my' long stafil No : I could find no water, and 
bc^n to dread that, in spife of my supposed accuracy, 
1 'had gone wrong. This greatly surprised me, and- 
standing still to consider, I looked up towards Heaven, 
I shall not say for what cause, and to my utter amaze- 
ment thought I beheld trees over my head, flourishing 
abfliad over the whole sky.' I hever had sden'su^ch «xv 

M 2 

274 THE shbphbrb's calendar. 

optica] delusion before ; it was so like enchaiitmetit Aat 
I knew not what to think, b«t dreaded'tiiat some ex- 
traordinary thing was coming orer me, and'titst I was 
deprived of my right senses. I concluded that the 
storm was a great judgment sent on m for our sms, md 
that this strange phantasy was connected with it, an S- 
lusion effected by eWI spirits. I stood a good IvhOein 
this painful trance ; but at length, on making a bold 9fX* 
ertion to escape from the ftury yision, I cane all at Ottes 
in contact with the Old Tower. Never in my life £d 
I experience such a relief; I was not only all at omos 
freed from the fairies, but from the dangers of the 
gorged river. I had come over it on some moontaintlf 
snow, I knew not how nor where, nor do I know to this 
day. So that, after all, what I had seen were trees, sad 
trees of no great magnitude neither ; but their appea^ 
ance to my eyes it is impossible to describe. I thovght 
they flourished abroad, not for miles, but for hondredB 
of miles, to the utmost verges of the visible heavens. 
Such a day and such a night may the eye of a diefAerd 
never again behold t 

On reaching home, I found our women-folk sitting in 
woful plight. It is well known how wonderfully acute 
they g^erally are, either at raising up imaginary evik, 
or magnifying those that exist; and ours had made out 
a theory so fraught with misery and distress, that die 
poor things were quite overwhelmed with grief i 


*< There was none of us ever to see the house ugain in 
Itfe, There was no possihility of the thing happening, 
all circumstances considered. There was not a sheep 
in the country to he sayed, nor a single shepherd left 
alive — ^nothing hut vxmen ! and there they were left, 
three poor helpless creatures, and the men lying dead 
.out among the snow, and none to hring them home. 
Iiord help them, what was to become of them I'' They 
perfectly agreed in all this ; there was no dissenting 
voice ; and their prospects still omtinuing to darken 
with the fall of night, they had no other resource left 
diem, long before my arrival, but to lift up their voices 
and weep. The group consisted of a young lady, our 
master s niece, and two servant girls, all of the same 
age, and beautiful as three spring days, all of which 
are mild and sweet, but differ only a little in bright- 
ness. No soon^ had I entered, than every tongue and 
every hand was put in motion, the former to pour forth 
..queries faster than six tongues of men could answer 
with any degree of precision, and the latter to rid 
me of the incumbrances of snow and ice with which I 
.was loaded. One slit up the sewing of my frozen plaid, 
another brushed the icicles from my locks, and a third 
imloosed my clotted snow-boots. We all arrived with- 
in a few minutes of each other, and all shared the same 
kind offices ; even our dogs shared of their caresses and 
ready assistance in ridding them of the frozen snow, and i 


the dsar conaiBient creatusM iwcre .siKitimos; bnpfittr 
than if no storm or danger had ever existed. — Jjefm 
«ie suppose that, eren amid toife' and- pefik, tk^^ep- 
berda iUe is destitute of enjoymeiit* - i. > ■■■ ■- / • ' 
• Bortbwick had found his way home 'WithMit^faMtsg 
his aim iu the least. I had deiriaieilhiit']ittle^«av« that 
«I lost the river, and remained a ahxwt time in ihe oon- 
tiy of the Fairies ; hut the Dther two had a hard straggle 
for lifeb They went off, as I said formerly, in geareh^iiif 
seveAteeo . scores of my floek that had heen lefit-iiili 
place not far from the house ; hut being unable to fiad 
ione of them^ in searching for these they lost thensehiM, 
while it was yet early in the afternoimw^ They^ suppose 
that they had gone hy the house very near U>hf for iktif 
had toiled t^ dark among deep snow in the bum bekn^; 
jtfoid if John Burnet, a ne^hbouring shepherd, bad not 
heard them calling, and found and conducted ibttli 
bome^ it would have stood hard with them iindeed^ldr 
noQO or as would have looked for ^m in ci»a|t <Ar0O- 
tfton. They were both very much esdiavwied,' 'and ^ 
•goodman could not speak above bis Ireatli that) mghi 
t • l^ext morning ^ae Aj was clear •$ but b coid^mtMi- 
perote wind still blew from the north. Thofaee of ^ 
country was entirely altered. The form of eterythill 
was changed) and new mountains: leaned over^evigiy'Vid^ 
ley. AU traces of bums, rivers, and hdtes^ w^m iol^ 
terated ; for the frost had been coadmensurste witfrlftie 

1 ' J 

fiNOW-t^dKMS^^ ^1^*' '2^7 

(1 . Thcffe .faavii^gv been, tfatee: hundred aiidfiarpjif of ^my 
flock that had neyerbeea found ad •«li'duiiiAgiith4'()i4* 
:^ediA^duy^>9s soou a» the moniing dwHrtn&diyk^'^^ all 
ont to look after them. It wm a hideotis^ldoMiiipAciiMiie 
•mfDO one. could oast his eyes.a»>iiAdifaimitA<|ikil«^teiii 
aay ei^ctation of sheep being saved/' It> ^K^t: M» ]it6> 
tope of desolaticMk. There is a^daep glen^ h^ikkewAloA' 
house and Dryhope^ called the 'UawksfaaW' CiMdb, 
which k full of ti«e8« There vrtM aot the^Uipiof^iMfB 
of then to be seeiL This may convey aome'ideiv hKHr 
thevQOttBtry looked ; and no one cati sospeet'^tl woJiJki 
Mttte- drciustistancea otherwise - than ithey men^\ f\^kklk 
there, are so many liring that. could ^conhiAa mae^yi i)itii 
r- When wo came to the gronnd wbrare thA sheep 9h<luii 
hai^e 1^% there was Bot<meof them>ahoTB ite tmtni, 
iHere and there, at a great distance £Mmt each otheiy^ 
oonki perceive the headeev hcnrlbs of itraggiersiappetf- 
jitgi.and these^were easily got out r 'but whilil weiihild 
collected theae few, we eonld. find no> more^ lAi^'httd' 
J^n lyiag all abroad in a scattered atate irfaenthi^'stbrm 
efitme ^n>!and>were oovcrodoner jitst as thefbadib^sH 
lying* It waS'Om a kind of .slopiBg>,j;roand,'<^t lay^hfilf 
Jbte^eatb the wdnd^and-the «iow wa»UBifbrtftly(firdni>iiiftt 
to «ight feet- dedp. Under liiis liie hog» wtero ly&g scftf- 
4ered. ovior at* )ea^ one hnndffed^ «crea^ of < h^arthery 

278 THE shepherd's CAlsESOASU 

ground. It was a very ill-looking concern. We wea( 
about boring with our long poles, and often did not find 
one bog in a quarter of an bour. But at length a wbite 
•baggy colly» named Sparkie, tbat belonged to the eow* 
herd boy, seemed to have comprehended something of 
onr perplexity, for we observed bim plying and scia> 
ping in tbe snow with great yiolence, and always looking 
over bis shoulder to us. On going to tbe qpot, we found 
that he had marked straight above a sheep. From tbat 
be flew to another, and so on to another^ as fast as we 
oould dig them out^ and ten times Caster, for he some- 
limes had twenty or thirty holes marked befordiaad. 
We got out three hundred of that division beforo 
night, and about half as many on tbe other parts of tbe 
farm, in addition to those we had rescued the day be* 
fore ; and the greater part of these would have been lost 
had it not been for the voluntary exertions of Sparide. 
Before the snow went away (which lay only eight days) 
we had got out every sheep on the farm, either dead or 
alive, except four ; and that these were not found was 
not Sparkie's blame, for though they were buried below 
a mountain of snow at least fifty feet deep, he had agaia 
and again marked on tbe top of it above thenu Tbe 
sheep were all living when we found them ; but those 
that were buried in the snow to a certain depth, being, 
I suppose, in a warm, half-suffocated state, though on 
being taken out they bounded away like roe^ were ii^ 


staotly after paraJyaed by the sadden change of atmos- 
ph^^, and fell down^ ^prived of all power in their limbs. 
We had freat mmbeiB of diese to carry home and feed 
with the hand; but others that were buried yery deep* 
died outright in a ftw minutes. We did not, however, 
lose above saty in all ; but I am certain Sparkle saved 
us at least two hundred. 

We were for several days utterly ignorant how al^ 
fairs stood with the country around us, all communic»» 
tion between farms being cut off, at least in the wild dis- 
trict where i lived; but John Burnet, a neighbouring^ 
sfaef^i^d, on another farm, was remarkably good at pick- 
ing up the rumours that were afloat in the coun^, 
which he delighted to circulate without abatement* 
Manypeople tell their stories by halves, and in a man<* 
ner so cold and indifferent, that the purport can scarce* 
ly be discemed, and if it is, cannot be believed ; but that 
was not the case with John ; he gave them with interegif 
and we were very much indebted to him for the Intel* 
ligence that we daily received that week. - No sooner 
was the first brunt of the tempest over, than John made 
a point of going off at a tangent every day, to learn what 
was going on, and to bring us word of it. The accounts 
trere most dismal ; ihe country was a charnel-house. 
The first day he brought us tidings of the loss of thou- 
sands of sheep, and likewise of the death of Robert 
Armstrong) a neighbour shepherd, one whom we all 


koMT weUii hm bamg imi lalrfpkAfike gheiriiMM Ji 
henl 4Ni.tii«tlMr fonw Ua^iitiflittbafaHli Arai 
diMi faOM Ifom.a ium^Mpimej wMu K'tfcl tMir 
it^ran-kopwA to «U dia inmtwawiheisftjhc m* ^Ifac 
companion left him at a ciika<iiiiv<p4'<HMtf iii l^p>< ' 
cwa aanataww; ye^ near, aa it wm^ thaf ooidi 4i^ 
reach: Uni» lbo«^ they attempled il igwL.fHii«|^.tpnk» 
an4 al^ langth (hey Were ehteyd-M mlwin, indjMifch: 
hini laperishat the aide of tha dtka.* Tfahur Qfjnyt j>WK 
inlmalft ar<inaintanc6» periahed ihali wighw . Tkiem^WWk^ 
another- ^bapberd named Watt} thfr rirciiiiintiiTWMMi 4I' 
whoae 4aath:weve pecuiiady affdctkag* 4ie haii^^wpil'- 
to aae hia aw^theart the ni^ht bej^ere^ ^tl^wWil iHk^ 
had'iSaally agreed and settled eyery thkig;«boHili ikA) 
maniaga^ bufc it so happened, in the^iafiemtii^ftlaaiaMAh' 
rf FYrHT^nnn, thrt nl *H "^"j t^Tt Thfir thi trimn jtf 
hia- marriage were {Hrockdmed in thetohivpkx^fjtfefti^' 
his companions were carrying hiii^ hein^A^#eiqM|d'fiiipi)t 

the hilL ;..V . -r;: .It-^.tTH^ *ll! 

It may not he amisa here toaemarh^^ thali. He JWtft?4ftBaf 1 
c^Fed opinion all ever the €oailti^tha^ts<ni^);Jifllk^ 
W0ce lost, and a great many wore I»adfni80fi4f«h|t ikori: 
administering of ardent spirits to ^^ntfSjvfti^iliWhik^n 
a »tate of eadAanstion. It was aap}laq[tice.ilgmneltwlhifl^ 
I entered my vehement pretest^;. AUhaHg^^th^.iwif0i! 
of the multitudo should never, b^' dJBri»giur4€i^<4^1itdft i 
br^ad and sweet miU^ or eveiv.a>^%#Q^#ij^i{|oMii.* 

ivUhv ffwed t mack safer restoratrre m the ^Idi; 
lln*» k — d faayu ig^ tkrt tsome wko toakm |;tes 49# 
flpinti ^ImH aigiil nev^r flpoiee sfeo^ier word^^ <ei?^Rl^ 
t hrt i gh ihef wen e m athmt g to wlk tuid oon^poraie 
wlMii iIkw frmcb fraiid them. 

<ift die^ oiJi«r luBBd^ l^ere wat oae wouhb fHie hM 
bar idoyrett, «mI lblloiv«d fa«r inubamfa^of^ whieil 
Uww i fght Jier t» lu nu0tar l3r]ng in m slate t>f iineilsi)»i' 
litfr He bad Crilea down bareheaded Msmaagikefsm'W^ 
aaril was all oe^wed ever, sai« one comer of bis jkiki,^ 
She bad adbing better to take mth her, wbw sbe«Bt^ 
ofrt^liuBi a bottle of sweet milk and a little oatnied 
caake, and yet, with the help of these, ^e so fe recmit* 
ed bis strmgi^ as to get him safe borae,-%hsiiigb Mi^ 
wtdfoiit long and active p^^veraace* She 4aek tw^ 
litlieTials with her, and in these sl^ heated tbe milk iii^ 
her boisOm^^^lliat man would not be die^osed to laugb^ 
at^tbe i^liiiess of die fair sex for some timer ^ 

It is pmfectly unaccountable how easily people died* 
Tbe.ftost must 4$er«atnly have been prodigious ; so in-' 
teaae' aa to have ^lei^sd momentarily on llie Til^ *of 
those ikM oirefbealed themselves by wading and toil^ 
inf too impatiently among the snow, a thing that is 
T^^ aptly done. I have conversed with five or -six 
that were carried home m a state of insenstbility, wbo 
heyer wocdd agatU' have mored fi*om the spot where 
thery lay, and were only brought to life* by rubbing and 

282 THE shepherd's CAXiENDAR. 

warm applications ; and they uniformly declared, that 
tbey felt no kind of pain or debility, farther than an 
irreaistible desire to sleep. Many fell down while 
walking and speaking, in a sleep so soimd as to resem- 
ble torpidity ; and there is little doubt that those who 
perished slept away in the same manner. I knew a 
man well, whose name was Andrew Murray, that 
perished in the snow on Minchmoor ; and he had taken 
it so deliberately, that he had buttoned his coat and 
folded his plaid, which he had laid beneath his head 
Ux a bolster. 

But it is now time to return to my notable lit^ary 
society. In spite of the hideous prognosticatiiHcis thai 
speared, the members actually met, aU save mysd( 
in that solitary shieling before mentioned. It b easy 
to conceive how they were confounded and taken by 
surprise, when the storm burst forth on them in the 
middle of the night, while they were in the heat of 
sublime disputation. There can be little doubt that 
some loss was sustained in their respectire flocks, by 
reason of that meeting ; but this was nothing, com* 
pared with the obloquy to which they were subjected 
on another account, and one which will scarcely he 
believed, even though the most part of the members 
are yet alive to bear testimony to it. 

The storm was altogether an unusual convulsion ci 
nature. Nothing like it had ever been seen or heard 


of among us before ; and it was enough of itself to 
arons^ ,^^ery spark of superstition that lingered among 
tbefe mountains. It did so* It was imiversally view- 
ed as a judgment sent by God for the punishment of 
some beiQOus offence : but what that offence was, could 
not for a while be ascertained. When, however, it 
oame out, tbat so many men had been assembled in a 
lone ii^frequented place, and busily engaged in some 
mysterious work at the very instant that the blast came 
^ no .doubts were entertained that all had not been 
right there, and that some horrible rite or correspon- 
den9^.wiit^.the powers of darkness had been going 
091^, , It so happened, too, that this shieling of Enter* 
tr^ny was, situated in the very vortex of the storm ; 
d)^ deya^tatipns made by it extended all around thai 
t€». a. certain extent, and no farther on any one quar- 
ts t^fm lather* This was easily and soon remark- 
«ff ;, a|^,,i^pn the whole, the first view of the matter 
had, ^^i[}i^ aA equivocal appearance to those around, 
who^l^d sujOG^red so severely by it. 

.^t i^tiUf;^ the rumour grew, the certainty of the 
^f^SS^^ ground^-^new corroborative circumstances 
Wer9:i^v|sry^ day divulged, till the whole district was in 
vi^jIK^i^^^yW^ several of the members began to medi* 
tate a speedy retreat from the country ; some of them, 
I .kaPWv would have fied, if it had not been for the 
adt^f^ pf the late worthy and judicious Mr Bryden 


ot Crosftlee. Tlw first iutiuuitiou tliat I had of it was 
^oin my frieud John Burnet^ who gave it me viUi 
hm accohtouied enevfy and full assurance. He came 
oTer oue eveuiugt and I saw by his face he had some 
(CTvat nenni. 1 think I remeniber» as I well may, ercry 
word that |)as$ed between us on the subject. 

** \Ve«l» chap^ said he to me, <' we hae fond out 
what ha» been the cause of a* this mischief now*" 

^ What do vou mean, John ?" 

^ What do I mean ? — It seems that a great squad 
o birkies tliat ye are conneckit wi*, had met that night 
ai the herd's house o* Ever Fhawhope, and had raised 
the deil auiang them I" 

Every countenance in the kitchen changed ;. the 
women gazed at John, and then at me, and their lips 
tcrew while. These kind of feelings are infectioqSy 
people may say wliat they will ; fear begets fear «3 
uaturally as light springs from reflection. I reaooQ^ 
utoutly al first against the Teracity of the reporti ob- 
serving that it was utter absurdityy and a shame and 
disgrace Iw the country to believe such a ridiculoios Jie* 

^Lie r* said Johi^ '*It*s nae lie; they had him vp 
amaug them hke a great roagh dog at the very tio^ie 
that the timipest began, and ?rere glad ta^draw..cuti} 
and gie him ane o' their number to get quit o',hiin 

Every hair of my head, and inch oi my frames 


lerept when I heard this sentence ; for I had a dearly 
Idved brother who was of the number, and seVlstar fall 
H^ousins and intimate acquaintances ; indeed, I Iboked 
ttpcm the whole assembly as my brethren, stod cott- 
iidered myself involved in all their transaction^. I 
could say no more in defence of the society's proceed- 
ings ; for, to tell the truth, though I am ashaiifed to 
acknowledge it, I suspected that the allcgatioii rhlght 
be true* 

' ** Has the deil actually taen awa ane o' theni bodi- 
ly ?" said Jean. 

" ^* He las that," returned John, " and it's thought the 
skaith wadna hae been grit, had he taen twa dr three 
mae o' them. Base villains I that the haill country 
should hae to suffer for their pranks ! But, hoWevef, 
the law's to tak its course on them, and they'll find, 
tre a' the play he played, that he has need of a lang 
]6poon: that sups wi* the deil." 

' The next day John brought us word, thiat it Was 
^< onfy the servant-maid that the 111 Thief had taen 
away;" and the next again, that it was actually Bryden 
of Glenkerry ; but, finally, he was obliged to inform 
Mes^ '^That a was exactly true, as it was- first' tauld, 
!mt only that Jamie Bryden, after bemg a-'wanting' for 
some days, had casten up again." . . 

There has been nothing since that time that hi» 
. <3aiiB€d such a ferment in the countl*y^^noiight else 


could be talked of; and grieyous was the blame at- 
tached to thofie who had the temerity to raise up the 
devil to waste the land. Legal proceedmgs, it is saiil, 
were actually meditated, and attempted ; but lucky it 
was for the shepherds that they agreed to no reference, 
for such were the feelbgs of the country^ and the op- 
probrium in which the act was held, that it is likely 
it would have fared very ill with them ;— at all evenU, 
it would have required an arbiter of some decision sod 
uprightness to have dared to oppose the prejudices that 
were entertained. Two men were sent to come to the 
house as by chance, and endeavour to learn from the 
shepherd, and particularly from the servant-maid, what 
grounds there were for inflicting legal punishment ; but 
before that happened, I had the good luck to hear her 
examined myself, and that in a way by which aD sus- 
picions were put to rest, and simplicity and truth left 
to war with superstition alone. I deemed it very ca- 
rious at the time, and shall give it verbatim, as nearly 
as I can recollect 

Being all impatience to learn particulars, as soon as 
the waters abated, so as to become fordable, I hasted 
over to Ettrick, and the day being fine, I found num- 
bers of people astir on the same errand with myself) 
—the valley was moving with people, gathered in from 
the glens aroimd, to hear and relate the dangers and 
difficultiea that were just overpast. Among others, 


the identical girl who served with the shepherd in 
whose house the meeting took place^ had come down 
4o Ettrick School-house to see her parents. Her name 
was Mary^ Beattie, a heantifnl sprightly lass, ahont 
twenty years of age ; and if the de^l had taken her m 
preference to any one of the shepherds, his good taste 
could scarcely have heen disputed. The first person 
I met was my friend, the late Mr James Anderson, 
who was as anxious to hear what had passed at the 
meeting as I was, so we two contrived a scheme where- 
by we thought we would hear every thing from the 
girrs own mouth. 

We sent word to the School-house for Mary, to call 
at my father s house on her return up the water, as 
there was a parcel to go to I'hawhope. She came ac- 
cordingly, and when we saw her approaching, we went 
into a little sleeping apartment, where we could hear 
every thing that passed, leaving directions with my 
mother how to manage the affair. My mother herself 
was in perfect horror ahout the business, and believed 
it all; as for my father, he did not say much either the 
one way or the other, but bit his lip, and remarked, 
that, << folk would find that it was an ill thing to hae 
to do wi' the Enemy." 

My mother would have managed extremely well, 
had her own early prejudices in favour of the doctrine 
of all kinds of apparitions not got the better of her. 

289 THE shepherd's calenoab. 

She was very kind to the girl, and talked with her 
about the stonD, and the events that had occurred, tiH 
she brought the subject of the meeting fonrard he^ 
self, on which the following dialogue commeIleed^— 

<' But, dear Mary, my woman, what were the dUk 
a* met about that uight ?*' 

'< O, they were just gaun through their papen ami 

" Arguing I what were they arguing about ?** 

" I have often thought about it sinsyne, but realty 
I canna tell precisely what they were arguing about." 

" Were you wi' them a* the time ?** 

" Yes, a* the time, but the wee while I was miDdDg 
the cow." 

" And did they never bid ye gang out ?** 

" Oo no ; they never heedit whether I gaed out or in." 

" It*s queer that ye canna mind ought ava }— CID 
ye no tell me ae word that ye heard them say ?" 

<< I heard them saying something about the Btaum 
o' things." 

<< Ay, that was a braw subject for them I Bat, 
Mary, did ye no hear them saying nae ill words ?" 

« No." 

<< Did ye no hear them speaking naething about da 

« Very Htlle." 

<< What were they saying about him f* 



" I thought, I aince heard Jamie Fletcher saying 
there was nae deil ava." 

<< Ah ! the unwordy rascal ! How durst he for the 
life o' him I I wonder he didna think shame." 

<< I fear aye he's something regardless, Jamie.** 

'< I hope nane that helangs to me will ever join him 
in sic wickedness I But tell me, Mary, my womiyi, 
did ye no see nor hear naething imcanny ahout the 
house yoursell that night ?" 

'' There was something like a plover cried twice i' 
the peat-neuk, in at the side o* Will's bed.'* 

<< A plover I His presence be about usj There was 
never a plover at this time o* the year. And in the 
house too ! Ah, Mary, I'm feared and concerned 
about that night's wark I What thought ye it was 
that it cried ?" 

<< I didna ken what it was, — it eried just like a plo- 

'< Did the callants look as they war fear'd when they 
heard it ?" 

" They lookit geyan queers" 

" What did they say ?" 

<< Ane cried, < What is that ?' and another said, 

< What can it mean ?' — * Hout,' quo' Jamie Fletcher, 

< it's just some bit stray bird that has lost itsell.' — * I 
dinna ken,' quo' your Will, ^ I dinna like it unco weeL' " 

>^ Think ye, did nane o' the rest see ony thing ?" 


2(K) THE shepherd's CALENDAR. 

*' I believe there was somethiiig seen." 

'' What wa8*t ?'* (in a half whisper, with manifest 

<< When Will gaed out to try if he could gang to 
the sheep, he met wi' a great big rough dog, that had 
rery near worn him into a linn in the water.'* 

My mother was now deeply affected, and after two 
or three smothered exclamations, she fell a-whispering; 
the other followed her example, and shortly after, they 
rose and went out, leaving my friend and me very lit- 
tle wiser than we were, for we had heard both these 
incidents before with little varialion. I accompanied 
Mary to Phawhope, and met with my brother, who 
soon convinced me of the fialsehood and absurdity of the 
whole report ; but I was grieved to find him so much 
cast down and distressed about it. None of them 
durst well show their faces at either kirk or market for 
a whole year, and more. The weather contimiiog 
fine, we two went together and perambulated Eskdale 
Moor, visiting the principal scenes of carnage among 
the flocks, where we saw multitudes of men skinniog 
and burying whole droves of sheep, taking with them 
only the skins and tallow. 

I shall now conclude this long account of the st<niD, 
and its consequences, by an extract from a poet for 
whose works I always feel disposed to have a great 
partiality ; and whoever reads the above will not doubt 


on what incident the description is founded, nor yet 
deem it greatly overcharged. 

" Who was it rear'd these whehmng waves? 

Who scalp'd the brows of old Cum Gorm, 
And scoop'd these ever-yawning caves?"— 

«'Twas I, the Spirit of the Storm !" 

He waved his sceptre north away, 
The arctic ring was refit asunder ; 

And through the heaven the startling bray 
Burst louder than the loudest thunder. 

The feathery clouds, condensed and furPd, 
In columns swept the quaking glen ; 

Destruction down the dale was hurl'd, 
O'er bleating flocks and wondering men. 

The Grampians groan'd beneath the storm ; 

New mountains o*er tlie correi leanM ; 
Ben Nevis shook his shaggy form, 

And wondered what his Sovereign mean'd. 


Even far on Yarrow's fairy dale, 

The shepherd paused in dumb dismay ; 

And cries of spirits in the gale 
Lured many a pitying hind away. 

The Lowthers felt the tyrant*s wrath ; 

Proud Hartfell quaked beneath his brand ; 
And Cheviot heard the cries of death. 

Guarding his loved Northumberland. 

But O, as fell that fateful night. 
What horrors Avin wilds deform, 

And choke the ghastly lingering light ! 
There whirl'd the vortex of the storm. 


Ere mom the wind grew deadly itill. 

And dawning in the air updrew, 
From many a shdve and shining hill^ 

Her folding robe of fidry Uae. 

Then what a emooth and wondrous some 
Hung o*cr Loch Arin's lovely breast ! 

Not top of tallest pine was seen. 
On which thir daoM eye eould rest ; 

But mitred cliff and crested fell. 

In lucid curls, her brows adorn ; 
Aloft the radiant crescents swell, 

AU pure m robes by angeb worn. 

Sound sleeps our seer, &r firom the day, 
. . Beneath yon sLeek and wreathed -oont ^ 

His spirit steals, unmiss'd, away. 
And dreams across the desert lone. 

• Sound sleeps our seer ! — the tempests rave^ 

And cold sheets o'er'his bosom fling ; 
ThB moldwarp digs his moasy gra.Te ; ,•.-.] 

His requiem Avin eagles sing. 




.,': -Aoi^fi 

.. . U }X V; 

THE shepherd's 0OO. 393 

. ..'. !f> •. 

t - < I -1. t' 

,- • ^' '•.?; \'i • "i* Ji/i „• 

^1,. -. 

CHABTEIt'Xi' ' / 

,- ■^f » 


: rl 

A CURIOUS Story that appeared lately of a dog be- . 
longing to a shepherd, named John Hoy, has brought 
sundry similar ones to my recollection, which I am sure 
cannot fail to be interesting to those unac<}uaintcd with 
the qualities of that most docile and affectionate of the 
whole animal creation — the shepherd's dog. 

The story alluded to was shortly this. John was at 
a sacrament of the Covenanters, and being loath to leave 
the afternoon sermon, and likewise obliged to have his 
ewes at the bught by a certain hour, gave his dog a 
quiet hint at the outskirts of the congregation, and in- 
stantly she went away, took the hills, and gathered the 
whole flock of ewes to the bught, as carefully and quiet- 
ly as if her master had been with her, to the astonish- 
ment of a thousand beholders, for the ewes lay scattered 
ever two large and steep hills. 

This John Hoy was my uncle ; that is, he was mar- 
j.ied to my moor's sister,. He was all his life remark- 

'^94 THE suepuerd's cai^bndar. 

able for breeding up his dogs to perform his comnuuids 
with wonderful promptitude and exactness, especially 
at a distance from him, and he kept always hy the same 
breed. It may be necessary to remark here, that there 
is no species of animals so yaried in their natures and 
propensities as the shepherd^s dog, and these propensi- 
ties are preserved inviolate in the same hreed from ge- 
neration to generation. One kind will manage sheep 
about hand, about a bnght, shedding, or fold, almost 
naturally ; and those that excel most in this kind of ser- 
vice, are always the least tractable at a distimce ; others 
will gather sheep from the hills, or turn them this way 
and that way, as they are commanded, as far as they can 
hear their master s voice, or note the signals made hy 
his hand, and yet can never be taught to eonunuid sheep 
close around him. Some excel again in a kind of social 
intercourse. They understand all that is said to them, 
ur of them, in the family ; and often a good deal; that is 
said of sheep> and of other dogs, their comrades; One 
kind will bite the legs of cattle, and no species of cor- 
rection or disapprobaUon will restrain them, or ever 
make Uiem give it up ; another kind bays at the heads 
of cattle, and neither precept nor example will ev^ in- 
duce them to attack a beast behind, or bite its legs. 

My xmcle Hoy's kind were held in estimation over 
the whole country for their docility in what is termed 
hirseUrinning ; that is, gathenng sheep at a distance. 

THE shepherd's DOG. '^OS 

but they were never very good aX commanding sheep 
about hand. Often have I stood with astonishment at 
seeing him standing on the top of one hill, and the Tub, 
as he called an excellent snow-white bitch that he had, 
gathering all the sheep from another with great care and 
caution. I once saw her gathering the head of a hope, 
or glen, quite out of her master's sight, while all that 
she heard of him was now and then the echo of his 
voice or whistle from another hill, yet, from the direc- 
tion of that echo, she gathered the sheep with perfect 
acnteness and punctuality. 

I have often heard him tell an anecdote of another 
dog, called Nimble : One drifty day, in the seventy-fouvy 
after gathering the ewes of Chapelhope, he found that he 
wanted about an hundred of them. He again betook 
himself to the heights, and sought for them the whole 
day without being able to find them, and began to sus- 
pect that they were covered over with snow in some 
ravine. Towards the evening it cleared up a little, and 
as a last resource, he sent away Nimble. She had 
found the scent of them on the hill while her master 
was looking for them ; but not having received orders 
to bring them, she had not the means of communica- 
ting the knowledge she possessed. But as soon as John 
gave her the gathering word, she went away, he said, 
like an arrow out of a bow, and in less than five mi- 
nutes he beheld her at about a mile s distance, bringing 


them round a hill, cmlled the Middle, cocking her tpil 
behind them, and ^parently very happy at faanogjol 
the opportmuty of terminating her master's disquLetpde 
with so much ease. 

I once witnessed another rery singular feat perfoim- 
ed by a dog belonging to John Grahanit late tenant ia 
AnhesteeL A neighbour came to his house after, it 
was dark, and told him that he had lost a aheep.oo hb 
famn and that if he (Graham) did not secure bei; i^ 
tin* morning early, she would be lost, as he had hroiig)it 
her far, John said, he could not possibly get to the^ 
hill next momii^ but if he would take him to ibe' 
very spot where he lost the sheep, perhaps his dog. 
Chieftiun would find her that night. On that tl^,. 
went away with all expedition, lest the traces of the 
feet should cool; and J, then a boy, being in tllftr 
house, went with them. The night was pitch- daKk».- 
which had been the cause of the man losing his e«pt{ • 
and at length he pointed out a place to John, by iht > 
side of the water, where he had. lost her. << Chieftun^. 
fetch that," said John, <« bring her hack, sir." I^^ 
dog jumped around and around, and reared 

up on end, but not being able to see any Uiini^ cA' 
dently misapprehended his master; on which Jofaa-fett 
a-cnning and swearing at the dog, calling him a graftt 
many hladcguard names. He at last told ^e mm^ 
that he must point out the very track that the sheep 

YHB shepherd's Doe. 297 

wienty otherwise lie had no cliancei of recovering it. 
The lik^ led him to a grey stone, and said, he waa 
ifliare she took the brae within a yard of that. '< Chief- 
tain, come hither to my foot, you great numb*d whelps" 
said Jbhn. Chieftain came. John pointed with hia 
finger to the ground, << Fetch that, I say, sir, yon sta- 
led idiot— bring that back. Away 1** The dog scait- 
ed slowly about on the ground for some seconds, but 
sdon began to mend his pace, and vanished in the dark- 
ness. ** Bring her back — away, you great calf I** voci- 
ferated John^ with a voice of exultation, as the dog 
broke to the hill ; and as all these good dogs perform 
tlieir work ki perfect silence, we neither saw nor heard 
any more for a long time. I think, if I remember 
i^ht, we waited lliere about half an hour; during 
Wbich time, all the conversation was about the small 
diiemce that the dog liad to find the ewe, for it wts 
agreed on all hands, that she must long ago havfe mix- 
ed'#ith the rest of the sheep on the form. How ^t 
w#i, no man' will ever be able to decide.' Jchn, fco#- 
e^^$lr,- still persisti^d in waiting until bis dojg^ came'badi^' 
aiterWith the ewB or without her j Htui at last'tlM;^ 
tnMf aniMalbfbught'^heindividuil lost sheq> ib t^ 
very'fddt, which the inan took on hii back, ted' n^eift 
otftds- way i'ejdicing. I f^imember '^ dog* was- fety 
waM, and banging out hid tongftie-^bhn cidled' hink 
all the ill names he could invent, which tjie tmimal 

N 2 


seemed to take in rery good part. Such language 
tteemed to be John's flattery to his dog. For my part, 
I went home> fiuicying I had seen a miracle^ little weet- 
ing that it was nothing to what I myself was to ex- 
perience in the course of my pastoral lifei from the 
sagacity of the shepherd's dog. 

My dog was always my companion. I convened 
with him tbe whole day — ^I shared every meal with 
him, and my plaid in the time of a shower ; the eon- 
sequence wasy that I generally had the best dogs ia 
all the country. The first remarkable one that I hid 
was named Sirrah* He was beyond all comparison ^ 
best dog I ever saw. He was of a surly unsocial 
temper — disdamed all flattery, and refused to be ca- 
ressed; but his attentiim to his master's commaads 
and interests never will again be equalled by any of 
the canine race. The first time that I saw him, a 
drover was leading him in a rope ; he was hungryyand 
lean, and far from being a beautiful cur, for he wasi all 
over black, and had a grim faCie striped with duk 
brown. The man had bought him of a boy for three 
shillings, somewhere aa tbe Border, and doubtless hid 
used him very ill on his journey* I thought I disoo-t 
vered a sort of sullen intelligence in his &€e, notwitfa* 
standmg his dejected and forlorn situation ; so I gave 
the drover a guinea for him, and aj^propriated the cap- 
tive to myself. I believe there never ,was a guinea iso 


wdl laid out ; at least I am satisfied that I never laid 
' out one to so good purpose* He was scarcely then a 
year old, and knew so little of herding, that be had 
never turned sheep in his life ; but as soon as he dis- 
covered that it was his duty to do so, and that it obli- 
ged me, I can never forget with what anxiety and 
eagerness he learned his different evolutions. He would 
try every way deliberately, till he foimd out what I 
wacnted him to do ; and when once I made him to un- 
derstand a direction, he never forgot or mistook it again.- 
Well as I knew him, he very often astonished me, for 
when hard pressed in accomplishing the task that he was 
put to, he had expedients of the moment that bespoke 
a great share of the reasoning faculty. Were I to re- 
late all his exploits, it would require a volume ; I shall * 
only mention one or two, to prove what kind of an ani-' 
mal he was. 

I was a shepherd for ten years on the same farm, 
where I had always about 700 lambs put under my 
charge every year at weaning-time. As they were of 
the short, or black-faced breed, the breaking of them was 
a very ticklish and difficult task. I was obliged to watch • 
tbem. night and day for the first four days, during which \ 
time I had always a person to assist me. It happened 
one year, that just about midnight the lambs broke, aAd > 
came up the mo<H* upon us, making a noise with their > 
running louder than thunder. We got up and wi&ved 

900 THB shepherd's ghu^ehvar. 

Mir f>lflid% skid thouted^ in hopes to tarm tb^n, bat we 
fmfy mads ttsitlsrs worse, for m a momestt they were 
sll tomhd lis, and by our exertions we cut them into 
tittee diTiBions ; one of these rah ninth, another south, 
and those that eame np betweoi as stnight up the mow 
to the westward. I called out, <' Sirrah, my man, they re 
a* away ;" the word, of all others, that set him most upon 
the alert, but owing to the darkness of the night, and 
biKckness of the moor, I never saw him at alL As the 
^fision of the lambs that ran southward were giNBg 
sivaigbt towards the fold, where they had been that day 
taken from their dams, I was afraid diey would go there, 
and again mix with them ; so I threw off part of my 
clothes, and pursued them,'and by great' personal exer- 
tion, and the help of another old dog that I had besides 
^Sirrah, I turned them, but in a few minutes afterwards 
Ibst them altogether. I ran here and there, not know- 
ing what to do, but always, at interrals, gave a load 
whistle to Sirrah, to let bim know that I was depend- 
ing on him. By that whistling, thelad who was assist, 
ing me found me out ; but he likewise had lost all traee 
whatsoever of the lambs. I asked if he had never seen 
Sirrah? If e said, he had not ; bat that aftor I left lum, 
a wing bf the lambs had come round him with a swiil, 
and that he supposed Sirrah had then given them a ton, 
though he could not see him for the darkness. We both 
concluded, that whatever way the lambs ran at first, 

. THE shepherd's dog« . 301 

they would finally land at the fold where they left thw. 
motha^, and without delay we hent our course towai^dn. 
that; hut when we came there, there was nothing f<^ 
them, nor any kind of bleating to be heard, and we dis- 
covered with vexatioQ that we had come on a wrong 

My companion then bent his course towards the farm 
of Glen on the north, and I ran away westward for se-. 
T^nd mites, along the wild tract where the lambs bad 
gfuzsed while following their dams. We met alter k 
wais day, far up in a place called the Black Cleucb> bi^ 
neither of us had been able to discover cm: lambs^ nor 
ady traces' of them. It was the most extracwdinary cil(w 
cumstance that had evar occurred in tlie annab of the 
pastoral life! We had nothing for it but to return tp 
atti* master, and inform him that we had lost his whol6 
flock of lambs, and knew not what was become of one 
of them. 

On our way home, however, we discovered a body 
of lambs at the bottom of a deep ravine, called the Flesh 
Clench, and the indefatigable Sirrah standing in front 
of -them, looking all around for some relief, but sti)l 
standing true to his charge. The sun was then up ; and 
when we first came in view of them, we concluded that 
it was one of the divisions of the lambs, which Sirrah 
had been unable to manage imtil he came to that com- . 
manding situation, for it was about a mile and a half 

302 THE shepherd's calendar. 

distant from the place where they first broke and scat- 
tered* But what was our astonishment^ when we dis- 
corered by degrees that not one lamb of the whole flod^ 
was wanting 1 How he had got all the dirisions col- 
lected in the dark is beyond my comprehension. The 
charge was left entirely to himself firom midnight mtil 
the rising of the son ; and if all the shepherds in the 
Forest had been there to asust him> they could not 
hare eflPected it with greater propriety. All that I 
can say farther i% that I neyer felt so grateful to any 
creature below the sun as I did to Sirrah that morning. 
I remember another achievement of his which J ad- 
mired still more. I was sent to a place in Tweeddak^ 
called Stanhope, to bring home a wild ewe that had 
strayed from home. The place lay at the distance <^ 
about fifteen miles, and my way to it was orer steq> 
bills, and athwart deep glens ; — ^there was no path, and 
neither Sirrah nor I had ever travelled the road before. 
The ewe was brought in and put into a bam over night ; 
and, after being frightened in this way, was set out to. 
me in the mining to be driven home by herself. She 
was as wild as a roe, and bounded away to the side of 
the mountain like one. I sent Sirrah on a circular route . 
wide before her, and let him know that he. had the. 
diarge of her. When I left the people at the house, 
Mr Tweedie, the farmer, said to me, '< Do you really, 
suppose that you will dnve that sheep over theee. 

THE shepherd's DOG. 303 

hills, and out through the midst of all the sheep in the 
country ?** I said I would try to do it, " Then, let 
me tell you," said he, " that you may as well try to 
travel to yon sun." The man did not know that I waa 
destined to do both the one and the other ! Our way> 
as I said, lay all over wild hills, and through the mid- 
dle of flocks of sheep. I seldom got a sight of the ewe, 
for she was sometimes a mile before me, sometimes 
two ; but Sirrah kept her in command the whole way— 
never suffered her to mix with other sheep— nor> as fax 
as I coidd judge, ever to deviate twenty yards from the 
track by which he and I went the day before. When 
we came over the great height towards Manor Water, 
Sirrah and his charge happened to cross it a little be- 
fore me, and our way lying down hill for several miles, 
I lost all traces of them, but still held on my track. I 
came to two shepherd's houses, and asked if they had 
seen any thing of a black dog, with a branded face and 
a long tail, driving a sheep ? No ; they had seen no 
such thing ; and, besides, all their sheep, both above and 
below the houses, seemed to be unmoved. I had no- 
thing for it but to hold on my way homeward ; and at 
length, on the comer of a hill at the side of the wat^,- 
I discovered my trusty coal-black friendsitting with his 
eye fixed intently on the bum below him, and some- 
times giving a casual glance behind to see if I was co- 
ming : — ^he had the ewe standing there, safe and unhurt 


WIma I got lier kome, and aet her at lib^ty among 
our own abeep, he took it highly amiaa. I coaM 
acarcely prevail with him to let her go ; and ao diead- 
fally waa.he afl&outed, that ahe ahould hare been let 
go free after all his toil and trouble, that he woakl 
not come near me all the way to the house, nor yet 
taate any anpper when we got there. I belieTe lie 
wanted me to take her home and kiU her. 

He had one rery laughable peculiarity^ which often 
created no little disturbance about the house^ — ^it was 
an outrageous ear for music He never heard music> 
but he drew towards it ; and he never drew towards 
itf but be joined in it with all his vigour. Many 
a good psalm, song, and ton^ was he Uie cause of 
apoiling ; for when he set fairly to, at which he was 
not sl^ck, the voices of all his coadjutors had no 
chance with his. It was customary with the wortlqr 
old ikrmOT with whom i resided, to perform iuoSlf 
worship evening and morning; and before he begais 
it was always necessary to drive Skrah to the fieUh^-. 
and close the door. If this was at any tinae foi^got aKc 
neglected, the moment that the psalm was taisedyiie' 
joined with all his <eal, and at sulA a mte^ 
drowned the voices of the family befojw thpee^ liaaa; 
could be sung. Nothing farther could be donerliU;; 
Sirrah was expelled. Bat then !• when he. got to dii^ 
peat-stack knowe before the door, especcidly'if he got 

•- 'l 

fr^low io pnag o«t, lie Af ^ve kii 
f%il{'«e%>pe, whiiovt ■iiti g Bliw i;fdefg 
te w«s oflen m hard unldi lor wm A 

'Some iiiiagiued lint it wis fkwo i 
ttrftt lift <fid tins. No flvdi tliuiig'* Muit 
ligilt : it alwiys dr«w Inm towardi it fike m dam. I 
slept in tlie byre-Mt — %nli ie tiie h ty oo k ia a 
corner below. Wfaea sore fifigi wi d , I 
tiped to my bed before tiie boar of finally 
In sncb cases, wbenerer ibe pmlM wm lained ia ike 
kiteben, wbicb was bat a dbort dbtaaee, 8inab kA 
hl^hdr; and kyio^ bis ear doM to Ike bottoai oftbe 
doop to bear aiore ^stnictiy, he g ron i e d a loir mHm 
in' ac c om paai ^icat, till te soaad expired; aad tbfli 
roeie^ aboefe bis ears, aad retamed to his hay'^ooir 
Saa»ed Auic affected him aiost; bat ia either that or 
any slo# tme, when the toaes dwelt apoa the key* 
note, they pat Mm qaite beside Imasdf ; bis eyes had 
the gleam of wiadneas in ihem ; aad he soaietiaief 
qoHted nagn^ and Uterslly fell So hatklng. AU bis 
raee bare the sAme qaalities of roice and ear in a less 
of greater degree* 

The inost pi&fal part of Sinab's history yet re* 
mains; bat,inmemoryof himself, it mast be set down. 
He grew old, and unable to do my work by himself. 
I had a son of bis coming np that promised well, and 
was a greater fayonrite with me than erer the other 


was. The times were hard, and the keeping of them 
both was a tax upon my master which I did not like 
to impose, although he made no remonstrances. I 
was obliged to part with one of them ; so I sold old 
Sirrah to a neighbouring shepherd for three guineas. 
He was accustomedi while I was smearing, or doing 
any work about the farm, to go with any of the family 
when I ordered him, and run at their bidding the same 
as at my own ; but then, when he came home at night, 
a word of approbation from me was recompense suffi- 
cient, and he was ready next day to go with whomso- 
erer I commanded him. Of course, when I sold him 
to this lad, he went away when I ordered him, with- 
out any reluctance, and wrought for him all that day 
and the next as well as ever he did in his life. But 
when he found that he was abandoned by me, and 
doomed to be the slave of a stranger for whom he did 
not care, he would never again do another feasible 
turn. The lad said that he ran m among the sheep 
like a whelp, and seemed intent on doing him all the 
mischief he could. The consequence was, that he was 
obliged to part with him in a short time ; but he had 
more honour than I had, for he took him to his father, 
and desired him to foster Sirrah, and be kind to him 
as long as he lived, ^^ the sake cfwhat he had been; 
and this injunction the old man faithfully performed. 
He came back to see me now and then for months 

THE shepherd's doct. 807 

after he went away, but afraid of the mortification of 
being driven from the farm-house, he never came 
there ; but knowing well the road that I took to th^ 
hill in the morning, he lay down near to that. When 
he saw me coming, he did not venture near me^ but 
walked round the hill, keeping always about two him- 
dred yards off, and then returned to his new master 
again, satisfied for the time that thete was no more 
shelter with his beloved old one for him. When I 
thought how easily one kind word woidd have at- 
tached him to me for life, and how grateful it woidd 
have been to my faithful old servant and friend, I 
coidd not help regretting my fortune that obliged us 
to separate. That unfeeling tax on the shepherd s dog> 
his only bread-winner, has been the cause of much 
pain in tliis respect. The parting with old Sirrah, 
after all that he had done for me, had such an effect 
on my heart, that I have never been able to forget it 
to this day; the more I have considered his attadi- 
ment and character, the more I have admired them ; 
and the resolution that he took up, and persisted in> 
of never doing a good turn for any other of my race, 
after the ingratitude that he had experienced from me, 
appeared to me to have a kind of heroism and sublimity 
in it. I am, however, writing nothing but the plain 
simple truth, to which there are plenty of living wit- 
nesses. I then made a vow to myself, which I have 

308 TUB shepherd's calendar. 

religiously kept, and ever shall, never to sell anotiier 
dog ; bat that I may stand aeqtdtted of all pecoHitty 
motires,— ^whichindeed those who know me will scai^i^ 
ly snspect me of^ — I must add, that when I saw'^Ofr 
matters went, I never took a farthing df the ertipidated 
price of old Sirrah. I hare Sirrali's race to thiswkRf; 
and though none of them has ever equalled ^hlnk'ttia 
sheep dog, yet they have far excelled him in all^^ 
estimable qualities of sociality and houKnir. ' ' '^ ' 
A single shepherd and hb dog will acconsfpllish tnto 
in gathering a stock of sheep from a Highland Moa^ 
than twenty shepherds could do without dog9 ; arid it 
is a fact, that, without this docile animal, 1^ paatttili 
life would be a mere blank. Without the sh^jrfierd^ 
dog, the whole of the open mountainoua laoid iit'l^eOI- 
land would not be worth a sixpence. It woidd re^[uh« 
morie hands to manage a stock of sheep, gatheir iSkai^ 
from the hills^ force them into houses and foMs,' Slid 
drive them to markets, than the profits of the Whole 
stock woidd be capable of maintaining. Well may die 
shepherd feel an interest in his dog ; he it is hideed 
that earns the family's bread, of which be is himself 
cofltent with the smallest morsel ; always grateful, and 
always ready to exert his utmost abilities in his mas- 
ter's interest. Neither hunger, fatigue, nor the worst 
of treatment, will drive him from his side ; he will 
follow him through fire and water, as the saying is, 

THE shepherd's DOG. 309 


|ua4'^o^h every bardship, without inui!miir or re- 
]^l^#g» .^ be literally fall doiv;n dead at bis foot. If 
o^j^. tb^m is obliged to chaiige masters^ it is some* 
^^^QBg before be will acknowledge tbe new one> 
Qi^Q^xadesceiid to woxrk for bim witb the same willing- 
n^s%as he did for his formei: lord ; but if be once, ac- 
Ipuiwl^dge him, he continues attached to hiip tiU 
df^^r and though naturally proud and high-spirited, 
in as far as relates to. hia master, these qualities (or 
iflbor fidlings) are kept so much in subordination, that 
be b(Ki laot a will of his own. 

• My own jrenowned Hector,* was the, son and im- 
miediate suceessiMr of the faithful old Sirrah; and tJiaugh 
oot nearly so valuable adog, he. was & £ar mm^interest- 
ing^^e.i' ; He had three.tiuftes more humour and whim; 
a«4c^hQ]i^b ei^c0edingly docile, his bravest acts were 
r%i^y ]^€tured with a grain of st^idity, wfaiehdih^w 
e^ijbis. neaspnisg faculty toi be laughably obtuse. , 

^Ji^ball.n^ention a striking instance of it. , I was once 
at,:fbe}%m of Shorthope, in Ettrick bead, receifaag 
8%i|i^ J^mbstbat I had bought, andwas goi|]^<tOL<ake 
tfiin^^rl^t,. with some more^ the next, day.. Qwii^.to 
.8g^g^,a,cqidei%t^l delay, l.did not get fini^ deUvaiy.4»f 
tb% }0mb« till it was ^ow}^ late v and b^g: obl|ged 
t9^ at ,ii;iyo;(vn house that , nighty I was i^t^jfi J^t^le 

. * Seethe Mountain :Ba|:4* ,. i ■ 



one place to another, bo did be in a moment ; and then 
squatting down, he kept hit point aednloiislyy till he 
was either called off or fell asleep. 

He was an exceedingly poor taker of meat, was al- 
ways to press to it, and always lean ; and often he 
would not taste it till we were obliged to bring in the 
cat. The malicious looks that he cast at her from un- 
der his eyebrows on such occamns, were exceedingly 
ludicrous, considering his utter incapability of wrang* 
ing her. Whenever he saw her, he drew near his 
bicker, and looked angry, but still be would not taste 
till she was brought to it ; and then he cocked his tail, 
set up his birses, and began a-lapping furiously, in ut- 
ter desperation. His good nature was so immovable^ 
that he would never refuse her a share of what he got ; 
he even lapped close to the one side of the di^ and 
left her room — ^but mercy as he diu ply I 

It will appear strange to hear a dog*s reasoning bt' 
culty mentioned, as it has been ; but I have hardly ever 
seen a shepherd's dog do any thing without perceiving 
his reasons for it. I have often amused myself in cal- 
culating what his motives were for such and such 
things, and I geneitdly found them very cogent ones. 
But Hector had a droll stupidity about him, and took 
up forms and rules of his own, for which I could never 
perceive any motive that was not even farther out of 
the way than the action itself. He had one uniform 


THE SKEPHfiRD's IKOO. \ 313 

* • 

practieey and a very bad one it was^ during the time of 
fianHjr woiahip^^ — that just three or fonr second* be- 
fore the conclusion of the pray^^ he started to his feet, 
and ran baridng round the apartment Kke a erased 
beaat. My &ther was so much amused with this, that 
he would never snfier me to correct him for it, and 
I scarcely erer saw liiie old man rise from the prayer 
without his endeavouring to suppress a smile at the 
extravagance of Hector. None of us ever could find 
out how he knew that the prayer was near done, for 
my father was not formal in his prayers ; but certes 
he did know,— of that we had nightly evidence. There 
never was any thing for which I was so puzzled to 
discover a reason as this; but, from accident, I did 
discover it, and, however ludicrous it may ^pear, I 
am certain I was coirect^ It was much in character 
with many of Hector's feats, and rather, I think, the 
most otUr^ of any principle he ever acted on. As I 
said, his chief daily occupation was pointing the cat. 
Now, when he saw us ail kneel down in a circle, with 
our faces couched on our paws, in the same posture 
with himself, it struck his absurd head, that we were 
all engaged in pointing the cat. He lay on tenters all 
the time, but the acuteness of his ear enabling him, 
through time, to ascertain the very moment when we 
would all spring to our feet, he thought to himself> 
<< I shall be first after her for you all !" 

VOL II. o 


mftde him a little treublesome oa iiift own diarge, md 
set him a-mnning Tonod aod rmuid thesiy turning dan 
in 9X eonien> out of m sort af wupaiie i e e to be employKl 
as well as his baying neighbours at the fold. WbeaevBr 
old Sirrah found himsdf hard sety in connBanding wild 
sheep on steep grsvindy where they ere Worst to winiy, 
he nerer failed^ without any hint to the purpose, to 
throw himself wide in below theosy and lay thor fm» 
to the hm, by which means he got the eemoiand of tfaeiB 
in a minute. I nerer could make Hector eomprahend 
this advantage^ with all my art, although his hAti 
found it out entirely of himself. The former wodd 
turn or wear sheep no other way, bvt on the hill abere 
them ; and though rery goiod at it, he gvre both them 
and himself double the trouble and Bsitigiie. 

It cannot be supposed that he could understand' all 
that wna passing in the little funily drde, but he ter- 
tainly comprehended a good part of it. In particukT) 
it was very easy to discoyer that he rarely missed aagbt 
that was said about himself the sheep^ the cat, or ef t 
hunt. When aught of that nature came to be discoMsd, 
Hector 8 attention and impatienoe soon became mani- 
fest. Thero was one winter ereningy I said to my mo- 
ther 4hat I was going to Bowerhope £Qir a fortnight^ for 
thkt I had more conFenimcey for writing with Alexau' 
dor Laidlaw, than at home; and I added^ ^But.Iwill 
not take Hector with me, for he is conetandy ^piairel- 

THE SHJSFUE&O'S HQQ. . . 3 17 

fing with die rest of the dogs, singingiBiisict or bi€^!^- 
ing some i^oar.V— «<f Nib W* q^th 9bei ^< leay^ -Hec- 
tor witk mo ; I like a^e beat ta Ji^ve lum at l]Wie> poor 

Theao <wece all < the>-wardB : ttiat pasaetL : Jh^ n^t 
wornwig the water» vefe inA^eat. Aood^ aad I did not 
go wvay till after hseakfast; but whea tt^ tiKa^.came 
foTi tying up Hector, he waa .wanting.'— «i<. Th^ iimce's 
in that beast^*' said I ; ^^X wUl wager that be heard^hat 
we were saying yesternight^ aad has gone off ibr Bower- 
hope as soon> as the door was opened this moxoing" 

^^ If that ahould really be the osAe^ rU Uiink the beast 
no canny/' said my moth^:. 

The Yarrow was so large as to be quite. VD(ipassable, 
so that I had to go up by. St Mary s I^och, andgQ across 
by therboat ; and, on drawing near tp Bowerbope, t soon 
perceived that matters had gone; precisely ae I eu^ect- 
ed* Large as the Yacrow was, and it-appeared in^pass- 
able by any Hying creature, He^or had made his^eecape 
early in the moniing, had swum the m^t and was sit- 
tii^, ^^ like a drookit hen," on a kaaoU at the east end 
of the house^ awaiting my arriYal with much impatience. 
I had a great attachment to this aaimaV who, with a 
good deal of absurdity, joined all the Mniable.quaHties 
of his species^ He was rather of a smaU fiise^ r^ty rough 
and shagged, and not far from the colour of a fox. 

His son, Lion, was the very picture of > his dad, had 


m good do^) more tagacityy but also more selfislmeM. A 
history of the onei hoavvetrer, woald ^tjly be an qntonie 
of that of the othar. Mr WiUiam KidiokoB took a file 
likooesa of this latter one, which that gentleman alOl 
poaaesaea. He co«ld not gpet him to ait for hia picture 
in such a potitioii as he wanted, till he exhibited a sm- 
goiarly fine pictore of his, of a sisali dog, on the (Jfppo- 
site aide of the room. Lion took it for a real aaiiad, 
and, diaiiking its fierce and important look exceeding, 
he immediately aet up his ears and his shaggy l^seB, 
and fijung a stem eye on the picture, in manifest wittii, 
he would then sit for a whole day, and point his eye at 
it, without moving away or altering his position* - - 
It is a curious fact, in the history of these animab, 
that the moot useless of the breed hare often the gMa* 
est dc^pree of sagacity in triflingand useless matteva. At 
exceedingly good aheepi-dog attends to nothing eke Wt 
that particular branch .of buaineas to which he ia kecL 
His whole capacity is exerted and exhausted on it, aad 
he is of little avail in miacellaneons maitteca ; wheaaai) 
a very indifferent cur, bred about the boose, and accii^ 
tomed to assbt with every things wiU often jiat die mow 
noble breed to these paltry servioes. 
calls out, for instance, that the cows are in ^e cora,ior 
the hens in the garden, the housetcoUey ^aeda no cdm 
hint, but runs and turns them out. The .shephecd'adag 
knows not what is astir ; and, if ha ia csaUed onA in a 

f I 

Sim SUBfWS&D's .BQG. . • S19 

iiiury for mich worky. all that he/ig^ do is tQ^i)tBak to 
;t)ie ^, iMP^d i*ear. lunidelf up oa^mvit ^ ^^ ^ jio^heep 
are/qpuungaway.. .A Wed sheep-dog^^if eomingTarenr 
ing from the hillS) and getting into a.milkvhoose^ -would 
most likely think of nothing eke tbem vflling^ya b^y 
with the cream. Not 90 his initiated brother«>^'He 
ii lured at home^ to a more ci?ili«ed: bebaTionn J liare 
koown such lie night and day> among fromten tortirenty 
pails full of milk} and never <»ice break the cream •f^one 
of them with the tip of his tongue, nor would he tnSkt 
cat, rat, or any other creature, to touch it.. This latter 
sorty too, are far more acute at taking up what is said 
in a family. Thwe was a fiarmer of lliis country, a Mr 
Ale^cander Cuninghame^ who had a bitch that, for the 
space of three or four years, in die lalter part of her tife, 
met him always at the boundary of lus form, aJ^t a , 
mile and a half from his honey on hia way home. If 
he was half a day 8way> a week, or a fortnight, it was 
aU the same ; she met him at ikat spot, and there never 
was an instance known of her goii^to wait his arrival 
there on a wrong day. If this was a fact, whidb I have 
heard averred by people who Jived in the house at that 
time, she could only know of his commg home by hear- 
ing it mentioned in the family. The same animal would 
have gone and brought the cows from the hill when it 
grew dark, without any bidding, yel she wa» a very in- 
di&rcot abe^-dog. 


The aiMedotai of tiiete aaiinak are all sD modi iHk, 
dMi wut I but W tahte the the— mdA part of dMne 
I hare heard* they woald often look Tery much like 
MjpelitioDa* I ahall therefinre only mention one or two 
of the Bttoet aingnlarf wfaidi I know to be well ai- 

There arat a shepherd lad near Langholm, whiwe 
name was Scott, who poeeeaMd a bitdi, famed over 
all the West Border for her singnlar tractability. He 
conld have aeat her home with one sheep, two 8h6q», 
or any giiren nnmber, from any of the neighboiiriDg 
fiuina; and in the lambing seasoay it was his mnfonn 
practice to send her hmne with the kebbed ewes jivt 
as he got theniif— I mast let the town reader nnte- 
stand this. A kebbed ewe is one whose lamb diet. 
As soon as sneii is fonnd, she is immediately broiight 
home by the shepherd, and another lamb put to fav; 
and this lad, on going his roands on the hill^ whenever 
be found a kebbed ewe, immediately gave her is 
chaige to his bitch to take h<mie, which saTed lam 
from coming back that way again^ and going orer tin 
tame gronnd he had looked before. She always tsok 
them careinUy home, and pnt diem into a fold whieh 
was close by the house, keeping watch tawer them tBl 
she was seen by smne oae of the frmily ; and thentihst 
moment she decampedy and hasted bade to her master, 
who sometimes sent lier three times home in one mon- 

,H . VittiSBBPBSIUO'S^ t>OCk • ^ SSI 

lumerlo.inM^th lwr»4nd take tlia<«heep in diavgjft fir4*i 
Imc ; Imt thb ie^[iiiiied a good deal ef Qftution ;^'fo»^a6 
•ooQ as she perceived that .1^ ^aaeeen, ifHieiher-tlbe 
Aeep were pKt into the Md er iiet^ she^oneeived her 
cfaaige at an end, and no flattery could induce her to 
etay and aasiat in foldhig4hem« There was a display 
tif acowoacy and attention in this, that I cannot say I 
hmre ever sem equalled, 

. , The late Mr Steel, flesher in PteUes, had a hitch 
4hat was fuUy equal to the one mentioned aAwve, and 
ilfaat in the very «ane qualification too. Her feats in 
4akiig heme ahei^ froja the: neighbouring farms into 
4iie Jeahp-Hiarket at PeiBbles foy' herself, form innume- 
rable anecdotes in that vicinity, all similar to one im- 
•olher. But there is one instance related of her^ timt 
.aembiaes so much sagacity with natural affection^ that 
J do not think the histimry of the animal creation fur- 
tiiishes such another. 

■Mr Stael had such an implicit d^[»endence on the at- 
tention ol ikis animal to his orders, that :?rfienever he 
ttput a kit of tktep befcie liet^ he^toek b. pride in lea- 
Iving it tO' heBMlf, and either remained to take a glass 
with the temerof whom he .had made the purchase, 
•r took aafOCher- road, to look afker hargains or other 
. ibasiaeflsu -Bai onatime Jie digtteed to^sonunit a drove 
jtaherdiaige^ait acplaee eaUed >Wllieiisleey wllhoai at- 


toidiiig to her eondfeioo, as he ought to hare done. 
This farm is five miles from Peebles, orer unld UU?, 
Mid there is no Tegnlarly defined paeth to it. Whether 
Mr Steel remained behind^ or took another road, 1 
know not; hut on coming home late in the evsOding, 
be was astonished at hearing that his faithfiol aaiiiml 
had never made her appearance with the drore. " He 
and his son, or serrant, instantly prepared to set oat by 
different paths in search of her ; but on their going oat 
to the street, there was she coming with the drevie, no 
one missing; and, marvellous to relatfe, shie was eahy- 
iog a young pup in her mouth ! She had been taken 
in travail on the hills ; and how the poor beast bftd 
contrived to manage her drove in her stitto of sfaftr- 
ing, is beyond human calculation; for her road lay 
through sheep the whole way. Her master s heUcx 
smote him when he saw what she had suffered and ef- 
^ted ; but she was nothing daunted ; and faaring de- 
posited her young one in a place of safety, she agtin 
set out full speed to the hills, and brought BXUbQueti 
and another, till «be brought her whole litter, ofie %t 
one ; but the last one was dead. I give ^^is » i have 
heard it related by the country people; ^' thougHi 
knew Mr Walter Steel well enough, I cannot sky I 
ever heard it from his own mouth. I never entertidii- 
ed any deubt, however, of the truth of the relatioB^^iid 
certainly it is worthy of being preserved, for the ci^edh 

9ft^at^ioo8t docile andfiffectionfile.of idlBDimaJor^tJie 

^h^l^4's dog. : , : r wi. . , '. 

.l^^ston^s related of the doga of aheepHstsidersi aiB 
faifly h&ymA eil credilMiUty. I.eaimot Mtack oredit io 
thpse^ ifitliout b^U^viog the anioials to haye been deTik 
VOfarmBit^ (SPineto tbj^. earth lor the destntction of both 
t)ip soiiU aad bodies iof men* . X caimpt ^oentieii named, 
foTvijby&.i^ake of families tjiat still reinain inL< die comi^ 
try ; but there have been simdry men executed, who 
b^lpioged tp this qiuutei: of dije realqo, fpr that heinous 
crinie^.jn my own timet and others have absconded, 
jn^ ii^jtiwe tp save their necks. There was not one 
of.^thiQSc^.to .whom . I allude who did not acknowledge 
biff dpg to he th^.^eates^ offender. One young mant 
19 paf;tiQulai^ ^bo waS| I belieyei overtaken by justice 
for.bia fimt, offeree, stated, that after be had folded 
the;9bieep by.nMH)n4ight,,and selected bis numberJrom 
the .flock. of, a formeiir. waster, he topk then^ out, and 
§e.t away with .tb^m Awards Edinburgh. 39t before 
he.^bad got. tbep quite |off . the liarm, his conscience 
omote hioi} as. he ,said» (but more likely a dread of 
that which aoon followed) and he quitted the.sheepi 
letiing tbam goegain to.|he hilL He called hie dog 
off them; and mounting his pony, rode away*. At 
that, time ha said his dog was capering and playing 
around hin^ as if .glad of having got. free of a.trpuble* 
pome business ; and .he regarded him no «more,jtil], 


ifier hftTUig rode about three iiiilea> he tkevght again 
and again that he heard something eoning up belnid 
him. Halting, at length, to ascertain what if was, in 
a few minutes his dog came up with the stolen drove, 
driring them at a furious rate to keep pace with his 
master. The sheep were all smoking, and hanging oat 
their tongues, and their driyi^ was Mly m warm as 
they. The young man was now exceedingly trouUed ; 
for the sheep having been brought so far from home, 
he dreaded there would be a pursuit, and he could not 
get them home again before day. Resolving, at sU 
events, to keep his hands clear of them, he corrected 
his dog in great wrath, left the sheep once n&ors, and 
taking his dog with him, rode off a second time. He had 
not ridden abore a mile, till he pierceived dnrt his dog 
had again given him the slip ; and suspecting for what 
purpose, he was terribly alarmed as well as chiffrmed ; 
for the day-light approached, and be durst not make a 
noise calling on his dog, for fear of alarming the neigh- 
bourhood, in a place where both he and his dog were 
known. He resolved therefore to abandon the animal to 
himself, and take a road across the country which he 
was sure his dog did not know, and could not follow. 
He took that road ; but being on horseback, he coald 
not get across the enclosed fields. He at kngth came 
to a gate, which he closed behind him, and went about 
half a mile farther, by a aigsag course, to a farm-house 


where both his sister and sweetheart lived ; and at that 
plaee be remained until after breakfast time* The 
pei^le oi this boose were all examined on the trial, 
and no one had eitha: seen sheep, or heard them men- 
tioned, save one man, who came np to the young man 
ai be was standing at the stable-door, and told him 
-that his dog had the sheep safe enough down at the 
Crooked Yett, and he needed not hurry himself. He 
answered, that the sheep were not his — ^they were 
young Mr Thomson's, who had left them to has charge ; 
and he was in search of a man to drive them, which 
made him come off his road. 

After. this discovery, it was impossible for the poor 
fellow to get quit of them ; so he went down and 
took possession of the stolen property once more, car- 
ried them on, and disposed of them ; and, finally, the 
transaction cost him his life. The dog, for the last 
four or five miles that he had brought the sheep, could 
have no other guide to the road his master had gone, 
but the smell of his pony's feet. 

It is also well known that there was a notorious 
abeep-stealer in the county of Mid-Lothian, who, had 
it not been for the skins and sheep's-heads, would never 
have been condemned, as he could, with the greatest 
ease, have proved an alibi every time on which there 
were suspicions cherished against him. He always 
went by one road, calling on his acquaintances, and ta- 


king care to appear to every body by whom he was 
known ; while his dog went by another with the stolen 
ftheep ; and then on the two felons meeting again, they 
had nothing more ado than turn the sheep into an asso- 
date's endomire, in whose house the dog was well fed 
and entertained, and would have soon taken all the fot 
sheep on the Lothian Edges to that house. This wai 
likewise a female, a jet-black one, with a deep coat of 
soft hair, but smooth-headed, and very strong and hand- 
some in her make. On the disappearance of her mas- 
ter, she lay about the hills and the places he had fre- 
quented ; but never attempted to steal a drove by her- 
self, nor yet any thing for her own hand. She was kept 
a while by a relation of her master's ; but never acting 
heartily in his service, soon came to an untimely end. 
Of this there is little doubt, although some spread the 
report that one evening, after uttering two or three loud 
howls, she had vamshed ! 


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